Sylver Seeker

“I am called Ruslana,” Ruslana said, as she and Sylver shook hands.

Unlike Irina, she didn’t have an accent, if anything her Elvish almost sounded better than Sylver’s did. It was similar to the way Zelvash spoke, but just the slightest amount clearer.

“Tod,” Sylver answered.

Both of them waited for the guards to leave, and then waited for the giant metal door to finish closing.

Ruslana’s room had that telltale scent of being constantly cleaned, a faint chemical odor, as well as a hint of ozone from the magic used. Behind her desk were about 50 screens that all showed a different moving image, although a vast majority mostly had giant blocks of ice floating in smaller chunks of ice, mixed with bubbles of steam.

The lights in the ceiling flickered briefly, as Ruslana walked over to her desk, and sat behind it. The table was made out of metal, welded, and then polished to a mirror-like finish, with a small circular hole on Ruslana’s left, that had traces of burn marks and ashes on it. Going by the various lines in the metal table, it very clearly unfolded in some way, most likely more screens and other computer-related items.

“Zelvash speaks very highly of you. The cards, the keys, that the demons can’t touch you, that you’re the first undead he’s ever met that’s so alive. On top of that, you’re also offering to open a portal to another world, and move our people there,” Ruslana summarized, all while she sat in her chair seemingly relaxed, and simultaneously stiff as a board.

Her complexion was dark, not as dark as Zelvash’s, but she’d be the same shade as him in another 20 or 30 years. Her left ear was slightly longer than her right, most likely due to the faint scarring on her right ear. Torn off and then reattached.

The skin on her hands was wrinkled around the finger joints, and wrists, accompanied by barely visible holes, from needles or some sort of piercing instrument.

“When the world does nothing but spit at your efforts, things can appear to be that way. Would it help if I told you there’s a good chance more than half of your children will die during the transition?” Sylver offered with a faint smile and felt a lump form in his throat at the attempt to lighten the mood.

More than anything else, disappointed, angry, nervous, scared, Ruslana looked tired.

“Will it be painless, or will they suffer?” Ruslana asked, without so much as a hint that she wasn’t serious.

“There’s a corruption of information when moving between realms. A master can minimize it to the point the changes are so small they’re insignificant. Or they can direct the corruption to a single sacrificial item. And if they’re familiar enough with the realm, I’m told it is possible to use some sort of shortcut through other realms. Sadly I am not a master, I’ll do what I can, but it will be dangerous,” Sylver explained.

“You said realm this time, instead of world. Is there a difference?” Ruslana asked.

There was something almost mechanical about the way she spoke, moved, even her breathing seemed to have an evenness to it Sylver very rarely saw in living creatures.

“In the context of this specific type of magic, yes. If you imagine a book, your “world,” where you live, sleep, and eat, your reality so to speak, is a page on that book. We refer to that single page as a “realm.” Whereas the book itself is the “world.” Traveling between pages is possible, given the right knowledge, and power, but traveling between books, isn’t,” Sylver explained, and for the first time in a long while could see genuine understanding in Ruslana’s eyes.

Zelvash understood what Sylver said, but he didn’t get it.

“Why is traveling between “worlds” not possible?” Ruslana asked, and blinked for the first time since she had sat down. Sylver gestured at one of the screens behind her, or rather, the wire hanging directly beneath it.

“Think of yourself as a packet of information on a computer. Using a wire, you can connect to a different computer, and transfer the information packet on it. Computers might be of various sizes, colors, and what have you, but the hole you stick the wire in is always the same. A different “world” would have a different hole, and you would need a very specific wire to connect it to your computer,” Sylver explained, as Ruslana nodded along.

“I see, thank you for the explanation,” Ruslana said.

They sat in complete silence for nearly a full minute, during which Ruslana didn’t move, didn’t blink, she didn’t even appear to be breathing.

“Who are you?” Ruslana asked, and only the fact that the half-dead children above them were still on his mind stopped Sylver from rolling his eyes.

“I’m a necromancer. I am also a master of the dark arts. Very recently I became a [Swamp Lord] and all that entails. But I’m assuming you’re asking in the sense of what kind of person I am?” Sylver asked, and Ruslana nodded mutely.

“It’s a real shame you weren’t on the boat. I gave this long-winded explanation, about darkness, love, protecting what’s yours, and if you don’t mind me saying, it was rather well put. I tend to monologue if I’m not stopped, and truth be told it’s been a while since I’ve had a chance to just speak, and people quietly listened, without interrupting me. I’m still not used to, excuse my language, “normal” people butting in when I’m talking,” Sylver said, as Ruslana nodded along.

