Dark Parasyte

Corvin remained seated in lotus posture, still amidst the smoldering aftershocks of his evolution. His presence pulsed with dense magic, and the air around him shimmered with residual aetheric discharge. His body had undergone yet another transformation, his height had increased again, now standing at an imposing 2.6 meters. His physique resembled a war god sculpted from tempered steel, a wet dream for any warrior or artist who valued form born of raw function. Muscles rippled with latent power, but it was more than simple strength. It was control. Precision. Dominion.

His mana reserves, already equal to several Planarchs, had doubled again. No longer did he merely sense the Aether, he now drank from its source with ease. The floodgates had been unshackled, and magic bowed to him like the ocean to the pull of the moon. His connection to the weave had shifted entirely. Every thread, every strand, he felt them moving like tides beneath his skin.

The screen flickered again, recording his transformation:

Affinities:

Basic Elements:

Fire (SS)

Water (SS-)

Earth (SS)

Wind (S+)

Secondary Elements:

Lightning (SS)

Magma (SS+)

Metal (SS-)

Ice (SS-)

Steam (SS-)

Acid (SS-)

Poison (SS-)

Rare Elements:

Plant (SS-)

Life (S+)

Death (D)

Dark (SS-)

Psychic (SS-)

Blood (SS-)

Healing (SS-)

Arcane Elements:

Space (SS-)

Gravity (S)

Aether (SS-)

Every affinity had climbed a full grade similar to his first evolution. Where once there were limitations, now there were only frontiers to conquer. He was no longer a creature influenced by magic, he was its architect.

But the most breathtaking of his new gifts wasn't strength or affinities. It was perception.

Law Perception to be precise.

As if his mind had pierced the veil of illusion surrounding magic. Aether was no longer abstract, it was a living logic, flowing through the matrix of existence. And the Laws? They were the invisible framework upon which magic draped itself like skin on bone. Spells obeyed Laws. Constructs obeyed Laws. And now, he could see them.. barely yes yet this was a monstrous step for him. He will study them. Exploit them.

The other gift of the Aether Elf was Runecraft and Runebreak. Two sides of a divine coin. What were once incomprehensible glyphs were now structural blueprints to reality itself. Each rune a filtration mechanism. Each etching on a staff or ward a programmable instruction that bent Aether into elemental forms, intentions, or effects.

He traced one glowing rune in the air, watching as a gust of wind coalesced into form and dispersed at his whim. With another motion, he halted a pebble mid fall, paused it against gravity, suspended by a single conceptual glyph.

"I chose well," he murmured, his voice rich with understanding and amusement.

His telepathic and telekinetic ranges had doubled effortlessly. His teleportation range, once a respectable 80 kilometers per jump had now surged past 240 kilometers. In mere seconds, he could cross entire oceans. The Veilborn Expanse,the massive ocean cradled by four continents, could be traversed in under a minute.

He inhaled, filling his lungs with the charged air of Nefrath. This realm of wrath and carnage had been his crucible and his feast. And it was not over.

Demons rose by devouring each other, gaining mass, memory, and might. It was grotesque, effective, and primitive. But Corvin... Corvin was not of their kind. He consumed with intent, with strategy. He took their power, unraveled their history, and turned it into a weapon of precise evolution.

And yet... matters remained.

His covenant bound ravens had sent echoes from Raven's Nest. Envoys from the Obsidian Gate and Aurelian Dominion were at his gates. Diplomacy, politics, passive aggression, exactly the sort of nonsense he loathed.

But it wasn't just politics drawing him back.

His lips curled faintly. He could already picture a particular Synod magistra pacing furiously in the east wing. No doubt cursing his name in languages ancient and forbidden.

He rose slowly, the ground beneath him groaning under the weight of his evolved presence. Aether coiled around him like an obedient storm.

"Time to go home," he said, he collapsed the cradle of his second evolution and vanished.

Let's see what they really wanted.

Let her see. Especially her, with those storm touched turquoise eyes that flared with fury when he annoyed her on purpose. And yes, he would annoy her again.

