Strange. The core is not a slave: it is free. But weak, very weak: it’s a newborn. It hasn’t eaten yet; it’s almost useless.

‘Oh. Will it be able to do something special if we feed it? I don’t know, maybe repair itself?...’

Repair itself? And why would it do that? Undeads do not heal. The ability to heal your body did not come from me, but from the elemental core: his subconscious controlled the surrounding air, recreating your body from it.

‘Elemental core? You know what’s the other core? What’s an elemental?’

What do you think I am, a font of knowledge? All I know is that it’s a powerful creature with magical abilities. It can be made of elements around itself, and change its body extensively as well. Just to be clear: any wound your body will receive from now on will not be healable. The undeads do not heal: we just continue to exist.

Any wound would not heal?! And the healing potions did more damage than good! What was she supposed to do?!

Dodge the hits. I believe you noticed how your swordsmanship became worse in my absence: now that I’m back, it should be back to normal.

Silvy sighed. She felt useless; people, even cores, around her were all stronger; what was she supposed to do?

Her low morale disappeared in an instant, suppressed by the core. She felt relieved but guilty at the same time for the suppression, but only for a second. Her numerous murders didn’t weight on her soul anymore: it was good and bad at the same time. She kept feeling down, then relieved, then down again, in a wave of suppression and creation of emotions.

It lasted for a few minutes, with Silvy staring at the ceiling of her room, unsure of what to do.

She took a deep breath, uselessly: she didn’t need to breathe anymore again. She had to distract herself.

‘Hey core, want to do something?’

Eat.

‘That is not useful…’

The core didn’t answer back, ignoring Silvy. It just wanted to eat and eat: how was it even possible?

Well, no matter. She was going to pass the morning as the other days, eating aw- Oh no.

‘Core, why is every food tasteless?! Is it your fault?’

Tasteless? I don’t know the word. Taste? I don’t know what it is.

… Undeads were so useless.

She turned back to the sword, still in her hands.

‘So, this sword is useless?’

I do not know. Right now it is: I do not know what will happen if you feed it.

‘Feed? You mean with cores?’

The core nodded. Feeding it with core… why had she not thought about it? Her core had eaten them as well…

‘Oh, what happened for you to break by the way? Last time, in the sewers, it didn’t happen.’

You asked all the power. I gave it to you. I wasn’t fully aware before of what that meant.

‘What do you mean? Do you not use your full power usually?’

Not in that way. How do I say… I ‘overcome my limit’? Is that understandable?

‘Mhh… not really.’

A sensation similar to a sigh came from the core.

I can, and monsters can, become better for a certain amount of time, usually around thirty seconds. It’s a suicide move, so they don’t use it lightly. Their body and magic attunement become stronger for that time, but the core starts to crack. The longer it goes on, the bigger the crack; and if the core is cracked, the monster dies. When they use this move, the monsters are in a state between life and death; the moment they stop going over the limit they die, but they cannot keep it up forever: the core will eventually break completely.

That was… interesting. That is what she had done? And that's why she became a human again, right? Her monster core had… died?

‘Why are you alive again then? And why am I alive?’

Because you are not a monster. My life before the sewers is hard to remember, but… I’m sure I wasn’t born in your body. I was created in another body, and then… transferred? When I died, you did not: that gave me time to repair myself. The energy absorbed helped a lot, accelerating the process.

Alright. That was pretty useful. She could enter a super state, but then she would be left defenseless after that, or she could become a normal whole state and back when she wished…

Correction: you can’t enter the whole state. I can. You are too weak. And I will not obey you, but neither I will kill you: for now. I still need you and your… sapient intelligence.

Alright. That was more worrying. The core was neither an ally nor an enemy… for now.

Well, she couldn’t do much about it: time to head back to the sewers to feed the sword. She prepared herself, this time not wasting time eating.

A slime culling took place that day: Silvy ran through the sewers, unimpaired from the smell, unstoppable from fatigue. She felt so much… better. Every worry, every sorrow, had disappeared, eaten away by being undead. True, she didn’t feel happy either, but apathy was better than grief.

