Ch089-No Smoke Without Fire (Patreon)

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Ch089-No Smoke Without Fire

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Sylver finished rebuilding his robe and very carefully checked to see if all the connections were still secure. Apart from a slight delay near the shoulder, everything was in working order.

He walked over to where Lorn was hovering over the dead swordsman’s dried-up corpse and Sylver saw that Lorn was drawing something. At least as far as Sylver could tell by the movements of his pencil, Sylver couldn’t see what was actually drawn or written in Lorn’s book.

“Sorry, just give me a few more moments,” Lorn said, absentmindedly.

“Was he someone you knew?” Sylver asked. Lorn looked away from his book and paused as he stared at Sylver with an expression of utter disbelief on his face.

“Is this a joke?” Lorn asked.

Sylver shrugged his shoulders.

“No, really, are you joking right now?” Lorn asked, now turning his whole body to face Sylver. Sylver quietly looked at him for a while, before Lorn’s expression changed.

“Right, you’re not from around here… What kind of rock… If I said Lamb-Chop, would that mean anything to you?” Lorn asked as Sylver shook his head.

“Kold-Kap? What about-”

“I hate when people do this. Can we just skip to the end of you saying names I don’t recognize?” Sylver interrupted. His guess seemed to prove right as Lorn needed a moment to change his train of thought.

“Lamb-Chop is-” Lorn glanced down at the partially skinless corpse splayed out directly underneath him “-was a very well-known mercenary. He… I guess it doesn’t matter since you don’t know about him you probably don’t know about the people he fought that made him famous. It’s just… I’m glad you won and all that, but it’s such a disappointing end for him,” Lorn said, with such a tone of regret that Sylver wondered if Lorn was lying about being glad he won.

“If you knew who he was why didn’t you tell me earlier? What he can do, what the woman could do?” Sylver asked. Lorn’s face all but disappeared as Sylver stopped being able to tell where Lorn’s head was facing, let alone what kind of expression he had on his face.

“I was a bit taken aback by you slicing your back off with a wire. And I didn’t know what to say, watch out for his sword? I was going to tell you Kap uses drugs to give herself a physical advantage so you should drag the fight out so she gets weaker, but you were laughing your head off and crawling through the earth before I could gather myself to speak,” Lorn argued.

Sylver crouched down near Lamb-Chop’s corpse and reached out for one of his ribs.

“I’m honestly hesitant about telling anyone about this. No one’s going to believe me that the Lamb-Chop died at the hands of a, no offense, a nobody,” Lorn explained.

“Some taken. Will it make you feel better if I say that in a few years you’ll forget all about Lamb-Chop and Kold-Kat and instead will be bragging about getting to witness me fight someone before I was famous and well known?” Sylver asked, as he gently wiggled the bone until it came loose and he was able to pull it out of the remaining pieces of flesh.

“Lamb-Chop once punched a wild rock gargoyle to death. With his bare fists,” Lorn said almost under his breath, as Sylver inspected the bone and tried to see what it took for [Bound Bones] to activate.

[Shadow’s Agent] took a while to get used to but Sylver barely paid it any mind anymore. It was like discovering you had a third arm and gradually learning to manipulate it as if it were normal.

But until you got used to it you had to poke and prod your mind and surroundings until you felt the opening that allowed you to use the perk.

In this case, Sylver spent a while standing and staring at the long thin bone in his hand, as he tried to force [Bound Bones] to activate. The trick turned out to be pumping the bone full of mana and then focusing on the item you wanted to be bound to the bone.

After a few experiments, Sylver found that he had to have physical contact with the bone he wanted to use [Bound Bones] on. The skin/flesh of the owner of the bone was an exception to the rule. Lamb-Chop’s left foot was mostly intact, save for the leather boots that became glued to his flesh after melting.

Sylver could use [Bound Bones] through the foot’s skin, but couldn’t use it through the leather part. Another interesting detail was that the bone could absorb the flesh around it into itself. And when Sylver chose to unbind it, he could choose whether it appeared in his other hand, or exactly as it had been before. He could essentially remove a dead creature’s blood flesh and bones and store it in one of its bones.

Sylver used a leaf he set on fire to see how well the perk worked in terms of food storage. And even after waiting an entire 10 minutes, the leaf was still burning when Sylver took it out of the bone. It appeared that the item’s bound to the bone were suspended in time.

