The next morning..
On a large boulder at the bank of a river, Seth sat cross legged with his chin propped by his hand.
He watched as the fair maiden he was traveling with, Clare, a silver eyed witch as the common folk call them, dipped into the running water naked.
Her skin was deathly pale, her limbs were so thin, it looked like she might keel over at the slightest touch.
But he knew… that body carried terrifying strength.
[Host. Excessive staring might get you labeled a pervert.]
Shut up. I'm simply admiring the view. He retorted. Besides, she doesn't seem to mind either so you shouldn't.
Clare made no effort to cover her body, letting the whole forest see.
Seth watched her back as washed herself before he suddenly remembered something.
[Host is a bit of a scatterbrain.]
The system commented.
Hmph! Yesterday, Clare said something about turning into a yoma if she uses too much yoki… is that gonna happen to me too?
Seth asked as his mind wandered back to when Clare's face morphed as she finished off the winged yoma and then her words.
He wondered if he also runs the risk of turning into one of them.
[Host don't have to worry about those side effects...]
"Hm?"
The system then continued,
[Blacklight cellular architecture maintains 100% structural dominance over host biomass. No outside genetic pattern retains independent mutation privileges.]
Seth listened intently as the system explained.
After he processed that information, he finally realized that outside of what he knows from the game, he's clueless about the virus itself.
'Hey system. I might be late to asking this but… what exactly is the Blacklight virus? What's the full scope of its capabilities?'
[Blacklight is not like those conventional viruses.]
The system's tone shifted from its usual monotonous voice, almost sounding like it's lecturing.
Seth rested his chin on his palm.
Yeah, I figured that much.
[I don't think you truly understand the scope of its true origin. It predates recorded civilization.]
"How far are we talking? Millennium?"
[Primordial.]
Seth blinked. You mean during the dinosaur?
[Far earlier.]
An "Oh" was all he could muster.
[Blacklight is a foundational evolutionary catalyst. A proto-organic entity that has existed since the earliest emergence of life.]
Seth stared at the river.
"…You're telling me I'm powered by something older than humanity?"
[Correct. It is not merely a weapon. Human weaponization was an attempt to harness a fragment of something far older.]
He slowly lowered his hand from his chin.
"So what is it exactly?"
[An adaptive life-framework. The foundation beneath natural selection. Where evolution refines slowly over millennia, Blacklight refines instantly.]
"…So evolution speed-run."
[Accurate.]
He let out a low whistle.
"So this thing has just been around since the beginning of life?"
[Yes. It persists by integrating into biological systems, acting like a "plug-in" of sorts—activating junk DNA in a target that causes biological changes either creates or recreates a sentient mind.]
"Hmm."
A splash interrupted him.
"Are you not getting in?" Clare called, her back still turned to him.
"Oh! Uh— in a bit!"
"Okay. Just don't fall asleep."
"I won't."
She went back to washing like nothing was happening.
They hadn't slept at all last night, as in her words:
"We have to stay vigilant in the event we are attacked by yoma."
Since she doesn't need much sleep and he is incapable of feeling physical exhaustion, he didn't mind it.
She might've taken his refusal to dip in the river as a sign he might be tired though.
Seth leaned forward slightly.
"So let me get this straight," he muttered under his breath. "Since I'm basically the blacklight virus itself now, can I be considered a primordial entity?"
[Correct.]
"And this adaptation… Does that mean I am doomsday?"
[No.]
"…No?" Seth frowned. "What do you mean no? What's the difference then? Ain't they all adaptation?"
[Your comparison is exaggerated.]
"Oh come on," he muttered. "Then explain it better."
[Doomsday-type evolution requires death-triggered adaptation. Blacklight evolves continuously without fatal stimulus.]
Seth's expression showed enlightenment.
"So I don't have to die to level up?"
[Correct.]
That already sounds better.
It's a huge trade-off actually… The system didn't bother correcting his opinion, instead carried on with its explanation.
