Stopping in place, the undead kept staring at Lindrl with hunger, his body frozen in place. Staring at Silvy, Lindrl felt amazed at her control. Silvy could feel the undead had understood and accepted the command with no question, acting it out immediately. She was in control, no doubt.

Silvy had controlled the undeads in The Brothel by going inside their mind, possessing their consciousness, guiding them using their eyes and ears. It was not what was happening right now, as Silvy wasn’t looking through its eyes, just ordering him to stop through her mind, using the link inside her head to focus on this undead’s light. That meant she did not need to possess an undead to command him, sending her order through her mind was sufficient. But what were the limits of these orders?

‘Lie down!’

Testing these limits right now might be a good idea, even if Lindrl was witnessing. People put down undead quickly, lest a horde arises and becomes unmanageable. Having one undead performing progressively complicated orders was a good way to see how much was too much, especially knowing that undeads weren’t known for their sharpness.

Silvy received a confirmation and the new-born undead complied, going first on his knees and then on his hands, finally touching the ground with his belly. His eyes were still full of hunger and fixed on Lindrl, his mouth silently snarling at the archmage. He was not moving, thanks to Silvy’s order, but clearly wasn’t happy sharing a room with a living being. Could Silvy do something about it? She quickly came up with an order, feeling it was too long and too complicated, but sending it anyway.

‘Lindrl is a friend; don’t eat her.’

This time the undead didn’t answer her command, failing to understand it, staring at Lindrl like a starving man staring at his favorite food. A concept like ‘stop’ and ‘lie down’ was easy to imagine and transmit, but she had sent this order only with words, not concepts. How could she tackle this problem?

Simpler was better, most likely. Thinking of Lindrl’s face together with her best impression of ‘friendship’, she sent the new order to the undead. His face relaxed, Silvy feeling his understanding of the command. The experiment seemed like a success; now, to test if it was working…

‘Move.’ Silvy ordered, erasing the previous orders of stopping and lying down. The undead slowly stood up, his every move deliberate and careful, as if a small mistake would topple him over. Silvy had seen her fair share of elders moving around, and right now, this undead was moving like a century-old man. He walked towards Lindrl, every step swaying lightly, his face now relaxed, one never found on undeads craving your flesh, his eyes wide like a baby curiously watching his new toy, stopping very close to her, his smell clearly detected by the archmage. His head inched closer, taking a whiff at the archmage, licking her cheek right after. Lindrl stood still when the undead smelled her, but she couldn’t endure the licking, springing up her shield a moment later, repelling the curious undead. He stumbled back a few steps, dangerously swaying back and forth, but not falling thanks to a miracle. Shambling forward again, he bopped harmlessly against the shield, slightly repelled a moment later. The undead repeated this action over and over, each time taking a small step back from the repulsive force.

Silvy smacked her forehead, embarrassed by the undead’s behavior. Why did it lick Lindrl? And why was it so stupid, crashing against the barrier again and again?!

“Are you controlling him? Directing him? It doesn’t seem hostile, but please don’t let him lick me again. That sensation…” A shiver ran through Lindrl’s body, the horrible feeling fresh in her mind. The undead’s tongue was dry, his breath rancid, and the sensation of being licked by it was surely in the top ten worst moments of her life, one she’d like to forget. It still didn’t beat the first one, but she had no intention of recalling that.

“Yes, more or less. I can give him basic commands, but he’s not exactly… sharp.” Silvy said, waving at the undead persisting against Lindrl’s shield.

‘Stop.’ came her command. The undead stopped in place, leg half-raised. He lost his balance a moment later, falling to his right, his body still froze in the mid-step motion, but now lying on the ground. Silvy sighed, defeated. How could this undead be so stupid? The ones under The Brothel were much smarter. She had taught them, but… Wait, that was it, right? If Silvy hadn’t taught them, they would have been as stupid as this one. And in fact, the initial ambush had worked by chance, not because of the undead’s capability. If it learned how to move from her…

Closing her eyes and sitting on the ground, Silvy reached inside the undead, possessing him, seeing through his eyes and feeling its body as her own. He was still on the ground, immobile, right leg half-raised. Silvy went through the motion for standing up, how to walk with purpose and without falling, how to run, jump, climb, everything and more she had taught at the other undeads, every explanation followed by an order to carry it out, the undead learning and remembering without fail, perfectly carrying out each action. He stood up in a swift motion, his steps steady, his running coordinated. His movements were now smoother, alive, nothing like his previous ones. It was incredible: where a slow and underwhelming creature had stood before, now was a faster, more dangerous one. He could run, climb or jump over obstacles, making feints or dodging attacks.