Meaning Sylver could now have a bunch of freshly made and steaming hot food without having to wait for the shades to cook it for him. More importantly, he now had a way of storing and carrying corpses around. But that came with its own set of issues.

First was the amount a single bone could hold. It was hard to put into words, but the feeling Sylver was getting was that a bone provided the space it would if it were blown up like a balloon. Sylver used coins to confirm his theory. When he used an empty bone and put a single gold coin into it, it cost him 3MP. When he added 50 coins and tried to add a 51st it cost him 92MP. The cost was the same until a certain point, after which it increased exponentially.

Adding the coins in batches didn’t change anything, but Sylver found that bigger bones could hold more coins until the mana cost started to exponentially increase. Sylver made a mental note to check to see if there was a difference between human bones, as opposed to elf bones other creatures in the future.

The surprising thing was that it was possible to bind enchanted items into a bone. Sylver could feel it. He’d tried to put a living worm into a bone and felt that faint buzz behind the ears. With magical items, the issue was that he simply didn’t have enough mana. Sylver felt that he maybe had enough for an enchanted ring, but his umbrella-shaped [Staff Of Infernal Interference] was too big. As was the [Dead Man’s Last Stand].

A few other experiments confirmed that when it came to enchanted items, the amount of mana in them significantly increased their mana cost, regardless of their weight or volume. Sylver also found that the perk did work with broken or shattered bones, but the cost increased well past what Sylver was capable of. When he tried to use a piece of the man’s skull, it cost nearly 1000MP for a leaf. Whole and unbroken bones worked best.

The last thing Sylver checked, the thing he had high hopes for, ended up disappointing him. [Bound Bones] understandably didn’t recognize Sylver’s unbreakable rib cage as a bone. All of Sylver’s other bones were fine, his skull, spine, femur, even the ossicles in his ears, although those could barely hold a small rock.

“I didn’t even see half the fight!” Lorn shouted as Sylver tried to get a bone to absorb an already bound bone. It didn’t work. Normal bones were fine, but not ones already holding something inside of them.

“What’s there to see? I kept them occupied long enough for me to get up top, and then I used my shades to trigger all the explosives nearby,” Sylver said.

“I’ve been trying to come up with a song for half an hour, and there’s nothing for me to sing about! You could have at least taunted them or something, or locked blades with Lamb-Chop once or twice and said something iconic! It was over too fast!” Lorn complained, as he continued going through various chords and kept trying to find a tune to use.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Was me fighting for my life not entertaining enough for you? I hope it doesn’t reflect badly in my report,” Sylver said mockingly as he pulled out a string from his robe and worked to connect several bones into an armband. Even with them being bound he didn’t feel any magic coming out from them, and was worried his robe would accidentally spit them out if he let them freely float around.

“It won’t, if anything even if you fuck up the bandit clearing quest, you’ll still pass. The whole point of the test is to make sure you’re competent, and this is more proof than I could ever ask for. I mean… You killed fucking Lamb-Chop. He was… Fuck me, I’m literally looking at his torn-up corpse and I still can’t believe it. At least take his skull if you’re looking for a trophy,” Lorn said, as Sylver’s robe covered up his bare arm and hid the tied-on armband underneath it.

Sylver moved his arm around to make sure it wouldn’t slip off and decided it was good enough. He walked over to Lamb-Chop’s body and looked down at it.

*

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“Bonny Ann. Her husband Aslan was their group’s leader, and she took over when he died. She and her ilk terrorized the southern pass for a few months until they had enough power to take over a town that used to be called Kurska. They celebrated their conquest by putting all the townspeople that hadn’t managed to escape up on a spike,” the chief explained with the calmness that only came from remaining just short of blackout drunk for several days. His eyes were red from crying, and his voice nearly broke a few times.

“All that in just two days?” Sylver asked.

The chief was a hunched over old man with a giant scar starting at the edge of his mouth and going all the way up to his left eye. It hadn’t healed properly, and pulled most of the skin on his face towards it, giving him an oddly young appearance. His dark green moss-like hair didn’t do a whole lot to help him.

