《After The Collapse》


 Chapter 1 - Despair

    "Agh.. My head is throbbing."


    Silas groaned, clutching his head as a sharp, relentless pain pulsed behind his left eye. The room tilted when he opened his eyes, his vision swimming in and out of focus. Disoriented, he forced himself to sit up, his limbs heavy and uncooperative. With a shaky breath, he pushed off the bed, only to stumble into the wall, its cool surface the only thing keeping him upright.


    "What the hell¡­" He weakly muttered, his voice hoarse and rough. The room swayed slightly as he pushed himself off the wall, his legs unsteady beneath him. He stumbled into the kitchen, his fingers fumbling to find the small bottle of pain relief medicine tucked away in the corner of a cluttered cabinet.


    He filled a glass with cold, cloudy water from the tap and downed the pills in one gulp, the liquid chilling as it slid down his throat. Leaning against the counter, Silas closed his eyes, counting the seconds as he waited for the pain to fade.


    The minutes stretched on, his thoughts scattered, until the sharp throbbing in his head finally dulled, leaving him with a fragile sense of peace.


    Feeling comfort, He stood up from the counter he previously used for support and walked to his bathroom while rubbing his eyes. On his way to the bathroom, he grabbed his phone and checked the time.


    *6:47 AM*


    His phone read as the light flashed. Opening the door to the bathroom he flicked the light on and pulled his shower curtains open. He removed his clothing and stepped into the shower, cleaning himself as he thought of what he may accomplish today.


    Silas dried his body off as he placed the somewhat damp towel over his shoulders. He covered himself with a pair of boxers as he reached for his toothbrush and toothpaste. The slightly open window let in cool air that made Silas shiver when it grazed his lower back.


    "Damn cold weather..." He said to himself as he checked his phone for the weather. The highest was 49 degrees. With a disappointed sigh Silas laid his phone down onto the sink before spitting the mixture of spit and toothpaste into the sink. Then he cupped his hands together to catch water which he used to get the minty taste from his mouth.


    Shortly after Silas got dressed. His outfit consisted of dress shoes, a white button up with a tie, and a coat that would keep him cool from the ''hellish'' weather he overreacted about.


    The city hummed with its usual energy. Jazz spilled softly into his ears as he navigated the crowded sidewalk, blending with the distant chatter and footsteps. Across the street, students rushed into the school gates, their voices rising in a chaotic symphony.


    A wave of drowsiness struck like a truck, a reminder that he''d forgotten to make coffee. The pounding headache that woke Silas abruptly this morning made it easy for him to forget what he desired most¡ªhis one lifeline to surviving the day had slipped his mind entirely.


    On the right side of the street stood a gas station. To Silas, it felt like a gift from the heavens. Of course, anyone else would see it as just a perfectly ordinary gas station, always there, always the same.


    "Perfect timing!" The thought rushed through his head as he stepped inside. The familiar ding-dong of the door chime greeted him. A man with long, disheveled hair and a lanky frame crossed the threshold. That man was Silas, of course.


    He made a beeline for the coffee machine, his steps quick and determined. "I can already taste it! Ah, coffee, humanity''s greatest treasure. What did we ever do to deserve something so perfect?" he muttered, his voice dripping with anticipation.


    But his excitement came to a screeching halt as he spotted the piece of paper taped to the machine. Three simple words stared back at him, mocking his hopes:


    Out of Order.


    For a moment, Silas stood frozen, as though those words had physically struck him. It was almost enough to bring a tear to his eye.


    Now that he thought about it, this wasn''t the first issue around the area. On his way here, he''d noticed a traffic light stuck on red, its glow dim and lifeless. He''d brushed it off at the time, but now, as he glanced around the gas station, the pattern became harder to ignore.


    Several lights flickered erratically, casting uneven shadows across the walls. Others had gone dark entirely, their absence leaving odd patches of gloom. It didn''t make sense¡ªthis station was a local hotspot, always buzzing with customers. With so much money coming in, it should''ve had no trouble keeping up with something as basic as working lights.


    Silas bit back a sigh. The thought struck a familiar chord¡ªone he''d rather ignore. Having enough money to make problems disappear? He envied them.


    It wasn''t time to mop around or examine the strange outrage that seemed to affect the area though! He had a place to be and coffee to buy. As he walked to a nearby fridge, Silas examined his options behind the glass door.


    "Hmm.. Caramel.. Chocolate.. Peppermint..? It''s only November." He placed his hand on his chin as he opened the door to grab the Caramel coffee.


    A couple of steps brung Silas to the front of the cashier. Placing the drink onto the table and then waited for a reply.


    "2.50, Will that be all?"


    The experienced man said. As Silas fumbled around in his pocket something caught his attention. When he listened closely, tuning out everything else his eyes widened in surprise..


    "Good morning. Unexplained power outages are being reported across the country, leaving millions without electricity. What makes this unusual is that the outages are occurring in seemingly random areas and during daylight hours, with no storms or technical issues to explain the disruptions.


    Officials are investigating, but so far, no cause has been identified. Some residents have described odd flickering lights and power surges just before the outages begin. Authorities are urging calm and asking people to prepare for potential prolonged blackouts as they work to understand the situation.


    We''ll provide updates as more information becomes available."


    A young blonde woman announced on the TV behind the register. This raised new questions in his head. This sudden.. outage if you can even call it that was happening around the country.


    "Oh, don''t worry, they''ll ''provide updates''¡ªlike they actually know what''s going on. Sure, just sit tight and wait for the big reveal, right?" The cashier''s voice dripped with mockery as he gestured toward the flickering TV.