Lindrl had her eyes wide open following the undead dashing around her room, vaulting and jumping over the couches, stopping in place and punching the air, fighting against an invisible enemy, dodging and feinting. Silvy was totally immersed in this endeavor, teaching more and more complicated actions, completely forgetting why the undead was here in the first place.

“That is incredible…” whispered Lindrl. “Are you ordering him to do this? How does it work?” Lindrl almost shouted, her eyes sparkling and body trembling with excitement. Throughout human history, taming monster has been an unreachable goal. No matter the means used, the monsters would not obey. A monster treated kindly and fed properly would attack the moment humans left it free, much like monsters mistreated and abused. The humans performed many experiments, resorting to magic, runes, food, toys… nothing ever worked. Many monsters were faster and with more endurance than horses, but they were still used to this day because no monster could be tamed. Until now. Silvy had tamed the undead, making it run in circles around her study, leaping over her couches. Granted, she’d have to wash them later, but that was an acceptable sacrifice. This child had reached a goal humanity had failed to reach for centuries, and in less than two weeks.

How many applications could this have? If humans could replicate this process, they could use monsters to fight their wars. No, that was thinking small. What about undeads plowing the fields? Pulling carriages? So many jobs requiring manual labor, and undeads were perfectly suited for them, never needing to rest.

“I have a link to him. Through it, I can order him around and feel through him. He obeys and learns from me. You can see how he’s moving better than before, right? I taught him that, and he learned it in a heartbeat.” Silvy answered, proud of herself and the undead who had stopped in place in the meantime.

“How many undeads can you control at once?” Lindrl asked, pressuring Silvy with her passion and dreams.

Silvy stopped for a second, unsure if she should answer truthfully, deciding to do it in the end. “I don’t know, but I controlled around two hundred of them below The Brothel a few hours before the elves attack.”

“Two hundred… Do you believe you can control more of them? How did you do it?” Lindrl kept pestering Silvy.

“Well, I probably could, but I’m not sure of my limit. It felt much like giving an order to a group of people, with them carrying it out to the best of their ability, even taking the initiative in some regards.”

“Taking initiative? You mean the undeads did something you didn’t specifically order them to?” Lindrl asked, by now lost in her own world of fantasy.

“Yes.” Silvy answered, hoping Lindrl would stop questioning her.

“What was it?” Lindrl stood up, walking and kneeling in front of Silvy, their eyes on the same level, her hand on her shoulder, the archmage watching her as a child would stare at a toy they wanted for their birthday. Silvy felt a shiver running in the back of her mind: Lindrl could be quite scary when excited.

“Well, I explained them what I explained to this undead. Some people were escaping upstairs, and I told them to chase and kill them. When they reached the floor above, however, three rows of warriors were expecting them. The first row of undead knelt in place, and the following ones used them to jump over the first row, crashing in their midst. They did it without me ordering them, choosing that was the best course of action.”

“Incredible…” Lindrl said, her voice a little more than a whisper. She stood up, marching around the room, tapping her chin. “You teach them how to do new things, yes, but you show them how to learn, how to use their mind to imagine new things. That’s incredible!”

Lindrl stopped in front of the motionless undead, his eyes following the archmage. “You made him friendly to me?” she asked.

“Yes.”

Lindrl poked his head, the undead not responding. Her face thoughtful for a second, she marched to her desk, retrieving some parchment, a quill, and ink.

“Let him write a letter.” Lindrl asked.

