The rocky outcrop Silas had spotted was less of a cave and more of a jagged wound in the side of a hill, but it was dry, and more importantly, it was defensible.
Silas dragged a heavy, dead bush across the entrance to obscure the light, creating a crude barricade. He turned to find Elena slumped against the far wall, her face pale and beaded with sweat. The scratch on her shoulder had turned a nasty shade of purple, the veins around it turning black as the venom spread.
"Okay, hero time," Silas said, kneeling beside her. He shrugged off his pack, rummaging through the meager supplies. "How do you feel? On a scale of one to ten, one being 'perfect hair' and ten being 'dead'."
"Seven," Elena gritted out, clutching her arm. "It burns. Like... fire in my blood."
"Gloomhunter venom is necrotic," Silas analyzed, his 50 Intelligence pulling up the relevant monster lore he'd absorbed from the Codex. "It eats mana. Since you're a Void Strider now, your mana is denser, so it's fighting back, but you're losing."
He looked at the wound. He didn't have a high-level antidote. He had a cheap health potion he'd bought in Oakhaven, but that would just mask the symptoms, not cure the toxin.
"I have to drain it," Silas said calmly. "But I can't use a knife. The venom is in your bloodstream. If I cut you, you bleed out."
"Then what?" Elena asked, fear flickering in her eyes.
Silas held up his hand. A small, violet spark of energy danced on his fingertips.
"I'm going to use [Void Consumption] on the venom directly. I'll try to eat the poison without eating your arm. It's going to feel... weird. Probably cold."
"Do it," Elena hissed. "Before I pass out."
Silas nodded. He placed his hand over the wound, hovering an inch above her skin. He closed his eyes, focusing his senses. With his high mental stat, he could visualize the inside of her body—the flow of blood, the pulse of mana, and the dark, oily sludge of the venom.
Target acquired.
[Skill Activated: Void Consumption (Precision Mode)]
He didn't pull hard. He sipped. It was like drinking a milkshake through a coffee stirrer.
The venom fought back. It was bitter, acrid, and burning hot against his mind. Silas flinched but held steady. He guided the Void energy to latch onto the toxic molecules and rip them out of her cells.
Elena gasped, her back arching. "Cold! It's freezing!"
"Hold still," Silas grunted, sweat beading on his own forehead. "Almost... got it."
He felt the last of the sludge pass into him. He immediately severed the connection and stumbled back, gagging as the venom hit his own system. His Void physiology instantly crushed the toxin, breaking it down into harmless mana, but the taste lingered.
"Blech," Silas wiped his mouth. "Tastes like rotten eggs and despair. Note to self: Gloomhunter venom is not a condiment."
Elena slumped forward, breathing heavily. The purple discoloration faded instantly, leaving her skin pale but healthy. She looked at her shoulder, then at Silas.
"You... you absorbed it?"
"I have a stomach of steel and a soul of darkness," Silas grinned, though he looked tired. The precision drain had taken a lot of focus. "How do you feel?"
"Better," she admitted, flexing her arm. "Weak, but the burning is gone."
"Good. Drink this." He tossed her the cheap health potion. "It tastes like strawberry water, but it'll help patch the hole."
While Elena recovered, Silas sat near the entrance, keeping watch. The sky outside had turned from bruised purple to a deep, suffocating black. The Fringe Lands were settling in for the night.
He pulled up his status screen again.
Name: Silas Vane
Level: 37
Class: Void Sovereign
Intelligence: 50
"Fifty points," he murmured. "That's a threshold."
In the world's mechanics, every 50 points in a stat usually unlocked a passive trait or a specific bonus. He focused on the Intelligence stat.
[Trait Unlocked: Mind Palace (Passive)]Effect: Your memory is perfect. You can simulate combat scenarios in your mind with 80% accuracy. Mana regeneration increased by 20%.
"Perfect memory," Silas mused. "Finally, I'll remember where I left my socks."
He looked around the cave. His eyes caught a glint in the rock wall behind Elena.
"Move," he said suddenly.
Elena blinked. "What?"
"Move away from the wall. Just a hunch."
She scrambled aside. Silas walked over and tapped the wall with Requiem. The stone crumbled away easily, revealing a dull, dark grey vein running through the rock. It wasn't glowing, it wasn't shiny. It looked like slate.