“Am I correct in assuming you are someone important in your realm,” Ruslana asked, after a good 5 seconds of silence to make sure Sylver was done talking.

“Not exactly… I would like to say I’ve been successful in keeping a low profile, but… I’m not a noble or anything of the like, but I have very close friends who are. If your worry is being granted permission for land or the like, I’ll handle it. There will be questions as to where 500 something dark elves came from, but that will be handled too,” Sylver explained, and saw Ruslana blink and inhale the slightest amount.

“As of this morning, there are 194 of us left,” Ruslana said, in a subdued voice without actually speaking quieter.

“But Zelvash said there were at least 500. Spread out all over the world, in dungeons, near the Garden, recovering damaged boats, searching for tribes on the surface,” Sylver asked, as Ruslana nodded along.

“After the death of his son, Zelvash stopped functioning the way he should. It was like his old age caught up with him, all at once. He took every single death as a personal affront, every piece of bad news resulted in him being useless for days, sometimes weeks. Roughly 10 years ago, I organized it so he stopped being made aware of such things. As of today, there are exactly 61 children, and 133 adult dark elves alive, including myself,” Ruslana explained calmly, methodically, as if she were slowly explaining the steps in a mathematical equation.

“You went down from 500 to 194 in 10 years?” Sylver asked, somehow managing not to make the question an accusation.

“Yes. We had an outbreak 4 years ago, and 29 children died before we figured out a cure. 151 men died in an attempted raid 2 years ago. Another 92 are presumed dead, we haven’t heard from them in over a year. And just 2 days ago, we lost 32 men during the blackout,” Ruslana explained calmly, methodically, and without blinking even once.

“And Zelvash isn’t aware of this?” Sylver asked quietly.

“My grandfather is a very clever man. I consider his wisdom to be of utmost value. But he has placed a great deal of trust in me, which I have abused to the fullest to keep him blissfully ignorant so that he remains functional. I am uncertain as to what would happen if I were to tell him the truth,” Ruslana said.

Sylver remained as he was and just looked at the woman for a while. Now that she’d said it, Sylver could see the family connection.

More than that, the icy coldness with which she spoke reminded him of Nyx. She did the exact same thing whenever the situation was bad enough, she pushed her emotions aside, to the point she felt like a completely different person.

Which was normally fine, sometimes your emotions only got in the way. But Nyx always took it too far, once Sylver learned to see and feel souls, being around her in such a state felt like someone had replaced a bonfire with a blizzard.

Sylver’s fingers started to tap on his thigh as he considered how to proceed.

“If fewer people went through the portal, would that reduce the amount that die?” Ruslana asked. Sylver refocused his eyes and it took him a second to understand her.

“What?”

“If we send only 50 people through, could you guarantee that those 50 will survive?” Ruslana repeated.

“And the 144 that remain here?” Sylver asked.

“Every single person who has ever left the home base is sterile. The important thing is that the children are safe. We could all die content if we knew they were safe somewhere,” Ruslana explained, and for a split second Sylver felt enraged at her words. The complete lack of feeling in her eyes stopped him from lashing out at her.

“Why 50?” Sylver asked coldly.

“There are 19 children who are either too young to survive without their mothers or are otherwise physically deficient. 42 are viable, and I would find 8 adults to accompany them,” Ruslana explained.

“Would one of those 8 adults include yourself?” Sylver asked, and almost snarled the question at the woman.

“No,” Ruslana answered without any reaction.

Sylver gave himself a minute to properly calm down, during which Ruslana did little but sit there and stare at him.

“Why would you tell me this? Why would you give me the upper hand in any and all negotiations? If I’m your only hope, why would you willingly tell me this?” Sylver asked, barely able to contain his anger at the fact that someone that was one of his would be this cornered and pathetic.

“I was told you are able to sense lies, and that you can read minds. Even with all my perks to prevent such a thing from occurring, I didn’t want to take any chances. Zelvash trusts you. And therefore, I trust you. And in your own words, you’re our only hope,” Ruslana explained, and Sylver saw the briefest shudder in her shoulders.

Thankfully Sylver’s anger prevented him from feeling sorry for the woman, so instead, he simply stood up from his seat and reached out a hand towards her.

“You asked me who I am… I am the same thing you are. A man willing to do whatever it takes to protect what’s his. And you and your people are mine,” Sylver said, while Ruslana remained glued to her seat and simply looked up at him with calm and almost relaxed eyes.

“Why?” she asked.

“Because I have a soft spot for the desperate, abandoned, and broken. Especially when they never stop fighting and are willing to grind themselves into a fine paste to win,” Sylver answered.