    He leaned forward, lowering his voice as if sharing some grand secret. "Let me tell ya somethin'', son. This world is run by corrupted people with power! You''re a fool if you think they ain''t controlling the power, the weather, even the food we eat!"


    The man rambled on, his voice rising with each word. It reminded Silas of a coworker who couldn''t stop spouting conspiracy theories after a few too many drinks. People like this always seemed to have a theory about everything. Silas had developed a special talent for tuning them out¡ªan essential skill when dealing with old-timers who thought they knew it all. He secretly feared becoming one of them when he got older.


    "Tsk¡­ Don''t listen now, and you''ll regret it later!" the old man persisted, his tone almost accusatory.


    Silas sighed, pulling a five-dollar bill from his pocket and dropping it onto the counter. Without a word, he grabbed the drink he''d paid for and walked toward the door. When the cashier called after him, he waved dismissively¡ªpart thank you, part please don''t follow me.


    As the glass door swung shut behind him, Silas cracked open the bottle of coffee, savoring the first sip. Whatever conspiracy theories the cashier believed, at least this drink was real¡ªand it was his only solace in an otherwise confusing morning.


    His office was just a block away, a cramped gray building wedged between a laundromat and a hardware store. He hated it, but work was work. At least it gave him something to do while the rest of the world slowly fell apart.


    A sigh escaped him as he approached the building, taking slow sips from the cool glass bottle in his hand. The bitter taste barely cut through the morning haze clouding his mind, but it kept him moving. Turning the corner, he stopped in his tracks.


    A small group of people stood near the entrance¡ªhis coworkers. They were all there, wearing their usual uniforms, but none of them looked like they were in any rush to go inside. Instead, they just stood there, silent and motionless, their backs to him.


    Something about the way they lingered sent a chill creeping up his spine. No one was chatting or scrolling through their phones like usual. Their heads were slightly tilted, eyes fixed on the glass doors ahead as if waiting for something¡ªor someone.


    Silas''s brow furrowed. He glanced at the entrance. The doors didn''t look locked, but no one was trying to open them. The only sound was the faint hum of the street behind him, as though the building itself was holding its breath.


    He tightened his grip on the bottle. "What the hell is going on?" he muttered under his breath, taking a hesitant step forward.


    Silas tapped the shoulder of a nearby worker. The man''s body jerked slightly, a sharp twitch of confusion, as though his very skin was unfamiliar with movement. Slowly, almost unwillingly, he turned to face Silas. His eyes were wide, pupils dilated, as if he had to piece together the image of another person standing before him¡ªlike he''d forgotten what it was to share space with anyone. For a heartbeat, he simply stared, unblinking. The silence between them stretched too long, suffocating.


    "What''s everyone stopping for?" The question fell from the man''s lips with an eerie hesitance, as though he was asking not for an answer, but because he feared the one he would receive. There was a tightness in his voice, a fragile edge that made Silas wonder if he, too, could feel it¡ªthe wrongness in the air.You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.


    Before Silas could respond, a sharp, ear-piercing ringing sliced through the air. It was sudden, harsh, and cold, as if the very atmosphere had been pierced by something unnatural. It was the kind of sound that made the skin crawl, the kind that gnawed at the edges of your thoughts, filling every corner of your mind with an unsettling dread.


    The ringing didn''t stop. It seemed to echo, vibrating deep in his chest, like it was coming from the very marrow of his bones.


    Then, as if in response to the noise, a tremor of sensation jolted through Silas''s body¡ªa deep, almost nauseating vibration on his left side. Instinctively, his hand went to his pocket, his fingers trembling slightly as they brushed against his phone. His eyes locked onto the screen, along with the others who had also reached for their devices, faces blank, unsure, the ringing still pulsing in their ears.


    An alert.


    The words appeared in stark black and white across the screen. Silas muttered under his breath, barely hearing his own words over the deafening pulse of his heartbeat. "An alert¡­"


    At first, he thought it was just a local warning¡ªa signal, perhaps a regional malfunction. But when he looked closer, the text seemed to grow, stretch, until it consumed him.


    It wasn''t an alert for this area. It wasn''t an alert for the city. Or even for the country.


    It was an alert for the entire world.


    Something was coming. Something that had no place here, and he wasn''t ready to meet it.


    But it wasn''t what he expected at all.


    A soft humming filled the air, gentle and sweet, like the lullabies of a distant memory. Silas froze, his pulse slowing as the sound reached him, weaving into the corners of his mind. The melody wasn''t just pleasant¡ªit was intoxicating, its warmth cradling his thoughts like a pair of loving arms. It felt as if the humming itself whispered to him, a reminder of something long lost, yet somehow deeply familiar.


    He thought of his mother, her voice carrying soft, sweet melodies that filled the cracks of their old, crumbling home. Her voice always carried a promise: that no matter how cruel the world could be, there was still love, still solace, still something to hold onto. Silas''s eyes fluttered shut. He wanted to curl into a ball, to let that melody carry him back to those tender moments.


    More than anything, he wanted to share that feeling. He wanted to cradle someone close, to pour out all the love he had buried, to let himself be vulnerable, open, whole. It was surreal. It was heavenly.


    But all good things must come to an end.


    The melody shifted, an imperceptible crack running through its purity. At first, Silas tried to ignore it, to cling to the fleeting warmth. But the humming grew louder, no longer gentle or inviting. It rose in pitch, turning sharp, jagged, wrong. What had once felt like a soft embrace now clawed at his mind, digging deep, burrowing into every nerve.


    It was unbearable.


    It was like needles¡ªthousands of them¡ªthrusting into his brain, piercing his skull, grinding against the delicate tissue behind his eyes. The pain was raw, searing, as if his very thoughts were being pulled apart. He clutched at his head, his fingers trembling, his nails digging into his scalp as though he could tear the sound out.


