Eight humanoid figures moved through the night covered forest, illuminated by a magical light shining above them. Pointy ears and slim bodies, their race was called elves. Their movements were agile and fluid, unimpeded by roots and trees, running through the forest like a river flowing through its course.

An elf was leading the group, his otherworldly features untouched by age, with short brown hair and piercing brown eyes that were staring at the object in his hand: a strange compass, with an arrow that pointed right in front of him. But the arrow was not in touch with any other surface, floating in the middle of a glass sphere instead, which in turn was encompassed by two golden metal rings with unreadable symbols written on them.

The arrow suddenly changed direction, pointing high up into the air: the elf immediately ran up the nearby tree, followed in line by his companions. He kept running up the tree with his two legs, defying gravity, until the arrow changed direction again and pointed backward, where they had been coming. He didn’t question the arrow, following it without delay. They were still moving up in the trees when they noticed that many had fallen or tilted, forcing the group to continue on the ground. They saw destruction all around them, with trees tilted, cracked or directly uprooted, each of them pointing in a single direction as if a giant force had pushed them. A clearing appeared in front of the group, but a huge part of the ground was missing, creating a semicircular shape with only a remaining pillar made of earth in the middle of it. The elves stopped outside the explosion zone and created a circle around the elf that had been leading them. The elf reached his bag on the side, taking out another strange item; the bag was much smaller than the item itself, but somehow the object had appeared in the hands of the elf when his hands got close to the opening of the bag. It was another spherical object made of glass, this time with a pulsing blue light coming from its center. The elf fixed his eyes on it, concentrating. The following pulse slowed down considerably, showing eight white dots close to one another at the center of the sphere; the pulse expanded slowly, with no other dots appearing until it reached the middle of the sphere, showing another single dot of white light. The elf kept staring at the sphere, watching the pulse slowly make its way to the glass, showing no other dot of light in its passing.

The elf blinked his eyes, and the pulse resumed its faster rhythm. A single drop of sweat ran across the elf face, but he paid it no mind and stashed both of his items into the bag, making them disappear into it.

The group moved in the direction of the single dot of light, easily locating their objective: roots were intertwined with one another, creating an ellipsoid shape rooted to the ground below.

The elves watched each other and arranged themselves. Two elves readied one potion each, a red one and a blue one, while five others secured the perimeter, scanning the ground and the sky searching for any sign of danger. The elf in charge unsheathed a sharp black dagger and gently stabbed the roots, parting them with little effort. The roots retracted away from the dagger, showing an old figure inside. His eyes were closed, and he had blood smeared over all of his body, but no injury was visible. A red potion was fed to the old figure, followed by a blue one. Heavy waves of mana were drawn to him; the phenomenon was so grand that anyone nearby would have felt it.

Taking a deep breath and opening his eyes, the old elf moved out of the roots, while the others took a step back and went to their knees. He swiftly scanned the surroundings and then fixed on the leading elf. The old elf started speaking, and his language was music: every word connected into the other melodically, creating a song from a simple speech.

“Iolas. Bring me up to date.”

The younger elf named Iolas looked up from his kneeling position, not moving to stand up.

“Yes, Grand Master Haryk. We received the signal of your emergency artifact and came here as fast as possible. I am ashamed to say that the wards delayed us.”

“My wards are capable of deceiving dragons; I assume you used the Compass to reach me. How much has passed?”

The old elf, Haryk, was speaking to Iolas without watching him; he was scanning the surroundings, surveying the damage for the first time.

“The incoming morning is the seventh day from receiving your signal, Grand Master.”

The old elf eyes locked onto the pillar in the center of the disaster. He took a step towards it, appearing in the air above it the next moment, studying it.

“A body was right here. Someone took it. Find the thief.”

The group of elves stood up, moving in different directions searching for traces. Iolas moved up to the pillar, looking at the markings on it. The dirt had barely any sign, but it was clear to the trained eye that something had been placed and then moved away. After barely thirty seconds one of the elves came back, kneeling in front of Haryk.

“Grand Master, we found traces of a humanoid directed west of here.”

Haryk took another step in the direction pointed by the kneeling elf, studying the steps moving away from the explosion into the forest. The traces were barely there, and his untrained eyes had difficulties making out any detail. He looked up in the sky, seeing dark clouds overhead threatening rain. His voice boomed, reaching all the elves in the clearing.

“Follow the trail: I need to know where the body went. Iolas, oversee the task. If what I fear is correct, you won’t find a body but a living abomination. I need to contact the Grand Masters.”

Saying that he walked a distance away, leaving Iolas and the group of elves. They started tracking the trail as fast as possible, but the footprints were a week old, making the task difficult. Outside the warded zone the task became almost impossible: animals had come and gone, and winds had erased almost every single trace. But his group was one of the best trackers of Yill, their city, and they had their orders: they would find the body as asked by the Grand Master because impossible tasks were what they were trained to complete and failure was not an option.

