Ch064-You Can’t Handle The Truth!

The chapter was late because ch074 was kind of really important, story-wise, and I couldn't get it right. I've rewritten it 3 times before I was happy with it, because a late chapter is better than a bad one.

But still, I'm very sorry for the delay, and I hope you like the chapter!

-

-

Ch064-You Can’t Handle The Truth!

-

-

When Sylver came out it was the middle of the night. The sky was cloudy and it looked like it would be raining soon. Tiny beams of moonlight forced their way through the thick clouds and bounced around off the shiny metal lined roofs and tiles.

Sylver wasn’t flying. It was a very minor, but very important distinction. Flying, proper flying, required wings. Everything else was an imitation. At least according to dragons. And given that very few people dared disagree with dragons, wings being an integral part of the definition of flying was something that was universally accepted as fact.

Spells that most pre-ascension mages used to ‘travel’, felt like someone was picking them up under the armpits and moved them around from place to place. Post ascension mages like Edmund or Aether who moved around in a giant ball of fire, or in flashes of lighting, didn’t ‘fly’ either. Sylver couldn’t even say when he was on Will’s back he was flying. His shade was flying, Sylver was simply hitching a ride.

Even if he was the one responsible for the shade in question existing, having the necessary muscles, wings, and mana required to fly.

But regardless of semantics, what Sylver was currently doing was closer to swimming, than ‘flying’ anyway.

The sensation of being a conscious cloud of pitch-black smoke was difficult to put into words. But it wasn’t wrong to say it felt like trying to walk underwater. If he walked slowly and took his time he barely felt the water get in his way. But anything quicker than what would be the equivalent of a brisk walk, required Sylver to expend mental and physical energy, much like running would.

This wasn’t really a spell, or perk in this instance, that was meant for long-distance traveling. This was more for getting past a sealed up wall, or sneaking through the shadows, or hiding away while you let your army of shades eviscerate whatever you were hunting. It could also be used for defensive purposes, physical attacks were completely useless while in this form. Save for a weapon made out of lead. And silver, in Sylver’s case. Or enchanted with positive energy.

Other dangers included just about any positive energy offensive spell. With his body in tiny pieces, fire was the biggest concern. Holy fire being an even bigger one.

And being hit by a beam of pure holy magic, would essentially erase whatever body part happened to be making up the area being hit. Thankfully Sylver had learned his lesson about staying out in the open while a floating mass of weakness, and hadn’t made the same mistake after that.

Other, dumber, dangers included, being trapped in a bottle, being blown away and ripped apart like a fart in the wind, being grabbed directly by the heart via a mana coated hand, getting destabilized to the point he couldn’t take a physical form for several days, and Sylver’s personal favorite being sucked up and fucking digested.

*

*

*

The ‘platform’ the [Bracelet Of The Aurai] made didn’t seem to have a fixed size. It became bigger and smaller depending on how Sylver stood on it, or sat on it, or lay down on it. The only limitation he could find was that it didn’t hold anything other than him. Sylver found this out when he put his backpack down in front of him, and then watched it fall through the invisible platform. 

After a few tests with Spring, Sylver figured out that the bracelet was very fixated on only him using the platform. If Sylver held Spring in his arms, the platform had no issue holding the both of them. But the moment Spring tried to stand on it by himself, he just dropped straight through it. 

Further experimentation was halted on account of the fact that Sylver wasn’t that interested in how exactly it worked. If he really wanted to know, he could just have Lola dismantle the thing. Since it required 110MP every 100 minutes, Sylver could effectively create 2 platforms every minute, if he so wished.

Although he was saddened to find that old platforms stopped existing when he stepped off them. Or when he stepped down or up on a new platform. If not for the fact that [Shade’s Soma] took care of any and all movement-related issues, this small steel bracelet would have been an incredible amount of help.

But now it was at best a minor convenience.

*

Ron’s Rest was usually an empty place. Sylver knew most of the guests by face, if not by name, and very rarely interacted with any of them. A woman once asked him to pick up a package for her from Tera’s shop, and one man borrowed a razor blade, but that was the extent of Sylver’s interaction with them. Undead, or negative energy-based creatures, were as a rule of thumb solitary and very private.

