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Ch209-Proof Of Concept

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“Who is this clown anyway?” Faust asked.

Given the presence of people Sylver was incapable of sensing, even when he was in the same room as them, he had to be careful when talking to Faust. He had his blood tracker, but who could say if it would work? Or if the person he managed to wound would show up again.

Initially, Sylver had attempted to speak in code, but he very quickly realized that Faust wasn’t getting it.

So instead, the two simply spoke in demon tongue, which sounded like a great deal of grunting, gurgling, and “ch” sounds. It also came with the added benefit of causing eavesdroppers to bleed from their ears, and if they listened long enough, could lead to insanity.

Sylver had once managed to escape from a trap, just by screaming in demon tongue for several hours. One of the men guarding him lost his mind, slashed his own throat, and Sylver used the dead body to free himself.

“He’s a nutjob. But the problem is his two friends. Not to mention the supposed [Hero] he was with the last time we met. If Bear was alone, I could take him, but I can’t take the risk that Wolf is here,” Sylver explained, as he paced back and forth in Faust’s underground workshop.

In Sylver’s experience, a mage with Bear’s magic destabilizing abilities tended to specialize in killing other mages. Which meant that if Sylver had Ria cancel out Bear’s magic, he was harmless.

Especially since he didn’t know who Sylver was, or what he was capable of.

Someone had altered Bear’s memories.

Sylver was certain of it.

Bear had been careful not to let Sylver get close enough to touch him but given the fact that he used his mana the way a blind person would use a cane, Sylver had more than enough contact to confirm his suspicions. It wasn’t as good as direct physical contact, but it was good enough.

There was a chance Bear, or Owl as he now referred to himself, was faking it, and knew damn well who Sylver was, but what would be the point?

After Owl had sent his two guards away, he and Sylver were alone.

Was he pretending in the event those undetectable people were listening? Sylver hadn’t asked outright, but when he spoke about the house he burned down, Owl’s reaction didn’t make sense if they were working for him.

“He’s with the [Jester Hero]?” Faust asked, as Sylver lifted his sleeve out of the way and scratched along his forearm.

His mana core had grown big enough that his body was adjusting itself to accommodate it, and while the process wasn’t painful, it was annoying, especially now.

At least he wasn’t shedding this time.

“No. Different [Hero]. That didn’t feel like a [Hero], hence why I called him a supposed [Hero]. We made a deal that he would stay away from Arda, and according to Lola, they did just that. Now that I said it, I don’t remember reading about anything happening in Silia. The high king is still alive, and well, so did he lie to me? Is this where they had gone to instead?” Sylver thought out loud, as Faust continued vaguely gesturing with his hand as he attempted to wrap his head around everything.

“I mean, there were rumors about various assassination attempts, but the high king is the high king, there’s always someone out there trying to kill him. What happened in the end? Tonight, I mean,” Faust asked, as Sylver stopped pacing and turned to look at the man holding a bloodied handkerchief up to his throat.

He hadn’t been thrilled about Sylver adjusting his vocal cords to accommodate demon tongue, but this would heal within seconds once he stopped suppressing his regeneration. Sylver had, as usual, forgot how much blood living people had, and as a result stained Faust’s bathrobe red with blood.

“They want me to kill someone. Because apparently, that’s all I’m good for. As a demonstration of my abilities, as well as a way to assure I keep my mouth shut. What do you know about the Blue Tiger sect?” Sylver asked.

“They’re the ones who train the men that end up being guards… Fuck…” Faust said as Sylver could do little but shrug his shoulders.

Unlike the vast majority of these overspecializing dickheads, this particular sect taught, and practiced, “proper” fighting skills, the kind that would be used in a real fight.

“Two of their heirs are currently investigating a ruin of some kind. It’s far east from here, it will take days to reach them. Not to mention how long it will take for me to actually find the place. They have a group with them, servants and guards and such, so hopefully, I’ll be able to spot them,” Sylver explained.

He did toy around with the idea of challenging one of the heirs’ brothers to a fight, to get some blood to track the heirs with, but in the end, decided it wasn’t worth the trouble he would create for Faust. Not to mention, Sylver got the feeling it would take several annoying fights before he was even allowed to fight someone blood related to them.

“So, you kill the heirs, permanently mark yourself as an enemy of the emperor because you murdered the equivalent of two nobles, and then what? How do you know this isn’t a trap or a trick? Did he tell you why you’re killing these two particular heirs?” Faust asked.