“Two days? She’s been there for over two months now,” the chief said without so much as a hint of worry or concern. Sylver reached into his robe and pulled out the quest page. He reread the page three times and couldn’t find any issue with the date.

“The quest said two days. As in, not enough time for her to prepare traps or build up a solid defense,” Sylver said. The chief took the page from Sylver’s hand and slowly read through it.

“That’s odd,” the chief said. Sylver took back his page and very briefly touched the man’s hand. He looked around for Lorn but couldn’t find him. Sylver could feel he was somewhere nearby, but couldn’t pinpoint his location or attention.

“The adventurer’s guild has very strict rules regarding the quests that they accept and send adventurers on,” Sylver said. The drunk chief just barely nodded.

“And falsifying information to lower the quest’s rank comes with either a harsh fine or a downright ban,” Sylver said with a slightly lowered voice. The chief just continued to look at him with the same unfocused gaze.

“Is this some sort of scheme? Are you working with the bandits?” Sylver asked. Although the chief didn’t so much as blink, Sylver felt a reaction from his soul.

“Not working together. Incompetence? No, you knew what you were doing… Listen I’ll level with you, I’m not in a great mood, my shoulder feels like it’s on fire, so it would be to your benefit to just be honest with me,” Sylver said, all while the chief just stared at him. He barely acknowledged Sylver’s presence.

“I’m going to ask one more time, and then I’m going to cut your left eye out,” Sylver said, as he stood up and brushed his robe off from the dirt that wasn’t there.

“Why did you write two days as opposed to two months on the quest?” Sylver asked as the chief looked up at him. Sylver waited for a good minute before he very gently nodded for Spring to go ahead.

The chief shouted as two dark figures appeared behind him and pulled him out of his seat and forced him to his knees. He made a sputtering sound as the scalpel in Sylver’s hand glinted in the dim light the nearby lamp provided.

“THEY HAVE MY SON!” the chief screamed, as he struggled to pull his arms out of the shades’ grips. The shades didn’t loosen their hold, but Sylver remained where he was.

“Elaborate,” Sylver said calmly while still holding the razor-sharp scalpel in his hand. The chief looked down at the floor or tried to, as a third shade appeared and grabbed him by the remains of his hair and forced his head up to look at Sylver.

“He worked as one of our guards… When Bonny Ann was caught, the adventurers held her here while they waited for someone to arrive to confirm her identity and pay the bounty on her head. There’s over 10,000 gold for whoever brings her in alive. My son helped her escape and I’ve heard of a man that fits his description working as Bonny Ann’s second in command,” the chief explained.

“So you planned to make it look like you want Bonny Ann dead to appease the people in your town, while you purposely lied about the difficulty of the quest so that the adventurers that did accept it wouldn’t be able to kill Bonny Ann or your son? Did I get that right?” Sylver asked, looking the chief right in the eye. He nodded as much as he could.

“Is there anything else? How much of what you told me was a lie?” Sylver asked. The traces of silver in his body messed with his soul sense and made it difficult to concentrate. Ideally, Sylver would just sever the parts of him that were affected, but that wasn’t an option right now. Repairing a limb was incomparable to growing a new one.

Growing a couple of fingers back took him 3 days, Sylver didn’t even attempt to do the math as to how long an entire arm would take. Replacing his shoulder with someone else’s was possible, but it would take more time and effort to prepare the replacement than it would just waiting for all the trace silver to become inert.

“Bonny Ann gave the whole town a choice, she only killed those that refused to leave or fought her,” the chief added. Sylver continued to stare at him.

“Everything else was the truth, I swear on my life,” the chief said after a tense moment of silence.

The small scalpel in Sylver’s hand disappeared, as did the three shades standing behind the man. He fell over onto the ground but didn’t bother trying to get up. Sylver crouched down near him.

“Was that so hard? I understand that you’re upset. If a member of my family was in a similar position, forget sending innocent adventurers to their death, I would kill them with my own two hands to protect them. But on a less emotional level, you were about to send me to my death. I’m half tempted to go the eye for an eye route,” Sylver warned.

“He’s my son,” the chief explained as if that was all that needed to be said.