Which usually meant everyone sat in their own group and spoke in hushed voices. If Sylver had to make a comparison, he’d seen libraries that were louder than Ron’s lobby.

But not today.

From wandering skeletons, ghoul sorcerers, dhampirs, zombies, untethered shades, and even a tainted cadaver, everyone was moving around, singing and dancing, completely drunk of the resulting miasma their combined presences had resulted in. And the alcohol Ron appeared to just be giving away.

Sylver was nearly lulled into it too, before his mana flared and snapped into place and sealed him away from it. Sylver didn’t like his chances of making it through the moving crowd without being pulled into a hug or breaking his concentration and joining in.

Some people called events like these ‘corpse parties,’ which when done outside and in the open tended to result in whatever negative energy was present in the ground or the air to condense and intensify and give birth to a new conscious undead.

It was the first time Sylver had seen one happening indoors, but given how dangerous it would be to try this out in the open here, Sylver understood the need for it. Although he couldn’t see who had started it, normally something a little higher-tiered than any of the undead present led these kinds of things. It was also the first time he was seeing one happen, seemingly for the fun of it.

Sylver turned into a cloud and traveled underneath the false floorboards, reappearing on the other side of the room and making his way up the stairs.

“You’re not going to join in?” Ron asked, as he appeared out of the wall and blocked Sylver from his door.

“Normally, I would love to, but I’m not really in the mood right now,” Sylver lied. The truth of the matter was that he wasn’t all that sure how his body would react to such a huge influx of mixed up negative energy. He added that to his long list of tests to run.

“I see…” Ron said, standing where he was, nearly motionless as always. “You have a guest,” he said after a short pause.

“In my super-secret workshop that everyone seems to know about, I’m assuming?” Sylver asked with a defeated sigh.

“No. It’s a separate room entirely, as deep underground as possible. I call it the quiet room, no sound comes in, or comes out. But he’s not armed, and I’ve known him for a while, so there isn’t anything for you to worry about,” Ron continued, floating backward and gesturing to a door with a faintly glowing outline.

“Who is he with?” Sylver asked, removing his backpack and handing it to Tom.

“A bit of everyone really. But he said this is a personal matter, so that isn’t really relevant,” Ron explained.

“Is he here right now?” Sylver asked, as Tom walked towards Sylver’s room and unlocked the door, and disappeared inside.

“He is. He actually arrived a few minutes ago,” Ron explained.

Probably just bribed the guards near the dungeon entrance…

Sylver nodded and stepped through the door Ron had opened for him.

*

The noise of undead celebrating nearby disappeared so suddenly Sylver felt slightly disoriented for a moment. Even more surprisingly, Sylver couldn’t even feel Ron anymore. Every single inch of the inn always felt like Ron’s soul was embedded in it, but this place was completely devoid of him. It was even more unsettling than the sudden cutoff of sound.

The room itself was relatively small, there were two identical sofas facing one another, big enough for 2 people to sit on each one, and a small coffee table between them. The walls, floor, and ceiling were covered in faintly glowing magical circuitry, Ron’s analog style of writing evident in every single sigil and line.

Sylver ran both hands through his hair and forced it backward, feeling small pieces of something trapped in there, very likely bits of bone. He walked past the man sitting with his back to the door and sat down opposite him.

The man wore a bright red cloak, with a very modest beige color shirt and pants, as well as a very small silver amulet with a single white stone in the middle. His skin was tanned, at least relative to what Sylver considered normal for the area. He was round-ish, but more because of his bone structure than anything to do with his actual weight, although the man was on the heavy side. But with a single glance at his hands, Sylver could tell this man had never once fired off a spell, or held a weapon.

“I’ll be completely honest, I’m not thrilled at being surprised like this, let alone the fact that my rest was interrupted to have this conversation. So I apologize sincerely for being curt, but could we just skip straight to the part where you tell me what it is you want, and then I tell you what I want, and we see if an agreement can be reached?” Sylver said, as the man spit up the cup of tea he was trying to drink.

“Dear gods that’s uncanny. Where did you get such an accent? I thought she was fucking with me,” the man said, patting his stained shirt with a napkin but doing nothing but rubbing in the tea stain further.