--

It didn't take Corvin long to reach the southern shores of Argyll. After crossing the skies in a relentless storm of long range teleports, the jagged ridges of the continent's coastline appeared on the horizon like the broken spines of some sleeping titan. With a low exhale, he shifted, his form melting into that of a powerful, sleek merman. Midnight black scales shimmered like polished obsidian, tight against muscles carved by divine hands. He let himself drop, silent and poised, into the cold embrace of the Duskwell Reach, the frigid sea that separated Savaryn from Argyll.

The water closed over him like a lover. Icy depths tried to bite at him, but they may as well have tried to harm a storm. He swam with the elegance of a beast built for speed, gliding through shadowed trenches and forgotten wrecks. Arcane wards drifted above, part of the Council's continent wide detection net, but Corvin remained a ghost beneath their reach. It was always better to arrive unnoticed.

Once he reached the shore, he emerged from the water in one fluid step. The merman shimmered away, replaced by the towering figure of Corvin 2.6 meters of sheer menace and might. He changed his height to 2.2 meters not give a heart attack to a blonde elven girl. His hair fell in damp strands down his back, and droplets steamed off his skin. Cloaked in silence and magic, he vanished once more, reappearing in the grand throne room of Raven's Nest.

Everything was already in motion. His ravens had kept watch. He had seen the raised eyebrows, heard the whispered frustrations, tasted the political dance in the air. The envoys, the maids, even Valyne, all pieces accounted for.

With a mere thought, he sent the command through the network of minds tethered to him:

"Inform the castle. I will see the envoys, individually. After tonight's dinner."

A dozen minds heard. A dozen minds obeyed.

Valyne sat in her chambers like a storm held in a bottle. The day had been endless, a relentless parade of veiled insults, passive aggressive comments, and the eternal clash between the High Elves and the Synod delegation. If she had to smile politely at one more jab about 'sunlight deficiency' or 'ancestral clarity,' she was going to unleash a fireball. Or cry. Possibly both.

The Aurelian envoy had requested exactly thirteen candles on their table, claiming spiritual resonance with the seasonal leyline shifts. The Synod envoy had countered by demanding only black wine be served, citing historical grievances tied to golden varietals. Valyne, naturally, was stuck trying to explain to the kitchen why none of this made any sense.

She was bracing for the next diplomatic disaster when a soft knock broke her spiral of frustration.

"Enter," she said, too tired to sound authoritative.

A maid glided into the room. She bowed with eerie grace, her perfect features calm, her demeanor unreadable.

"Magistra," the maid intoned, her voice like cool water. "The master has returned. He will receive the envoys individually following the grand dinner. Preparations are underway."

Valyne blinked. Then blinked again.

"He's back? Just like that?"

"Yes, Magistra."

Relief bloomed in her chest like a guilty pleasure, but she quickly smothered it.

"Of course he is. Vanishes into thin air without warning and expects the rest of us to keep the castle spinning like a music box. Typical."

The maid didn't flinch. Instead, she continued.

"The master also asked me to remind you of your next scheduled lesson. He said you should come… as agreed. In the red nightgown."

Time stopped.

Valyne's brain struggled to process the sentence. For a full five seconds, she stared at the maid as though she'd just recited a spell in an unknown language.

"I'm sorry... what?"

"In the red nightgown," the maid repeated, serene as snowfall.

Valyne's face turned an alarming shade of crimson. Her eyes widened, her hands twitched. She sputtered like a kettle left on too long.

"That was not a real agreement! That was sarcasm! Internal sarcasm! He can't... he shouldn't.... was he listening?"

The maid only bowed slightly. "Dinner begins at twilight, Magistra."

And with that, she left, unbothered, unaffected, like a statue returning to its pedestal.

Valyne stood frozen, hands clenched at her sides. Then she let out a sound, somewhere between a growl and a whimper and threw herself face first onto her bed, groaning into the mattress.

"WHY does he hear everything?!"

She rolled over and pulled a pillow over her head.

Still, beneath all the fluster, beneath the indignation… something fluttered.