It was hard to say as to how long Ruslana just sat there staring at him. For a moment she took a deep and shuddering breath, and even as he said it, Sylver felt horrible for having to do this.

“No. You can cry when this is all over. You’re their leader, you are responsible for them, you don’t get that luxury,” Sylver said through gritted teeth, as Ruslana looked up at him the way a beaten dog would, and as if he had poured cold water on her, retreated back into herself.

She wiped away the wetness in her eyes with her sleeve, and with cold glassy eyes stood up and placed her hand into Sylver’s.

“The materials you asked for will be here in a couple of days,” Ruslana said quietly, as she shook Sylver’s hand.

“Good. Just enough time for me to see what the Dark Year is all about,” Sylver said and felt a pull at his heartstring as a warm smile that perfectly mimicked Nyx’s flashed on Ruslana’s face.

“I’m sorry, what?”

*

*

*

“It was just a formality. She’s nice, you’ll like her,” Sylver explained, as Spring continued to rummage through the large box in search of a metal tray.

“Where did the corpse filled with tiny hearts and lungs come from? When you came into the facility you were missing your left hand and left foot. I saw you attach the ones you took from the clones,” Ria asked, and completely ruined what little mood could be had moments before Sylver performed an extremely dangerous surgery on a child.

“What do you think I did?” Sylver asked, as he condensed the water in the air into a small basin and slowly heated it.

“I think you found a bunch of clones in the process of growing and butchered them for the parts,” Ria said quietly, as Spring brought the slightly rusty tray over.

Sylver sighed to himself and prepared for what was to come.

“They weren’t clones… I think they somehow used the ovaries they removed from her to make some eggs and then fertilized them. One of them had eyes, and they weren’t dark green like hers,” Sylver explained, and almost physically readied himself for Ria’s reaction.

She didn’t say a word for a good 10 seconds.

“Was there… Was there even a small part of you that hesitated? Or felt bad for cutting open her unborn children to harvest their hearts and lungs? I counted 25 lungs, you killed at least 25 unborn fetuses,” Ria asked, thankfully quietly enough that no one outside the metal box Chrys was currently residing in would hear them.

Sylver had set up a basic barrier, just to keep Chrys from getting an infection, and had made it soundproof in the event Ria decided now was an acceptable time to get emotional.

“Not even for a second. I hesitated only because I was worried about how you would react. Or how she would react,” Sylver said and gestured at Chrys.

Ria was silent again, and Sylver really didn’t like the reaction he could feel emanating from her soul.

“Where any of them alive?” Ria asked.

“Not if we go by my definition of “alive.” They had a heartbeat, but no soul. But-”

“Even if they had a soul, it wouldn’t have stopped you,” Ria said before Sylver could finish his sentence.

Sylver quietly laid out the various scalpels, hooks, needles, tongs, pliers, scissors, saws, and proceeded to “wash” his floating lump of [Necrotic Mutilation], by having it churn itself into a fine paste.

“Where do you draw the line?” Ria asked, as Sylver very carefully summoned several balls of light into existence and moved them around to see better.

“The line for what?” Sylver asked, as Reg materialized, and helped Sylver adjust the butcher’s apron.

“Just… What could you do that you would feel bad for? That you would later regret?” Ria asked, as her gold bar brick of a body moved slightly down Chrys’ stomach, so she wouldn’t get in the way.

Sylver earnestly thought about how to explain himself to her, as he picked up the first scalpel, and gently charged it up with mana. Fen stood at the ready with the hooks and clamps, and the rest of the shades all waited for Sylver to call them to help him.

“I feel regret when I have to do something painful to a person, to help them. But I can’t call that regret, because the results sort of make whatever I did worth it? The gist of it is, as long as the results are good, I don’t particularly care about what I did to get them. I prefer not to get innocent people involved if it’s an option, but my number 1 priority is, and always will be, that I get what I want,” Sylver explained and could tell by the feeling Ria’s soul was giving out that she didn’t understand him.

“Is this something you’re born with, or did something happen that made you like this?” Ria asked as Sylver adjusted the flow of mana to the scalpel, as it started to flicker with a weak yellow-colored light.

The key on his neck, as well as the one on Chrys’ neck, was reacting to the mana, but Sylver simply adjusted for it, and all but ignored it.

“I could spend all day trying to explain my philosophy, but it isn’t something someone can understand all that easily. I’m an evil monster, and I have accepted that long ago. No one asked me to be like this, no one forced me to be the way that I am, I made a choice, and I’ve stuck by it for who knows how long,” Sylver said, as he lowered the scalpel and felt around Chrys’ ribs with his free hand until he found the spot he was looking for.

