Sylver Seeker



Ch023-Now You’re Thinking With Portals!




Ch023-Now You’re Thinking With Portals!



One thing Sylver was extremely happy about was that the Silian Academy allowed their students to pursue whatever it is they were interested in.

In Sylver’s case, it was cooking, painting, and singing.

Because the alternatives, political theory, mathematics, economics, magical theory, and a myriad of other subjects, were unbelievably low level, and more importantly boring. Not to mention that he already knew everything they could possibly teach him, and they weren’t even teaching anything. The first hour of magical theory was spent by the professor in charge patting herself on the back at being such a powerful level 70 mage and telling the class her tale of sitting on her fat ass and sniping drakes from miles away for 4 years.

And then she went on to demonstrate how to cast the [Ball Of Light] spell, at roughly 5% of the efficiency Sylver could manage while drunk and half asleep, and with only one functional hand.

On the other hand, after completely redoing his class plan, he got to make himself a gourmet lunch every day, painted the view from his tower, and lied to everyone that it’s just his imagination, and gave Ciege’s vocal cords a run for their money. Ciege was not much of a singer it turned out. But now Sylver at least had a few pointers and exercises to practice and work them out.

Other than that, everything was peaceful and boring. As a first-year, he only got access to books on the first level, which were less than useless for him, and required gaining points to go up a level. The same was true for just about everything in the academy, from books, to private lessons, to skills, to armor and weapons, everything cost points.

Points could be earned by completing tests set by various professors, going on quests that the academy had reserved specifically for its students, and most commonly, challenging other students for their points.

Since Sylver was a first-year, and had purposely not taken any tests or done any challenges, he had 0 points to his name, and was left completely alone and unchallenged.

All in all, he spent almost 3 days lazing around and enjoying himself. It was honestly a pretty good vacation, if you forgot the fact that he had to be careful not to use any dark magic, and only use fire magic that house De’Leon was known for. Which came in very handy when cooking and made his reminisce about when Edmund was only starting out.

It was on such a lazy day, when everyone else had left the cooking room and he was left alone working on a potato soup, that Katia Du’Rodier walked into the room, and locked the door closed behind her.

She had deep dark hair, that had a natural curl near the ends, and very dull blue eyes, and an ever so slightly crooked nose.

“You’re him, right? The one the Naut and the Cord sent?” She asked with as much subtlety as a dwarven lockpick.

Sylver damn near dropped his ladle into the pot from the shock. He gestured around with his right hand and continued to stir with his left.

With all the interference from the various spells and wards in this building, it was hard to distinguish if there was any espionage magic around here.

His shades returned and had nothing to report.

He gestured towards the cupboard full of silverware, and the giant furniture began to loudly shake and rattle.

He continued to stir the pot, as his voice spoke right into Katia’s ear using the auditory illusion skill.

“I am. Don’t talk to me, don’t talk about me, go on with your day, and make sure there’s space for me when you get in your carriage. Now pretend you came because of the smell of the soup, and get the fuck out of here.” Sylver whispered quickly.

The woman jumped from this, and the indignity on her face made Sylver want to slap her. He’d been working his ass off to be as normal and non-threatening as humanly possible, and this bitch just walked in and shat on all his effort. And now she was being pissy at him?

“I’m worried I put a little too much basil in it, but I’ve been breathing in the smell for so long, I can’t even taste it properly. Do you mind trying some?” Sylver said quite loudly, as the silverware cupboard stopped it’s shaking.

“What the fuck are you talking about? What fucking soup, do you think we have time to drink fucking soup?” Katia asked, shaking her head and brushing some invisible dust off her shoulders.

“First of all, you eat soup, it’s food. And second of all, yes. What else would we be doing here? In the cooking room, where I am currently making soup.” Sylver asked, putting as relaxed of a smile on his face as possible, while looking around the room and hoping against all hope there’s no one listening.

“I need to know you can fight!” Katia half-shouted, loose hair falling into her eyes. “I’m not risking my life with some…” she seemed to be at a loss for words, trying to properly convey her feelings towards the bald man in dark glasses, stirring a pot, and wearing a bright salmon-red apron. “If you can’t beat Matheo Da’Dumont in a fight, I’m calling the whole thing off.” she proclaimed.

This bitch…

For a moment Sylver considered just punching the woman, walking out of the academy, and calling the whole thing off himself. It’s one thing to walk straight into an ambush, it’s a whole other if the people ambushing know you know they’re ambushing you.

But then the gold, the skills, and the high-level necromancer, instantly calmed him down, and even allowed him to answer her with a genuine smile.