    And then¡ªsomething warm splashed against his face.


    Silas froze, his breath catching in his throat. The sensation was sticky, clinging to his skin, sliding down his cheeks and over his lips. It wasn''t water. It was too thick, too warm.


    Slowly, shakily, he raised a hand to his face. His fingers trembled as they brushed against wetness. Chunks of something soft, something gelatinous, slid against his fingertips. For a moment, his mind refused to process it.


    His eyes creaked open.


    The world came into focus, blurred and smeared with red. Blood. Dark crimson streaked his vision, dripping from his lashes.


    And then he saw it.


    The coworker he''d tapped just moments ago was still standing, though not entirely. What remained of his head was a gruesome ruin, an empty, jagged stump where his skull had been. Pieces of it painted the ground, splattered across nearby walls. Brain matter, pale and meaty, clung to Silas''s face like a grotesque mask.


    His stomach lurched, the taste of iron and bile rising to his throat. He stumbled back, his legs threatening to give out beneath him. The humming had stopped now. No, he was wrong. So disturbed and confused by what he was looking at he toned out the ringing.


    The coworker''s body swayed for a moment, as though deciding whether it still belonged to the world of the living. Then it collapsed, crumpling to the ground with a lifeless thud.


    Silas couldn''t move. His knees locked in place, his breath coming in short, shallow gasps. He stared at the blood soaking into the concrete, at the chunks of flesh clinging to his hands, unable to comprehend the horror that had just unfolded.


    A harsh, guttural HUUUURGH ripped from his throat, echoing in the air like an animalistic cry. His entire body convulsed as the contents of his stomach forced their way up, burning his throat with acidic bile. The wet splatter hit the pavement with a sickening slap, pooling at his feet in a dark, steaming mess.


    The bitter tang of coffee mixed with the acrid taste of vomit, lingering on his tongue and in the back of his throat. In some cruel way, the coffee made it slightly more tolerable as its liquid consistency easing the wretched process, allowing the mess to flow out more smoothly.


    But that twisted sense of relief lingered as more heads burst, spraying blood in arcs that splattered like crushed water bottles. The sound of it, wet and final, mingled with the screech of colliding cars. Silas couldn''t tell if the drivers were dead or simply too panicked to steer, and he didn''t want to know.


    Then the humming returned, sharper now, piercing his skull like jagged needles. He clutched his head, stumbling forward only to round the corner into a scene of even greater horror.


    The street was painted in crimson. Headless bodies slumped in doorways or sprawled on the pavement. The living convulsed, clawing at their faces, nails carving bloody streaks as they begged for the music to stop.


    But it didn''t stop. It only grew louder.


    Silas ran. Anywhere but here, his mind screamed, though he knew it didn''t matter. This wasn''t just here¡ªit was everywhere. His legs burned, muscles screaming, but he didn''t stop until the music finally cut out.


    Relief flooded him, but it was fleeting. His legs buckled, and he collapsed, curling into himself as exhaustion overwhelmed him. His arms shielded his head instinctively, though nothing came. The silence was deafening, almost worse than the sound.


    Just before sleep claimed him, a voice pierced the stillness, chilling him to his core:


    "Cleanse this world of filth. Only the worthy shall remain."


    Eight billion lives were snuffed out in an instant, leaving only 7,000 survivors to witness the aftermath. November 17, 2024, became the day the world fell¡ªwhen civilization crumbled and chaos claimed the remnants of humanity.


    ¡­


    "Is he still alive?" A voice broke the oppressive quiet, low and sharp. The crunch of leaves and twigs followed as someone approached.


    "His head''s intact," another voice answered, this one flat and emotionless. "So, probably."


    "That doesn''t mean anything," the first voice replied, colder now. "If he heard it and survived, he''s either lucky or broken. If he does anything strange, I''ll kill him."


    The words should''ve been terrifying, but the casual tone made them even worse. Like taking a life was a simple errand.


    Silas Grayson lay still, his mind sluggish as their words seeped in. A creeping awareness told him they were talking about him.


    He was still alive.


    Summoning what little strength remained in his trembling limbs, Silas forced himself upright. Pain rippled through his body as he pried open his heavy eyelids, the world around him coming into focus in fragments. Trees. Endless trees, their twisted branches clawing at the sky.


    A forest? How the hell did he end up in a forest?


    Leaning against a nearby trunk for support, he turned slowly, his gaze falling on two figures standing a short distance away. They looked similar¡ªsame dark hair, same sharp features. Brothers, probably.


    But more importantly, they were alive. Not headless. Not clawing at their faces. Not crumpled in agony. Relief washed over Silas, threatening to buckle his knees all over again.


    He opened his mouth to speak, to break the suffocating silence, but one of the men beat him to it.


    "Are you sane?"


    The bluntness of the question knocked Silas off balance. His lips parted in confusion before twisting into a frown. How rude.


    "Uh¡­ yeah? I think so." His voice wavered, strained. "Listen, I''ve got a lot of questions about what just happened¡ª"


    "So do we," the other brother interrupted, his monotone slicing through Silas''s thoughts.


    "What was that sound? How did it kill so many? And why are we still here?"


    It was like the man had reached into Silas''s head and plucked out the exact thoughts circling in frantic loops. The questions lingered in the air, heavy and unanswered.


    But it confirmed what had been gnawing at the edges of his mind: this wasn''t a dream, a hallucination, or some fleeting nightmare. This was real. People had died¡ªcountless people. And the thought of it made him sick to his stomach.


    "Thomas Redfield," the taller, monotone man finally introduced himself. He nodded toward the shorter one beside him. "And that''s my younger brother, Keith Redfield."


