Null stood at the edge of the carnage, studying the motionless elf.

  Behind her, the two groups continued their standoff—dwarves shouting from their defensive formation, the mixed survivors screaming back accusations and blame. The noise was constant, grating, but distant enough to ignore.

  The elf hadn't moved. Hadn't even flinched as Null approached. Just those eyes, tracking her with empty calculation.

  And inside Null, something... stirred.

  Not hunger. Not the predatory instinct. Something else. Deeper. More fundamental.

  Like a seed waiting to be planted.

  "Spy," Null said quietly. "There's something inside me. Something that wants to... connect with her."

  "Inside you? What do you mean?"

  "I don't know how to explain it. It's like... an instinct. A compulsion. I look at her and part of me wants to reach out. To offer something."

  There was a pause as Spy processed this.

  "Your racial backstory. The lore was extensive in the game. Let me check..." Another pause. "Oh. Host, I think I know what you're feeling."

  "What?"

  "Your race—Eldritch Inheritors—they're apex horrors. Top of the monster hierarchy. They don't reproduce sexually. They propagate through seeds. Corruption seeds that they can offer to other beings."

  Null felt the thing inside her pulse at those words. Recognition. Affirmation.

  "Seeds? What do they do?"

  "They grant power. Significant power. Transform the recipient, enhance their abilities, heal their wounds. But it comes with a cost. Total, absolute loyalty to the one who gave them the seed. Not just obedience—complete mental and spiritual binding. Like making a deal with a devil, except there's no fine print. You accept the seed, you become a slave. Forever."

  "That's... extreme."

  "It is. Which is why no sane person would ever accept one. The backstory specifically states that only those who've lost everything—or those blinded by greed for power—would even consider it. The desperate and the damned."

  Null looked at the elf. Empty eyes. Mutilated ears. Better clothing now reduced to rags. Someone who'd clearly fallen from a higher station. Someone who'd given up on living.

  "She qualifies."

  "Definitely. But Host, there's more. According to the lore, you're... old. Ancient, technically. Your character was max level, implied to be centuries old. And the backstory says you've never given out a seed before."

  "So?"

  "So that seed you're feeling? It's been accumulating power for a very long time. Game-wise, there was an event mission where you could finally grant seeds to NPCs. The first seed from an ancient Eldritch Inheritor was supposed to be especially potent. This isn't some minor buff. This could fundamentally transform whoever receives it."

  Null considered this. The instinct pulsed again, stronger. The elf's empty eyes watched her with that same detached interest.

  "I should also mention: if you give her the seed, you'll have a permanent connection. You'll be able to command her mentally, sense her location, feel her general state. And she'll be compelled to obey every order you give. Even self-destructive ones. It's absolute control."

  "Sounds useful."

  "It's slavery, Host. Magical, irreversible slavery."

  "She's already a slave. At least this way she gets power out of it."

  "That's... I suppose that's one way to look at it."

  Null studied the elf for a long moment. The groups behind her continued their screaming. Dawn was approaching, the sky beginning to lighten at the edges.

  "What are the risks?" she asked.

  "To you? Minimal. The seed is part of your nature. Giving it should be instinctive. To her? Total personality rewrite, possible. The seed will reshape her to serve you. She might lose parts of herself in the process."

  "She doesn't look like she has much left to lose."

  "Fair point."

  "Also," Spy continued, "we still can't communicate with her. Even if she accepts the seed and becomes loyal, if we can't understand each other—"

  "The connection," Null interrupted. "You said there's a mental link. Like how you and I communicate."

  "Telepathic, yes. But I'm not sure if that translates language or just intent. It might help, or it might just let you give wordless commands."

  "Only one way to find out."

  "You're really going to do this."

  Null felt the seed inside her, pulsing with potential. The elf's empty eyes, watching without fear or hope.

  "Let's vote on it," Null said. "Both of us need to agree. If either of us says no, we don't do this."

  "Agreed. A decision this significant should be unanimous."

  "I vote yes. We need information, and she's the best option we have right now. Plus, I can feel the connection will let me control her completely. If it goes wrong, I should be able to end it."

  "I vote yes as well. For once, I agree with you completely. We need information about this world, and she's our current best bet. The risks are manageable given your control over her once the seed takes hold."

  "Unanimous then."

  "Just be prepared for whatever happens next. This is untested in reality, not just game mechanics."