Sylver made a pulling gesture at the man and the stain disappeared entirely.

“I had a very unique upbringing. And I once again apologize for this, but I would really prefer skipping the small talk. Since you didn’t go through the guild, I’m assuming this isn’t a quest fit for the average adventurer,” Sylver said, leaning back on the sofa.

“You’re likely aware of the tournament to decide who will be lady Camilla’s bodyguard at her coronation,” the man said, pausing for a moment while Sylver nodded.

“Well uh… The umm… There are consolation prizes for people in second and third place… Have you heard the tale of Nurell the alchemist? He was a true master and left behind the clues to one of his greatest achievements in-”

“You seem like a very nice man, but there is very likely dried up rat blood trapped in the crack of my ass, but I promise you, my price will be the same regardless of how interesting or how noble whatever it is you’re planning to do is,” Sylver interrupted, sitting up properly and interlocking his fingers.

The man looked like he was about to just carry on with his explanation regarding the amazing Nurell, before he closed his eyes for a short while, and started to talk before he opened them again.

“I want you to enter the tournament and finish in second place, and give me the prize. Name your price,” the man said, as Sylver’s hands relaxed.

“No thank you, I’m not interested,” Sylver said, as he unlocked his fingers and shook his head.

“Name your price,” The man repeated.

“Let me think…” Sylver said, pausing for a moment while he thought about what he should do for dinner. “Apologies, but I’m busy for the foreseeable future. But thank you for the offer,” Sylver finished, as he stood up. The man stood up with him, but moved to the side as if to stop Sylver from leaving.

“One thousand gold,” the man said, as Sylver shook his head no.

“Two thousand gold,” the man countered.

“I’ll tell you right now, this isn’t a number’s issue, I have prior commitments, that I cannot do simultaneous to competing in a 3 week long tournament,” Sylver said.

“Ten thousand gold,” the man countered with a thin grin.

“I’m being polite and courteous because Ron is a close friend of mine, but please do not take advantage of that,” Sylver explained, eyeing the door.

“Fifteen thousand gold,” the man countered with a slightly less confident grin.

“I do have a fondness for gold, but this is simply an issue of scheduling,” Sylver explained, as he took a small step forward, and as expected, the man moved a step back to continue blocking Sylver’s path.

“Twenty thousand gold,” the man continued.

“Ten million gold,” Sylver countered, nothing in his polite smile giving the impression that he was joking.

Sylver watched as the expression on the man’s face change to one ready to laugh, then shock, and then finished on a suppressed rage.

“You said an agreement could be reached,” the man said through gritted teeth.

“I pick my words carefully, I said we would see if an agreement could be reached. And since I am not in a position to participate in the tournament, there is nothing more to discuss… Out of curiosity, why did you seek me out specifically?” Sylver asked, dulling the man’s anger slightly with the question. In Sylver’s mind, the conversation was already over, but he didn’t want to leave someone close to Ron feeling insulted and disgruntled.

Or at least he would try not to leave the man in such a state.

“You defeated my champion,” the man answered, regaining a few drops of anger.

“Champion? What champion?” Sylver asked, trying to think back on all the people he had fought. Almost all of them were in private and in secret, and they were all dead, not defeated… except for... “You’re the one who sent Samuel Du’Rodier after me!” Sylver said, overjoyed that he finally found the one responsible.

“I didn’t exactly send him but I-”

“Did you tell him to step on me?” Sylver interrupted, a friendly smile painted on his pale face.

The man seemed to catch on that this sudden change in expression was anything but a good thing.

“No, I just asked him to prove his combat skills against an unknown adventurer. You were the highest leveled person that wasn’t past level 100 around at the time and he went by himself… and picked… a fight… with you…” the man finished, as the paleness of his face matched Sylver’s own.

“Just to be perfectly clear, you didn’t send him after me, right? This was just a case of wrong place, wrong time?” Sylver asked, with a serene calmness.

“I didn’t, no. I was surprised as you were when he… well you were there,’ the man answered. Sylver didn’t think he was lying, and his soul sense told him much the same. “If you won’t fight for me, I uhh… I need you to undo whatever you did to Sam. He’s my champion and I-”

“No,” Sylver answered.

