The Gilded Dominion never noticed the moment it was breached.
Five agents, Dark Elven shadows in flesh slipped past wards, patrols, and mercenary sentries without the Dominion ever realizing it had been breached.
They did not wear armor or carry visible weapons. Their blades were thought and silence, their passage masked by generations of perfected techniques in Dark and Psychic Magic.
These were not common spies. They were Synod trained specialists, each a master of mind walking, memory extraction, and psionic veiling. Their kind had toppled nobles, stolen bloodlines, and erased threats before the Circle of Arbiters ever convened to notice.
They moved like ghosts.
Not a single trace of their presence was left behind as they drifted from shadow to shadow across the upper tiers of the Dominion's political and mercenary echelons.
They spoke to no one.
Instead, they read.
They walked past guards and brushed their minds with veiled whispers. They stood beside mercenaries and watched flickers of remembered deaths, contracts paid in silence, coins handed to a man with cold eyes and colder words.
Three days.
That was all it took.
In seventy-two hours, they rebuilt the complete history of Corvin Blackmoor's actions within the Gilded Dominion without speaking to a single soul.
They pieced together:
The dismantling of noble houses.
The whispered contracts from Duchess Yvanna.
The silence that followed.
Even Yvanna herself was not spared.
One of the spies waited until she stood in quiet meditation before her private flame mirror. The slightest mental opening, a wandering thought, a flicker of reflection and the agent slipped in.
No alarms triggered. No wards noticed. No memories disturbed.
The story was complete.
And then, just as silently, the five shadows vanished.
From a sealed and warded sanctum hidden within a ruined watchtower near the Dominion's border, the team encoded and sent their report through Dark Elven channels.
It was a day later, the message arrived within the Vault of Whispers, deep beneath the Synod's obsidian sanctum.
--
The first sight of Fort Redmarsh was underwhelming.
Blackened stone, war torn walls, and a haze of blood colored fog clung to everything. The fort didn't rise, it sank into the cracked plains like a dying beast, ribs exposed, spirit broken.
Corvin arrived with Unit Thirteen at dawn, though the sun never fully breached the swirling mist.
No banners greeted them. No commanders offered speeches.
Only a line of officers, clipboards etched with runes in hand, directing nonhuman mercenaries to the forward trenches.
Humans, even mercenary humans, were assigned to rear positions. Logistics, defense, support spells.
The message was clear.
Elves, Feralis, Aetherborn, Non Humans were expendable.
Even among killers, even among those paid in coin and blood, they still valued their own first.
Corvin watched the separation with a quiet, cold disdain.
He said nothing, but he decided. He would repay that message in kind.
If the Iron March prized human lives above all else, then he would devour those lives, loyalist or rebel, noble or peasant.
He would not distinguish between sides. Only between prey and predator.
The battlefield of Redmarsh was a feast.
He moved through the fog like a phantom, unseen, unfelt. Every clash, every skirmish was another hunting ground.
He siphoned and absorbed with mechanical precision:
Feralis fell first. Siphoned, killed, absorbed. Wolfkin and Lionkin, Bearkin and Jackalkin their animalistic strength and heightened senses ripped from their dying frames.
Aetherborn followed, Fire born with molten eyes, Earth bound with stone thick skins, Water born flowing like dancers, weaving through chaos, Wind kind flickering through broken lines. All crumbling into mana as he devoured their essence.
Humans were a constant, easy prey. Loyalist, rebel, it mattered not. Their blood and memories seeped into his growing tide of power. Giving him more of their kind as targets with every memory absorbed.
His Shadow Siphon was sharper now, crueler, refined.
And he began to test it.
On Spellwrights of both sides. On Magister level humans. On the two Aetherborn Magisters he found commanding rebel skirmish groups.
He launched his spores with care, weaving them through the blood soaked mist.
Not a single target flinched, nor a single Magister sensed a thing.
Corvin felt it, the cold satisfaction of dominance. Soon, even Magus' would fall beneath his reach. Soon he will return to the Dark Elf Magus to get 'his' Necromancy.
Every battle pushed him higher.
Level 95, 96, 97.
The numbers ticked upward, a steady, inevitable climb toward the threshold he felt burning just beyond his reach.
His body was changing subtly already, faster regeneration of Mana, Health and Stamina, deeper mana wells, sharper instincts.
Every clash was another step toward becoming something the world had not seen in millennia.
And as he left another field littered with empty eyed corpses of humans whom have no value to his evolution, the mist seemed to whisper around him.