This was a decent test, Silvy realized. Writing required precise and controlled movements, needing eye-hand coordination and finesse, something the undead lacked. How would he fare against this challenge?

Silvy ordered the undead to pick up the quill, dip it into the ink and write the letter ‘A’ on the parchment, leaving the order as broad as possible. The undead complied, picking up the quill the right way, dipping it in the ink and yanking it against the parchment, puncturing and dropping it on the floor, snapping the quill in two but completing the motion on the wooden desk. Lindrl picked up the parchment from the floor, the first part of the letter, the lower-left, completed but smeared around and with holes in it. The desk had a clear line carved in it, some ink still visible inside and around it. At least the quill had snapped at the top of the ‘A’, preventing any further damage. This desk wasn’t expensive, so Lindrl didn’t mind, and neither she got discouraged from the failure. She retrieved another parchment and quill, positioning them away from the damaged part of the desk. Silvy sighed at the failure, but Lindrl spoke right after.

“Try again. Tell him to use less strength and his left hand to keep the parchment in place. I believe he might do it, you know?” Lindrl said, a slight smile on her lips.

Silvy complied, Lindrl calm look making her forget any thought of apology, her curiosity taking over. This might not be the perfect way to test the limit of her orders, but it was a good start.

The second attempt went much better. Quill delicately dipping in the ink, his left hand slammed onto the parchment, his right hand drawing the ‘A’ letter on it. The parchment had tears in a few places, notably at the turns on top and to the right, the ink was not spread uniformly, smeared in a lot of places. Not to mention the letter itself was as big as the parchment. But it was recognizable, even if a toddler would have made a better job. Overall, Silvy considered this a success, and Lindrl thought the same.

“I wonder if he can do a better job. Try again. Make him use even less strength, let him move more evenly and make it smaller, as if you were writing normally.” Lindrl said, thoughtful.

With new instructions and no objections, Silvy gave the new order. Third time’s the charm, right?

And it was. A new piece of parchment available, the undead drew a clean ‘A’, no holes and a little smeared, quill intact and almost of the right size. A resounding success.

“Let’s try something else. Does he apply what he learns or do you have to be specific each time? Tell him to write ‘B’, giving him the instruction you gave him the first time. They were vague, right?” Lindrl asked.

Silvy nodded. “They were vague, yes. I’ll try.” she said, sending the order.

If the undead succeeded with vague instructions, then he could learn, maybe even get smarter with time. If that worked, could Silvy collect some undeads and use them as bodyguards? That would be quite useful.

Her order received by the undead in its vague form, he repeated the same steps as last time, writing a ‘B’ next to the ‘A’, with no holes and little smear.

“Very impressive.” Lindrl commented. “Imagine having undeads as chefs, cleaners, butlers… I wonder if they can become as smart as sapients, act like them.” she mused loudly, sitting back on her couch.

“You should absorb it now. If we need to make more experiments, I can just take another corpse; people die every day.” Lindrl coldly said.

Silvy nodded, agreeing with Lindrl’s words. People died every day and didn’t need their body anymore, so there was no problem if she used them. And now was the time to use this undead, to absorb him and heal her body. She ordered him to die for her, to sacrifice its life for her own good. He exhibited no hesitation nor resentment, willingly touching and dying for Silvy, his core and body melting into mana, flowing into her and fueling her Skill [Advanced Self-regeneration]. It repaired her body in front of her eyes, flesh growing out of bones that snapped back into place, their cracks filled with new matter, the skin covering her exposed innards. The process lasted around twenty minutes, and in the end, Silvy was in her old body, once again a living half-elf child.

“You have a Skill that quickens regeneration, right? It doesn’t seem basic either. That’s rare. It’s given to people surviving deadly wounds against all odds without healing potions or magic. What happened that brought you so close to death? The cores breaking?” Lindrl asked.