“Fine. I’ll challenge him tomorrow morning. Now please leave.” Sylver said calmly.

The woman turned around and left with a huff.

And she didn’t even try his potato soup.




[Human (Mage) - 24]

“You know, I fought one of your brothers in the past. Frederick De’Leon. Great guy, very quick on his feet, couldn’t block if his life depended on it,” Matheo said, removing his glasses and folding them away.

“Good to know. And I do hope you forgive me for this but my father has refused to finance me anymore, unless I prove my usefulness.” Sylver lied, following the short man towards the training hall. Count De’Leon was a known asshole, at least by reputation, so Sylver didn’t feel too bad adding some tough love on top of all the other horrible rumors already circulating about him.

For her sake, I hope it’s just the nerves that are making her so impulsive. But on the other hand, I can kind of see where she’s coming from. Might not have been the best way to do things, but again, nerves. And she’s practically a child on top of all that...

“Hah!” Matheo laughed, picking out a blunted sword from the wall. “Well, I’m sorry to say but you might want to start looking for a job after this. As impressive as your unique class may be, I can tell you’ve never been in a real fight. Skills and spells are good and all, against a wooden dummy, but in a real fight people move around, do things you don’t expect, and hit back. Not to mention I’ve got 4 levels on you!” Matheo explained and grinning.

“Well, it’ll either be a way for me to secure my financial situation, or a good learning experience. So how do we do this? Are we waiting for someone?” Sylver asked, choosing a short sword and a shield, and walking to the other side of the platform. He left his glasses on a small table since they would slip or break otherwise. It defeated the purpose of being half-blind for 3 days, but that’s what he gets for letting himself be manipulated into a fight.

The floor was made of some sort of treated sand, that was somehow both solid enough to stand and walk on, and liquid enough that falling didn’t hurt all that much. A pale blue dome glowed gently around the platform, making out its limits, as well as protecting the outside area from any wayside spells or attacks.

Light entered through the large glass roof, and via crystal and magic, spread out all over the large building.

“Just for a professor and healer to arrive. I’ll hold back as much as I can, but there’s no point being careless. If you manage to hit me once, I’ll personally write you a letter of recommendation to the student’s guild. You’ll get to skip going after goblins and whatnot, and get straight to the hunting Direwolves.” Matheo said. He had removed his uniform jacket at this point and threw it to a friend of his outside the arena.

Sylver kept his jacket on for now, and added an extra layer around his left arm just to be safe. With the long sleeve covering it completely, and the dark leather gloves, you could barely tell it was bandaged up underneath.

The room slowly filled up as Matheo continued to give Sylver tips and advice on how to hold the sword, how to angle his shield properly, and how to time his casting. All solid advice, in Sylver’s opinion, and frankly it made him want to do this less and less.

But he understood why exactly he was fighting the academy’s number 2 most accomplished student when Katia walked up onto the platform and kissed Metheo on the cheek, wrapping her arms around him.

“Katia, meet Mort De’Leon. He’s the first first-year this year to challenge me to a fight.” Metheo said, gesturing at Sylver with his sword.

“Pleased to make your acquaintance,” Sylver responded bowing slightly. The healer was already on standby, and they were now just waiting for a teacher to watch over the fight.

“He’s kind of cute,” Katia said with a grin that made Sylver’s skin crawl. “If you lose this fight, I’m calling the engagement off.” She said switching her tone to a semi-serious one.

Matheo laughed with his head pulled back, sending an echo through the large room. A few of the other students outside the arena joined in on the laughter.

“Please. If I lose against a first year, I don’t deserve you.” He said, wiping his eyes.

“Just think of all the materials you’ll be able to buy with the money. And a body for Ciege, and me. You’d make Yeva happy, I would be ecstatic, you’ll be rich, you’ll know what to do to get the best skills, you’ll stop having to budget things, you’ll finally get to-” Lola quickly said, trying to calm Sylver down.

I know. But I’m still going to feel bad letting myself get manipulated like this. Shit like this is precisely why I wanted to stay out of politics.

“Ah. Mr. Da’Dumont! First challenger of the year, as always. And one of count De’Leons, no less. Following Fredricks’s footsteps, are you?” The woman said.

Between the disheveled hair, messy robe, and frayed looking staff, most would think of her as some common hedgewitch, if that. But the sight quite literally made Sylver nearly drop his weapons, and his jaw.

A real-life half-fae.