Within a week, Corvin had siphoned and consumed hundreds.
His level surged, past 110 and still rising.
The lines between man, monster, and myth thinned each day.
The soldiers began to whisper. Not of victory or of tactics.
But of a shape that came in mist. Of a killer that left no trail.
--
The report arrived with the dawn, delivered through shadow folded runes and mind sealed channels. Sent from the Dominion's edge straight to the obsidian vaults of the Synod.
Few networks in the world rivaled the Dark Elven spy web.
The memory harvested data from the Gilded Dominion was thorough, cold and as usual, perfect. It arrived without trace, without interference.
It was read in silence by three of the Synod's senior agents, the faces they show to the rest of the world.
Magus Teln'Vael, tactician and projection seer.
Magus Zayrith, master of mental architecture and mind weaving.
Archmagus Valmorien Threyl, Warden of the Quiet Sigil, a name rarely spoken aloud.
The three stood in a ring of null space, where time slowed and divinations could not reach.
Teln'Vael's voice broke the silence first.
"This Corvin Blackmoor is efficient. Beyond what even the initial reports implied."
Zayrith hummed in agreement. His violet eyes flicked over the mental summary projected in swirling runes between them.
"No wasted movement. Minimal visibility. Dozens of eliminations, systemic political decimation. Operates with no faction allegiance, no predictable motivation. Uses Dark Elf tactics of cloaking and assassination."
Valmorien did not look up. His fingers traced a slow circle on the black stone in front of him. His voice, when it came, was soft, but carried weight like a falling blade.
Teln'Vael shifted.
"If left unchecked, he may align with the Circle. With the Arcanum. That space mage Kaelyn has already noticed him."
Zayrith frowned.
"She spoke of him to the Duchess. The spies pulled the memory directly. The girl fears him, respects him… but does not yet understand him."
Valmorien smiled faintly, though it was more predatory than amused.
"Which means he still has room to choose. We will make the choice easy."
The two Magus turned toward him.
"Recruitment?" Teln'Vael asked.
"Not officially," Valmorien said. "No robes or banners. But we mark him, as we do with all daggers."
He stood, robes whispering like ashfall across the black marble.
"Offer him the arrangement. We will send contracts, as the Guild does. He will fulfill them with perfection. In return, we claim him as our own when needed."
Zayrith folded his arms.
"And when the Arcanum presses?"
"We tell them," Valmorien said, "that Corvin Blackmoor is a Dark Elf. That he was trained by one of our Space masters. I will talk to Space Magic trainers. We do not offer location. The Arcanum will prod, but not beyond the surface. Our silence will be its own truth."
Teln'Vael nodded slowly.
"He will not like manipulation."
Valmorien's eyes gleamed beneath his hood.
"Then we won't manipulate. We will deal. Blade to sheath. Dagger to hand. He will be another weapon in our arsenal, if he chooses. If not..."
He let the thought hang.
"Send the directive. Let the shadows approach him."
--
His level had surpassed the threshold.
Level 110.
The prompt had appeared multiple times after level 100, a quiet pulse against his senses.
[Threshold for Evolution Exceeded.]
Corvin did not hesitate anymore.
Using earth magic beneath his feet, weaving it with intention. The ground split open in silence, forming a narrow vertical shaft nearly twenty meters deep. Stone, soil, and roots pulled aside as though the land itself bowed to his will.
At the bottom, he carved a chamber, twelve meters wide, seven meters tall, an oval of reinforced stone walls.
He dropped down with practiced ease, the faint thud of his landing muffled by magic.
With a thought, orbs of gentle white light bloomed across the ceiling. The air below was cool and dry.
Above, the shaft sealed itself shut. The stone flattened and hardened. Earth molded perfectly into the dome's form, encasing him.
No light from above. No sound. No interruption.
Corvin unstrapped his armor, piece by piece.
Laid each on the ground with precision.
Then, slowly, deliberately, removed the rest, until nothing remained between his flesh and the pulse of the world around him.
He sat in the center of the chamber. Legs crossed, back straight, utterly still.
Naked. Pure in form. Indestructible in spirit.
The status screen opened in front of him.
[Status]
Name: Corvin Blackmoor
Race: Dark Parasyte - Awakening Stage
Level: 110
A quiet ping echoed in his mind.
[Threshold for Evolution Reached.]
Would you like to begin evolution?
- YES
- NO
He selected YES with a thought.
The air shifted.
His skin began to tingle. Then hum. Then burn.
From his spine downward, the change began, first a flicker of warmth, then an eruption of pressure.