“What do you want?” the man asked.

“Samuel is a big boy. He made a choice, and he is experiencing the consequences of that choice. He chose to step on me, and if that inconveniences you, that’s yours and his problem, not mine. He should be back to full health in 60 to 70 days, give or take,” Sylver said, gesturing with his hand.

“70 days! You don’t understand the tournament starts next week! I need him-” 

“At the risk of being impolite but I really don’t fucking care. We’re done here,” Sylver said, as he tried to walk forward again, and was once again blocked from doing so.

“Do you have any idea who you’re talking to!” the man shouted, as Sylver took a deep breath.

“I am sure you’re about to tell me,” Sylver said, opening his eyes to look at the man properly.

“Logan De’Lian!” Logan said with the kind of pride that someone who just managed to win an hour-long argument would. “And if you don’t-” Logan paused mid-sentence as Sylver was suddenly a mere inch away from him.

“Logan… Don’t ever threaten me. We are speaking in private right now, which I appreciate, and because of that I am giving you a certain amount of leeway. That’s on top of being Ron’s friend. But let me make one thing crystal clear. I take threats very seriously. In fact, I would go as far as to say that I take them more seriously, than the people making the threats intended them to be,” Sylver finished, being careful not to say too much. 

“So what? I’m supposed to just let you get away with nearly killing my champion?” Logan asked, his anger and fear and pride mixing together to see which would win. Going by the slight tremor in his knees, he was lucky that fear was currently winning.

“No. You can do whatever you want, who am I to tell you what to do? Samuel picked a fight with me and he lost. He is paying the price for his actions, and that is all. As it stands I have no qualm with you, and I do not wish to,” Sylver explained, standing up straight and grasping his hands behind his back.

Logan waited for several breaths before speaking, as he thought about what his options were right now, and came to a decision Sylver was very happy to hear.

“You know what? You were right, we’re done here. Raba was spot on regarding the accent, but you are not even slightly as reasonable as she made you out to be. I don’t like you, and I don’t want to get involved with you. Forget you ever saw me, and I will do the same,” Logan said, walking past Sylver and putting his hat on. “Good day to you,” Logan De’Lian said as he disappeared through the door.

*

*

*

“You use a lot of old words and your pronunciation is all over the place. It’s not wrong wrong, but you do sound a bit odd sometimes,” Ron explained, as Sylver continued scrubbing his hair to get all the pieces of bone out of it.

“Who was he anyway?” Sylver asked, as he continued to run water through his hair, but kept hearing sand-like pieces of bone falling down and hitting the bottom of the metal tub.

“Logan? He’s kind of a merchant, but at the same time, kind of not. He is… He’s like Raba, but on the other side, if you understand me. When the Cord needs to bribe someone politely or needs to court them for something, more often than not, Logan is somehow involved,” Ron explained, as he handed Tom Sylver’s backpack back, now washed and no longer smelling of dried up vomit and death.

“What’s he like? Is he the vengeful type? Irrational? How much can his word be trusted?” Sylver asked, as his wet hair steamed and made the remaining water evaporate out of it.

“If you’re asking if there will be repercussions for not accepting his offer, there won’t be. He’s too smart for that. Provided you didn’t threaten him directly, or harm him in any way, he will forget about you by the time he has dinner tonight. Did you threaten him?” Ron asked, with a slight warning in his voice.

“Not really. Anyway, if you say he’s fine, I believe you. But do you mind making sure the next time you see him? He’s your friend, so I won’t do anything, but if he’s holding a grudge I would prefer settling it quietly and in private,” Sylver explained, as his last set of robes and cloak floated into the bathroom and he put them on.

“Because otherwise, you’re going to break open his jaw off?” Ron asked, as Sylver flared his mana and redid all the necessary connections with his robe. He didn’t close up the holes from the last robe, so this one connected very easily and quickly. Not to mention with the amount of mana he was moving around, it honestly took more time to button up his shirt, than it did to stabilize the robe.

“That was for show more than anything else. But since even you’ve heard about it, I’m hoping something like that won’t be happening again,” Sylver said, as his daggers and packet of freshly polished darts were absorbed back into the robe.