They weren’t rare back in Sylver’s time, they were extinct. The queen of fae gave her word no more would ever be born, so how was one standing right in front of him? Sylver could even feel Lola’s frozen stare inside of him.

“Mr. De’Leon? Mort? Are you ready to begin?” The woman asked, already right in front of Sylver by the time he regained some of his senses.

He nodded absentmindedly and continued to look at the woman. The T shaped freckles he’d only seen in books, the slight curl to her ears, the wavy irises, and the trademark gold streak in her hair.

“Mort? You alright there? We can try again tomorrow if you’re not feeling well.” Matheo offered. Sylver struggled to break his gaze from the woman staring right back at him, and focused on the short man in front of him instead.

“I’m fine. Sorry. Are we good to go?” Sylver asked, loosening his shoulders, and tensing his legs.

“We’re good. Did you hear what I said though? Short sword and shield, versus a longsword, is a bad matchup. Even if it’s what you’re comfortable with, you should really go for a spear or something with a longer reach.” Metheo explained, swishing his blunt blade through the air to get the point across.

“I’ll be fine. Are you sure you want to take your rings off? I saw one of them had a fire-resistance enchantment.” Sylver asked.

“I’ll be fine. I don’t like people saying I only won because I had better equipment. But if you want, if you defeat me, we can have a rematch with me fully geared up.” Metheo offered, with the kind of hypothetical tone that most people discussed which goddess would be best in bed.

“Suit yourself. Are you ready?” Sylver asked, getting in a defensive position.

“I am. Ms. Low?” Matheo asked, gesturing at the half-fae.

“Right. As the head of botany and defense against the dark arts, I hereby declare this match between first year, Mort De’Leon, and sixth year, Matheo Da’Dumont, officially started! The winner will be declared if one side is deemed unable to continue, or they choose to forfeit!” The half-fae, called Ms. Low apparently, said.

The two men inside the barrier just stood still, staring each other down.

If I win I’ll have a legitimate reason to be in the carriage with her…

Did she fucking set this whole thing up for that? Am I being used by a child to break off her engagement, under the guise of aiding me in being in the right place?

That fucking bitch.

“A literal barrel full of gold, you’ll get one of the best elven crafter of her time to do work for you, you’ll buy whatever equipment you could possibly need, and you-” Lola whispered, sensing the direction Sylver’s thoughts were moving towards.

Fine! You have a point. I’ll make it bright and flashy in that case, so if it’s just genuine worry about my skills, they’ll be alleviated.

Matheo got into a defensive position lowering his sword downwards and almost touching the floor.

Sylver did not recognize the stance, but considering he was far away from home, this wasn’t that weird. It did look a tiny bit familiar, but he couldn’t put his finger on it.

Since he was waiting for him to make the first move, he decided to take him up on the offer.

A small ball of dark blue fire appeared above Sylver’s head and fell down onto it. It almost completely covered his body, before flaring up and forming into long thin strings of fire. The strings wrapped themselves around his arms and legs, like the coil of spring, as several slightly brighter balls of blue light moved along those lines. It spread onto his sword and shield, coating the out edges of the weapons.

A pulse originating from the large dot of fire on his chest, lowered the intensity of the flames, until they were nothing more than a faint blue glow.

He adjusted his grip on his sword and walked towards the strangely crouched opponent.

A small audience had gathered alongside the teacher and the healer, and were all now silently and lazily watching the encounter.

Sylver felt it, more than he saw it, as Metheo disappeared completely, and he could hear the swish of the longsword, descending down onto him.

A small explosion at the very tip of his boot, sent his foot backward, and passed harmlessly through nothing. Sylver didn’t need to look around to see him, because he could already feel that Matheo was back where he was previously, now breathing heavily.

Fucking piece of shit cocksucker. Making me fight a space manipulating mage. Sylver cursed to himself, glaring at the confused looking opponent.

Lola continued to whisper in Sylver’s ear, all the reasons why he should just suck it up and continue with the fight.

By the panicked look on Matheo’s face, he wasn’t used to people sensing his attack from the back, and nearly hitting him in the crotch.

Sylver lowered the tip of his sword to the floor, and an explosion emanating from his back sent him flying towards Matheo, small explosions from his arms and knees, zigzagging him all over the place left and right, as he quickly got closer and closer to the man.

Matheo of course disappeared again, and appeared on Sylver’s right. The sword’s tip in Sylver’s hand exploded from the left, and the blade swung itself with great power towards the teleporter. Matheo disappeared again, and appeared almost on the other side of the arena.