Almost two hundred slimes were killed that day, eliminated by Silvy. She ran towards them, throwing daggers at their core, hitting some, missing others; but her power had increased as well, and the dagger could push out the slimes’ core when she hit them. And her body was responding perfectly, her memory restored completely: every move was a perfect form as if she had repeated them her whole life. No slime touched her, a flurry of blades, stopping only to pick up the core and daggers off the floor, throwing the core into the bag and sheathing her daggers as fast as she could. After fifty slimes she started playing around: she would hit the core with the sword, throwing it into the air, and she would try to catch it with her bag in mid-air. By the end she got pretty consistent, managing to catch almost all of them. Killing slimes was not a challenge in the slightest: she would be surprised if she leveled up from this.

Of course, she had not leveled up in the last few days; levels came when you overcame a challenge beyond yourself. Killing slimes and trying to draw a line were not challenges worth leveling for; but, after her reawakening, she had leveled up fast, faster than she thought was possible. Silvy had a theory about that: as far as humans knew, monsters had no levels. So, the leveling system did not count her monster parts when she got into a fight. For example, back in the forest, the human Silvy would have died even against the fox; but she had the cores, who made the battles winnable. But the system was calibrated on Silvy being a human, not a monster: that meant she could kill monsters way stronger than her and gain a lot of levels.

She was a bit confused by it; was it an error? An oversight? Or intentional? The leveling system had been created by the gods: or at least, that’s what they said. Silvy would’ve never doubted those words before, but Lindrl had overturned her view. But it was too complicated for Silvy, so she dropped the matter. Maybe she would speak with Lindrl about it in the future.

In the evening, after a whole day in the sewers, she went back to the guild, receiving payment for her efforts. Her test was the day after tomorrow: she felt a lot weaker without magic, but maybe the elemental core would wake up tomorrow? Anyway, she couldn’t do anything about it; she just had to pass the test relying on her swordsmanship. Before going to sleep she went to a bathhouse, removing the sewers smell. She didn’t breathe, but that didn’t mean she didn’t smell; she had passed the whole day down there.

She went back to her room, bringing out a slime core at a time, feeding it to the sword by making them touch. The cores… melted into the blade, leaving no trace of their existence. She repeated the process with all the cores, which were melting faster and faster: towards the end, the cores were disappearing the moment they touched the blade. She smiled, satisfied, and then her satisfaction was suppressed. So annoying! Well, the sword was still hungry: Silvy could feel it was… asking for more? Well, she had no more cores, so she put it in the scabbard and went to sleep hugging it, used to it after a few days. Then she recalled she did not need to sleep anymore, so she took out her wand and passed the whole night training in magic. The undead core did not help her in handling mana, but at least it helped with tiredness: she didn’t feel it at all.

-----

Three hooded figures, a single lantern illuminating them, approached the gate of Chilog as the guards were preparing to close it. They quickened the pace, not wanting to pass the night outside. Three brooches were appointed to their mantle, recognizing them as adventurers: the first one was gold rank, with the other two being silver rank. They had stolen them from three adventurers camped outside in the forest, from where they had come from. Well, is it stealing if they are dead? No matter: the badges were the same for every person, so they were safe from any control.

The guards saw the three figures practically running towards them and stopped lowering the gate.

“Halt! Who goes there?”

A guard came forward, flanked by two more and covered by his comrades on the wall; these figures were suspicious. The guard pushed the lantern forward: a glint came from their brooches, which the guards recognized immediately.

“Adventurers? May I see your faces?”

Something was strange, but the guard couldn’t put a finger on it: maybe seeing their faces would help.

The figures looked up, complying with the order: the central figure, with the gold rank badge, was an old man, with wrinkles all over his face; the figure to his right was a young man with beautiful features, while the figure on his left was a woman, even more delicate than the man. The guard was stricken for a moment, but calmed down right after: he had a job to do.

“Anything to report? Why the late hour?”

Sometimes guards asked the adventurers coming back if they had seen something strange, maybe groups of monsters in the vicinity of the city, bandits or any other danger; the guards had scouts of their own, of course, but more information was never unwelcome.

