Sylver Seeker

“I thought you said 4 hours?” Rory asked, as Sylver limped over to the bar, and slumped down onto one of the stools.

“Don’t ask,” Sylver said, as the bartender handed him a glass of water, with a small piece of chopped-up mango floating around.

“If you’re done, we can go,” Rory whispered into Sylver’s ear.

Sylver rolled his shoulders, and both crunched loud enough that a few of the remaining guests turned to find the source of the sound.

“Are you done?” Sylver asked casually, as he cracked his neck, and stared at the tiny yellow cubes in his cup.

“Yes, we can go,” Rory repeated, as Sylver swirled the slowly yellowing water around, while he waited for the go-ahead from Lady Demor.

She didn’t seem to take him seriously when he suggested that she personally checked that whatever was important hadn’t been actually stolen, and then replaced with the replica, but he managed to convince her.

Which was very fortunate for her, considering Sylver was right.

There wasn’t a taunting note, but Lady Demor did find that the replica, which she had planned to give to one of her servants to dispose of, had miraculously switched places with the real thing.

When she asked how Sylver knew, he initially attempted to explain that clairvoyants always used misdirection when they tried to steal something, but decided to just say it was a necromancer’s intuition.

Clairvoyants couldn’t help themselves, especially the ones like Kass.

The only thing they loved more than setting up the perfect row of dominos, was setting off a chain reaction that gave them what they wanted at minimal cost and effort.

The trick with switching shit around was something Sylver had heard about, but never experienced, on account of all of his “valuable” items being marked by his soul, and impossible to switch without him noticing.

Even when someone did manage to steal from him, everything worth chasing after had a tracer, and Sylver either went to retrieve it himself or sent one of the named shades after it.

But more often than not, the most he would have to do to protect his precious tools, weapons, and what have you, was to brush away the dust the vaporized would-be thieves left behind. Sylver was good with curses, and the handful of people who were better than him with curses knew that stealing from him was a death sentence, which meant that Sylver’s valuables were essentially untouchable.

Clairvoyants were almost always very very clever.

Their brains developed much faster than a normal mage’s, and some even gained information from the future and ended up being geniuses by the time they were 10 years old.

But, as they all learned, it doesn’t matter how smart you are, how accurately you can predict the future, or how perfect your plan is if you can’t defend yourself from an idiot brute-forcing his way through everything.

Even if you know the punch is coming 10 years in advance, if you can’t stop it, it doesn’t matter.

There was a joke in the Ibis, regarding how each school of magic would handle traversing a maze.

The punchline was that the school that the mage telling the joke didn’t like, would simply burn, break, or go through the maze, as opposed to trying to find the correct path, on account of how stupid the mages practicing that particular school of magic were.

Sylver always liked that analogy.

It wasn’t even a metaphor, there was one time when Sylver quite literally smashed his way through an underground maze. He did his best to decipher all the scribblings on the wall, but after he realized there were at least 9 different dialects being used, Sylver gave up, and in a rage discovered that the reinforced and enchanted stone was tough, but wasn’t tougher than Sylver’s abyss magic.

Edmund had a similar experience, he got trapped in a forest that dulled his mind to the point he spent several days lost and barely awake, before he simply burned it down, and went home.

Sylver liked to keep things simple, everyone past the age of 500 liked to keep things simple. Sure, it was kind of nice when a plan was perfectly executed, but being able to simply take what you came for, and then leave, was objectively better.

Sadly, Sylver wasn’t in a position to simply punch his way through his obstacles, he had to play it safe and careful. Sylver didn’t react as Rory pulled his sleeve up and saw, among other things, bite marks, scratches, rope burn, and enough bruising that Sylver’s forearm looked like it belonged to a dark elf.

“What did she do to you?” Rory whispered as she tried to pull the sleeve back into place, and Sylver snapped out of his thoughts and looked down at his exposed arm. He pulled the sleeve until it hid everything, as he spoke.

“A lot of things. For whatever reason, I tend to attract a very particular type of woman. Things tend to get… a little out of hand,” Sylver tried to explain, without going into greater details.

He preferred to keep his private life private.