Damn it.

Something fluttered.

--

Corvin busied himself for the remainder of the afternoon, organizing the freshly harvested yields from his farmlands into vast underground granaries. With the efficiency granted by his enhanced telekinesis and spatial control, dozens of tons of wheat, fruit, and herbs vanished into huge warehouses and sealed vaults. Every movement was precise, every decision optimized. Even his covenant bound workforce seemed invigorated by the pulse of raw aether radiating from him since his return. It was only when one of the maids gently reminded him of the approaching evening meal that he realized how much time had passed. Nodding curtly, he dismissed her and made his way to the great dining hall.

The moment he stepped inside, silence fell like a velvet curtain.

Magus Thaelys Silvernight of the Umbral Synod rose immediately from her seat, bowing with a grace that lingered just longer than etiquette demanded, acknowledging status. Her counterpart, Magus Kelorien Hearthleaf of the Aurelian Dominion, followed with a nod that was polite but measured, her noble restraint carefully balanced. Even Kaelyn, wide eyed and grinning, stood and bowed, clearly excited but trying to appear composed.

Valyne, however, stood rooted to the spot.

She stared at him in disbelief. Corvin's presence had always been imposing, but now it was something else entirely. The aether that surrounded him shimmered with new density, like woven threads of lightning layered and thrumming with force. The pressure in the air was suffocating. She had been near Archmagi before. This was unmistakable.

Without realizing, she drifted forward, as if caught in a current.

"Have you... ascended to Planarch level?" she asked, breathless. "The aether around you... it's different. So much denser, more refined. It's like it obeys you."

She circled slightly to his left, examining the shimmer in the air. "Before, you were powerful a bit stronger compared to other Archmagi I've met. But now... now it's like you're made of magic."

Her mouth opened to continue, but Corvin moved first.

With a speed that defied even her trained eyes, he closed the distance and lifted one hand. His finger pressed against her lips, silencing her.

"Don't you think," he said coldly, "that such topics belong in a more private setting, Valyne?"

Her blood turned to ice.

Her mouth snapped shut as her eyes widened in sudden horror. She had just openly acknowledged what he had carefully kept hidden: that he had achieved the impossible. That he had ascended.

A stammered apology left her lips as she quickly backed away and dropped into her seat, mortified.

Across the table, both envoys were watching closely.

Thaelys Silvernight of the Synod struck first, seizing the opportunity with a flicker of amusement in her sharp amber gaze. "Then allow me, Duke Blackmoor, to extend the Synod's most sincere congratulations. To stand among the Planarchs is no small feat. May your path continue to rise in the Dark Mother's gaze."

It was a test. If he denied it, she would lose face.

But Corvin simply inclined his head in acceptance.

Kelorien Hearthleaf of the Aurelian Dominion followed with diplomatic ease. "The Dominion also recognizes the weight of your achievements, Duke Blackmoor. Planarchs are few, and none undeserving. May your strength bring balance to turbulent times."

Corvin smiled thinly and gestured for everyone to be seated.

Dinner was served in seamless procession. Silent maids moved like shadows, serving dishes with impeccable grace. Aromas of roasted meats, herb seasoned grains, and aged wine filled the air but Valyne barely tasted any of it.

She was still reeling.

Everything had changed.

Her teasing, her frustrations, the games she had played, they had all been dangerous dances near a precipice. Before, she had thought herself brave. Now she realized she had been reckless.

Corvin wasn't just powerful.

He was on a path that bent reality to his will.

She fidgeted in her seat, flushed with embarrassment and awe.

Kaelyn, entirely oblivious to the storm of thoughts beside her, leaned over and whispered brightly, "Do you think he's still going to do that nightgown lesson thing? Or does being a Planarch come with, like, a formality clause?"

Valyne choked on her wine.

Kaelyn blinked. "What? I'm just saying, if he canceled, I'd understand. I mean, he might have paperwork or something now."

From across the table, Corvin exhaled slowly through his nose, equal parts bemusement and silent prayer for patience.

It was going to be a very long dinner.