“Nothing to report: we come from far away, and wish to get inside before nightfall. We are weary from travels; can we get inside?”

The guard looked them over once again, not sure of what was off-putting him. There was nothing wrong with them as far as he could see, so he let them pass through the gate, unsure of what to make of them.

The three figures moved inside the sleeping city, just another group walking in the night. Their hood covered their elvish ears, making people think they were humans. Even their hairs were long, hiding them further. They moved around the city, reaching a tavern close to the wall.

The tavern was loud and full of people, drinking, singing and playing; the patrons of the inn didn’t even look at the new arrivals, busy in their affairs. The three figures moved quickly, reaching a table positioned in the back, a bit far from the others. A lone figure was sitting there, drinking in peace: a man in his forties, with a thick beard, mustaches and brown ruffled hair.

The three figures sat down at the table, much to the displeasure of the man.

“I’m not in the mood for a friendly drink; go sit to a free table.”

His words were abrupt and rough as if he was ready to punch them away. He waved to a couple of free tables on the other side of the tavern, trying to dismiss them.

The young man locked eyes with him.

“I heard they have good wine here. Could you advise some vintage to me?”

“They serve only ale in here. You are in the wrong place.”

“ I heard they serve The Borlon. How is it?”

“The Borlon? Never heard of it. Where does it come from?”

“Two streets over from here, from the guts of giants.”

The angry man dropped his facade, looking them over once more. He nodded to a bald man sitting at a table near the stairs, who had been stealthily listening to the exchange. The bald man stood up, followed by the three figures who went upstairs and entered the first room, officially reserved to the tavern owner. A door was hidden behind the closet, which brought to another, smaller, room. It had no window, a single candle illuminating the entirety of it. Another man, with a sketchy face and black short hair, was inside. He was skinny and dressed well, but a big man was behind him, who was then flanked by the man who had brought here the three figures.

The three figures sat down at the table with the sketchy figure while the guards stood, ready to fight.

“Before speaking, show me the coins.”

The young hooded man, in response to the sketchy man, took a bag from his side, pouring the content onto the table. Gold coins flowed forth, filling the table and spilling on the ground, clinking loudly.

A big smile blossomed on the sketchy man, who got down to business very quickly.

“I wonder what you want to know. Please, tell me: I will do my best to find any information.”

The old hooded man took over.

“We are looking for a female child, half-elf. Probably with black hair. She may have something… special about her; I cannot say for sure. She comes from the slums of this city.”

“Half-elf? No way they let one in the city. Your best bet is indeed out in the slums. Although… If you leave out the half-elf part, there is a child who corresponds: black hair, incredibly talented; she popped out of nowhere and became known in little time. I’ll check for half-elves in the slums in the meantime. Come back in two days; I’ll have what you need.”

“One day.”

The sketchy man was already collecting the gold when he stopped. He looked over at the table filled with gold, greed filling him.

“One day… Deal. Same hour, next day. Here is where the child I talked about is...”

He explained to the figures where the child was staying, and how to reach it.

“Pleasure doing business with you.”

The three hooded figures got out, back in the streets again. They had an objective now, so they moved towards it.

The Dry Ducks Inn. It wasn’t a fancy establishment, but an average one. The child was in a room on the second floor, or so the information went. They went around the Inn, searching for other people watching it.

They found four spies in the surroundings, two checking the entrance and two the back.

The three figures could eliminate the spies easily, but they would be found out the moment the spies died. And they had no intention of making contact with the objective: they just wanted to retrieve it. So, they set up behind the other spies, waiting for something to happen.

------

Silvy passed the night in the room, windows shut, training with magic. She did not get bored with it, and neither she needed to stop. She progressed in one night as much as she had done in three days: no resting between the line creations was incredibly efficient.

Morning came and with it the last day before her dungeon diving. She would just have to get past the first floor, but she had never gone to a dungeon; would she do good? Especially without magic?

She wanted to prepare some items that could help her, so she went to an alchemist.