Oh-oh. Silvy was again at a crossroads. She could tell Lindrl the truth, how the class system didn’t consider the cores a part of her, making leveling and gaining Skills easier than normal. Or she could confirm her story, lying to her. The governor’s words came back to Silvy. Lindrl was isolating her, trying to her for herself. If this kept going, the archmage would be Silvy’s only hope, the only person she could ask help to. If that was true, she shouldn’t tell Lindrl the truth. She didn’t even need to lie, just a nod and Lindrl would believe her own story. But if she told her the truth, maybe Lindrl could help her in acquiring more Skills. After all, she was a knowledgeable [Archmage], who knows how many Skills she knew. Or maybe she would impair Silvy, fearful of her growing power that would surpass her in time. What was the best choice? Silvy knew the answer.

“Yes, it was with the cores. I almost died when they broke: it must have been that.”

The time to keep some secrets from Lindrl had arrived. Knowledge is power and the more Lindrl knew about her, the more her power over her life grew. Freedom was what Silvy wanted, not following someone else’s orders. Lindrl nodded, still lost in thoughts, not even considering Silvy would lie.

Silvy’s mind was spinning with plans. She needed to be cautious, training her Skills in secret. Her first objective was [Sphere of Sensation] Hethe had spoken about, as it sounded extremely useful. After that, she’d try something else, maybe search the library for easily acquired Skills, if she could convince Lindrl to let her move around freely.

Silvy looked out the window, the sun going down, the night a few hours away. Seeing Lindrl deep in thought, she resumed her line creation for some time, pondering on how to train for the sphere when Lindrl spoke up again.

“Usually, students don’t get to, officially, practice with spells and learn about the theory behind them until they can create a line with half of their mana. As your situation is a bit special, I’ll make an exception and teach you about them. But not today: I barely slept, and I’m tired from the fight. Come here tomorrow morning, and we’ll have our first lesson. I’d tell you to not sleep in and be late, but you don’t sleep and live here, so… Anyway, don’t go outside my building. You can go around if you wish, but not outside; Gorvan is quite strict and might not let you go. Anyway, I’ve stuff to do and sleep to catch up, so please leave me now. Choose one of the rooms on this floor; they are all vacant. Remember, tomorrow morning, early.”

Silvy nodded, getting out of the room and leaving Lindrl alone. What did [Archmages] do every day anyway? Maybe trained like her…

Choosing a room at random, she got inside. A king-size bed with expensive white sheets was against the left wall, at its center, a closed window right next to it. On its right side, a beautifully crafted bedside table, and on its right a mirror big enough to reflect Silvy’s entire body. A wardrobe covering half the wall was in front of Silvy, a desk and a chair to her right, a magic item shedding light on top. Everything was made of wood, and they were all of excellent craftsmanship, each piece of furniture probably costing hundreds of gold. A door was next to the desk, leading to a bathroom, smaller than Lindrl’s one but with the same equipment. This would be Silvy's prison for some time, but she felt it was not so bad, the room at the inn not so flashy and certainly without a bathroom.

They would leave her alone for the rest of the day and night, but she was not completely sure, and training [Sphere of Sensation] meant being helpless. This bedroom had a window, but the bathroom didn’t, making it the most secure place. Moving the chair into the bathroom, she blocked the door with it, feeling a bit safer. Sitting on the ground, she spoke with the core.

‘Can you turn off my senses?’

Yes.

Darkness, total void embraced Silvy, everything gone. The light coming from the stone-looking item on the wall was no more. The sound of silence, pressing on her ears the moment before, disappeared. She couldn’t feel her body anymore, unable to say if she was falling, or maybe flying. No smells of slightly wet air, scented with a light perfume, reached her brain when she breathed in. Silvy was alone, in the darkness, and no one could reach her.

‘Core? Can you hear me?’ she asked.

Yes.

It was still here. She was alone with a monster. It had always been like this, right?

Always.

The days with her mother were a far memory, so far she couldn’t believe that was her life.

A different one.

Everything done in the slums, every merchant swindled with her wits, every person distracted by her and pickpocketed by Rat, the few houses they had broken in, taking everything valuable. Was that her? She had considered that group her family, her comrades, people she trusted with her life, people who trusted her with their lives. They had died.

Abandoned.