“I get that. That’s not the main focus here, you were indirectly going to cause my death. But the problem is that if I do what I want to do, the whole town would get implicated and would get banned from posting quests at the adventurer’s guild. With all the wilderness around you, I imagine it wouldn’t even be a year before enough monsters gathered to completely wipe all the people living here out,” Sylver said, as he reached into his robe and Spring handed him a small stack of papers.

Sylver dropped the stack of papers right next to the chief’s head.

“I would like for you to write an explanation for your actions, and for your own sake, don’t leave anything out. When I return I’ll pass it on to the guild, and they’ll take whatever measures they decide are necessary. If I were in your shoes, I would put extra emphasis on how you alone are responsible for the changes to the quest,” Sylver said.

The chief barely moved a muscle, if Sylver couldn’t feel his soul, he would have thought he had gone to sleep.

“Have I made myself clear?” Sylver asked as he stood up from the floor. The chief mumbled a response.

“This is a very serious matter, I want to make sure we understand each other,” Sylver repeated. There was a moment of silence.

“You said “when I return.” Are you going to actually try and complete the quest? Alone?” the chief asked, still on the floor.

“I’m already here, and all the other C rank quests involve monsters or are weeks’ worth of travel away,” Sylver explained. The chief stood up

“I know I’m not in a position to ask this… But please, don’t kill my son. He’s all I have left,” the chief begged. A tear rolled down the scar on his face as he struggled to stay on his feet.

“If I find that he’s being mind-controlled or something along those lines, I’ll do my best. I don’t kill people unless I need to. But if he chose to join the bandits, that’s his choice to make. If it makes you feel any better, I don’t let people suffer needlessly. It will be as painless as any death can be,” Sylver said.

The chief took two steps back and fell into his chair. He started to sob into his hands as Sylver turned around and left.

*

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“If you were anyone else, I would recommend they report the error to the guild and pick a different quest,” Lorn said, as Sylver slowly made his way through the forest.

“But?” Sylver asked.

“But I’m enthralled at the thought of what you’re going to do,” Lorn said. He passed through a tree trunk as Spring drew Sylver a mental map of the surrounding area.

“Because I managed to kill Pork-Chop?” Sylver asked.

“Lamb-Chop!” Lorn shouted indignantly as Sylver chuckled slightly. “He… Never mind, you’ve probably never heard of Aslan Ann either?” Lorn asked as Sylver nodded.

“Aslan, let me think, where to start… Fuck, I can’t believe I didn’t hear about his death… Bonny Ann, why does that name sound so familiar? You’re going to save the kid, right?” Lorn asked.

“If I can. My safety and life take priority, above all else. I don’t care if he’s crying while he’s doing it, but if he raises a hand against me, I’m going to defend myself. I’m not… Truth be told I’m not in a good position to judge anyone for being selfish. Especially when it comes to someone doing something awful to protect their child,” Sylver said somewhat hesitantly.

“I’m not sure I understand what his plan was? He’d sacrifice low-ranking adventurers so his son wouldn’t get killed? Then what?” Lorn asked.

“You’re trying to apply logic to an entirely emotional response. People don’t always think things through when it comes to family. Something that seems like a brilliant idea at the moment you’re doing it, very likely will look downright idiotic once you’ve calmed down and thought about it,” Sylver explained, as the shades suddenly had a giant blank spot in their scouting reports.

“Sounds like you speak from experience,” Lorn said quietly, as Sylver slowed down and walked with a slight crouch.

“I’ll put it like this, I’m a downright hypocrite for so much as raising my voice at that man. I rationalize a lot of my past mistakes with the fact that I did what I could with the tools and knowledge available at the time… We’ll continue this later, please disappear until it’s safe,” Sylver said, as Lorn erased every trace of his presence in the time it took Sylver to grab hold of his daggers.

Sylver turned into smoke and condensed the cloud until it looked like a tiny snake, making its way through the loose leaves and hanging roots that littered the ground. He realized quite quickly why the shades couldn’t see what was going on in the blank area.

Sylver had expected smoldering remains of a ransacked town to be here, with a forest of skewered corpses surrounding it.

Instead, Sylver saw three mages working in tandem to reinforce a tall stone wall, while guards dressed in dark green leather uniforms watched them work and seemed to be deeply engrossed in a conversation.

Sylver double and triple checked the directions the chief had given him. Everything was right, down to the giant boulder that the only road into the town had to go around.