“It may very well have the opposite effect. Samuel wasn’t exactly loved by all, but you did defeat an adventure a rank higher than you. And some of the more... what’s the word? Loyal? The people who care about the hierarchy, might make an issue out of this, even if it was a fair fight” Ron explained, staring off into empty space for a moment. “Raba would like to talk to you.”

“Now?”

“Half an hour ago, but you were in the shower and she said she could wait for you to finish,” Ron answered, waving his hand towards the door that normally led to Sylver’s workshop, that Sylver was now relatively certain would lead somewhere else.

“Sure, why not,” Sylver said, closing up his chest of gold and hiding away his gold and silver coins inside his robe.

*

*

*

“I would like for you to join the tournament. And finish in second place, losing on purpose against one of our agents so she gets first place. What do you want?” Raba asked. She started talking almost the instant Sylver had sat down. He was back in the quiet room, but was surprised to see mister Big and mister Small missing. Raba was dressed in her usual heavy cloak and plain mask.

“Respectfully, but no,” Sylver answered, having given the question a serious amount of thought this time around.

“Is there anything I could offer you to make you change your mind?” Raba asked, barely two breaths after Sylver had declined.

“Not that I can think of. Joining the tournament would require for me to abandon a deal I had made, if not directly, it would at the very least impede me enough that I wouldn’t be able to fulfill what I had promised,” Sylvre explained, as he leaned forward slightly.

“I see,” Raba said plainly.

…

“If that is all you wanted,” Sylver asked with uncertainty, as he started to get up.

“Yes, thank you for your time,” Raba said with a completely neutral and indifferent tone.

Sylver walked all the way to the door and… left.

At least someone knows how to take no for an answer.

*

*

*

Three days passed with not a single thing of consequence occurring. Leke was busy with work and looked haggard from her lack of sleep and didn’t have time for Sylver.

Salgok was busy with repair orders and had bitten off more than he could chew, and Lola was occupied working on extremely volatile machine components, and Sylver wasn’t even allowed in the room.

During these three days, Sylver ate, slept, restocked his supplies, went through the bookstores he didn’t get a chance to previously, sparred with Spring and explained to him the importance of using the weak troops as a distraction, practiced moving around as a cloud, and went to see a theatre play about some sort of horse prince and his overly willful princess. He didn’t find any more books he had written, that had been plagiarized.

Sylver also picked up a couple of orders he had made before descending down into the dungeon. The smith wasn’t as good as Salgok, but he followed the blueprints down to the letter, so Sylver couldn’t really complain about him.

The spear tips were fitted on a simple wooden pole, and the caltrops were absorbed into Sylver’s robe. For the moment, the archer shades got the spears, until Sylver made more shades at the very least. 

The spear tips were simple, extra long, and barbed, for maximum damage. It wasn’t like Sylver needed his shades to survive impaling someone he just needed them to hurt and slow down the enemy for a few seconds. And barbed tips meant that when the spears did eventually fade away, they would leave a very hard to heal and heavily bleeding wound.

The reason Sylver didn’t do anything properly productive was that Sylver was waiting for Nameless and his lot to make contact with him, and regretted severely that he didn’t think of asking them for a place they could meet if he wanted to talk. 

With the population of Arda effectively tripling for the tournament, going down into the dungeons was a pointless endeavor. Partially because there wasn’t a way to avoid all the people wandering around and getting in the way. 

But mostly because Sylver saw a few high ranked adventurers eying him when he approached the entrance, and didn’t want to have to fight off such a large group. He would deal with them later, or not at all. Among all of Sylver’s problems, a bunch of pissed off level 40 and 50 adventurers weren’t even in the top 100.

*

*

*

Lion found Sylver in the early hours of the fourth day, showed him the abandoned building they were using, as well as the hidden entrance to the underground area, and even went as far as to introduce him to a few of the sacrificial members.

With Sylver wearing his mask and altering his voice and body shape, there was very little chance for any of them ever being able to recognize him. Not that they ever would, even if they knew about him. They apparently all had a perk that made searching their minds impossible, and made torture pointless.