  Null extended her senses toward the elf, letting the instinct guide her. The seed responded immediately, rising from somewhere deep in her core. Not physical, exactly. More like... essence taking form.

  "Here goes nothing."

  The seed emerged from Null's form—a small, dark sphere that seemed to absorb light rather than reflect it. It pulsed with wrongness, with corruption, with promises of power and chains of servitude intertwined.

  It drifted through the air toward the elf, moving with deliberate purpose.

  The elf watched it approach. For the first time, her expression changed. Not fear. Not hope.

  Interest.

  The seed hovered in front of her face, waiting. Offering.

  And the elf smiled.

  It was the first genuine emotion Null had seen from her. A small, tired smile that carried years of pain and loss and resignation.

  The elf reached up with one hand and grabbed the seed.

  Then she ate it.

  For a moment, nothing happened.

  The elf sat there, hand still raised from catching the seed, that small smile lingering on her lips. The world was quiet except for the distant shouting of the two groups.

  Then the transformation began.

  It started subtly. A shudder running through the elf's body. Her eyes widened slightly, not in fear but in recognition. Something was changing. Something fundamental.

  "Host, I'm detecting something. The connection is forming. I can sense it too—through you."

  Null felt it. Like a new limb suddenly appearing. A sense she hadn't known was missing until it arrived. The elf's presence, her location, her state—all of it flowing into Null's awareness.

  "It's like... another part of me. I can feel where she is. What she's feeling."

  "The racial lore mentioned absolute obedience. You should be able to command her mentally once the transformation completes."

  The elf's body began to change more obviously now. Her yellow hair darkened at the roots, black spreading like ink through water. Within seconds, the transformation reached the tips—completely black, absorbing light like Null's own form.

  Her eyes followed. Yellow irises deepening to black, then the whites as well, until both eyes were solid darkness reflecting nothing.

  "This is strange. Not unpleasant. Just... strange."

  "The life signature is changing," Null observed. The dampened, empty quality was gone. The elf's life force burned brighter, stronger, filling with power that hadn't been there moments before.

  "The seed is rewriting her on a fundamental level. Host, she's getting significantly stronger. This isn't just cosmetic."

  The elf's body straightened. Muscles filled out, gaining definition. The gauntness of starvation faded as if she'd been well-fed for months. Scars disappeared from her arms and legs. The ragged stumps of her mutilated ears began to regenerate, the flesh knitting back together, restoring the elegant points.

  "She's healing. Everything. All at once."

  "Your seed is potent. More potent than the game suggested. This is complete reconstruction."

  And then something else began to happen.

  The elf's body shifted. Subtly at first, then more obviously. The curves softened, redistributed. Shoulders broadened. The feminine features became more angular, more masculine.

  "Wait—the physical form is shifting. That's not just healing, that's complete restructuring."

  Something emerged from the elf's chest—a small object, metallic and inscribed with glowing runes. It pushed through cloth and skin without leaving a wound, expelled by the transformation itself.

  The object fell to the sand and shattered into dozens of pieces, the runes flickering and dying.

  "What is that? Something's coming out of him."

  "An artifact. Magical. I'm detecting residual enchantments—transformation magic, binding spells. It's breaking apart as your seed overwrites his system."

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  "Transformation magic?"

  "Best guess? Gender change artifact. Probably forced on him—see how it's shattering? Your seed is treating it as a foreign object and rejecting it. The elf's original form is being restored."

  Null watched as the transformation completed. The elf—male now, unmistakably—sat straighter, healthier, stronger. Black hair, black eyes, restored ears. The ragged slave clothing looked almost dignified on him now.

  "So he was male originally. Someone changed him against his will?"

  "Seems likely. The binding was deep—cellular level. Could be punishment, slavery control, or just cruelty. Either way, it's gone now."

  "Huh. So we're undoing curses now?"

  "Apparently your seed doesn't just corrupt and empower—it also purges anything it considers 'interference' with its host. Interesting side effect."

  The elf—the male elf—opened his eyes fully. Black meeting black. He looked at Null with an expression that was no longer empty.

  It was reverent.

  He opened his mouth and spoke. The words were in that same alien language Null couldn't understand, but—

  Null understood.

  Not the words themselves. Not the sounds. But the meaning flowed directly into her mind, clear and precise. Like Spy's mental communication, but different. More formal. More distant.