Normally, Sylver steered clear of details in these sorts of situations, the less he knew, the less involved he was.

Doubly so when a [Hero] was involved.

Triply so when weird shit was happening around the aforementioned [Hero].

Then there was also the issue of Sylver not being certain if interacting with Nameless and company qualified as not leaving Poppy alone.

Truth be told, Sylver had no idea what Poppy was doing now.

On one hand, he hadn’t exactly stumbled into this place on his own, he came here because of the sword covered in Edmund’s mana. The sword that, presumably, Rose, Lily, or Poppy, somehow steered into Lola’s hands.

Which would mean they were responsible for the emotional turmoil they caused Lola. And normally the sentence for doing that to someone Sylver cared about would be death, to start, but those three weren’t just [Hero]s.

They were very old [Hero]s with chronomancy like magic, they were from another world, and since Sylver was weary of fighting a [Hero], making enemies with 3 [Hero]s would be downright suicidal.

If he was honest with himself, if Edmund wasn’t on the line, Sylver would have skipped town the moment he saw the similarity between the emperor and Nameless.

Then there was the fact that the emperor's name was one of the 6 names the book had screamed into his head, but Sylver chose to ignore that.

If the book had made some sort of prophesy thing, then ignoring it won’t stop it.

If it said those names just to fuck with Sylver, ignoring it will render it powerless.

The emperor was the emperor first, and compared to that, the book shit was irrelevant.

“Can I be honest with you?” Sylver asked.

“Of course,” Faust said.

“I’m getting sick and tired of everyone getting in my way. It’s like everybody wants to be my enemy,” Sylver complained, as an odd smirk appeared on Faust’s face.

“You say that as if you wouldn’t consider any act of kindness to be a trick or a trap of some sort. If anything, you would probably be warier of a gift, than you would be of someone trying to steal something from you,” Faust said, and Sylver scowled at the man.

“Admittedly things haven’t been great since I reincarnated, or whatever it is I did, but there have been moments where people were kind… Ron, Salgok, Leke, Tera, Shera, Novva, and… Sophia, sort of… Most of the people I’m involved with don’t count because I helped them in one way or another, but… I completely forgot what point I was trying to make,” Sylver said, as he gestured towards his backpack in the corner, and made it float over to him.

“What are you doing after you kill them?” Faust asked, in an attempt to steer the conversation towards something productive.

He had shit to do, Sylver had shit to do, and they both knew complaining to one another wasn’t going to achieve anything.

“I need to bring their corpses somewhere public, so news of their deaths got to their sect quickly. And after that the Bucklers are going to help me rescue Fobur Plateforged,” Sylver explained, and Faust understandably looked confused.

“Why?”

“Because I couldn’t say “I need to hang around you lot while I wait for the you-know-who to show up.” Once I rescue Fobur, I will… I’ll think of something by then. I’m just killing time at the moment, the you-know-who is irrelevant if the thing breaks before she gets here,” Sylver said, as he started to rummage through his backpack, and found the vials he was looking for.

He swallowed the metal powders and washed them down with a sip of dwarf whiskey. He gestured the bottle towards Faust, who lifted his hand up in refusal.

“What do they want anyway?” Faust asked as Sylver scowled again.

“They want the area outside the Red Ring to become a separate country. Independent of the emperor and his court. Apparently, the taxes they pay make it impossible to live. It doesn’t really matter,” Sylver said.

“You can take Mora with you, by the way. I’ve finally finished constructing my constellation, everyone below level 400 better watch the fuck out,” Faust said, as he patted his stomach.

Sylver coughed into his fist, as he shifted his vocal cords into their normal position.

“I’m sure she will be overjoyed to finally have enough space to stretch her legs,” Sylver said, as Faust raised an eyebrow, and when Sylver nodded, removed the blood-soaked cloth from his throat.

Normally, talking in demon tongue required tearing your vocal cords, which was incredibly painful, and messy, not to mention Sylver didn’t remember the exact words needed to tear them the right way, and neither did Faust.

It also tended to leave the speaker mute, as a sort of punishment for trying to communicate with demons, or at least that’s what all the religions said. Sylver lifted his hand up to his throat and temporarily shifted his vocal cords again.

“Do you remember how you offered to have people watching the river?” Sylver asked as Faust nodded.

“I’ll let you know if something came through while you’re gone,” Faust answered.