And surprisingly enough, they were all well aware of what they were here for. They knew they were going to soon be captured and tortured and ultimately killed. And more than just know it, they were happy about it. They were happy to die for Nameless’ cause.

Which upset Sylver, because he did sympathize with them on a certain level. They were doing all that they could to protect the things they cared about. Which in this case turned out to be a vague ‘greater good’. The nobility is ‘corrupt’ and the king is ‘evil’ and blah blah blah...

Their opinions were absolutely identical to every other non-noble person out in the world, the main difference being that they were willing to die for theirs. Sylver nodded along and pretended to understand, and asked for all of them to come back in a few hours while he finished creating a convincing demon summoning circle, so the temple of Ra had all the evidence they would ever need.

*

*

*

“Lion tells me you think we’re all under Nameless’ control,” Bear said, as Sylver flinched from the sudden presence and nearly messed up the freshly carved corpse. Sylver didn’t ask where it came from, but going by the markings on the corpse’s hands he was a mercenary. Albeit not a very good one.

“It doesn’t really change anything if you are or aren’t. Did you need something?” Sylver asked, as the blood fell from his darkness coated hands, and he pulled his hood back.

“Yes, I wanted to ask if you were planning on using the demon you were going to summon for us, to kill Nameless, or if you planned on killing him afterward. Or if you were just going to tell the temple of Ra what we did, leaving out your involvement in your explanation and have them attempt to hunt us down and kill us?” Bear asked, as Sylver froze up for a moment.

“I thought you trusted my word?” Sylver asked, with a slight grin.

“That was then. This is now,” Bear said, with a teacher like tone. As if Sylver was a student who was just caught cheating in an exam.

“Is there any reason in particular that you’re asking me this?” Sylver asked, taking a few steps towards Bear, before the large man slightly changed his stance in warning.

“There is,” Bear answered, with no intention of explaining further.

Sylver thought about it for a few moments, and decided there wasn’t a whole lot they could do to him anyway, considering he destroyed their book.

“I guess, if we are going to cut to the chase and the bullshit, Nameless tried to use his mind-controlling skill on me. And civil wars are messy, I don’t want it getting in my way,” Sylver answered honestly. Going by how wide Bear’s eyes opened, he seemed to somehow know this was the truth.

“Do you know why we are in Arda? Why we agreed to meet with you?” Bear asked, as Sylver shook his head.

“Because Nameless was destined to be here! Because we were destined to meet! Because how else could it be that the very first person we chose to ask about the book, just so happened to know, not only the dead language it was written in, but also the author of the book? And a demon summoning expert, nonetheless. Can you even comprehend how astronomically improbable all of that is?” Bear asked, walking closer to Sylver, but keeping a good two-meter distance.

“Life is weird sometimes,” Sylver answered, already knowing where this was all going. With Poppy and her god involved, it wasn’t out of the question for Bear to misunderstand her involvement and the resulting effect as-

“He’s the [Hero],” Bear said, under his breath, as he clutched Sylver’s shoulders. Sylver very nearly rolled his eyes, but composed himself in a shocked expression.

“You already knew,” Bear said, the sheer disbelief catching Sylver genuinely off guard.

“Listen… How about this. I’ll summon a demon for you, properly, you make whatever deal you need with it but!” Sylver said, putting emphasis on the word, “You don’t involve Arda in any way, shape, or form, and fuck off out of here and never come back. In fact, everything within 1000 kilometers of Arda is off-limits,” Sylver offered, shrugging Bear’s hands off and holding his own out for a handshake.

“Why 1000 kilometers? Where did you get that number?” Bear asked, his voice schooled back into its normal neutral tone.

“It’s just a nice round number, and big enough that I don’t need to worry about whatever you’re doing managing to ever affect me. The high king is in Silia, so I would assume that’s where you’re going. All I’m asking is that you get going a little faster than you were planning, and don’t stop in any major city while on your way there,” Sylver explained, his hand still out.

“That’s all you want? In exchange for forgiving Nameless for attempting to mind control you? Just that we leave you and your city alone? Completely uncaring to what we are doing and why?” Bear asked his tone unreadable to Sylver.

“That’s oversimplifying it, but yes. I don’t care. Either Nameless becomes high king or he doesn’t, what difference does it make to me?” Sylver asked. He lowered his hand for the moment.