    At last, an introduction¡ªand confirmation that they were, indeed, brothers. Thomas was the stoic, measured one, while Keith, the shorter of the two, was the one who''d so casually mentioned killing Silas earlier, should he do anything suspicious.


    Now¡­ where the hell was he?


    Silas''s hand instinctively patted his pocket, brushing against the familiar shape of his phone. Once a vital lifeline to the modern world, now it was little more than a useless slab of glass, metal, and circuitry¡ªa relic of a world that no longer existed.


    Still, old habits lingered. He pulled it out, the faint hope of information driving him to check the screen. The time glared back at him: 11:24 AM. Nearly five hours had passed. It was still November 17th. The date provided a fragile anchor to reality, but beyond that, it meant little.


    The brothers, standing nearby, caught sight of the phone. Their eyes lingered, a flicker of recognition tempered by loss. They didn''t have their phones anymore. They''d been lost¡ªjust like everything else. Lost in¡­ whatever this was.


    What could they even call it? Was something almighty at work? Something beyond understanding? If such a force truly existed, was this its work? People often said everything happens for a reason, but what reason could there possibly be for a massacre like this?


    And if there was a reason¡­ did any of them truly want to know what it was?


    "You two have any idea where we are? Anything at all could be useful." Silas''s voice carried the weight of exhaustion, but there was a thread of desperate hope clinging to his words. In truth, he wasn''t sure why he even asked. He had always told himself that if the world ever ended¡ªtruly ended¡ªhe wouldn''t hesitate to end his own life rather than drag himself through the ashes.


    Keith raised his hand, and the movement caught both Silas and Thomas''s attention. "Uh¡­ yeah, actually. Just a little ahead, there''s a city. If we''re alive, then¡ªthen maybe there''s others like us!" His tone was hopeful, almost too hopeful. It hung in the air like a fragile thing, trying to convince them of something he didn''t fully believe.


    Good for him, Silas thought bitterly. It was better to cling to hope, even if it was a flimsy illusion.


    Because deep down, all three of them knew the truth. That hopeful tone? That suggestion of salvation? It was just a mask. A thin, fragile mask barely holding back the despair clawing at their insides.


    The faint outlines of buildings peeked through the thick cover of trees, their shapes barely visible against the backdrop of a broken world. Silas, Thomas, and Keith began their slow march forward, their footsteps crunching against the forest floor. It wasn''t like they had a destination in mind¡ªjust an instinct to keep moving.


    Why did they even bother clinging to life? The thought lingered, unspoken but shared between them. Could this hollow existence truly be called living? It felt more like¡­ delaying the inevitable. Prolonging their deaths, step by step, through a landscape that offered no promises of redemption.


    And yet, as much as the world seemed drowned in despair, there were still those who hadn''t given in to its pull. A handful of people¡ªthough scattered and rare¡ªharbored a fragile, flickering hope. A hope for something better. A hope for a future.


    Perhaps it was foolish. Perhaps it was futile. But that faint glimmer of hope was all that separated survival from surrender. And so, with nothing else to hold on to, the trio walked toward the unknown.

 Chapter 2 - Near Future

    Creak. Creak. Creak.


    The door to the shelter groaned open, its hinges protesting every inch. As it swung wide, they were met with a grim sight: flickering lights and pools of congealed crimson blood. The metallic tang in the air clung to their nostrils, making their stomachs churn. It was a scene straight out of a nightmare¡ªenough to unsettle anyone who had lived a normal life.


    Silas glanced at Keith and Thomas, noting their pale faces and clenched jaws. He felt no relief in knowing they were just as disgusted as he was.


    It had been hours since the noise¡ªthe event¡ªthat had shattered the world, and the bodies were starting to decompose. The floor was slick with serous drainage, better known as pus. ¡°Jesus Christ¡­¡± Thomas muttered, his voice muffled by the hand covering his mouth. He was clearly fighting to keep his breakfast from joining the grotesque mess on the ground.


    With the dim, flickering light barely illuminating the small building, the trio made a quick decision to stop exploring further. Not because they were heartless or unwilling to search for survivors, but because it was painfully clear: there was no one alive here. The silence was absolute, save for the occasional creak of unstable wood or the distant hum of wind outside.


    As they continued their trek into the shattered city, the horrors only multiplied. Corpses littered the streets, their forms mangled and broken. At some point, the stench became unbearable. Keith and Thomas lifted their jackets to shield their noses, while Silas did his best to breathe shallowly.


    ¡°Should we check the houses?¡± Silas asked, his voice strained but steady. ¡°They might have something useful¡ªclothes, supplies, anything.¡±


    The suggestion wasn¡¯t uplifting, but it was practical. Breaking into the homes of the dead wasn¡¯t exactly a moral high ground, but survival had its own rules.


    The brothers exchanged reluctant glances before nodding, and the trio made their way to a nearby house with a slightly cracked door.


    Inside, the grim scene continued. A headless corpse slumped near the entryway, but something else caught their attention: a dog.


    The animal sniffed at what was likely its owner¡¯s body, its tail drooping with an air of hopelessness.


    A wave of sadness washed over them. Silas tightened his jaw and turned away, signaling to the others to leave quietly. The dog didn¡¯t need their pity¡ªit needed time with its lost companion.


    Back on the street, Keith broke the silence. ¡°So¡­ animals aren¡¯t affected?¡±


    The question lingered, unanswered, as they pressed on. The sun dipped lower, casting the city in shades of orange and red. After half an hour of trudging through decay and ruin, they stumbled upon something unexpected: a school.


    Silas hadn¡¯t thought he¡¯d ever feel relieved at the sight of a school, but here he was. The trio circled the perimeter before cautiously entering.


