AuthorSME
patreon
VoC: B1 — 13. The Path of Whispers
🕑 Added 2025-06-25 23:20:50 +0000 UTCPoV:
1. Damon (Our New 24-Year-Old MC!)
---------------------
Taking out the map he’d been given, he began his journey through the streets to the ancient district. According to Ashcroft, it sat in the old noble section, through the Path of Whispers. Silver bells hanging from trees were the clear sign of the transition from the lawful good capital to more or less fae territory, which the city guard kept clear of due to ancient pacts.
The cub had been remarkably well-behaved throughout the entire transaction from interior to exterior, though Damon could sense his growing restlessness through their bond. The little guy wanted to explore, to move, to investigate this strange new world he’d found himself in, yet also didn’t want to wander more than a few meters away from him.
The afternoon sun felt different as Damon moved through the streets of Bluerise with Copper at his side. Where the morning had been harsh and unwelcoming, the golden light now seemed to highlight the city’s better angles—the elegant architecture, the well-maintained gardens, the way ancient magic and modern innovation blended seamlessly in the urban landscape.
Or maybe it was just having a companion that made the difference, and not feeling so alone or out of water. This world may have teeth, but it could be his new home.
The cub’s steps were becoming more confident, despite his small size, head held high and ears alert to every sound and scent around them. Occasionally, he’d pause to investigate something particularly interesting—a street vendor’s cart, a flowering bush, a group of children playing in a nearby square—and Damon found himself charmed by the children’s real interest in the cub rather than fear. It certainly was a different world.
As could be expected, it wasn’t all good, and the children’s parents soon shooed them away, even if he’d tried to keep a low profile and out of view not to taint Copper’s experience. The bear appeared to be far more tolerant and intuitive than his age suggested, though, and he wondered if it had to do with him reading his own emotional responses.
Everything’s new to you, isn’t it? Damon murmured through [Hive Mind] as Copper sniffed delicately at a decorative fountain. Your first time in a real city…or outside that cage, for that matter.
Through their bond, he caught flashes of the cub’s perspective—overwhelming scents, fascinating sounds, and an underlying excitement about this strange new adventure. One thing resonated strongest, though—he was with family again.
It was infectious, and Damon found his own mood lightening as they made their way through the commercial district toward the Garden District, despite the occasional name-calling or looks, they all just slid off him.
The transition was gradual at first. Fewer stone buildings, more wood and living architecture. Gardens became more elaborate, incorporating species that definitely weren't native to the region. The very air seemed to shimmer differently, carrying scents of flowers that bloomed all around the formerly structured, well-maintained uniformity of the kingdom, and the subtle tingle of ambient magic intensified.
Then Damon heard them before catching sight of the bright objects—the silver bells gleaming in the sunlight and swaying with the gentle summer breeze.
They hung from trees that lined the street like delicate wind chimes, each one producing a different tone. The combined effect was hauntingly beautiful, a melody that seemed to shift and change with each gust of wind.
Path of Whispers, huh? Damon noted to Copper, who had stopped to stare up at the bells with fascination. Pretty accurate name. Maybe I should bring Aria here before we’re booted out of the city tomorrow morning.
The architecture here was unlike anything in the main city. Buildings seemed to grow rather than being built, with walls of living wood and roofs of thick, flowering vines. Doorways curved like natural archways, and windows were irregularly shaped but somehow perfectly proportioned. Everything felt organic, as if the entire district had been coaxed into existence rather than constructed.
And the people were different too.
Damon caught glimpses of cat-folk like the woman he’d seen at Ashcroft’s establishment, but also others—tall, willowy figures with pointed ears who could only be elves, stocky individuals with elaborate braided beards who were clearly dwarves, and others whose heritage was harder to determine at a glance.
So, this is where all the other races tend to go instead of the human-dominated sections of the city… I’m guessing they do their shopping here, he commented to Copper.
Most interesting of all, at least half of them didn’t seem particularly bothered by his dark elf appearance. A few curious glances, certainly, and distrustful gazes, but none of the outright hostility he’d experienced in the main city. Of course, that probably had something to do with High Cleric Nightbloom spreading the word that he was a reincarnate from her faction.
I guess this is the best I can hope for at this point, he murmured, the cub now investigating a patch of grass that seemed to shimmer with its own inner light. Good to know that places will be more accepting of me.
As they walked deeper into the district, Damon began to overhear conversations—fragments of gossip and local news that painted a picture of the community’s concerns. As could be expected, his name was on the majority of people’s discussion, especially his acclaimed connection to Titania’s fold. Yet, one name Ashcroft had mentioned snagged his attention.
“—heard she was picked up by the White Hand,” a halfling woman was saying to her companion as they passed. “Third time this year they’ve snagged the Trash Saintess. Is it true that she kills herself by healing others? That’s…dark.”
“The White Hand operates in gray areas, so I’m not surprised they’d ask her to heal their monsters. Not to mention she’ll do it for free,” her friend replied, a dwarf with elaborate silver jewelry. “I heard she made a deal with a devil.”
“A devil? Not Asmodius and the Nine Hells; I thought it was The Spider and the Crawling Chaos.”