“You could be part of something great. Change the world for the better. Leave your mark on history, fighting for what is right,” Bear offered, and Sylver had to hold himself back from scoffing at the idea.

“This is a pointless discussion. Our original deal included me summoning a demon, and nothing more. The one we make now, would buy my eternal silence on the matter, as well as forgiving and forgetting Nameless. And all I ask in return is that you leave me and my city alone,” Sylver said, as he raised his hand back up to shake.

“So even at the chance to help and work with a [Hero], you would prefer to go back to…” Bear seemed to be at a loss and waved his hands around the room in a circular motion, “this? Scurrying around dungeons, messing with corpses, and dying alone in some random ditch?” Bear continued, as Sylver couldn’t hold back this time and actually rolled his eyes.

“Let me put it like this. My outlook on life is different from yours. As are my values and my priorities. The things I want out of life, cannot be gained by following a [Hero], no matter how amazing he may be,” Sylver explained.

Not to mention, Nameless is as much a [Hero] as I am, you delusional and overzealous lunatic. I should have asked Poppy to get you all out of here and summoned the demon by myself.

Bear seemed angered by Sylver’s words, and the words ‘small-minded’, ‘ignorant’, and ‘cowardly’ passed through his head as his opinion of Sylver became less and less.

“Knowing full well the fate of the world is on the line, you would still choose to bury your head in the sand and continue as you were?” Bear finally asked, trying to understand how someone so clever, could be so stupid.

“As I said, my priorities are different from yours,” and if the fate of the world really was on the line, I’m sure as shit Poppy’s god would intervene to keep things running. Not to mention this is very likely all part of her plan and you’re just misunderstanding things, you fucking idiot. “So do we have a deal?” Sylver asked, as his hand continued to stay open and raised high enough not to make the handshake awkward for the taller man.

“I don’t get it,” Bear said, turning his back to Sylver and hiding his face in his hands for a moment.

“You don’t have to. All I’m asking is to be left alone,” Sylver repeated.

Bear just stood there and mumbled something to himself. Sylver very nearly went back to carving when Bear turned around and all the emotion from his face and voice was gone.

“We agree to your terms. We will need to stop at a few cities on the way to the capital, but we won’t come back after that. And when Nameless is high king, Arda and everything within 1000 kilometers of it, will be left alone. In return, you forfeit your grudge and forget about us, after the demon is summoned and we strike a deal with it,” Bear said, as if he were reading off a script.

“You’ll try to strike a deal with it. I can’t force a demon to accept a deal, I can only make an attempt,” Sylver corrected, as he held his hand out again.

“Deal,” Bear said, as they shook hands.

Sylver was surprised to find that Bear had done something to his soul. Going by the lifeless smile on his face, Sylver guessed that this was the only way the big man could stop himself from crying.

He’s trying to ‘save the world’ and Sylver isn’t throwing his life away to help them, how selfish can one man be? 

Despite the fact that Sylver was used to seeing this kind of arrogance coming from the people doing things ‘for the greater good’ it still pissed him off to see.

As Bear left, Sylver got back to preparing the fake demon summoning site.

First a god, and now a delusional [Hero] fanatic. Fucker has all of them putting their lives on the line, because he thinks his [Hero] is going to somehow change things for the better by killing the high king. “Destiny” what a fucking moron. I need to hurry everything up, before I get any more involved in whatever Poppy and her god are doing.

Remembering that it was extremely unlikely anyone would even pay that much attention to how straight the sigils were, Sylver sped up and was done with all three bodies before the suns even went all the way down.

Sylver lit up all the candles, haphazardly prepared the ‘offerings’, and had the shades dirty the place up so it didn’t look so clean and professional. As far as fake demon worshiping/summoning sites went, Sylver was very proud of himself.

All that was left was snitching to the temple of Ra, summoning an actual demon and making a deal with it, and then Sylver could finally wipe his hands clean of all of this ‘gods’ and [Hero] business.

He put his mask back on and explained to everyone how they should ‘pray’ to the carved up corpses, while Sylver ran off to warn the temple of Ra so they could alert the guards and catch the demon worshipers red-handed.