Shelves upon shelves covered the walls of the store: potions, ingredients, containers of every kind were on them. A counter was on the left, with a doorway leading in the back of the store. There was no door on it, and she could hear noises coming from there.

“Hello?”

Silvy called, getting the attention of the person in the back.

“I’m coming! One minute!”

Silvy could hear swearing, followed by liquid pouring inside something. She waited, watching around the store, instantly recognizing the health potions on the shelves. She stayed away, not wanting to be covered in them: she remembered what had happened last time.

It was only after a few minutes of waiting that a woman with curly brown hair appeared from the back; two pairs of goggles were covering her eyes, with a small mask covering her mouth and nose. Silvy could see some white smoke entering the room together with the woman, pulled along by her. She took a step back, unsure of what to make of it.

The woman removed her goggles and lowered her mask: she was around forty years old, with green eyes and sharp features. She waved a hand, trying to disperse the smoke surrounding her.

“Don’t worry, it’s harmless. What can I do for you, child?”

Her voice was crooked; maybe damaged by one of her experiments?

“I’m looking for… something that can cure but is not a healing potion? Does it exist?”

“Well, you won’t find that here. The only potion that can heal wounds is a healing potion. But don’t use them if you are poisoned; people always make that mistake.”

“I-I see. Uhm, I’m going into the dungeon tomorrow… Do you have any items that could be useful?”

The woman raised her eyebrow.

“You want to go dungeon diving? What rank are you? Bronze rank will just die in there.”

“No, I’m going there for the test. To become a silver rank.”

The woman looked over Silvy once more, impressed that this child was silver rank.

“Mmh. So just the first floor. Well, you will need antidotes then. Probably a few acid flasks.”

Antidotes? Acid flasks? Silvy realized she didn’t really know what monsters she would fight. Maybe she could ask…

“Uhm, are the monsters always the same? What will I need that stuff for?”

The woman sighed, resigned.

“No one in your party told you about that? Yes, always the same monsters spawn on a floor. The first floor has only three types of monsters.”

She started counting on her finger.

“The steel-thread spider. The red-eyed rat. The illusionist viper. They are monsters that could easily kill a normal person and bronze ranks. Even silver ranks could be killed if surprised. The acid flasks could come in handy if a spider catches you with a thread: those threads are as strong as steel and sticky, and swords have a hard time cutting them, especially if you are restrained and can’t use your full force. The antidote is for the viper: their venom brings people in an illusion, making them fall unconscious and defenseless. If a viper bites you, you have around fifteen seconds to drink the antidote; after that, you better hope someone has your back. Or you could drink it just before the fight, but it won’t last for long.”

Well, this was useful information. Why had she not asked this stuff before? It was so obvious…

“What about the red-eyed rat?”

“Well, they have tough teeth and are quite fast. But they can’t penetrate armor, as can’t the viper. Being fully armored is a good way to pass the first few floors easily, but bronze ranks rarely can afford the necessary protection. Your… clothes won’t be sufficient.”

Silvy was dressed in leather clothes made of flotalouns. But she had the armor; would it be enough? She took it outside from her bag of holding, showing the chest piece to the woman.

“Will this be enough?”

She touched the scales, feeling the toughness.

“Yes, if you have a complete set. But I doubt you have it.”

“I do.”

“Impressive. But I would advise you to buy antidotes anyway; every armor has gaps, and you never know.”

The woman was not impressed at all, but Silvy didn’t really mind. But was an antidote needed? She was dead after all…

‘Core, think we need an antidote?’

To block illusions? Undead are immune to illusion influencing the mind.

Right. There was that. But it would be strange if she didn’t buy it…

“How much is one antidote and… three acid flasks?”

“One antidote? Whatever, forewarned is forearmed. Three gold and ten silvers in total.”

Silvy paid without batting an eye, this time surprising the woman.

“Are you really bronze rank? You people always flinch when paying so much. Are you some kind of noble kid?”

“Eh?”

Silvy was baffled. Did she really give a noble impression? Well, she had a lot of money, and she was dressed well… And with a good sword and daggers on her, even a bag of holding… Alright, she probably did. But she was no noble!