But to his [Sovereign's Gaze], it was singing.
[Resource Detected: Shadowsteel Ore (Raw)]Grade: RareDescription: A metal that conducts mana with zero resistance. Highly prized by assassins and duelists. Toxic to mine for normal humans.
"Rare Grade," Silas chuckled. "Not Legendary, not Mythic. Just... Rare. Finally, a balanced drop."
He reached out. The ore was cold. "Normal people die if they touch this without gloves. The shadows in it seep into the skin and stop the heart. But for us?"
He touched it. The shadows in the ore recognized his authority and settled. He mined it with his sword, pulling out a chunk the size of his fist.
"We can use this," Silas said, tossing the heavy chunk of ore to Elena. She caught it, grimacing.
"It feels heavy," she noted.
"It's dense. If we find a smith, or if I get strong enough to manipulate it myself, I can upgrade your daggers. Or maybe make you a new set of armor that doesn't look like you stole it from a scarecrow."
Elena looked at the ore with a newfound respect. "Thank you, Silas."
"Don't thank me yet. We have a long walk tomorrow. Get some sleep. I'll take first watch."
Morning in the Fringe Lands didn't bring sunshine. It brought a lighter shade of grey, a thin mist that rolled through the dead trees like a ghost.
They set out early, Silas navigating by the pull of the Void. He didn't know exactly where they were going, but the Void Sovereign class seemed to have a gravitational pull toward areas of high concentration—dungeons, artifacts, or tears in reality.
"Silas," Elena whispered, pointing ahead.
The marshland gave way to a stretch of cracked, dry earth. In the middle of the wasteland stood a structure.
It wasn't ruins. It was active.
A fortress made of black iron and bone, jutting out of the ground like a jagged tooth. Around it, patrols of creatures moved—not Gloomhunters, but bipedal figures.
Silas used his Gaze.
[Target: Wretched One (Humanoid)]
Level: 30
Class: Corrupted Warrior.
"People?" Elena asked, surprised.
"Sort of," Silas squinted. "They look like adventurers who stayed in the Fringe Lands too long without proper protection. Their sanity is gone. They're basically zombies with better gear."
"The fortress is active," Elena observed. "Is that... a town?"
"A settlement," Silas corrected. "Likely a hub for the wicked and the desperate. It's dangerous, lawless, and probably smells terrible."
He grinned, stepping out from the tree line.
"Which means it's the perfect place for us to restock."
"We're going in?" Elena asked, looking at her ragged clothes. "We look like beggars."
"Correction," Silas said, adjusting his cloak and flipping his hair. "You look like a mysterious rogue. And I look like a brooding anti-hero with a dark past. We'll fit right in. Just follow my lead, speak only when necessary, and try not to stab anyone unless they deserve it."
"Define 'deserve'," Elena muttered, gripping her dagger.
"If they look at you funny, ignore it. If they touch you, remove the hand."
"Noted."
They walked toward the iron gates. Two guards—Wretched Ones with hollow eyes and rusted polearms—stepped forward to block their path.
"Halt," one gurgled. "Tax. Five silver."
Silas raised an eyebrow. "Five silver? For entry into this architectural disaster? Highways robbery. I assume there's no continental breakfast included?"
The guard growled, raising his weapon. "Pay. Or die."
Silas didn't flinch. He let a sliver of his Void aura leak out. The air temperature around them dropped ten degrees instantly. The shadows at the guard's feet seemed to reach up and grab his ankles.
The guard froze. His primitive brain recognized a predator.
"I'm paying," Silas said, dropping five silver coins into the guard's shaking hand. "But if you ever raise a weapon at me again, I won't kill you. I'll unmake you. Do we understand each other?"
The guard nodded frantically, stepping aside.
"Good boy."
Silas walked through the gates, Elena close behind.
"Show-off," she whispered.
"It's not showing off if you're actually that scary," Silas replied with a wink. "Now, let's find a tavern. I'm starving, and this place is bound to have rumors about a certain Abyssal Gate or a dungeon deeper in."
They entered the courtyard. It was a hive of scum and villainy. Orcs, corrupted humans, and dark mages mingled. But as Silas walked through, the crowd parted. Not out of respect, but out of instinctive fear.
Silas Vane, the Void Sovereign, had arrived in the heart of the Fringe Lands. And he was looking for lunch.