Something was going on here, and Sylver didn’t like it.

*

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*

“Good evening!” Spring shouted, as he walked into the open and continued down the packed dirt road. The group of guards barely reacted to him, only one turned away from the discussion and walked towards Spring.

The guard stopped about 2 steps away from where the magic barrier ended, with Spring standing right up against it. Sylver watched from his hiding spot in the form of smoke, hidden inside a dead and hollow tree.

“State your business,” the guard said.

“Food and rest. And I need help navigating, I believe I’m a little lost. Is this the town of Kurska?” Spring asked. Spring told Sylver that the guard made a face at the word.

“Aslan. This is the town of Aslan, and under the authority of the southern liberation army,” the guard said.

Liberation army, why couldn’t it just be a bunch of bandits standing around a campfire and about to kill an adorable orphan or something? Sylver thought as his smoke slowly moved through a small tunnel in the ground towards Spring.

“Liberation army? What are you talking about?” Spring asked, doing his very best to be as polite and courteous as possible. The guard looked away and shouted for one of the other guards.

A guard by the name of Mark came over and had swayed on his feet for a few steps before he took a drink from a small flask and seemed to sober up from it.

“You’ll have to forgive my friend here, he was repeatedly dropped on his head as a child,” Mark said, shrugging off a sour-faced slap from the guard who had initially spoken to Spring.

“The nobility has been using the war with the Karoks as an excuse to squeeze the whole region dry. Tithes that should be going towards soldiers and defenses, are instead being wasted on unnecessarily extravagant month-long tournaments, lavish ballroom dances, and buying up precious resources to later sell at an extremely inflated price back to the people,” Mark explained. Sylver made a hole underneath Spring’s leg, and let his smoke gather inside of Spring’s robe.

“So this is a rebellion?” Spring asked. Sylver materialized inside the robes, a split second after Spring returned to the shadows, the robe and mask barely moved from the switch.

“Rebellion, revolution, coup, call it what you want,” Mark said, as Sylver reached a hand underneath his mask and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“You’re awfully polite and off guard for a rebel,” Sylver noted, as Mark and his companion just smirked.

“Truth be told, we’re all bored out of our minds. I expected to be tearing my way through empire soldiers and cutting my way directly to the high king. Not sitting around and waiting for all the other divisions to finish setting up their defenses,” the nameless soldier explained, while Mark hid a yawn with his hand. Sylver finished rubbing away his frustration and placed a hand on the barrier separating him from the bandit’s turned freedom fighters.

Sylver’s eyes went wide as he sent a weak pulse through the barrier.

It wasn’t just powerful, it was good.

Competent, even by Sylver’s standards.

Weak compared to what he would have considered strong when he was a lich, but compared to Sylver’s current abilities it was nearly unbreakable.

“You’re not going to be able to get in without our say so. We watched a crystal viper spend four hours bashing its horn against the barrier yesterday. As weird as that guy is, you can’t complain about his work,” Mark said, rapping his gloved knuckle against the barrier.

“If you want to come inside, to buy food or a place to sleep or whatnot, we’ll have to confiscate your weapons. You’ll also be surprised to learn that quite literally everyone here is just short of immune to magic, so don’t try anything funny unless you want a spear through the head, and a spike up your ass,” Mark explained, gesturing towards the floor.

Sylver thought it over for a moment and decided that it would be easier to unravel the barrier from the inside after he was done with his quest than it would be trying to force his way in from the outside.

Sylver’s daggers disappeared and were stored in his finger bones, while he reached behind himself and pulled out a large polished ax. He carefully wrapped the ax in a piece of cloth and laid it down on the ground.

“I had you figured for a short sword, but to each his own. But are you sure that’s all? Because if we search you and find something, it’s not going to end well,” the other guard said. Sylver patted himself down and made his caltrops and garrotes disappear as well, storing them in his forearms via [Bound Bones].

“Truth be told, I’m a lover, not a fighter. The ax was a gift from a friend of mine, but I haven’t had a chance to use it yet,” Sylver said. The ax had been polished to a mirror finish, and every time Sylver called it out via the [Rune Of The Defiant Armsmaster] it would come out perfectly clean and polished to mirror finish.