------------

Silvy looked up, noticing dark clouds on the horizon. She considered them: would rain be a problem for a dead body? Would she fall apart when hit by the drops? Maybe she would produce a bad smell, like dogs or beastkin? She probably wouldn’t. She had already washed with water recently, so it should be fine.

Laughter and chatter coming from a nearby tavern were the only noises on the almost empty main street: a few people were moving back and forth, some half-sleeping, other with purpose like Silvy. A single carriage was coming down it at a slow pace, pulled by a single horse and driven by a tanned farmer. Silvy waited for the carriage to pass before going across the street, reaching the Adventurers Guild. It was open at night as well, even if it had fewer people manning it.

A large man was on the ground, sleeping and snoring loudly. A tankard was in his grip, with drops of beer spilling on the ground. Silvy looked at him with a lifted eyebrow but understood the situation after locating the tankard in his hand.

A receptionist was at the counter, sprawled on a chair and reading a book. He didn’t notice Silvy until she coughed politely. He scrambled to sit professionally, hiding the book under the counter and focusing on Silvy.

“Ah, good evening young lady. Do you wish to make a requ-”

Silvy stopped him mid-sentence, showing him her badge.

“I’m looking for an easy request. Something I can finish and be back in the city in a single night. Do you have anything like that?”

“Ah, yes, we do. The sewer cleaning request is always available: each slime or monster slain down there is paid, you can stop whenever you wish, and it’s in the city itself. Well, below it. Do you wish to hear the details?”

Silvy nodded and the receptionist kept talking.

“Alright. Here is the request parchment, if you wish to read through it. To summarise its content, we pay a copper coin for two adult slimes slain, and a copper coin for five rats. Young slimes are not to be killed, as the slimes are what cleans the sewer and we just need to remove the ones too big and potentially dangerous. If you find other monsters we’ll pay the standard rate: you can see a few examples there. The bodies of the rats are not bought by the guild, so there is no need to collect them. Is this your first request by chance?”

Silvy looked through the parchment given by the receptionist, noting the rates for various monsters seen in the sewer at one point in time.

“Yes, it’s my first one. Do you have any tips?”

She looked at him with what people called puppy eyes. Many adults (but not the poor ones) had a soft spot for children, and were more than ready to help a cute and naive child; a trick she had learned many years ago out of necessity.

And as expected, the receptionist drew closer over the counter, whispering.

“Alright, if you want a nice price on monster crystals go to the Blacksmiths, not to the Mages' guild: they pay better. The next tip is more significant: the sewers stink, a lot; if you are not prepared you may retch at the wrong time, for example when a slime is lunging for you. Your best bet is going to an alchemist and look for a fragrant mask: it will save you from smelling that stuff and it’s cheap. But you’d have to wait for the morning; they are closed at night. Ah, don’t think too hard about what the slimes are made of…”

If it was a few weeks ago, Silvy would have refused this job. Marching through smelly and dangerous sewers, fighting poop monsters for meager pay? No thanks, stealing was more profitable. But she had an objective, and she could stomach this stuff. Probably. At least she wouldn’t throw up: she didn’t have any food in her stomach anyway. Silvy nodded, thanking the receptionist. He gave her the directions to reach the closest sewer entrance and the key to enter them.

A single guard was in front of the gate, but Silvy showed her badge before he could talk, and it didn’t seem like he had any intention to stop her anyway, even if he took a long look at her belt and the missing weapon. The gate was a grating with a lock, blocking access to a hole in the street with a rope ladder descending underground.

She descended below, took a small breath to smell the foul air, and regretted it a moment later, breathing out the stench. Luckily for her, she didn’t need to breathe at all, and she had every intention of using this advantage. The sewers were made of a series of hallways constructed with bricks with a ceiling arch. In the middle of the hallways, water flowed lazily, at least a meter below the walkway. The place was completely dark: no lights were inside, but that didn’t stop Silvy: she could see perfectly fine apart from the colors. Everything was a different shade of gray, but the missing colors didn’t impede her vision, so she decided to keep going without a light.

Bridges were at every intersection and along long corridors, allowing crossing without swimming in the water. That was welcome because said water was filthy: you couldn’t see the bottom and shapes of various forms flowed with it: she didn’t want to know what they were.

Silvy didn’t have a weapon, but she believed she didn’t need one. Her mana blades had killed shadow wolves; a slime or some rats were way easier to deal with. Moreover, she had tried to create the blade while walking down here and it was easier to do and it probably more deadly as well; the skill she had recently earned, [Basic Mana Manipulation], was helping her creating and sharpening the blade. She could create an actual sword at this point, with al hilt that she could grab. The hilt was solid and didn’t feel wrong in her hand: it fitted perfectly, even if it was still invisible.