    Inside, the walls and lockers were streaked with blood, and the stairs were littered with teeth and brain matter, as if someone had painted a grotesque masterpiece. They ascended carefully, trying not to step on the mess.


    Halfway up, a noise froze them in place.


    Tap. Tap. Tap.


    Silas peered around the corner and spotted¡­ a person. A living, breathing person. Their head was intact. They weren¡¯t clawing at their skin or screaming. Just a person, as ordinary as Thomas, Keith, and himself.


    Overcome with relief, Silas called out. ¡°H-Hey! You there!¡±


    The person startled, whipping around to face them. His black, puffy hair bounced with the motion, and his expression was one of pure panic.


    ¡°There really are other peopl¡ª¡±


    The sound of a fist connecting with a jaw could be heard.


    Before Silas could finish, the stranger¡¯s fist collided with his mouth, sending him sprawling back down the stairs. Blood splattered on the ground as Silas landed hard, the world spinning around him.


    Silas hadn¡¯t been punched in over 20 years, and now he remembered why. The pain was sharp, his mouth filling with the metallic taste of blood. He groaned as Keith and Thomas rushed to his side, glaring at the young man who stood defensively at the top of the stairs.


    ¡°W-Who the hell are you guys?!¡± the stranger shouted, his fists still raised. He wore a school uniform, the emblem matching the one Silas had noticed downstairs. He was a student here.


    ¡°Don¡¯t sneak up on people like that! Especially not now!¡±


    Thomas held up his hands in a calming gesture. ¡°Wait, wait! We¡¯re just like you! It¡¯d be stupid to hurt each other in a time like this.¡±


    The student hesitated, his fists lowering slightly as he stepped back. Silas, with Keith¡¯s help, got to his feet, spitting blood onto the floor. He winced but kept quiet, observing the stranger with growing curiosity.


    ¡®That punch wasn¡¯t random,¡¯ Silas thought. ¡®This kid has form. Probably an amateur fighter.¡¯


    The student finally relaxed, his shoulders dropping. ¡°S-Sorry about that,¡± he muttered. ¡°I¡¯ve been¡­ on edge.¡±


    Thomas nodded. ¡°It¡¯s understandable. We¡¯ve all been through hell.¡±


    The student leaned against the wall, rubbing his arm nervously. ¡°I¡­ I heard this weird humming song. It was pleasant at first, but then¡ªthen everyone¡¯s heads just¡­ popped. My teacher, my classmates¡ªeveryone. And then¡­¡± His voice cracked. ¡°I was the only one left.¡±


    The trio exchanged uneasy glances.


    ¡°And when I tried to leave¡­¡± the student continued, ¡°my body stopped working. I just collapsed. And I heard a voice. It said¡­ ¡®Cleanse this world of filth. Only the worthy shall remain.¡¯¡±


    Silas¡¯s blood ran cold. He remembered hearing those exact words.Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.


    ¡°You heard it too?!¡± Silas asked, his voice trembling with equal parts relief and dread.


    The student nodded, his expression grim. ¡°Yeah. I thought I was going crazy. I thought¡­ I was going to die.¡±


    Feeling the fear of someone so hopeless and alone, Silas extended his hand. ¡°I¡¯m Silas Grayson. That¡¯s Thomas Redfield and Keith Redfield.¡± He nodded toward the brothers, then looked back at the student. ¡°And you?¡±


    The student hesitated before shaking Silas¡¯s hand. ¡°Warren Hale. And¡­ sorry about earlier. Just don¡¯t sneak up on people again.¡±


    Silas bit back a retort, reminding himself that


    Warren was just a kid¡ªalbeit a kid who could throw a mean punch.


    Thomas interrupted the tension with a lighthearted comment. ¡°Nice to meet you, Warren. Let¡¯s try to keep the punching to a minimum from now on, huh?¡±


    Warren gave a small nod and gestured toward the stairs. ¡°We should leave. There¡¯s nothing here for us.¡±


    As the four of them descended into the ruined city together, Silas felt a spark of hope.


    ¡­


    Two years had passed.


    The world was still far from the one they had lost, but humanity had proven its resilience. Survivors began to gather, and small communities emerged from the ruins like flowers pushing through cracks in concrete. Cities that had once been eerily silent now hummed with cautious hope, filled with people rebuilding in whatever ways they could. It wasn¡¯t much, but it was a start.


    Silas stirred in his sleep, the distant murmur of voices drifting into his dreams¡ªadults chatting, children laughing, and the sharp, rhythmic chime of an old alarm clock he had salvaged from an abandoned house. It was a peaceful backdrop, a stark contrast to the chaos of two years ago.


    But it wasn¡¯t the alarm clock that woke him.


    ¡°Get up. We need to get ready,¡± came Keith¡¯s familiar voice, calm but firm.


    Joining the community had meant taking on responsibilities, and for Silas, Thomas, Keith, Warren, and a group of others, that meant venturing into the city to scavenge for livestock, supplies, or anything else the community might need. Livestock, especially, was a priority¡ªanimals that had escaped into the wild after The Collapse, as everyone had come to call it. It wasn¡¯t official, but it didn¡¯t need to be. The phrase was universal now, an unspoken rule of language.


    Pulling the blanket from his body, Silas sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. It had been a little over four months since he and the others joined this small survivor community, and though the adjustment was difficult, it wasn¡¯t as bad as he¡¯d feared. ¡°Life after the apocalypse¡± didn¡¯t always mean relentless despair, at least not when you weren¡¯t running from brain-eating zombies.


    ¡°I¡¯m up¡­ Jeez, what¡¯s the time?¡± Silas asked, his voice hoarse with sleep as he stretched.