“So how many times can you teleport? I’m guessing somewhere around 50? And after that?” Sylver asked, his mood alleviated only by the promise of tools and money that Lola was reminding him of. Katia had really pissed him off with this. Mages who could teleport were in his top 5 most hated opponents.

There have been times where he’d straight-up ran away from a fight, just because of how annoying they are to deal with.

Another explosion behind Sylver, sent him flying towards the man, who quickly disappeared, and reappeared behind Sylver’s back, and disappeared again. Looking around the man was as far away as he could be again, breathing heavily and his eyes darting all over the place.

Sylver sighed deeply and stabbed his sword into the ground for a moment. He gestured upwards with his hand, and a tiny beam of dark light jumped up. It spread all the way down and around the inside of the barrier, ever so slightly turning it opaque.

After that, he gestured at the floor directly in front of him, and a large dark blue fire started to burn in the sand.

Sylver watched as Metheo did something with his sword, moving it around while channeling mana into it, and decided to see what would happen. As the man who told him he’d never been in a real fight stood there and slowly cast his incredibly intricate spell while his opponent politely waited, Sylver felt a sharp pain in his left arm.

It was so bad, he almost lost control over his flames and his shadow covered left arm. The pain passed quickly, but it had made his waste a good 20% of his meager mana pool because of it. He was running on just 50% as is, and had very little to spare.

The coiled fire around Sylver’s body sputtered and danced, some of it scorching his clothing, and even the sword in his hand started to shake a little.

Sylver was so focused on regaining control, he almost didn’t see Matheo’s attack coming. An explosion on Sylver’s chest, sent his torso and head backward, as the blunt blade just barely missed his head.

Another explosion on his back, propped him back up as he regained concentration and looked at what Matheo had done. Just about every available space inside the arena, now had faintly glowing ovals floating around. Sylver’s confusion lasted for a moment, as Matheo suddenly disappeared into one, and came out of another.

He ran from portal to portal, disappearing and appearing from every which way, before Sylver had to dodge another hit from the back, and just barely reacted in time. He accidentally jumped into a portal to dodge, and smashed his head against the floor that wasn’t there before.

Getting up he was slightly disoriented, and got hit in the side by Matheo’s sword. He lost exactly 30% of his HP on this and was sent flying a little, causing him to fall into another portal and appear at the very top of the dome.

Falling down, Sylver once again fell into a portal, and turned around, and was now falling headfirst towards the floor which was barely a meter away from him. Swinging his arms down, the resulting explosion righted him, but caused him to drop his sword and shield.

Matheo appeared right on top of Sylver, and swung his sword downwards, doing a spin to build further momentum. With a wave of his hand, Sylver’s shield was engulfed in intense blue flames, and exploded upwards, smashing into Matheo’s torso.

Or at least that’s what it should have done, as it instead passed harmlessly through him, and resulted in Sylver having to maneuver himself to the left, and passing through a portal again, Matheo’s sword descending onto where he was and missing by barely a hair. His head was once again on the floor, but now the portal was too close to the ground for him to get out of it properly. With the majority of his body stuck, Sylver barely contained his voice as Matheo’s blunt sword struck him on the same left side. He was down to just 73 HP now. Another 2 hits would knock him out.

Alright, fuck this.

An explosion underneath Sylver’s chest, jostled him out of the portal and put him back on his feet. Matheo was gone again, running around the myriad of portals strew all over the place never stopping long enough for Sylver to properly see him. Sylver’s sword and shield jumped back into his hands, and he very slowly and carefully made his way towards the large fire he had started initially, going around the portals so as now to touch or fall into them.

With a wave of his hand, his jacket tore itself off his body, and jumped into the blue fire. Almost immediately the flame grew 3 times in size, and licked the walls of the dome. Dirty black smoke rose out of the fire and fell down to the floor spreading all around, clouding Sylver’s figure. The portals sucked up the smoke and spread it out further.

Sylver dropped the shield to the ground, and held the sword in both hands. Closing his eyes he waited.



Matheo continued to run around, staring at him, and keeping his distance, trying to understand what the plan was. Only once he coughed into his fist, did he realize what Mort had been doing.

His initial idea of just breaking the barrier Mort had erected was correct, but considering it was flush with the barrier the academy used, he would need enough strength to break it, to break Mort’s. Which Matheo did not have at the moment.

He coughed again, moving away from the spreading smoke, and stood near the edge of the arena racking his brain for an answer.

“Is this really how you want to do this? Using the fact that there’s a barrier around us to your advantage? Kind of unfair if you ask me,” Matheo said, his voice slightly higher than normal, and his speech ever so slightly slurred. The students around the arena agreed with him.