  "Great One. Eternal One. I am yours. Forever and completely. My life, my will, my existence—all belong to you. Command me, and I shall obey. Destroy me, and I shall thank you for the mercy. I am nothing without your blessing."

  The elf prostrated himself on the sand, forehead pressed to the ground in absolute submission.

  "Well," Spy said quietly. "That's... intense."

  "The connection worked. I can understand him. It's like how you and I talk, but... he's not in my head. He's separate. Linked."

  "Telepathic translation through the seed bond. Useful. Also, he seems very enthusiastic about his new situation."

  "I await your commands, Great One. Point me toward your enemies, and I shall destroy them. Show me your will, and I shall enact it. I live only to serve."

  "He's a bit of a nutjob," Null observed.

  "He was empty before. Now he has purpose. This genuinely makes him happy."

  Null looked at the prostrate elf, feeling the connection thrumming between them. She could sense his absolute devotion, his willingness to do anything she commanded. Even die, if she asked.

  It should have felt wrong. Disturbing. Slavery in its purest form.

  But with her emotions suppressed, it just felt... practical.

  "Get up," Null said aloud, then mentally pushed the command through the link.

  The elf rose immediately, gracefully, still keeping his eyes lowered in deference.

  "As you command, Great One."

  "So," Null said, the mental link translating her intent. "True love's kiss broke the curse? Prince turned back from a frog?"

  The elf looked up, confusion clear on his face. "Great One, I... do not understand the reference. A frog? A kiss?"

  "He has no idea what you're talking about, Host. Different world, different stories."

  "Right." Null paused, then pushed a command through the link. "From now on, when we ask you questions, explain things like you're talking to a child. We have no context for anything in this world. Assume we know nothing."

  The elf bowed his head. "As you command, Great One. I shall explain everything from the foundations."

  "Good. Now start with the basics. What the hell just happened to you? Why were you female? Why did that artifact break?"

  The elf straightened, organizing his thoughts. "I shall tell you my full story, Great One. It will provide the necessary context."

  "I was once of noble blood. The seventh son of a Count—a regional ruler commanding cities and armies. Not the highest rank, but respectable. My father's territory was in the eastern mountains. I... I cannot remember the exact name."

  Null noticed the hesitation. "You don't remember?"

  The elf's expression darkened with frustration. "No, Great One. Slaves are often subjected to spells—forget-me curses, memory suppression enchantments—to make us more 'loyal.' To force us to forget our pasts, our families, our former lives. I remember some things clearly—my education, my skills, general knowledge. But names, places, personal memories... they slip away. I have checked maps and documents many times over the years, trying to remember where my home was, what my father's full name was. Each time I learn it again. Each time I forget within weeks."

  "So you remember being a Count's son, but not which Count."

  "Exactly, Great One. I know the structure, the hierarchy, the general location—eastern territories, mountainous region, near the border. But the specific names are... gone. The curse ensures I cannot seek revenge, cannot return home, cannot even mourn properly. I am cut off from my past."

  "Brutal," Spy commented. "Effective slave control."

  "However, there is a complication. I was not born to my father's primary wife. I was a bastard son, though officially recognized. And I was the seventh son—far from inheritance."

  "In this world, many royal and noble families follow a particular custom regarding their children. They publicly announce only the first one to three heirs—the ones most likely to inherit. All children born after that are hidden. Kept secret. Unknown to the outside world."

  "Why?" Null asked.

  "Several reasons, Great One. First, to prevent infighting. Siblings cannot scheme against rivals they don't know exist. Second, to prevent outside forces from supporting distant claimants. Third, to maintain a secret reserve if something happens to the announced heirs. And fourth, to allow these hidden children to develop freely without the pressure of public life or constant assassination attempts."

  "Smart. Brutal, but smart."

  "It is the way of noble houses, Great One. Survival requires ruthlessness."

  "I was one of these hidden children. I lived quietly in the family estate, working as my mother's assistant. She managed some of the household accounts and correspondence—work considered appropriate for a bastard son's mother. I learned everything expected of noble education: reading, writing, mathematics, history, geography, magic theory, etiquette, swordsmanship, riding. I was trained as thoroughly as any announced heir, just... privately. In secret."

  "But I was never announced. Never acknowledged publicly. Official records listed my father as having only three sons. I was just... there. A shadow. A ghost in my own home."

