Michael wasn’t particularly familiar with cauldrons.
One couldn’t blame him.
Even in Aurora, they were considered ancient tool of the past.
Fortunately, he had seen them enough times before to recognize one.
The red cauldron in his soul stood on four legs and had no handles.
However, its legs were positioned oddly—rather than being evenly spaced or symmetrically arranged, each one seemed to point in a different direction, as if they had chosen north, south, east, and west for themselves.
Despite its strange design, what drew Michael’s attention the most were the intricate patterns carved into its surface.
They were familiar.
At first glance, they looked small, but at the same time, they seemed large enough to be clearly visible.
Michael focused on the two largest patterns—one depicting a human, the other a wolf.
The wolf figure gave him a strong sense of familiarity.
“Is this Lucky? And this human…?”
His gaze flickered across the patterns.
“Are all these engravings representations of my undead?”
His mind drifted back to his earlier experience inside the cauldron.
What had caught his attention the most back then were the ‘stars’ in the ‘sky’.
Inside, there had been two bright stars.
He had chosen one, and it had revealed the figure of his undead high human.
Now, on the outside of the cauldron, there were two distinct patterns.
Two bright stars.
Two distinct patterns.
“Lucky and the undead high human?”
Michael wasn’t entirely sure, but something told him his suspicion was right.
“But why?”
Why were these two being highlighted?
Why did these patterns and stars seem directly related to his undead?
He had no answer for the latter question, but as for the former, he had a theory.
Potential.
That was the most likely reason.
Both Lucky and the undead high human were the strongest beings in his army—creatures he considered comparable to extraordinary-rank monsters.
Well, one clearly was.
Not only were they the highest-ranked undead under his command, but they were also the only ones at extraordinary rank.
It made sense.
However, that was all it was—just a theory.
The red cauldron gave him no feedback.
It seemed that any further discoveries would have to come from his own efforts.
“Let me check inside.”
The moment Michael thought of the inner space of the cauldron, his vision shifted.
He was back.
A black ground.
A starry sky.
Michael’s eyes swept across the sky-like expanse within the cauldron’s inner space.
The darkness stretched endlessly, dotted with faint glimmers of light—each star twinkling softly as though alive.
Fifty.
He counted them.
Fifty stars in total, each varying in brightness.
Yet, despite their numbers, two stood out the most—radiating an intensity that dwarfed the rest.
They were unmistakable, glowing with an almost tangible presence.
Michael extended his will, summoning the two brightest stars.
The response was instant.
The stars pulsed, their radiance expanding until they burst forth as beams of light, cascading down and condensing into two distinct figures before him.
A human and a wolf.
Michael’s gaze locked onto the familiar forms.
“So it really was Lucky,” Michael murmured to himself.
The realization solidified his earlier thoughts.
The patterns on the cauldron, the stars within the inner space—everything pointed to these two as the most exceptional beings in his undead army.
But what did that mean?
Was it simply an indication of their strength? Or was there something more to it?
Michael reached out, his fingers brushing against the light-formed figures.
His hand passed through them without resistance.
The figures of Lucky and the undead high human were nothing more than light—intangible, insubstantial.
No matter how he moved his fingers through their forms, they simply wavered like ripples in water before reforming.
Michael frowned.
He thought for a moment, staring at the glowing figures.
If these stars, these light forms, were meant to represent his undead, what exactly could he do with them?
His mind spun through possibilities.
Michael focused his will on the figures.
The moment he did, a strange sensation coursed through him.
The light figures flickered, their radiance pulsing as though responding to his intent.
Then something clicked.
Michael’s vision shifted.
It was subtle, almost unnoticeable at first, but the longer he focused, the clearer it became—he could see inside them.Their organs.
For the high human, Michael could even see the remnants of its previous acupoint in its head.
“What is this?”
The discovery was astonishing, and Michael couldn’t help but experiment with it for a while. He observed, analyzed, and played around with the details he could now perceive.
“If only they weren’t just representations of light…”
It was merely a passing thought.
Yet, the moment it formed in his mind, a shift occurred.
Both “Lucky” and the “high human” trembled slightly before their forms began to change. The once ethereal light figures solidified, their glowing outlines fading away as they transformed into the real, physical versions of themselves.
*******
Moments later.
Michael’s eyes opened in the outside world.
“All fifty stars are indeed my undead.”
At this point, he could no longer deny the possibility that the red cauldron was a representation of his talent.
But this realization brought even more questions.
Was it the same for other Awakeners with talents?
Without the help of a treasure like the Soul Pool Fruit, would they eventually gain access to their soul?
If so, when?
Or was it possible to access one’s soul at any time through specific methods?
Were there advantages and disadvantages to having access to one’s soul?
A flood of thoughts filled Michael’s mind, but one question lingered above all others.
The red cauldron.
Do talents truly have a physical or conceptual representation?
He had no answer.
Another thought followed closely behind.
Was the existence of the red cauldron a result of his transmigration to this world?
Just as Michael was getting lost in his thoughts, a knock echoed at his door.
Michael temporarily pushed everything aside.
Thinking about it now wouldn’t bring any answers.
He turned toward the door.
“Who’s there?”