“I just want to be crystal clear here, once you come inside, you follow our rules, or there will be consequences,” Mark warned. Sylver’s bundled-up ax glowed a bright red light before it disappeared.

“What kind of rules?” Sylver asked. Both Mark and the other guard smiled at him.

“The usual, don’t steal, don’t attack anyone, and if someone wearing a dark blue armband tells you to do something, do it. If you’re interested in officially joining us, the pay is good, the benefits are great, and when the high king’s rule is overthrown you’re guaranteed your own land and a portion of the king’s treasury,” Mark explained. Sylver wondered why they didn’t ask him to remove his mask, but could only assume it was either carelessness or an idiotic amount of overconfidence.

*

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Inside the barrier, Sylver was surprised to find the town mostly intact. Some doors and windows were shattered and broken, but most were already partially repaired, or in the process of being replaced.

One thing that calmed Sylver down was the fact that the whole “town” was populated solely by combat-capable people. No civilian women or children, not even a blacksmith that was simply hired to work for them.

Everyone Sylver saw had the telltale signs of training and a certain level of weapon expertise. It was hard to call these people “bandits” since they were far too well organized to be called mere bandits.

Sylver’s question regarding his mask was also answered quite quickly, given how a majority of the people wore one mask or another. It was part of their uniform, and most of the people’s mouths were covered with a wooden mask, with a small hole near the lips, that presumably was big enough for a straw to fit through.

Very few people paid Sylver any attention more than a glance. He walked around the town unimpeded and stopped over a large wooden platform. He had wondered what exactly had happened to the dead bodies the chief spoke about, and now Sylver had an answer for that too.

The relaxed and calm atmosphere had made Sylver partially lower his guard, but the feeling of death beneath his feet brought him back to his sense.

The souls in the ground glittered and screamed in agony, stuck in a loop of pain and confusion as they repeatedly attempted to leave their dead husks.

A lot of primitive necromancers used torture as a way of keeping a soul attached to its body. To their credit, it was effective, if barbaric and inefficient.

Sylver counted a total of 81 souls trapped underground in their impaled and rotting corpses. He looked around and saw a woman staring directly at him. Before Sylver could move a muscle or say anything, the woman was standing a mere inch away from him. He hadn’t felt any magic being used, this was pure speed.

“My men tell me you came for food and rest, and yet you’ve walked past four different inns,” the woman said.

“I’m looking for someone,” Sylver said, after coughing into his fist to clear his throat. The woman smiled at him, with the kind of smile that was normally accompanied by bedroom eyes. Although in this case, her eyes were lukewarm, if not cold.

“I should have introduced myself, my name is Bonny Ann, I’m the head of this outpost. What does your friend look like?” Bonny asked as Sylver took a small step back to get her out of his personal space.

“Sorcha, pleased to make your acquaintance. I’m looking for a man with dark green hair, the last name is Donwall” Sylver explained.

“Oh! You’re a friend of Lawrence’s, why didn’t you say so? He’s over at the training grounds right now, go 3 houses that way, and turn left. It’s a large open area, you can’t miss it,” Bonny said, wrapping her arms around Sylver’s and pressing it against her relatively large chest.

He felt some kind of magic flash nearby for a moment but suppressed the urge to turn his head to look at it. Bonny wasn’t a mage, Sylver was certain of that. And by the way, his skin tingled from the physical contact, this woman could very likely take a fireball to the face and not so much as scorch her hair.

“Since I have you here, I would love to meet whoever created this barrier. I’ve never seen such a solid and extensive framework before,” Sylver said, gesturing with his free hand upwards at the large spherical barrier slightly dimming the light coming down from the moons.

If nothing else, finding the creator and forcing them to turn it off would be easier than sitting around and trying to decipher it.

“Oh that’s Red-Eye, he’s always going on and on about it. Barrier this, barrier that, I don’t understand half the stuff he says myself, but I’m sure he’d love to talk to someone that understands it!” Bonny said as she pulled Sylver along.

*

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*

[Human/??? (Warrior+Bladesman+Swordsman+Warrior+Warrior+Frenzied Butcher+Berzerker) – 144]
[HP-37,950]
[MP-0]

[Human (Warrior+Warrior+Bladesman+Spearman+Warrior+Warrior+Berzerker) – 127]
[HP-29,551]
[MP-0]

The two dulled swords skittered off each other and produced enough sparks to light up the entire arena. The two fighters barely allowed a breath to pass, before their blades were once again bouncing off one other, parrying each other’s blows, and constantly moving in a tight clockwise circle. Sylver let his eyes wander as he used [Appraisal] on all the people here, and found the lowest level to be 104.