And while there were people who he would gladly brag and boast to, a woman who he was fairly certain was going to eventually get thrown out to be eaten by monsters, wasn’t one of them.

It wasn’t exactly a competition, but Lady Demor’s strength, vitality, stamina, and sheer size gave her an advantage against Sylver.

And like most dark elves, she was very aggressive, and only the fact that Sylver’s body was being helped along by magic, saved him from losing the battle. His pride as a man was on the line, and he had just barely managed to successfully defend it.

Although truth be told, it was a surprisingly close fight, Sylver had been worried about being backed up, now he was worried there was nothing left.

Sylver finished chewing the little cubes of mango and turned as he felt someone with their attention fixed on him approach from behind.

The man was small, but he wore Lady Demor’s shade of orange and adjusted his bowtie before he turned around and mixed into the remains of the crowd.

Bowtie means everything is fine. Sylver reminded himself, as he transferred a couple thousand cuts to the barman as a tip, gathered up his robe, and went into the teleportation room to leave.

*

*

*

The days passed in an odd haze.

There wasn’t a whole lot to do. Sylver already had all the guns, armor, and ammunition he could ever need, he even went ahead and bought a giant crate of non perishable food, enough surgical equipment to piece just about anything back together, and at Ria’s request, several high tech guns.

Given that she was simply a gold bracelet as far as the Garden was concerned, the oddly light weapons were all kept in a bag for the time being.

Initially, Sylver wanted to meet with Chrys again, but he wasn’t entirely sure how he was supposed to arrange a meeting. He knew where she was, the shade he had hidden in her shadow kept him updated on a minute-to-minute basis. He didn’t know what she was doing, or what condition she was in, but he knew where her body was, at the very least.

He did find something interesting while he sat in the bath, and quietly bought things through his tablet.

Sylver could feel someone on the other side.

The whole concept of turning pulses of lightning into images didn’t quite make sense to Sylver, but the more he stared into the camera, the more he could make out what was going on, on the other side.

He didn’t have a clear image, but Sylver was sure he could hear someone talking in English.

There was a spell that allowed someone to see what a painting of them could see. It was very mana intensive, expensive, and the range wasn’t all that great. Not to mention it required sitting around while someone painted you.

Technically speaking, the spell itself wasn’t dark magic, but the fact that some blood had to be mixed into the paint used for the painting, pushed it into that category.

Sylver stared directly into the camera, as he adjusted the framework until he felt a connection forming.

Sylver could almost see it, there were 6 people staring at a screen with Sylver’s face on it, surrounded by similar-looking screens that had faces that weren’t Sylver’s on it. The interference was intense, and Sylver for the unlife of him couldn’t see what he was doing wrong.

As he went to scratch his eye, he decided to remove the lens covering his right eye and felt the connection strengthen slightly. Sylver removed the lens on his other eye, but it didn’t make any difference.

Still staring directly into the camera, Sylver felt like someone flicked him right in the eye, as the connection was very harshly severed. A few drops of blood-tinged tears leaked out of Sylver’s right eye, as he wiped them away, and went back to staring into the camera.

Ria questioned what exactly he was doing and then suggested that Sylver simply use his own camera and screen.

Surprised at the fact that it hadn’t occurred to him, Sylver did just that.

Within less than an hour of adjustment and practice, Sylver figured something out.

It was still shaky, but he could move the image on the screen, without actually moving. The black-eyed, white-faced handsome stranger would stare back at Sylver as if he were looking in a mirror, and ever so slightly, Sylver could make him turn his head to the side, without moving his head or eyes away from the camera.

More importantly, Sylver found that with a little further adjustment, he could make the screen turn off. And once Ria explained to him exactly what he was doing, overloading whatever a capacitor was, he almost managed to do it on command.

Establishing enough of a connection still took him a minute or so, but Sylver was gradually getting better at it.

As the light coming into the house through the window started to darken, Sylver placed the dead tablet down onto the table, alongside 9 other dead tablets. He couldn’t quite get them to explode, but he got the feeling it was simply a matter of time and practice.