A dense, translucent cocoon started to form around him, layer by layer.
It wasn't slime.
It was like glass woven with starlight, thickening into a chrysalis that reflected flickers of the chamber's light in rainbow pulses.
His limbs stiffened. His breath slowed.
His vision dimmed, narrowed, collapsed inward into darkness.
And in that darkness, the System began to speak.
[SYSTEM ANALYSIS COMPLETE]
Dark Parasyte - Evolution Protocol Active
Analyzing Siphon History...
Total Siphons: 3362
Species Extracted: Human, Dark Elf, High Elf, Orc, Feralis (Wolf, Lion, Bear, Jackal), Aetherborn (Fire, Earth, Wind, Water)
Analyzing Absorbed Traits...
Physical Prowess: Human + Orc Reinforcement + Feralis
Sensory Suite: Feralis Ancestry
Mana Affinity: Elf + Aetherborn Lineages
Magical Disciplines: Advanced Elemental. Adept Secondary. Intermediate Rare (Lightning). Novice Arcane (Space).
Notable Achievements:
Survived over 400 battles
Siphoned from 7 confirmed Magister level beings
Achieved independent Partial Elemental Synchronization
Initiated Psychic Fusion through Telepathy and Telekinesis
Stat Tier Evaluation:
Physical: A+ / S- Range
Mental: S- / S Tier
Mana Reserves: Expanded Core Detected
Unique Evolutionary Pathway Unlocked: Dark Parasyte - Ascendant Stage
Preparing Adaptive Evolutionary Suite...
Generating Evolution Options...
And then, in perfect silence, three ethereal panels unfolded before him, glowing with a dim inner radiance.
Words etched in luminous script hovered, waiting.
Waiting for him to choose.
To ascend.
--
Corvin's body trembled as the cocoon continued to pulse around him. The crackling energy from his body surged with each beat of his heart, and his mind began to focus, narrowing into a singular thought.
A low hum reverberated through the air, and the cocoon's walls began to glow faintly. His body felt the pressure of magic weaving into his very cells, tightening, shaping, transforming. A strange peace settled over him as the system's prompt flickered to life before his eyes.
[SYSTEM EVOLUTION INTERFACE]
The screen shimmered in front of Corvin, three options floating above each other, glowing softly with potential.
Option 1: Sylvan Elf
The True Elven Lineage, before the split of the race. The purest magic and bloodline, untapped for millennia. Return to roots of your current host, embracing eternal grace, power, and mastery over the magic.
Superior Mana Control
Elementalization
A+ Plant Magic Affinity
Enhanced Physical Strength
Enhanced Senses
Increased Charisma/Grace
Longevity
Shapeshifting
Shadow Siphon [Enhanced]
Option 2: Primal Convergence
A fusion of all your absorptions based on absorbed species and their quantities. Strength, magic, and lives consumed will determine the shape of your body.
Physical Mastery
Fusion of Racial Traits
Mana Flexibility
Shapeshifting [Adaptive]
Enhanced Resilience
Enhanced Instincts
Option 3: Ascended Human
Refined Human Form, perfected through high number of absorbed specimen. This form embraces human heritage, turning adaptability and instincts into pure might.
Physical Ascendance
Magical Control [Adept]
Mental Resilience
Shapeshifting [Minimal]
Adaptability
Corvin's eyes flicked over the three options. They glowed with promise, each offering a different road, but his mind was already made up. The human form, the adaptability of the Ascended Human, he had long outgrown that. Humans were fragile, ephemeral creatures, and he had no desire to return to that existence, enhanced or not. The Primal Convergence path, though tempting, was too wild for him; it spoke to raw power, but it lacked elegance.
His gaze lingered on the first option.
Sylvan Elf.
The Elven bloodline beckoned to him. The immortality, grace, superior control over magic. The power of the elements at his fingertips. It was what he had always desired. The otherworldly elegance and grace of the Elves, the control and mastery over magic and immortality was the prize he had longed for. Sylvan Elf already have the advantages of his absorptions from the Feralis and Aetherborne.
The moment he did, a surge of magic erupted through him like a bursting sun. His body shuddered, his senses went cold, and his vision darkened. Then everything around him faded, and only the System's voice remained.
You have chosen: Sylvan Elf
Transformation begins now.
Corvin's body contorted in the cocoon as the change began. His skin stretched, rippling with new energy. His muscles elongated and hardened, his frame growing taller, more elegant. Mana surged through his veins, flowing with wild, untamed power. His mind raced, feeling the Elven lineage take root deep within him, rewriting his very being.