“No way. I’m just a normal child.”

“Never seen a normal child with that kind of money. Wait… You are that girl that people are talking about, right? The one who walked around all bloodied with hundreds of cores, right?”

The one- what?! Did people just remember that about her? Well, she had no particular mark…

“Well, yes. But do people talk about me like that?”

The woman laughed, amused.

“Yes, they do. You made quite an impression. Why? You don’t like being famous?”

“Well, not like that…”

Silvy was unsure of her feelings. On one hand, people knew about her now, of her capabilities. On the other hand, being known as ‘bloodied child’ was not exactly enjoyable…

Silvy shook her head, shaking off these thoughts. There wasn’t much point beating herself up over it anyway: she couldn’t change what she had done.

“Whatever. Thank you for the help. Have a nice day!”

Silvy got out of the shop, moving towards the adventurer’s guild. The group would assemble today at the guild, and go to the dungeon from here. And maybe the guild master had new information about her father… And she hadn’t seen Eiram’s group in days; maybe the guild would know where they were.

She joined a queue, badge pinned to her clothes; people did a double-take when they saw the silver rank, but left her alone.

“Hello, young adventurer. How can I help you?”

The receptionist was the same that had tested her; she was called Genne.

“Hello. I’m going to take the exam for silver rank tomorrow. I know there is an appointment: should I wait for the others?”

“Tomorrow? Oh, yes. The groups will come here around noon. There will be a carriage bringing you to the dungeon. Let me just check…”

The receptionist rummaged through the drawers for a bit, taking out a parchment.

“Silvy, correct?”

She smiled, not waiting for Silvy to respond. She found Silvy’s name quickly, as there were not many people registered.

“Yes, your quote is already paid. The other members should arrive in the next hour; you may wait here or come back later.”

“Thank you. Genne, right?”

The receptionist smiled again. Silvy was quite sure she wanted to pat her on the head but was restraining herself.

“Correct. Good luck with your test, Silvy!”

“Ah, is the guild master free?”

“I’m sorry, but the guild master is busy right now. I’d tell you to come back in a few hours, but you’ll already be on the road… I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll ask her when I come back. Do you know where Eiram went? I haven’t seen him lately.”

“They have taken a mission in the forest. They usually work there, like most adventurers. They left a couple of days ago; they should be back in three or four days if everything goes alright: it’s a fast request.”

“I see. Thank you again!”

Silvy moved away, having received the needed information. Now, what to do for an hour? She could train in magic, or...

She remembered where she had taken the test days ago; the courtyard with the two arenas. There was ample space to train or spar with other people: maybe she could train a bit with the sword. A group of adventurers was already there, training against each other. Silvy moved closer, watching the fight between two young men. One had a longsword, while the other had a shortsword and a shield; both had leather armor. Two women were on the side, watching the fight and talking to each other.

The fight was… low-level. Their swings were wide, their stances were wrong, and they were quite slow. They probably were bronze rank. The two women had noticed Silvy getting closer, but the two men didn’t: they were too concentrated on fighting. That was another mistake: you never became so focused to lose the perception of your surroundings, because you never knew when something would sneak up on you.

Silvy shook her head, walking away. She took a spot a bit far from them, taking out her normal sword and going through a duel with an imaginary opponent. Dodge, duck, strike: she moved around her opponent, dancing with fluid motions, taking every chance. It was quite boring because she knew what the opponent would do: after all, she was the one controlling it.

So, she stopped the fight against the imaginary opponent, instead going through the forms taught by Jekhum. The other adventurers had stopped to watch her, and they interrupted her after a bit.

“Hey, kid! Want to spar a bit?”

The man with the longsword spoke to her, getting closer. Silvy stopped, not wanting to hit him.

“With you?”

She blinked her eyes, confused: this guy was weaker than her, and still he wanted to spar. Maybe he wanted to learn something from her?...

“Yes. I’m sorry, but I can’t ignore your badge. A silver rank? You are the one who killed the worms in the sewers, right? Except that you didn't do it. Who helped you?”