Mort in turn remained silent and motionless, not even breathing by the looks of things.

The small crowd had at some point turned into a large one, as multiple teachers had arrived, and students followed others inside to see the commotion.

“Look, put the fire out, and let’s do this like men. Hand to hand combat, unarmed. We have a proper fight, and put on a show for the people!” Matheo suggested, tossing his sword to the ground and miming punching at the silent opponent.

Mort in turn remained silent and motionless, not even breathing by the looks of things.

“How about-” Matheo started to cough hard, his lungs on fire and his stomach in pain from all the motion, he very nearly went to the ground because of it.

Mort in turn remained silent and motionless, not even breathing by the looks of things.

The quiet muffle of the students watching the spectacle, gradually turned into insults, threats, and booing, at the cheating newcomer, who was using the fact that it’s a small and isolated space, to his unfair advantage.

A few piped up that Matheo’s portal trick wouldn’t have worked if there was more room to move around, but were overpowered by those that saw Mort’s cowardly tactic as spitting on everything the academy stands for.

Only the teachers and professors remained silent, each trying to think of a way they could hypothetically counteract this tactic.

Matheo in turn was barely on his feet by this point, and after spreading so many portals around, was running on less than 10% MP. The smoke had now spread to cover the floor entirely, and was being kicked up by Matheo’s own movements.

He had to kick around on the floor to find his sword, and even when he found and picked it up, he did not look happy about it.

Looking at the man with his closed eyes, Matheo gave himself another 10 seconds to think of an alternative.

10 seconds later, Matheo jumped down into a portal and dropped into another, flying from portal to portal, building up momentum, until he was almost a blur. His final drop was right on top of Mort, as he once again did a spin in the air to even further build up momentum.

He had the whole thing already planned out, he would phase his sword through Mort’s and then would hit him in the shoulder, bringing him down to the floor, to be finished off.



His lungs were straining themselves and his closed eyes teared up. But thankfully he had enough air left to keep at it for a few more seconds. Sylver couldn’t help but smile as Matheo started to move around, getting faster and faster.

He could feel the confusion, fear, and desperation emanating from Matheo, and was reminded of the last time he’d had a fight like this. The method was similar but a lot more lethal than just smoke and minor asphyxiation.

He could hypothetically fuck with the portals, but that had the danger of seriously harming the kid, and despite how one-sided the fight became he had a lot of potential. And even more honestly, Sylver liked him, and didn’t want him to get too discouraged.

Sylver watched very carefully as the kid's soul jumped from place to place, portals moving around to aid his descent and ever-increasing speed, as one portal moved itself directly on top of Sylver, close enough that he could stab his short sword through it.

Matheo flew out of the portal, and began to spin in the air, the blade faster than Sylver’s eyes could follow, if he was using his eyes to follow it.

Instead of blocking the descending blade, Sylver let go of his sword, as two giant explosions near the handle and blade tip, sent the piece of metal flying upwards, like a reverse guillotine, smashing itself against Matheo’s sword, and ripping it out of his hands.

As the man very nearly landed on top of Sylver, Sylver stepped to the side, and caught the man on his good shoulder, before grabbing him by the arm and leg, and using his own falling momentum to smash him into the floor.

The quick motion made the pooling smoke explode into a wave, temporarily causing both figures to disappear completely from view. Sylver placed his foot on the back of Matheo’s neck, and pulled with his enhanced strength, to put pressure on his arm.

As the smoke dissipated slightly, Sylver could see that Matheo was no longer conscious.

He let go of his hand, and it flopped to the ground motionless. With a wave of his hand, all the smoke gathered into the fire, and disappeared. With another wave, the fire all over Sylver’s body died down and dissipated, as did the fire on the floor.

Dropping his barrier, Sylver picked up his ruined and burned jacket, and looked around the large room.

Stunned silence was mixed with open mouths and glares from the students and teachers alike.

“He’ll be fine in a few minutes, just a little carbon monoxide poisoning,” Sylver said dismissively.

He stood near the unconscious man for a few seconds, looking around and waiting.

“Do I need to kill him to win or…”

“The…” The half-fae stuttered stumbling over her feet to make it to the arena, “The winner is Mort De’Leon!” The woman said to the quiet room. She was already healing Matheo as she said this, and had an unreadable expression on her face.

Sylver draped what remained of his jacket over his arm, and in complete and total silence, walked out of the arena, and the building, the gazes of everyone present following him out.


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