The cocoon tightened around him, it was now alive with energy, his energy. He could feel every basic element around him: fire, water, earth, air and he was one with them. A surge of powerful, ancient magic rushed through him, he felt his body transforming, evolving into something far beyond what he had been.
His Elven ears grew long, and his hair flowed into silken strands of silver. His eyes glowed with the pale blue of Elven mana, radiant and powerful. His muscles became perfectly honed, a work of art. His senses expanded beyond anything he had felt before. He could hear the smallest whispers in the wind, smell the faintest scent, and his vision pierced the darkness around him.
His hands, long and elegant moved gracefully as he tested his new form. Power surged through him as he clenched his fists and felt the elements bend to his will.
[You have evolved into the Sylvan Elf.]
[Evolution Type: Dark Parasyte - Ascendant Stage]
The cocoon began to fragment, light bursting outward in fractured waves of brilliance. Corvin's body shone like a beacon in the dim underground chamber, his new form, his Elven bloodline, entwined with the essence of the Feralis, Aetherborn, and others, manifested fully.
His skin, smooth and pale transformed into something more perfect, glowing softly as if kissed by moonlight. His body shifted, becoming more elegant, muscular, taller, but still refined like the Elven ancestors he now embodied.
His eyes glowed with an otherworldly silverish blue, radiating mana as it poured through him, thick and viscous, like liquid power.
New Abilities Unlocked
Superior Mana Control: Mana manipulation and spellcasting now 10x faster and more efficient.
Elementalization: Merge with the basic elements (Fire, Water, Earth, Wind) to become one with them. Shape your body into any elemental form during this state.
Enhanced Physic: +30% Strength, Endurance, Agility.
Enhanced Senses: Heightened sight, hearing, and smell. Track prey over miles.
Increased Charisma/Grace: Natural charm, aura of authority and elegance. The world bends to your presence.
Longevity: You will not age once your physical prime is reached.
Shapeshifting: Mimic any absorbed race's appearance and traits partially or completely. Blend in seamlessly with absorbed forms.
Shadow Siphon [Enhanced]: Siphon limit for the same target increased to five times. Deeper access to absorbed abilities and memories.
Plant Magic Affinity: Your Elven heritage allows yo to communicate with the nature in fundamental level. Nature and its plant based elements bows to your inherent mastery.
New Passive Skill: Elemental Soul: Temporarily draw strength from the elements around you, amplifying physical and magical abilities.
New Passive Skill: Increased Regeneration of Mana, Health and Stamina 10% of your total every minute.
Corvin's body continued to revel in the transformation. He felt his muscles, sinews, and tendons adjust to the Elven grace, while the raw strength of Orcs and the predatory instincts of Feralis hummed with him. His mind spun with new possibilities, and with each breath, he could feel the air, the very elements becoming part of his consciousness. His senses were no longer just heightened; they were sharpened as well.
A deep breath.
Corvin exhaled slowly, feeling his skin ripple in reaction to the newly born power running through him. Every cell vibrated with energy.
[First Evolution Finalized]
Corvin's new form was a symphony of perfection, power, beauty, and grace wrapped in one singular existence. His body moved with the fluidity of ancient Elven grace, yet his strength was that of a beast born from the wilds. He could feel the elements, fire, water, earth and wind responding to his will, as if the very air around him knew its new master.
He stood slowly, feeling the ground beneath him shift slightly. The power of Elementalization surged through him. He could feel the fire rising from his core beating at the same rythim of the core of this world. The water flowing through his fingertips. Wind rushed to his command, and earth groaned as his magic bled into the fabric of reality itself. Deep underground he could hear the hum of plant life, waiting for even the smallest of his whims.
He tried to change his form to pure fire, his physical body turned to a torch, hovering over the ground. he was able to change the color, intensity and even the heat of his flames. He tried other elements as well. Each and every one of the basic elements were bowing to their new master. His lightning bolts was as thick as his forearm now. Corvin willed a single drop of his blood to come out of his veins and it did so, he shaped it as needle and throw it to the hardened walls of his sanctuary. The needle sank to the stone as if it was butter. He willed and it expanded to create a fissure on the stone.
His new body shimmered with raw power. He could feel his connection to the elements deepen, and with it, his command over them. The Shapeshifting ability flowed into him like a natural extension. The world was his canvas, and he was ready to shape it however he pleased.
He stood tall, his senses sharp, his body perfected. The battlefield would now see him not just as a predator, but as an unstoppable force.