Moving down the hallways, she swung the blade a few times, trying it out. She had no idea how to find a slime, but they were not her objectives anyway: rats were. She started moving as stealthily as possible, trying to catch the critters by surprise. And there they were: a group of them was around something on the ground, smelling and eating it. She stopped a distance away from them, preparing a blade to throw. There were six rats in front of her: one blade was going to kill a single one, but for her experiment, it was better to kill all of them. She concentrated, creating simple blades of mana over her head and dissipating the complete sword in her hands. Four, five, six: Silvy was straining herself, but if needed she could create a couple more, maybe ten. But that wasn’t necessary. She pointed to the rats, shooting the blades at them. Three hits, three miss. The surviving rats darted away, abandoning their dead companions.

Silvy went over to the corpses, seeing a bloody hole in them: they were dead, no doubt. That’s when it happened: her body started moving against her will, reaching for a corpse. She tried everything: she tried to block herself, tried to jump away, to smack her head on the ground. Nothing worked, and two bodies were already gone when she gave up trying to stop her movements.

This wasn’t working: she needed more information, to know how it was moving. She closed her eyes; well, she didn’t do it because her body was not responding, but she tried to feel her body anyway. It was easier: yesterday it felt difficult to hold, like trying to grasp air, and the feeling she got was basic. Now it was easier to grasp; it was still hard, like trying to grasp water this time, but still easier than before: probably courtesy of [Basic Body Awareness] she had picked up a few hours ago.

The two places with concentrated mana, the heart and the head, were now clearer to her: she could feel the flow and the control they had over the mana or at least a basic understanding of it. And indeed, the mana was flowing as the head lump wanted. No: that was not a lump. It was… a monster core. She was sure of it. And the core had taken over the control of the mana flowing in her body. And through the mana it was controlling her body: that was what was happening.

She had to take control of the core: even she realized that having it answering to her commands would bring many benefits. But how?

She thought of the first step to tame an animal: to show supremacy, that you were stronger than he. The core was not an animal, obviously, but it was worth a try. She concentrated, felt every drop of mana and she… cast it. Everything was used to create the strongest mana blade she could summon, leaving only a small drop in her. Her body fell on the ground, unresponsive to her and the core. And the core was… angry?

I.WILL.FEAST.

The core fought back: in her defense, she didn’t expect it to be so powerful. It took control of the mana blade because of her surprise, but she didn’t give up. She fought over the control of the blade again: two forces were struggling over it now. The core wanted to dissipate the blade and reintegrate the mana into her body whereas Silvy wanted to keep the blade whole and win this contest.

How much time passed in the struggle? Minutes? Hours? Days? Silvy wasn’t sure. The only thing she was concentrating on was her mana blade, but it was a stalemate. Neither Silvy nor the core would tire or lose concentration, so they kept fighting with all of their power. Until her vision started to blurry as if she was underwater. A gelatinous substance had engulfed her body while she was not paying attention, and she was now inside a slime.

Her body was still unresponsive, courtesy of the missing mana. The core changed its target: it was now angry at the slime, and it wanted to kill it.

In a single moment, before Silvy could realize what was happening, the core shifted from trying to dissipate the mana blade to move it. The blade flashed through the air, fast, nailing the core of the slime and pushing it outside. The slime became instantly liquid, splashing to the ground harmlessly, while the core ricochets onto the ground.

Silvy was scared at this point. She had had no idea of where the core of the slime was: she couldn’t see it from her position. But the core knew the location perfectly and managed to move the mana blade so fast and so suddenly that she couldn’t stop it. And after that, the core had restarted its attempt to reabsorb the blade as if nothing had happened.

She did not doubt at this point: its control over mana was better than hers. The only reason she was resisting was because of her skill [Basic Mana Manipulation] helping her, no doubt.

Well, this approach wasn’t going to work, so she stopped resisting and let the mana flow back into her body. The core stopped being “angry” instantly while her body was eating the remaining rat, eating the slime core as well after that.

She had lost this battle, but she had learned a good deal: for one, the core had… intentions, instincts, emotions. She had “heard” the core speaking, making its will clear. Could she… “speak” with it maybe?

Worth a try.

Silvy wanted to start with some simple emotions: maybe friendship? She thought of her now dead friend, Rat, and tried to send this feeling to the core. Nothing happened, but she didn’t lose hope. It wouldn’t be easy, but she was not going to give up after a single try.

She tried intents, emotions, one after the other: the love of her mother, the desire to know her father, the sadness with the loss of her mother. Without realizing it, she went through her life, speaking, flooding an unresponsive core with emotions it had never felt. At a certain point, she didn’t even try to impose them on it: she just kept thinking about her life, what it had become, and what would become of herself in the future. Emotions surged, for once not suppressed: tears fell from her eyes.