“Why?” Ria asked quietly, as tiny tendrils entered underneath the bandages on Chrys’ hip, and traveled up to where Sylver was cutting.

“When I was young, my master treated me more like a pet, than an apprentice. You don’t need your dog to be careful, because you will always be there to defend it. There was… a friend I loved with all my heart died because of a decision I made. There’s room for heroism, miracles, there’s a way to have your cake, and eat it too, I still believe all of that is possible,” Sylver explained, as he used barely visible strings of [Necrotic Mutilation] to plug up Chrys veins and arteries to stop them from bleeding.

“But,” Ria asked, even as her voice trailed off slightly, as she focused on the part Sylver was about to remove.

The dark elves didn’t have anyone that would be of aid in this, so it was up to Sylver’s experience, luck, and guesstimation to figure out how to stabilize Chrys enough to not require a portable corpse to breath for her.

“But I’m not willing to risk it. Never again. I don’t care about how many eggs I need to break to make my omelet, as long as the eggs aren’t mine,” Sylver said, as he pushed the scalpel a little too deep, and had blood squirt all over his goggles.

*

*

*

On a certain level, the Dark Year looked…

Boring.

It was just a big dumb cloud, coming towards you, like a black sandstorm.

Sure it was so tall that it defied logic. It looked like a never-endingly tall wall, moving forward at a speed that shouldn’t be possible for something this massive. But aside from that, it wasn’t anything impressive.

Sylver’s lack of fear might have had more to do with the fact that he was quite honestly overjoyed at how successful Chrys’ surgery was. If it weren’t for the mind rendering pain, he could have woken her up with no problems.

He had waited until he was done deciphering Nyx’s grimoires before he looked at what was available, and Sylver was very glad he did.

[Mutating Override (I) Proficiency increased to 100%!]

[Mutating Override (I) rank up available!]Choose 1 from the following:Mutating Override (II)-Increase the range by 1cm.-Decrease the MP cost by 5%.-[Requirements not met]-[Requirements not met]

It wasn’t even a hard choice. Sylver could extend his range using [Necrotic Mutilation], 1 single centimeter wouldn’t make any difference. More than that, Sylver had apparently unlocked 2 out of 4 possible upgrades.

[Skill: Mutating Override (II) [F]]Skill level can be raised by overriding primal energy fields.I – Mutate biological matter by overriding its primal energy field.II – Decrease the MP cost by 5%.*Quantity of MP required dependent on rate, volume, and complexity of primal energy field being overridden.

Sylver knew in the back of his head that the system wouldn’t ever let him decrease the cost to 0, but the number of doors this skill was opening by decreasing the amount of MP required was astronomical. At his full power, as a lich, there was a very hard limit as to what Sylver could do with primal energy.

But now, even as he shifted the primal energy of his fingernail, Sylver could feel it, an otherworldly force adding mana, in places mana couldn’t be added.

It was hard to say if Sylver was grinning like an idiot as the giant cloud of darkness barreled towards him on account of Chrys’ exemplary surgery, or because Sylver was now on a path to becoming unstoppable.

Almost as an afterthought, Sylver looked over his status and decided to distribute all 5 attribute points into constitution.

Total Level: 127[Koschei-6][Necromancer-100][Swamp Lord-21]

CON: 165DEX: 105STR: 105INT: 260WIS: 226AP: 0

Health: 1,650/1,650Stamina: 825/825MP: 8,447/10,400

Health Regen: 19.25/MStamina Regen: 14.85/MMP Regen: 5288.40/M

Sylver took a very long, and very deep breath, as the underwater boat beneath his feet bobbed up and down in the ice-cold water. Ruslana had given them a barely functional rust bucket, that Ria had taken control over, and moved into the path of the Dark Year.

Sylver was going to just swim back, he only had Ria with him.

He continued to breathe in and out, almost laughing with celebration, as the enormous cloud of darkness rushed over him, and hid him away from the sun.

Sylver felt a sudden chill in the air that turned the air coming out of his mouth as white as his skin.

He flicked his hand towards the direction the cloud had come from and sent a pulse of mana out through the darkness.

Sylver tripped over his own feet as something sent a pulse back. He could barely gather his thoughts as he scrambled on the boat top to get back inside, to dive as deep as the piece of shit could handle, and keep diving because whatever had just sensed him wasn’t alive.

Worse than that, Sylver had been around various undead long enough to recognize them by their mana.

And even with his lofty 5% decrease in primal energy, Sylver was in no position to deal with a lich. Especially not one that felt old enough to have gone insane 10 times over.

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