    ¡°8:58 AM,¡± Keith replied, already heading for the door. ¡°Me and the others are waiting on you. Don¡¯t take all day.¡±


    The door clicked shut behind Keith, leaving Silas to shake off the last traces of grogginess. He slipped on a heavyweight jacket and a pair of durable jeans¡ªboth scavenged during one of his earlier raids. Life in the ruins meant clothing was more about practicality than style.


    On the dresser beside him sat his watch, backpack, a map, and a dagger. The dagger always gave him pause. He¡¯d never been in a fight before The Collapse, but survival demanded he carry it. The livestock wouldn¡¯t just walk up and surrender themselves, after all. Still, Silas rarely had the stomach to use it, usually leaving the others to take on the grim task of slaughtering the animals they managed to catch.


    Taking a deep breath, Silas slung his backpack over his shoulder, strapped the dagger to his belt, and picked up the map. As he made his way to join the others, he couldn¡¯t help but think how strange life had become¡ªrebuilding a semblance of society in a world that had fallen apart.


    Opening the handmade map, Silas studied the city he had marked the night before. It was a rough sketch, patched together with scavenged maps and scribbled notes, but it served its purpose. Each dot and line told the story of a world forever changed.


    The Collapse had wiped out governments almost overnight, leaving a power vacuum too vast to fill. Most officials perished, and those who survived were no longer in control. Without central authority, survivors across the globe began claiming land, carving out territories in the ruins of the old world.


    Here in Cinderhaven, the country that now encompassed all of North America, reminders of the past were everywhere. Abandoned buildings loomed like skeletal remains of once-thriving cities. Rusting cars lined overgrown streets, and the relics of a forgotten era cluttered the landscape. It was a place where the old world was impossible to escape, and yet, people were determined to rebuild.


    Silas¡¯s eyes flicked over the other regions marked on the map, territories he had only heard of in stories and rumors:


    Norcrest, sprawling across Norway, Sweden, and Finland, was a land of unforgiving cold and brutal terrain. The survivors who called it home were said to be the strongest of them all, hardened by the icy wilderness and relentless winters.


    Redmarsh, covering much of South America, was a swampy, overgrown expanse where rainforests merged with decayed farmland. Rich in resources but dangerous to traverse, its rivers flooded unpredictably, and its wildlife was just as hostile as the environment.


    Lakefell, in Central Africa, was a region of immense lakes and lush greenery, scattered with ruins of ancient civilizations and makeshift shantytowns. The land teemed with life, both natural and human, making it a hub for those willing to adapt to its challenges.


    Stormhollow, the coastal region of Southeast Asia, was a land battered by unrelenting storms. Survivors there lived in makeshift villages perched on higher ground, clinging to the remnants of coastal cities. For them, survival meant weathering both nature¡¯s fury and the scarcity of resources.


    Ironhold, once Eastern Europe, had become a militarized stronghold. Fortified cities and rigid hierarchies dominated the landscape, where resources were controlled by an elite few who maintained order through fear and discipline. It was a place where the apocalypse seemed to have merely shifted the chains of power.


    Lastly, there was Dunewatch, covering much of the Middle East. Almost nothing was known about this region. Its people were notoriously uncooperative, refusing contact with other territories. Stories painted them as strictly independent, with beliefs and goals so different from the rest of the world that peace seemed impossible.


    Silas traced his finger back to the section of the map marked for Cinderhaven. He still wasn¡¯t used to the idea of ¡°countries¡± being so dramatically reshaped, let alone the idea of territories forming without formal leadership. Each region¡¯s isolation and distrust of the others only deepened the fractures left by the Collapse.


    Feeling ready, Silas stepped out of his room and into the open air of the bustling community. The familiar rhythm of life surrounded him¡ªpeople walking to their tasks, hammering nails into makeshift structures, or sorting through scavenged supplies. They greeted him with nods or quick words, a simple acknowledgment of his presence as he made his way toward the group he would be venturing out with.


    ¡°Took you long enough,¡± Keith said, his voice carrying that usual mix of teasing and impatience. He sat on an overturned crate, methodically sharpening his dagger with a focus that sent a shiver down Silas¡¯s spine. The sound of metal scraping against stone was sharp and deliberate, a reminder of the unspoken threats from their earliest days together.


    Silas couldn¡¯t help but remember the conversation he overheard when they first met¡ªthe brothers, Keith and Thomas, standing over his unconscious body, debating whether to kill him if he showed any signs of being ¡°off.¡± The memory was faint now, but the chill it brought had a way of creeping back when he least expected it.


    A familiar figure approached, pulling Silas from his thoughts. His fluffy black afro was unmistakable, standing tall like a crown, and his deep brown skin glowed faintly under the morning sun. Warren Hale trudged toward them with a stride full of slothfulness, his face twisted into a familiar scowl. Even from a distance, it was obvious he had just woken up¡ªhis half-lidded eyes and the grumpy way he rubbed them gave it away.


    ¡°You look thrilled to be here,¡± Silas said with a faint smile as Warren joined the group, his mood as cloudy as the overcast sky.


    Warren shot him a glare that spoke millions of words, each one more venomous than the last. His dark eyes narrowed into slits, and the intensity of his stare made it clear that if looks could kill, Silas would be six feet under. It''s not that Warren disliked Silas or anyone for that matter.. he just wanted sleep.


    Noticing that everyone was ready, the group began their descent into a nearby abandoned city. The city, once full of life, now lay in ruin, a shell of its former self. To reach it, they took the forest path that wound its way through the dense, overgrown woods. The forest was thick with the scent of earth and foliage, its shadows deepened by the canopy above. The sound of their footsteps was swallowed by the weight of the trees around them, as if the forest itself was holding its breath.


