Soul God Dominates the Mortal World-Chapter 100: Ivana claims the spy...

Under the cold veil of the thick ice dome Ivana conjured with her twin frost-laced fans, silence fell—an ethereal hush encasing her and the downed werewolf in a dome of swirling, bluish-white mist and frost. No sound escaped, no vision pierced its walls. The jagged, semi-translucent walls glistened, forming a six-sided prism of absolute isolation. Inside, the temperature dropped instantly, frost creeping across the floor beneath their feet. Crystals formed on the tips of the werewolf’s blackened claws, but Ivana paid it no mind. Her dark eyes glinted with the purpose Deus had instilled in her.

She summoned the ghost-like beast soul [Invade]. The white-cloaked phantom emerged with glowing, pupil-less eyes, emitting a hollow, bone-chilling whisper as its form melted into hers. In an instant, she closed her eyes and her mind sunk deep—slipping seamlessly into the subconscious domain of the werewolf.

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The world changed.

Ivana stood in the werewolf’s inner mindscape: a haunting, limitless void of black mist and fading light. The air was heavy with residual hatred, hunger, and instinctual rage—an echo of the beast’s primal urges. Floating dead center was the soul of the werewolf—a translucent, ghostly replica of its berserk form. Its head hung low, limbs limp, glowing red eyes dulled and unfocused, as if caught in a deep trance.

But as soon as Ivana appeared, everything changed.

A cold, regal aura spread from her body. She wasn’t simply a visitor—she was a sovereign invading a lesser being’s domain.

Her purple Nythera aura lingered faintly as she withdrew the moth beast soul into her soul subspace, revealing her true pressure. Her silhouette—silver hair flowing with frost, her robes shimmering with ice runes—shone brilliantly against the abyss. Her aura blasted forth and struck the werewolf’s phantom with invisible force.

Its form shuddered violently. It groaned, eyes flickering erratically as clarity returned.

"Aghhh—!" it snarled, instinctively trying to break free. Its claws slashed at her presence—but the pressure that cloaked Ivana was too overwhelming.

This was her realm now.

"You’re awake," she said, her voice like a blade of frost through marrow. "Good. Then we can begin."

"W-Who are you...? How are you in here...?"

"Ivana Frost. Empress of the Great Lumen Empire," she said plainly, her gaze fixed. "And now, your master."

She extended her hand, and agony followed.

The werewolf screamed—its soul shaking violently as she tightened her mental grip. No physical wounds, but pain more raw and paralyzing than blades or fire flared through it. It clutched its own head, howling, its knees collapsing beneath it.

"STOP!! PLEASE—!"

"Answer my questions," she said, cold as winter air.

"W-What questions?! I—I’m just a scout!"

She gave it no reprieve. Another wave of pain surged directly into its soul. The werewolf writhed, screeching louder than before.

"I said, answer me."

"I—I’m not like the others!" it cried out. "I wasn’t born in the Mist Realm! I was made!"

Ivana paused, her gaze narrowing. "Made?"

"I was... human once..."

That caught her attention.

"The Progenitor... gave me his bite. He’s experimenting. Creating halfbreeds. Testing how much of our human mind and soul survives after the transformation... I’m not a natural werewolf. I don’t have that... that instinctual hatred of humans."

Her brow twitched. "So you still think like a human."

"Yes!" it snarled, as if gasping for validation. "I feel... confused. Lost. My body wants to hunt and kill... but my mind hesitates. That’s why your scent drove me insane—I couldn’t reconcile the bloodlust and restraint!"

"Then that’s why you can feel this pain," she said softly, summoning another needle of soul-agony into its being. The werewolf groaned, collapsing to the dark floor.

Ivana stepped forward. "You are an experiment. Nothing more. Do you know how many of you the Progenitor has made?"

"...I was one of the first. There may be more. He never explains—just gives orders."

"Then what was your mission?"

"...To test myself against the strongest beings in this realm... to push until I either devoured the target or was destroyed. And if I failed—self-destruct. That was the command."

"And the target?" she pressed.

"...You."

Ivana’s brows lifted slightly but she said nothing. Instead, she changed tactics.

"You have two choices," she said, her voice turning almost gentle. "Suffer more of this pain... or serve. Tell me more, and I’ll end the agony."

The werewolf looked up slowly, conflicted. There was something in its gaze—resentment, yes... but also curiosity.

"You won’t kill me?"

"You’re useful," she said. "You’re torn between two worlds... That makes you an asset."

It hesitated. Then finally said, "...Fine."

And it began to speak.

It revealed everything: the Mist Realm, blanketed in eternal fog; the Progenitor, known as Fen’Rok, a tyrant who stood as Worldking. The royal bloodline came from him directly—every naturally born werewolf in the Mist Realm owed their existence to his original essence. The Progenitor Clan ruled with absolute power, claiming divine right.

But not all submitted.

The Ancient White Werewolf Clan—older than the others, pureblooded yet reclusive—stood against him. They claimed that the Progenitor’s manipulations were destroying their race. The ever-dwindling birth rate. The failed bloodlines. They accused him of feeding off his own descendants’ life force to maintain his immortality.

"And you believe them?" Ivana asked again.

"I don’t know what to believe," the werewolf admitted, its soul trembling. "But... their birth rate is higher. They’re multiplying while others die out."

It also spoke of weaknesses—the core instincts shared by all werewolves. If denied meat and blood for too long, they grew weak and delirious. Severe blood loss could cripple even elite warriors. And the artificial ones—like this werewolf—were even more vulnerable.

"...So your berserk state was a reaction to hunger," Ivana concluded.

"Yes. I had just eaten, but your presence... it was different. The scent triggered something deeper. Something I couldn’t control..."

Ivana nodded slowly. Then she extended her hand again—but not to cause pain.

She placed her palm against its translucent soul.

"You are still a tool," she whispered. "But one I can shape."

"I... I understand..." ƒгeewёbnovel.com

"I’ll protect you from your Progenitor," she said. "But you’ll work for me now. You’ll serve this world."

The werewolf shivered but said nothing, then finally nodded. "Yes... Mistress."

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