*

*

*

The explosion had been repaired perfectly. If Sylver hadn’t blown it up himself, he never would have suspected a thing. With [Fog Form] Sylver arrived at the “meeting place” without any issue.

Sylver’s concern regarding the bracelet was resolved rather simply. Ria very gently and quietly covered it in herself and sealed it off, so it couldn’t see, hear, or feel Sylver.

“I’m here to talk about the “tree of life” and Zelvash!” Sylver said quietly, as he pulled the card out from his sleeve, and held it out towards the empty darkness all around him.

As usual, one moment they weren’t there, the next they surrounded Sylver from all sides.

Sylver put the card back into his sleeve and didn’t raise his voice, despite the distance between them.

“I want to talk to someone with the authority to make a deal with me,” Sylver said towards the group. He counted 5 people, but they kept disappearing as he turned his head to count them.

The silence lasted for a couple of seconds before Sylver heard a voice speaking directly into the back of his head. He was thankfully ready for it and didn’t flinch.

“Wait,” the dull voice said.

Sylver didn’t bother turning around and didn’t try to catch the black fire-clad dark elves leaving, and instead found a good ledge to sit down on, and used [Necrotic Mutilation] to create something to support his back.

Sylver’s ass barely started to go numb, by the time he felt a presence standing to his right. He turned and saw a black flame-covered humanoid figure towering over him.

“I’m going to assume you know who I am, and I’m going to assume you know that trying to kidnap me or force me into doing anything isn’t possible,” Sylver said calmly and didn’t get so much as a twitch from the flame clad figure.

“I know there’s going to be a blackout in a few days, and-” the figure flinched as a strange sound echoed throughout the empty spherical room, that sounded a lot like someone accidentally crushing rock with their bare hands. Sylver waited for the sound of rubble falling into the weak stream of water below to subside.

“-and I want you to cripple the security at the eastern district of the Flower’s research building. I might also need help stealing a certain item, and afterward, I want you to provide me transport to a safe location,” Sylver finished.

He picked his nails as he waited for a response, but continued talking as he didn’t get one.

“In exchange, I can help you bring your “tree of life” back to life if it’s dead or dormant, or I can help you grow a brand new one, assuming you can steal a few pieces from the one in the Garden,” Sylver said, as he felt several presences appear behind him before they all simultaneously disappeared.

Sylver felt a familiar soul, and he sighed as Spring confirmed what Sylver already knew. Sylver held the card up between two fingers, with the framework covered side facing the old man, apparently named Zelvash.

The old man walked over to Sylver and sat down next to him with a grunt.

[??? (Druid+Dark Druid+???+Eldar Guardian) – 349][HP-7,947][MP-99]

“Do I need to repeat everything?” Sylver asked, without looking up. The water down below was slowly spiraling towards the middle.

“In some texts, it is written that our people gave them their tree. And that it was simply bad luck that led to the world becoming toxic to our tree, and nourishing to theirs,” Zelvash explained, as Sylver could do little but nod.

He didn’t have respect for his elders.

Especially when the aforementioned elders were younger than him, but Sylver did feel a little sympathy for the old man. He wasn’t sure if it was the cadence of his voice, his body language, or that Sylver simply recognized the signs.

Frankly speaking, he was glad Zelvash wasn’t one of those that cried all the time once they decided to sacrifice themselves.

“What do you know about the Gardener?” Sylver asked.

“We know he wasn’t one of yours,” Zelvash answered, and Sylver couldn’t decide if he was glad to hear that, or if it was another nail in the coffin.

“Circumstances aside, it is a great honor to meet you. There are no words to describe how long I’ve waited for this,” the old man said.

He didn’t sound tired, he sounded exhausted, and yet his voice just barely gave it away.

“Where did you get this?” Sylver asked, and felt his voice almost catch in his throat. He hoped he was wrong.

“It has been passed down through my family for generations. The Garden likes to imagine itself as an obelisk of knowledge, and yet they’ve thought “The Flip” had occurred a mere 1,000 years ago for nearly 4 millennia. At least we are honest about not knowing everything,” Zelvash continued.

Sylver just watched the swirling water down below and waited for the inevitable disappointment.