    As they walked, a flash of white caught Silas¡¯ eye¡ªa small bunny, its fur almost glowing against the dark green of the underbrush. Its black eyes seemed wide and alert, but there was something wrong. The creature moved slowly, dragging one of its back legs behind it in an awkward, painful hop. The leg, twisted in an unnatural angle, looked like it had been broken¡ªwhether by an accident or some cruel predator, Silas couldn¡¯t tell.


    Silas paused, kneeling down to the rabbit, his eyes softening. He reached out slowly, his fingers brushing gently against the rabbit¡¯s snow-white fur. The animal¡¯s body tensed for a moment, but as Silas continued to stroke it, the rabbit relaxed, its breaths becoming slower and more even. The poor thing, Silas thought, had probably been running on pure fear for days, never allowing itself to rest, its senses always on high alert for predators. He couldn¡¯t imagine the kind of terror it had endured.


    ¡°Poor thing¡­ you must¡¯ve been scared,¡± Silas whispered, as if the rabbit could understand him. The creature blinked, then closed its eyes in a rare moment of peace. Its tiny body shivered for a second, then stilled entirely, succumbing to exhaustion. Silas watched, a pang of sympathy pulling at his chest. It was strange, how fragile life could be¡ªhow quickly something so small could be crushed by the weight of the world.


    He could feel the weight of that moment in his bones, the heavy silence that followed as the rabbit slipped into a sleep it had long needed. But there was no time for sentiment. Silas¡¯ thoughts darkened as his hand moved to his side, fingers wrapping around the cold hilt of his dagger.


    With a steady hand, he drove the blade into the skull of the animal, ending its suffering with a quick, efficient strike.


    A quiet prayer escaped Silas¡¯ lips, barely disturbing the stillness of the forest. He pulled the dagger back, the finality of the action hanging in the air. The rabbit, once a symbol of innocence, now lay still in his hands. It was a harsh world¡ªa truth Silas had learned long ago. Survival wasn¡¯t just about taking what was needed; sometimes it was about ending suffering, even if it broke your heart.


    He stood, wiping the blade on his pant leg, his gaze lingering on the small creature for a moment. ¡°Rest now,¡± he muttered, before cradling the rabbit and walking back toward the group.


    Thomas glanced up as Silas approached, raising an eyebrow when he handed over the rabbit. ¡°Didn¡¯t think you had it in you. Looks pretty healthy. Should make a good meal.¡± He nodded, satisfied. He examined it before coming to that conclusion.


    Silas and the group continued their walk, the silence of the forest giving way to the stark sight of broken and crumbled buildings as they drew nearer. The remnants of a once-thriving city now lay in ruin, a testament to the collapse of the old world. Never did Silas expect the world to come to this¡ªfractured, abandoned, and unrecognizable. But this was the reality they now lived in, and whether he was ready or not, he had no choice but to face it.

 Discovery

    Admiring the strange, haunting beauty of the broken-down city, the group of men stepped cautiously into its heart. Greenery sprawled across the ground like a carpet, with vines creeping up the sides of crumbling buildings. Nature had reclaimed much of what humanity had left behind, draping rusted cars and shattered glass in a blanket of moss and flowers. Skeletons¡ªfragile remnants of those who had perished during the Collapse¡ªlay scattered among the ruins. The unsettling thought that countless others might have been swept away by wind, rain, or time lingered in their minds, an unspoken weight they all carried.


    "Where to first?" Silas asked, his voice breaking the silence.


    Thomas pointed toward a towering corporate building in the distance. Its glass exterior, now cracked and smeared with grime, was almost entirely hidden beneath creeping vines and blooming flowers, nature''s quiet triumph over man-made ambition.


    "Should we check this one first?" Thomas suggested.


    Silas furrowed his brow, skepticism flickering across his face. "A corporate building? Really? I doubt we''ll find much there. Unless you''re looking for years'' worth of paperwork or a fast track to existential dread, there''s not much corporate environments are good for. Trust me I can tell you from experience"


    Thomas smirked but said nothing, leading the way toward the overgrown structure. Silas sighed and followed, his boots crunching against the sticks and debris ridden ground.


    Entering buildings like these demanded extreme caution. One misstep, one careless movement, and the group could join the countless skulls scattered throughout the ruins. Years of weathering had stripped these structures of their former stability, leaving them precarious and fragile. Every creak beneath their boots was a gamble with their lives, a reminder of how the world had turned even the simplest acts into deadly risks.


    Stepping through the doorway, Silas and the others began their search on the ground floor. The air inside was heavy, damp with the scent of mildew and rot. Occasionally, they stumbled across animals seeking refuge within the decaying walls.


    Most were harmless, but sometimes these encounters ended swiftly and mercilessly¡ªthe line between predator and prey drawn only by hunger and survival.


    Warren''s voice broke the silence as he picked up a thick coat from the ground, dusting it off. "There are coats over here!" he called out to the group. "Winter''s coming, so this is perfect timing." He slung one over his shoulder, his tone practical yet tinged with relief at finding something useful.


    The others continued scavenging in silence, their movements efficient. Some found piles of wood and stacks of old papers to use for fire. Others located small animals that could be skinned and butchered for a meager meal. Every item discovered felt like a small victory, a defiance of the Collapse''s relentless cruelty.


    Meanwhile, Silas and Thomas ascended the crumbling staircase to search the upper floors. The groaning of the steps beneath their weight made Silas tense, his every muscle prepared for the worst. Still, they pressed on, eyes scanning for anything of value¡ªmedicine, tools, or even canned food left forgotten in an office drawer.