But… she wasn’t sad. Everyone died in the end, that was life. Why fight against it? The elves had destroyed The Brothel, her vengeance stolen, its existence eliminated. Zatha was alive, the killer of her ex-comrades, but she would die in the end. Everyone did. It would take years, but what were years for an undead? A drop in the ocean.

We are immortals.

Silvy now understood. She would be alone, forever. Whoever she met, every friend she’d meet, every enemy she’d make, they would die, crumbling away with time, time that wouldn’t affect her.

Alone with me. Come to me, dear.

The core reached out to her with his hand, showing images of someone she could be.

‘We will always be alone.’

Alone together.

‘Everything we do will be meaningless.’

Meaningless is just another word for life.

‘Everyone is using me.’

We will feast on them.

‘What’s the point of anything?’

To embrace the void that is our existence.

‘How can I embrace something that isn’t?’

By being the void yourself, bringing its greatness to everyone.

‘To raze the city? To kill every living being? To feast on the gods themselves?’

Different words for a single concept: food.

‘Why bring destruction?’

To show everyone their powerlessness against the end. To show them what it means to be meaningless.

‘I’m too weak.’

We are an unending legion.

‘Undeads are weak.’

Teach them. Help them. Guide them. Bring the void to the world, Creator.

Silvy grasped the core’s hand. For a moment, a single, endless moment, she could feel them. Thousands, hundreds of thousands, west, east, north, south, deep below the surface, everywhere. Every light an undead, answering her call, for the void. Their endless hunger stopping only when nothing could be eaten anymore.

A memory entered Silvy’s mind, the life of the core before dying, something that even it didn’t know. Her name was Erika. Human, her father, a merchant, her mother, a housewife. She had grown learning her father’s craft, her parents never able to have another child. Her life ordinary, with a pretty teenager, Francus, courting her. She was interested, but she wouldn’t accept easily, his romantic attempts making her feel special. Her life was without worries.

But good times never last. Her father had accumulated a debt he couldn’t hope to repay, the whole family escaping the continent, hoping to avoid the payment. She had cried when they had left, her life now in shatters, never to be the same. But the loan sharks had longer reach than her father had expected, leaving him no choice but to sell his only daughter. Her mother had cried, just like her father, agonizing over his wounds as much as his life choices.

Female slaves’ fate was easy to imagine. Abused by the slavers, a rich merchant had bought her, making her work as his maid. She had lived the next couple of years better than she had imagined. Her freedom was restricted, and the merchant was a pig, but at least he didn’t hit her too much, sometimes even pleasing her. But he had grown bored by her, as with every broken toy before. Sold again, the next auction had brought her across the continent to the frontier city, bought by a brothel. She was still young, decent-looking and capable of serving men, a good choice for a few coins. But fate still was not done with her. The brothel had a secret underground, and Erika had been stupid enough to ask questions. Next thing she knew, she was underground, rows and rows of undead inside cages in front of her, and a new resident had arrived: her.

Memories of the core’s life flooded into Silvy. No, this was also her life now. The moment was now over, and silence descended, the world cold and unwelcoming again, the undead lights disappeared from her sight. She was alone again, strangers and enemies all around.

Time had no meaning anymore: minutes, hours, days passed, every sense cut from her mind. Slowly, Silvy recovered from the shock of being alone, a feeling that had accompanied her for her whole life. She had been alone for a long time, a bit more wouldn’t kill her.

[Beginner Death Dancer level 23→24]

[Chimera level 8→10]

[Bond: Undead Core→Advanced Bond: Undead Core]

[Passive: Body Awareness]

The core… was part of her now. Before, it had been something else, a stranger she had to control and command, an intruder in her own body. Now, she was the core as much as it was Silvy.

And her body… she could feel it, much more than she had ever felt before. Every bone, every muscle, every sense ready to do her bidding. Her senses came back without the help of the core: she was in control now. The night was ending: she was sure of it, time ticking in her head, every second, every minute.