Silvy was quite sure she should feel rage and indignation, but instead she felt… pity for this guy.

“I killed them myself. Why should I need help?”

Well, she had been helped by the core, but it was part of her so it didn’t count, right?

“Kid, people expect a certain standard from adventurers. Badges are earned, not gifted. The exam for silver rank will be tomorrow; how are you already silver rank?”

Were they one of the groups who will be participating in the test? No way, right? These guys were too weak…

“I’m going to take the test tomorrow as well.”

“Another reason to spar. Being an adventurer is not a joke; your life's on the line every day. I’m not going to stay silent and risk a death I could have stopped. If you cannot beat me, then you are not ready.”

He prepared his longsword, ready to fight. Silvy was not sure how to take this guy: was he angry she was better or was he really worried about her? A bit of both? Something else?

She shrugged, unsure, preparing for the fight. They were not in the arena, but that was probably for official matches only or something.

The man moved up to her, striking with certainty but not deadly. It looked like he did not want to hurt her badly; maybe he was a good guy?

It hardly mattered; she had been challenged, and she wanted to win. She ducked below the strike, accompanying it with her sword, forcing his longsword to continue off to her side. He was wide open and Silvy closed the distance, pointing her sword to his neck, ending the duel in a single move.

The eyes of her opponent were wide open just as his mouth, not believing the result and the quickness of it, his companions with similar expressions on their face.

“I won.”

Silvy said these two simple words and walked away.

“Wait! You- where did you learn it? Are you a noble’s daughter?”

Again with this stuff. Why did people believe she was a noble? She was just an orphan.

“No.”

She didn’t want to speak about her past, especially with random strangers. But it didn’t seem like they wanted to give up on her.

“I see. But you are really strong. Are you looking for a group?”

Oh, so that’s what this was all about. They had heard about her and wanted to get a new member. No, maybe they wanted a connection to whatever figure they thought had helped her; shame she did it all by herself.

“I’m fine by myself for now. Thanks for the offer.”

It didn’t seem like they took it too nicely, because the guy with the shield came forward.

“You may be strong, but a group is stronger than a single person. Strength in number, as they say.”

Silvy was getting annoyed, even if the emotion was suppressed right after. She was, probably, stronger than their whole group together.

“I’m stronger than all of you put together. What do I gain from joining you?”

Ops. That really got on their nerves. The longsword user seemed ready to jump on her, while the shield guy was quite annoyed himself. Even the two women in the back seemed offended, but maybe they were the more reasonable?

“Big words coming from a small child. Want to see what teamwork can do?”

Nevermind that. One woman in the back, who now had a wand in hand, strode forward and looked Silvy from top to bottom. Was she a mage? Most likely. The other woman came forward as well, but this had a symbol made of metal of Adriar in her hand, a man with four arms and legs spread, inscribed in a circle: a priest. Their group was quite balanced; they had two frontliners, one support, and one mage. Yeah, it would probably be a hard match without her magic. But the worst was the priest; holy miracles were strong against undeads, but it was unlikely she would use them: they were strong against monsters but not very useful against sapients.

Well, Silvy couldn’t back down from the challenge, right?

I would like to remind you, again, that you have no means to heal yourself.

Right, there was that as well. Winning one against four, without taking a hit, and not killing any of them… that would be hard. But maybe she could add some rules...

“Alright, but the test is tomorrow: neither of us wants to take big wounds. Let’s use wooden weapons and… maybe stop after being hit once?”

“Once? Such gall! You think you can hit all of us without being hit in return?!”

The longsword-user seemed pretty hyped up. But that was not why she said that-

“Alright, let’s do it. I won’t use deadly spells, just impairing ones.”

The mage added and the priest nodded as well. It was decided: the fighters took up wooden weapons from a nearby rack.

The two men moved to the front, shield-user on the left of Silvy, longsword-user on the right. The two women went to the back, wand and symbol in hand, ready to fight.

Silvy faced them, prepared to fight. After a second the shield use exclaimed, making the fight start.

“Begin!”