To study the rules of this enclosed space, he needed to leave marks behind. Markers that would allow him to measure space, track changes, and see if anything looped, shifted, or erased itself.
The problem?
Every trace, every scar, every physical sign left in the Mourning Depths would be erased—corrupted by the infernal energy saturating the region. The land itself refused to be mapped.
Unless…
He used something stronger.
Something the land couldn't destroy so easily.
Soul.
Max's eyes sharpened with thought.
An expert's soul wasn't just ethereal consciousness—it was a manifestation of will, intent, and identity. The stronger the will, the longer the soul could last—even across ages.
The Sinful Bone Frame he'd encountered? Its soul had endured tens of thousands of years inside the Mourning Depths. That alone proved the soul was one of the few things that could resist the corruption of this realm.
And Max had one advantage most others didn't.