There it was. The elemental core. Still broken, repairing something so powerful impossible in so little time. How long would it take? Months, years? The undead core hadn’t been able to tell before, but now, together they could. Was this the whole state? No, not exactly, but close, their minds interconnected as one working together to reach a single goal. Before, two people were working together in perfect synchrony, but now a single one was working with two minds. It was probably a downgrade, but it was always active. The whole state wouldn’t work anymore, they were too intertwined to separate their minds in two. A crack in her core would kill her now, just like a monster. Their fate was now together, or none at all.

But it was different for the elemental core.

It was sleeping, busy in its endeavor. What would happen after that? Silvy now had a similar strength to it, thanks to her fusion. But the elemental would become stronger the more it was repaired. And would it leave her in control once it was free? Or would it fight for it? Betrayal. It would betray her, just like everyone else.

Her mother, her comrades, had betrayed her, dying and not coming back as undeads. Erika’s mother was silent when they had taken her away. Her father had disappeared before her birth, and Erika’s father had sold her. The governor betrayed everyone, lying to avoid the consequences of his actions. Kal had betrayed her, wasting good bodies to create something like her. Something like her… No. No one could become like her. She was special, the Creator.

Cold rage filled Silvy. Betrayal, betrayal, betrayal! Everywhere she turned, people always looked out for themselves, always selfish and greedy. That was the problem. Their desires, their needs, they obscured their reason. Undeads were pure, hollow husks, sustained by mana, no desire if not to eat. That was salvation, wasn’t it? The hunger, what it meant to be undead, was now inside her. Embrace it, love it. Yes: she would embrace every undead. She would take their hunger, free them from it like a mother with her children. And after that, she would save every living being, their desires meaningless against the void. They would see the truth or be forced to see it.

But she would wait. Time was, after all, just a number for her. Decades? Centuries? Millennia? Meaningless, like everything else.

But right now, she needed power, more power than anyone else, to free herself. Magic would give her this power. And the elemental core was her aim: she would eat it, absorb it. She would become stronger, ready to face every challenge ahead. The world would unite against her, she was sure of it. A slight smile formed on her lips, the truest smile in a long time. Let them try. A glorious feast was ahead of her, and she just needed to reach out and grab it.

Being able to use magic as elementals would help her, especially in Lindrl’s lesson. The archmage would betray her one day, but right now, she needed her as an ally. Her knowledge of magic was deep and would help her immensely, and she had every intention to bleed her dry.

Absorbing another core was usually easy. If the body had just died, the core could not resist the attack and would quickly succumb to it. But, if the body was still alive, or the core had time to recover, absorbing it would be difficult, as a battle of mana would ensue, where one would try to absorb the other.

A fight against her elemental core would be like the one against a living core, but different. Cracked and enslaved, the core's defense was only a natural response, not a conscious one. Silvy was willing to try because of that, as its defense would be easy to outmaneuver and it wouldn’t attack her back. If she was losing, she could cut off the mana used to attack, sacrificing it to stop its retaliation.

She closed her eyes, turning the mana within herself. Removing the core from her body was a possibility, but not a good one. What if that core was keeping her together? Absorbing it was also a risk, but less so, and no power comes without risks.

The core was a big bundle of mana, full of it, using it to repair and free itself. She could probably win a battle of attrition, fighting it repeatedly, consuming its mana unable to be recharged, withdrawing and recharging herself after each attack, but it would take a long time and leave her manaless each time. She needed as much power as fast as possible to exploit Lindrl to the full. After all, the king would send his answer soon, and her fate would be sealed if she was powerless.

No, she needed another method. Maybe slowly draining it: it might not regard that as an attack, and she would weaken it before the fight.

Moving her mana around and creating a barrier to isolate the elemental core, she began the drain. Mana trickled from the elemental to herself: too slow. She increased the power, until the elemental core retaliated against her, Silvy cutting the tendril right after. A few seconds passed before she restarted the drain, this time knowing the limit, a continuous flow of mana entering her body, reaching her undead core, with no retaliation from the elemental. Given the rate, it would take a few days to drain it fully: acceptable. Once it was dry, she would attack, absorbing and understanding its magical prowess.

Letting the drain work in the background, she got out of her room, knocking on Lindrl’s door: her lesson awaited.