“It was a woman. A dark elf woman, that we know for certain. Her name has been lost to time,” Zelvash continued, as Sylver started to feel physically sick.

Men who were getting ready to die very rarely told lies, and this close to him, Sylver would have felt it if he had.

“She appeared at the cusp of our destruction, and saved us from extinction,” Zelvash explained.

There was no proof this had been Nyx.

The handwriting on the card didn’t match hers, it didn’t look like any handwriting Sylver had seen before, but this felt like Nyx.

How much of that was Sylver wishing it was, hoping even, he couldn’t say. The idea that she got stuck in this realm and died here enraged him as much as it depressed him.

Sylver could do little but continued to sit there between his boiling hot anger, and ice-cold grief.

“And when she left, she said one day a man like no other would come to help us,” Zelvash continued, as Sylver stared at him, with both eyes open so wide that they threatened to pop out.

“Those were her exact words? “A man like no other?” Are you sure?” Sylver asked quietly, as Zelvash reached into his robe, and produced a small wooden rectangle.

It looked like it had been carved just yesterday, as were the words carved on the lid, in perfect Elvish.

“For a man like no other.”

“The card you are holding is the first of 21,” Zelvash said, as the wooden rectangular box glowed with a faint dark red light.

“21? Did you say 21?” Sylver repeated, as the biting chill in the pit of his stomach receded. Sylver took the wooden box out of Zelvash’s hands and placed his hand on the lid.

It was so faint; he couldn’t even say for certain he wasn’t imagining it. Magic so old that it shouldn’t have been possible for it to exist.

Sylver ran his thumb over the carving at the top of the box.

It wasn’t Nyx.

Something this cryptic and pointlessly complicated was the kind of thing she’d laugh at.

As Sylver considered how to get the box to open, his ring appeared on his finger.

The [Gnarled Staff Fragment Of Igri] just barely brushed against the wooden surface, before the tiny card holding box was replaced by a thick and heavy wooden chest that very nearly toppled out from Sylver’s lap and fell into the running water below.

Sylver managed to move the chest off his lap and onto the metallic mesh he was sitting on, and it was only when he stopped to look for a handle or hinge, did he realize the card in his hand had transformed into a book.

The cover was completely blank, save for a very small and neat VII in gold lettering. In the darkness, they didn’t glitter, but to Sylver’s [Mana perception] it might as well have been on fire.

This wasn’t Nyx.

But it was someone from the Ibis. Someone who knew Nyx well enough to make a forgery that would have fooled quite literally anyone except for Sylver.

Someone who managed to get their hands on Nyx’s grimoires.

“This is mine,” Sylver said sternly, as he placed the book in his hand inside the chest, and slammed the lid so hard that the sound echoed throughout the hollow room.

[Koschei] has reached level 6!+Perk: [N/A]+5AP

“Yes,” Zelvash said simply and calmly.

Sylver almost lay down on top of the chest, and very nearly fell over as it became as small as a thin deck of cards.

“Do we have a deal? Cripple security, help steal an item, and transport to a safe location, and in exchange, I’ll try to get your lot a working “tree of life”,” Sylver counted out, as he hurriedly tucked the box way into his robe, and made it wrap itself around it as tightly as it could manage.

“Yes, we have a deal,” Zelvash answered humbly, as he slowly got up from sitting on the ledge, and extended a hand out towards Sylver.

Sylver maintained a distance away from Zelvash and stared at his hand, as both of his were clutching the small wooden box floating inside his robe, near his chest.

This is a setup.

It has to be, the woman in white knew exactly what she was doing when she sent me here.

Sylver continued to stare at Zelvash’s hand, while he did his best to calm his heart and mind down to a stable enough state.

“I’m not making a deal while I’m like this, fuck you. I’ll be back later if I change my mind,” Sylver said slowly, as he forced himself into focusing on the important.

Find and destroy the book.

Save Chrys.

Go home.

Sylver wasn’t about to be bought or tricked by being offered what already belonged to him. Sylver walked past a very calm Zelvash and didn’t look back once as he disappeared through the pipe and started to travel home.

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