Damon’s sharp, elf ears perked up at every word, and he slowed his pace slightly to catch more of the conversation.
“I heard she’s immortal, which sounds textbook Spider material to me. One of my neighbor’s children lost an arm in a cart accident, and she just…regrew it. From what she told me, she lost the use of her arm for a week! I heard she can’t reject any request to heal.”
“Yes, I’ve heard about that story,” the halfling continued. “Power like that doesn’t come from the Holy Emperor but some evil-aligned force… Pain for healing?”
“Curse, probably, from her parents,” the dwarf replied grimly. “There are rumors they’re somehow connected to working in the palace, but it’s only a rumor. Gill says he’s heard that it was a demigod that grants her powers—the old fallen ones who failed to transcend after Level 100.”
“Pfft. You believe in that old reincarnate tale about becoming a demigod after reaching Level 100? When was the last Level 100 you heard of? All the great reincarnates I’ve heard about disappear around Level 60.”
“Isn’t that…because they go into the Darkvein?”
“Who knows. The point is, they never end up getting that strong, and The Vanishing reset all of them anyway. I think the Greater Gods smite them or something. They always just die and new ones show up, so…how can they get to Level 100 when that’s impossible.”
“You don’t know that, Kris,” the dwarf stated defensively. “The Infinite Tower has records of reincarnates in their 90s!”
“Rumors. You’ve never been to Aurelia or the Infinite Tower. Don’t believe those children’s tales.”
They moved out of earshot before Damon could learn more, but the conversation stuck with him. A healer in some sort of non-consensual indentured service due to some curse, and a woman powerful enough to be called a ‘Saintess’ but trapped in a contract system and called ‘trash’ had quite the image. It seemed like the kind of information Ashcroft had suggested he should pay attention to.
Copper tugged gently at the edge of Damon’s cloak as he tugged it further over his head, drawing his attention to a group of children playing in a small park—dwarves and halflings. They’d noticed the bear cub and were whispering excitedly among themselves, clearly debating whether to approach.
“Go ahead,” Damon said softly, settling on a nearby bench. “Just be gentle and come back if their parents grow antsy.”
Copper padded over to the children with surprising dignity, allowing them to pet his soft fur while maintaining an almost regal bearing. The kids were delighted, and their laughter drew amused looks from passing adults, unaware of his presence with [Stealth] activated.
“He’s beautiful,” said a halfling girl; he couldn’t tell her age, but she seemed young, carefully stroking Copper’s head. “You see the mark. What kind of Tamer symbol is that?”
“I think it’s Holy Emperor Tamer,” a boy proudly exclaimed, likely having no idea what he was talking about, but the kids all agreed due to the bright glow of the interlinked circles. “What kind of bear is he?”
“Razorback, by the looks of him,” a male adult halfling answered, moving to examine Copper. “Quite unique and large for the age, and no, Pete, this is…a Unity Tamer’s bond. Quite the rare class, and typically…dangerous to some extent, considering the creature has total control to act independently, but he seems quite well-behaved.”
Deciding it was probably time to intervene, as Copper began to have mixed emotions, wondering if he was doing something wrong, Damon forced himself up with a grunt.
“Sorry, sorry! He’s mine…”
The man’s vision narrowed as the children squeaked and immediately took shelter behind the halfling that looked up at him. Copper did the same to him.
“The exiled, dark elf prince of Princess Catelyn… I apologize for any rudeness, but it would be best to tread carefully in how you approach children. I understand you come from another world and culture…but dark elves are…”
“No, I understand,” Damon replied with a strained smile, backing away with his hands raised. “I’m not here to cause trouble. I’m just here to find out what Titania’s will is for me… Can you point me in the direction of the temple?”
He turned to quiet down the trembling kids, a crowd beginning to gather as he turned back with a less chilling cadence. “The High Cleric has personally vouched for you, but I will stress that dark elves have quite the reputation for their racism toward every creature that does not look like them, so it is…mutual, you could say. But wait a moment…”
The halfling paused, brow furrowing and glancing down at his cub before rubbing his hairless chin. “You…are a Unity Tamer? A Sage of Titania?”
Damon flashed his teeth and revealed his status screen, hiding everything but the Class specifics. “That’s what it says on my resume, and thanks for being so accommodating… Is something wrong?”
A mournful crease moved the man’s features as he stared at his status sheet, the mood of the surrounding dryads, cat-people, and other fantasy creatures reflecting his mood.
“No, it just…confirms what many of us feared. Esgneal has…died, Titania’s last Sage. He was…well-beloved among the followers of Titania. In any case, the High Cleric is further down that road. You cannot miss her grove. Now, if you’ll excuse me…”
The whispers of the bells grew louder as they were left alone in the square; the buildings seemed to breathe, their walls expanding and contracting subtly with some unseen rhythm, yet Damon’s mind was still on that conversation.
A single reincarnate per Class, was it? I’m stepping into the shoes of a beloved figure…as a race that is almost universally hated. Wow. Titania, you really know how to choose us, don’t you? I guess I’ve got some work ahead of me. Huh, boy? He asked with a strained, internal laugh while stroking his confused bear. We’ll get through this.