  The elf's expression darkened.

  "Then my father died. The circumstances were suspicious—a hunting accident, they claimed. But the succession was contested immediately. A side branch of the family—distant cousins, second or third removed—seized control through political maneuvering and assassination. They had the support of a neighboring Duke and moved quickly to consolidate power."

  "When such things happen, Great One, the new rulers eliminate threats. All threats. Every male of the main bloodline must die—no matter how young, no matter how distant, no matter how unlikely to challenge them. It is the only way to ensure stability. Often the females are killed as well, though sometimes they are taken as wives or prisoners to solidify the usurpers' claim to legitimacy."

  "They came for you."

  "They came for everyone. My older brothers—the three announced heirs—were killed immediately. Public executions in the town square to demonstrate the new order. Their heads displayed on pikes. Then the purges began. Every male relative, no matter how distant, no matter how obscure. The estate became a slaughterhouse. Servants were tortured for information about hidden family members. Every room was searched. Every person questioned."

  "My mother knew escape was impossible. The estate was surrounded, locked down. Guards at every gate, patrols in the woods. Even if we could flee the building, we'd be hunted down within hours. So she made a desperate choice."

  "She used one of our family's treasures—a Gender Transformation Gem. These artifacts are incredibly rare and valuable, Great One. They allow complete physical transformation between male and female forms. Usually, they are temporary—worn as jewelry or amulets, activated at will. But they can also be implanted directly into the body, made permanent until removed."

  "And she put it in you."

  "Yes, Great One. She performed the surgery herself in our locked chambers. Cut open my chest, implanted the gem near my heart, activated it with a blood ritual. The transformation took hours. Excruciating hours. When it finished, I was female. Completely. Body, voice, everything."

  "To hide you."

  "Yes. But that alone was insufficient. Female relatives were still questioned, still watched, still potentially dangerous. So my mother did something more. She took a knife and cut off the tips of my ears."

  The elf touched his now-restored pointed ears unconsciously.

  "For elves, Great One, the ears are sacred. They are a mark of our heritage, our connection to ancient bloodlines. To damage them is the ultimate disgrace. Cut ears mark criminals, traitors, those who have betrayed their people. It is a brand of shame that can never be hidden."

  "Then she placed a slave collar on me. One of the cheapest, most basic models—a simple suppression collar meant for household servants. When the purgers searched our rooms, they found my mother—a minor noblewoman by marriage—and her 'lovely house slave.' A disgraced elf girl, worthless and beneath notice. Just another piece of property."

  "The plan worked. We were both taken as assets of the estate. My mother was held as a potential bride for one of the usurpers—a way to legitimize their claim through marriage. I was marked for sale, sent to the estate's holding pens with the other slaves."

  "The collar my mother placed on me was deliberately faulty. She had sabotaged its suppression enchantments. The idea was that once we were separated and I was sold away from the estate, I would be able to access my magic long enough to disable the collar completely. Then I would escape, hide in some distant city, wait until it was safe to reveal myself or simply live as a commoner. A chance at life, at least."

  "But that didn't happen."

  "No, Great One. We were separated immediately—within a day. I was sold to a merchant caravan that very afternoon, bundled with a dozen other slaves as a bulk purchase. And my new owner, being a competent merchant, inspected all his new acquisitions thoroughly. He tested the collars. He found mine was faulty. And he replaced it that same evening with a proper one."

  "A working slave collar, Great One, suppresses magic completely. I could not access my mana. I could not cast spells. I could not remove the Gender Transformation Gem. And I dared not tell anyone about it—such artifacts are worth fortunes. If anyone discovered I had one implanted in my body, they would have cut me open to retrieve it and sold it for more than a hundred slaves would bring."

  "So you stayed female. And stayed a slave."

  "For two centuries, Great One."

  Null felt Spy's attention sharpen. "Two centuries? How old is he?"

  "I am two hundred and thirty-seven years old, Great One. Young for an elf—we typically live four to five hundred years naturally, sometimes longer with the aid of magic or life-extending elixirs. Though such things work for any race with sufficient wealth to afford them. But more than enough time to lose hope. More than enough time to forget who I once was."

  "Two centuries as a slave. That's..."

  "I was fortunate, in some ways," the elf continued, his tone flat. "I retained my education. My knowledge. My skills. Most owners recognized this quickly and used me as a house teacher—tutoring their children in reading, writing, mathematics, history. Managing their libraries. Handling correspondence. Translating documents. Teaching languages."