[Additionally, Blacklight records environmental threats. Chemical agents, toxins, biological countermeasures—if one succeeds once, subsequent exposure becomes significantly less effective.]
Seth raised a brow.
"So if someone finds a cure?"
[It would function once. If at all. Constant evolution and adaptation would make it ineffective seconds after its creation.]
…That's kinda horrific to think about.
[Accurate.]
He stared at his hands.
"So I'm just constantly adapting?"
[Yes. Passively. Actively through consumption.]
"Meaning if I eat something—"
[You integrate advantageous biological traits.]
"…Sounds like im basically patching myself in real time."
[Succinct.]
He nodded slowly.
"Okay, that's actually busted."
[Further clarification: Your current cellular structure contains the genomic data of every known human virus and pathogen, in addition to uncatalogued variants.]
Seth froze.
"…Hold on."
[You are not infected. You are the archive.]
He stared at the river.
"…So hypothetically," he said carefully, "if I flicked blood at someone…"
[High probability of transmission.]
"And they'd get like… stage 10 cancer?"
[Yes.]
Silence.
He scratched his head.
"That's kinda dark."
[It is efficient.]
"Stop calling it efficient."
Another splash came from the river.
Clare shifted slightly in the water, completely unaware of the existential biohazard monologue happening ten feet away.
Seth leaned forward on his palms.
"So I'm basically walking biological overkill."
[Potential classification: extinction-level vector.]
"…Damn."
He flexed his fingers again, watching them as they grew dark and metallic.
"Good thing I'm not evil."
[👀Statement logged.]
"…"
"Why did that feel like it has something ominous behind it?" Seth muttered.
[No additional context provided.]
"That's not comforting."
He was just about to ask the system about the new thing that was added to his status window yesterday when he felt an additional presence.
His head turned slightly.
Someone was standing near the tree line like he'd been there the whole time.
Seth squinted.
"…Bro."
It was the same guy from yesterday.
Rubel.
Clare's handler.
Seth straightened a little. "Didn't I just see you yesterday? Aren't you supposed to disappear for like… a week or something before showing up again?"
Rubel smiled politely. "Good morning, young man."
"That did not answer my question."
"I happened to be passing through."
"Uh-huh. Sure you were."
"Clare. I have a job for you."
"A yoma has been reported," he said calmly. "In a village called Egon. A few miles east from here."
Clare didn't say anything. She just stood up.
And walked out of the river.
Seth's neurons activated.
The whole time she had her clothes off, her back was turned to him, only giving him the view of her butt cheeks.
Now she was returning, he would get a clear view of her front side.
[Host. Excessive observation detected.]
Shut up.
He was absolutely about to lean into being a certified pervert—
But what he saw killed any perverted thoughts any man might have.
A wound.
Not small either.
A large, unhealed incision from her navel all the way up to between her breasts.
The line was uneven, the marks thick and rough, even with his medical knowledge, he could tell that whoever was in charge of the sowing cared more about closing her up quickly rather than the healing process.
Seth's expression changed immediately.
Because Seth had stopped smiling and had a serious expression on his face, Clare and Rubel noticed his expression.
Rubel's smile widened slightly.
"What?" Seth blinked, scratching the back of his head with a wry smile.
Clare stepped past them and put on her clothes.
Seth glanced at the scar one last time before deliberately looking away toward the trees.
So that's how they make them… organ transplant.
The "silver-eyed witches."
It was pretty easy for Seth to piece together.
"…So Egon, huh?" he nodded. "Guess we're going yoma hunting."
"We are," Clare replied simply while fixing her armor.
"No sleep again?"
"We do not require it."
"Yeah, yeah. Vigilance."
Rubel adjusted his glasses.
Clare swiftly strapped the claymore onto her back.
Seth stretched his arms.
"Alright then," he said. "Let's go kill a monster."
Chapter 7 end.
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Pretty buns chapter id say. This chapter was made during my peak clarity moment so don't expect same tomorrow.