And as he had expected, there wasn’t so much as a single drop of mana amongst the small group of warriors. He noted that all the ones with a level higher than 120 had an identical marking on their left shoulder, with a different symbol from the ones wearing blue armbands.

“Lawrence! Baby, come over here, I’ve brought a friend of yours over!” Bonny shouted, waving towards an oddly thin man, with such a closely shaved head of hair that Sylver just barely could see the slight green color.

Lawrence somehow appeared nearby with only three quick steps, practically leaping the distance without actually gaining even a centimeter of altitude. He pulled Bonny off her feet and managed to simultaneously reach one hand down the back of her paper-thin leather-like armor, and used the other to grab her chest, all while kissing her and spinning her around. Sylver noted that most of the warriors here weren’t wearing a mask.

Sylver rolled his eyes under his mask and was careful not to let his posture appear hostile or annoyed.

“Do I know you?” Lawrence asked.

Sylver waited until Lawrence put Bonny down and leaned forward to whisper in his ear.

“Your father is worried about you. He asked me to make sure you’re alright,” Sylver said. A strange look came over Lawrence’s face.

“You can tell that old bastard he can go fuck himself. I’m happy where I am, I’m not leaving,” Lawrence said. Sylver shrugged his shoulders and turned to Bonny.

“I’d like to talk to whoever made the barrier,” Sylver said.

“You’re not going to try and convince him to go home? I would have thought-”

“Why? He’s a grown man, he can do what he wants. And to be entirely honest, I’m not that fond of his father either,” Sylver said, interrupting Bonny’s question. The grim expression on Lawrence’s face brightened up and he walked towards Sylver and placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Red-Eye is in his tent, right? Come, I’ll show you the way,” Lawrence said, pushing Sylver away from the group. Sylver walked with him for a while and was slightly disappointed he couldn’t feel so much as a trace of mind-related magic.

Either whoever brainwashed him was skilled on a level that made the Ibis look like amateurs, or Lawrence was here entirely of his free will. And going by the way he looked at Bonny, Sylver didn’t have a whole lot of questions regarding why he was here.

“What bullshit did he spin when he talked to you?” Lawrence asked in a slightly quieter voice.

“That you used to work as a guard, helped Bonny Ann escape, and you’ve been working as her number 2 since then,” Sylver explained calmly. Lawrence’s grim expression returned, and it didn’t help that Sylver was well within his reach, and unarmed.

By the time Sylver could unbind one of his daggers, Lawrence would have killed him three times over. [Draining Touch] would have no effect on a man with so little mana in his system, and Sylver wasn’t confident his shades would be enough to beat him.

“He’s always been like this! Manipulating everyone around him! I didn’t help Bonny Ann escape, she escaped on her own and spared my life because she saw something in me! She offered me something that would actually make a difference in the world. Do you know how many people die from a simple toothache, while noble families have four healers on retainer to heal every single scrap and stubbed toe?” Lawrence asked. Sylver paused slightly as he felt that he’d heard this exact phrase before.

“And even if you forgive that, what about all the skills and perks they’re hoarding? It’s not like it would cost them anything to share what they know with the rest of us? It isn’t like they’re finite? What difference does it make if three people know a skill, versus a million? It doesn’t make any one skill or perk any less valuable, or effective. All it does is let the greedy bastards up top stay on top, while the whole world suffers!” Lawrence explained. Sylver felt like the memory was at the very tip of his tongue.

“We share things here. We share our knowledge, I’m halfway there to unlocking my [Berserker] class! And I’ve gained more skills and perks in the last month than I had during my whole life!” Lawrence said with an enthusiastic whisper.

Sylver felt a faint cramp in his stomach, as he listened to Lawrence talk. The edge of Sylver’s vision caught the sight of a large banner with a crudely painted symbol on it. It looked like two fish kissing, and Sylver couldn’t put his finger on what exactly set him off about it.