Tears for her mother, for the father never met, for the loss of the family that never was; tears for her saviors, a group of orphans who gave her a home, and tears for her own death. Wailing screams ran through the sewer, scaring rats away, passing over deaf slimes, awakening darker monsters from their slumber.

Sobs came from Silvy, which had started breathing the foul odors of the sewer without care. The suppression came over her again, stopping the sadness, hopelessness, and the weight of her actions she had felt. They were just a remote memory now.

A child with a face smeared with tears stood up, empty but not hopeless, not sad. The weight she had felt from her actions… it was crushing, breaking: it was not something she could bear. No one could. She was alone in the world, having lost everyone she had ever cared about. But the monster core had suppressed everything: was that why monsters killed without remorse? Was this what it meant to be a monster? She didn’t know: not yet.

The core had saved her life, in a twisted way. And it wanted to feast; it was the only action he cared about. She concentrated on that emotion. She made it her own, making it surge into her; it was easy, natural like breathing: she became hunger. And that awoken the core. A difference in her flow of mana, in how it streamed through her. It was searching for food. She would eat food: everything else was worthless. Only hunger remained.

Let us feast.

An undead was dancing through giant worms. They were pink-brown and ugly, with a circular mouth where the face should have been, with dozens of sharp teeth inside it. They had no eyes, no nose and no other distinguishing feature on their face and body, but they felt the enemy anyway. Green acid was spit toward the dancing undead, who leaned back with its torso parallel to the ground. Its arms were waving with nothing in her hands, but every time she aligned with a worm, its body would be deeply cut. But that was not all: holes sprouted continuously on the worms without the undead slashing at them, creating a dance of death all around. Blood flooded the floor, the ground, reaching the water and being absorbed into the earth. But not a drop of it was of the now pirouetting undead, coming instead from the cuts blossoming over the surrounding worms and their already dead comrades.

And many worms were surrounding the undead, but many more were behind it, creating a path filled with dead bodies

The undead had seen the first worm in the sewer, but had quickly found a huge hole in the wall: a long tunnel started from there, filled with giant worms: they reached the undead stomach while crawling, and they were as wide as the undead. She-it-they had charged into the horde of worms, uncaring of the danger. The worms had seen a prey coming towards them and had spat acid at it, anticipating the tasty treat. Not one bead of acid had reached the agile undead, that had weaved through the projectile faster than they expected. And from there they had all started dying, one after the other.

The prey had quickly become a predator attacking them: their nest was being destroyed, cut one by one, by a single monster. The worms eagerness for a hunt had quickly become confusion, then dread and terror. The undead waved through them like water through rocks, and the worms’ nest was being annihilated without them being able to touch the killer. Every projectile, every bite was dodged with ease, creating a dance of death. A full-on retreat had started and the worms were away en masse, but the chasing monster didn’t let them escape, massacring them one after the other. Smiling all along.

It was a massacre: hundreds of giant worms were laying at the undead feet, dead. Silvy wasn’t completely conscious of her actions: she-they wanted to kill, to feast. That was the right thing to do. She had killed, and now she would eat: that was the only correct course of action.

But there were too many for her-them. A compromise had to be reached: the undead would skin them and eat only their core. That was the important piece: the rest was extra.

The undead moved through the bodies, cutting them deeply and precisely with a wave of her hand, grabbing the exposed core with her mana, eating it and incorporating it into itself. Mana flowed through the undead, replacing the spent portion and expanding its total pool. So many cores, all for itself.

Too many in fact: the undead felt full after the thirty-second. Hundreds of cores were here, and the undead couldn’t eat them all: it was awful. But the undead had to hibernate: it had to consolidate its power in its own core, or this gained power would be lost like leaves in the wind.

The undead wanted to sleep here on the ground, but a distant whisper was telling it that it wasn’t a good idea: the undead had to hide. Yes, that was right: the undead realized that it would be completely defenseless while hibernating. Easy to solve: its mana shot out, digging a small cove to the side, enlarged quickly into a tunnel. The undead entered the tunnel, covering it completely with earth once again, hiding inside the ground: an undead didn’t need to breathe, so there was no need to leave empty space.

The undead could feel it: sleep was coming. It closed its eyes, and the last thing it heard was a distance voice.

[Warrior level 14→18]

[Warrior evolution → Beginner Death Dancer level 18]

[Skill evolution: Basic Cutting Style + Basic Piercing Style + Basic Footwork + Unflinching Stance → Passive: Basic Battle Dance]

[Faster Cut]

[Sorcerer level 3→5]

[Sorcerer evolution → Mage level 5]

[Mana Blade]

[Chimera level 2→3]

[Basic Bond: Undead Core]