  "Elf slaves are rare, Great One. Most elves would rather die than be collared—they kill themselves during capture or fight until they are killed. So those few who are successfully enslaved tend to be valuable. We are treated with more care than human or beast-kin slaves. Better food. Lighter workloads. Preservation of the investment."

  "Even in this caravan, I was given better treatment than most. Better food, lighter chains, a place in the covered wagons rather than walking under the sun. I was one of the four most valuable pieces of merchandise—myself and the three lizardmen who escaped tonight."

  "But you gave up."

  "Yes, Great One. Slowly. Gradually. Over decades. Two centuries of watching others live while I merely existed. Two centuries of teaching children who would grow up free while I remained in chains. Two centuries of being called 'she' and 'her' when I knew, deep inside, that was a lie. Two centuries of feeling the Gender Transformation Gem in my chest, a constant reminder of what I had lost."

  "Eventually, I simply... stopped caring. Stopped hoping. Stopped wishing. I performed my duties. I taught when commanded. I obeyed when ordered. But inside, I was empty. I waited for death. Hoped for it. Prayed for it, when I still remembered how to pray."

  "When the chains broke tonight and chaos erupted, I did not run. I did not fight. I did not try to escape. I simply lay there in the sand, watching the slaughter, waiting for someone to kill me. Waiting for the end."

  "And then you came, Great One."

  The elf looked up at Null, black eyes meeting black eyes.

  "You offered me something I never imagined—purpose. Power. A reason to exist. You broke the curse I had carried for two hundred years. You restored my true form. You gave me strength I had never known. And you bound me to your will, gave me direction, gave me meaning."

  "I am yours now, Great One. Body and soul. Completely and eternally. And I have never been happier. I exist only to serve you."

  The elf prostrated himself once more, forehead pressed to the sand in absolute submission.

  "Command me, and I shall obey. Destroy me, and I shall thank you for the mercy. I am nothing without your blessing. I am everything because of it."

  Null looked down at him, processing the enormity of what she had just learned. The connection between them pulsed with his absolute sincerity—he genuinely meant every word.

  "Well," Spy said quietly in her mind. "That's... comprehensive. Also explains why he's useful beyond just translation. Two centuries of tutoring noble children means he knows this world's history, politics, geography, magic systems, social customs, everything. He's essentially a walking encyclopedia."

  "Useful," Null agreed aloud.

  She studied the prostrate elf for a moment, then asked through the mental link: "What's your name?"

  The elf remained bowed. "I have had many names, Great One. I do not remember my original one—the forget-me curse took that long ago. My last owner called me 'Slave Thirty-One.' I have had other names given by various masters over the centuries, but I do not remember them. Do not care to remember them. They were not mine. They were labels placed on property."

  "So you have no name."

  "I have whatever name you choose to give me, Great One. Or none at all, if that is your preference."

  Null considered this. The elf had lost everything—identity, past, even his original form. Two centuries of being nothing. Being no one.

  "Void," she said finally.

  The elf looked up, confusion flickering across his features. "Great One?"

  "Your name is Void. You were nothing. Empty. Now you're mine. Void fits."

  The elf—Void—lowered his head again, and through the connection, Null felt a surge of... gratitude? Satisfaction? Something warm and absolute.

  "Void. Yes. Thank you, Great One. I am Void, your eternal servant."

  "Void," Spy commented. "Appropriate. Matches your naming convention. Null and Void. Has a certain ring to it."

  "Wasn't intentional, but yeah. Works."

  She looked out at the camp. Dawn was fully breaking now, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink. The two groups were still shouting at each other, still pointing weapons. If anything, the volume had increased. They looked ready to start killing each other any moment.

  "Void," Null said, pushing the command through their mental link. "Get up. We have work to do."

  Void rose immediately, gracefully, his restored body moving with the fluid precision of someone trained in combat and courtly etiquette.

  "Command me, Great One. I await your will."

  Null gestured toward the two hostile groups. "What's wrong with those guys? Why are they still fighting?"

  Void turned his attention to the camp, tilting his head to listen to the shouting. His black eyes tracked the movements, the gestures, the body language. After a moment, a small smile appeared on his face.

  "Oh, Great One. It's quite simple, you see..."