“And the high king! He’s the biggest offender of them all! The man knows the secret to immortality, and hands it out to those he deems fit like he’s a god or something!” Lawrence shouted indignantly, loud enough that one of the half-asleep guards nearby woke up and glanced at them, before closing his eyes again.

“I was under the impression that was just a rumor. If the high king were truly immortal, he wouldn’t have let so many members of the royal family die,” Sylver said. His knowledge of the high king and the people around him mostly came from the time Novva spoke to him while they waited to be rescued from Tuli’s body.

“That’s exactly what he did! He let them die. So there wouldn’t be anyone to question him or try to overthrow him!” Lawrence said. He brought Sylver over to a very large tent with the same fish kissing symbol sown all around the cloth walls of the tent. When he opened the tent flap, Sylver felt like his stomach dropped out.

Appearance-wise there weren’t any similarities.

But the way the magic buzzed around him, solidified Sylver’s belief that this was either one of Bear’s relatives or his apprentice. The mage was wearing a dark red robe, with a wooden mask that had been carved to resemble a large eye where his mouth would be. Like his namesake, the eye was bright red. As was the man’s actual eyes, now that Sylver got used to the light inside of the tent.

[???/??? Vampire/??? (Mage+Mage+Mage+Sorceror+Mage+Unholy Priest+Mage+Magic Crafter+Mage) – 159]
[HP-N/A]
[MP-N/A]

“Red-Eye, this is Sorcha, a friend of mine. He’s interested in your barrier, and has been dying to meet you,” Lawrence said with a faint chuckle as he practically shoved Sylver inside of the tent.

No wonder they’re so off guard. They’ve got a mage that renders other mages powerless, all while everyone else is already used to fighting without magic. Sylver thought as he saw the smile in Red-Eye’s eyes and shook his hand. Sylver’s sleeve lost its fluffy appearance and draped over his forearm like a soggy cloth.

He also realized that they all seemed to think he came here to join them, and was playing hard to get or something along those lines. Considering he came alone and had been nothing but polite and courteous to them, it did somewhat make sense.

“Sorcha was it? What an interesting name. I’m Red-Eye, as you might have heard, but you can call me Red if you like,” Red-Eye said.

“Sorcha, no family name, pleased to make your acquaintance,” Sylver said.

Forget C rank, a well-organized militia backed by a mage of Red’s caliber is B rank at least. Maybe even A rank.

Sylver silently cursed himself for not picking the C rank tree bark gathering quest. He would have had to fight off some suicidal moths, but at least he wouldn’t have to fight an army built to literally counteract and kill mages.

Sylver saw a map half opened in the corner and gestured towards it, “Do you mind if I check something first?” Sylver asked.

“Sure, be my guest,” Red said, as he walked over to the map and made it unfold with a snap of his fingers.

Sylver smiled a bit at this, the barrier was impressive, but Red’s other magic was sloppy. His abilities were similar to Bear’s, but nowhere near the same level of skill.

“Where are we exactly?” Sylver asked. Red pointed at a spot on the map that had the symbol of two fish kissing with the number 3 written inside the left fish. There were two more similar symbols labeled 1 and 2 nearby.

He recognized two town names and knew the distance between them from memory. Using that to get a sense of scale, Sylver did the math and found that Aslan was almost exactly 945KM away from Arda.

Meaning that either Nameless and Poppy went back on their word, in which case Sylver is entitled to dealing with this as he damn well pleased, or that Nameless and Poppy aren’t involved with this liberation army business, in which case Sylver could do whatever the fuck he wanted.

“So what brings you here Sorcha? Business or pleasure? We don’t get a whole lot of visitors,” Red said, standing just slightly behind Sylver and looking over his shoulder.

“Hmm?” Sylver asked, turning around from observing the map and letting Spring take notes. “Oh, I’m just here to get some food and rest up, I’ll be out of your hair in no time,” Sylver said with an offhanded tone.

Maybe this might be enough to get him an automatic promotion to C rank? How many people get to say they singlehandedly stopped a rebellion dead in its tracks?

More importantly, these muscle bound men would make perfect shades.

Sylver suddenly felt a whole lot better about the whole thing, and already had a plan forming in his head. Things had been touch and go when he was dealing with the Black Mane, but Sylver estimated he would be done with all three outposts in under a week.