    "So¡­ before the Collapse, what did you do? You know, what was your life like?" Thomas asked as they sifted through the remnants of the ruined building, their voices echoing faintly in the hollow space.


    Silas chuckled dryly, brushing the dust from an old filing cabinet. "Making me think about my life? How cruel." He paused for a moment before continuing, his tone light but edged with bitterness. "I was an office worker. Barely scraping by. The type of guy who''d be the first to go in a zombie outbreak. Honestly, I''m surprised I''ve made it this far."


    Thomas nodded along, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Any parents? Siblings? Friends?"


    The question made Silas freeze for a moment, his hands stilling over the papers he''d been rifling through. With a deep breath, he began to speak. "My dad was scum. He wasn''t even there to name me¡ªleft that to my sickly mom while he partied with¡­ people like him." His voice tightened, but he pushed on. "Shortly after my half-sister Sarina was born¡ªshe was one of the results of his many affairs¡ªmy mom passed. That left me, Sarina, and my dad. He¡­ well, he ended his life when he got in too deep with the wrong people and couldn''t pay his debts. That was the end of whatever little family we had."


    Thomas listened quietly, his usual easy demeanor softening.


    "I was sent to live with my grandparents, and Sarina went to live with her aunts. We were separated. But I like to think she''s out there somewhere." Silas''s voice grew quieter. "She''s tough. She wouldn''t give up so easily."


    Thomas reached out, patting Silas on the back in quiet comfort. "Sorry about that. I shouldn''t have brought it up." His own voice was tinged with guilt as he turned back to the shelves, continuing his search. "I''d just gotten back from the army three months before this whole mess started. My brother Keith stayed behind to take care of our mom while I was gone. Dad passed eight years ago, so it was just us." He paused, grabbing a can of soda from a broken vending machine. "Mom died not long after I got back. September 17th, I think. After that, it was just me and Keith."


    Pulling another can from the machine, Thomas tossed it to Silas. "Cheers to¡­ making it this far," he said, raising his can with a half-smile.


    "Cheers," Silas echoed, their cans colliding with a metallic clink that reverberated through the quiet building.


    They both took a sip, only to spit it out almost simultaneously, the expired soda burning their throats. "God, that''s disgusting," Silas muttered, coughing.


    Thomas wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, shaking his head. "Figures. Guess we''re still unlucky after all this time."


    ¡­


    Shortly after their conversation, Silas and Thomas made their way back downstairs to regroup with the others. The men had gathered in a cleared area of the building, their finds spread out before them for inspection. There were several cans of food, packages of bottled water, a few rabbits they''d hunted earlier, and a collection of worn but serviceable coats.


    "This should do for now," one of the men said, organizing the items into manageable bundles.


    Warren leaned against a crumbling wall, crossing his arms. "Alright, so where are we headed next?" His gaze settled on Silas, who was holding the group''s map.


    Unfolding the worn paper, Silas scanned the marked locations. "We''re here," he said, pointing to their current position on the map. Then, he tapped a spot nearby. "This place looks like it has survivors. We could head there, maybe trade some of this or get intel on other good places to scavenge."


    The group exchanged looks, some nodding in agreement.


    "Sounds like a plan," Thomas said, slinging one of the supply bags over his shoulder.


    Warren straightened, adjusting the coat he''d picked up earlier. "Lead the way."


    Silas folded the map and tucked it into his pocket, his eyes lingering for a moment on the faintly marked trail toward their destination.


    The group gathered their belongings and prepared to move, their footsteps echoing through the decayed halls as they ventured once more into the unknown.


    Along the way, the group scavenged more supplies, rummaging through nearby stores and abandoned buildings. Each stop brought them closer to their destination, their packs growing heavier with every useful find. The desolation of the ruined world had left behind hidden treasures, though nothing came without its share of danger.


    Eventually, their path took them through another stretch of dense forest. The air was cool, the overgrown canopy filtering soft beams of sunlight onto the moss-covered ground. The faint sound of birds echoed through the trees, masking the faint crunch of leaves underfoot. As they neared the edge of the forest, a faint light spilled through the gaps in the trees, hinting at open ground ahead.


    "Stay quiet," Thomas whispered, raising a hand to signal the others. The group fell into silence, their footsteps careful and measured.


    But as they moved forward, an uneasy feeling began to creep over Silas. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end, and the atmosphere grew tense. Thomas suddenly froze in place, his body stiff.Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    "What''s the holdup¡ª" Silas started, only to stop when he saw Thomas''s face pale.


    A cold object pressed firmly against Thomas''s back, perfectly positioned near his lung. The distinct sound that followed sent a shiver through Silas''s spine.


    Click.


    It was a revolver, the familiar metallic sound unmistakable to anyone who''d seen their fair share of action movies or westerns.


    Silas and the others instinctively turned their heads, their gazes darting between the trees. Figures emerged from the shadows, weapons glinting in the fractured sunlight. Rifles, handguns, and machetes¡ªeach weapon was far more advanced and polished than anything the group carried.


    They were surrounded.


    A man stepped forward, his disheveled appearance accompanied by a stench that clung to the air around him¡ªalcohol, cigarettes, and something else, faint but sour. His voice was rough as he addressed the group, lips curling into a sly smirk. "Relax. We ain''t gonna kill ya. If you made it this far, there''s no point in wasting you now." Despite the man''s words, some part of Silas bristled with unease, the instincts honed by survival warning him not to let his guard down.


    The man took a long drag from his cigarette, the ember flaring briefly before he exhaled a plume of smoke into the air. "Put the gun down," he ordered the one holding the revolver against Thomas'' back. The weapon was lowered with a click, but the tension in the air refused to dissipate.


    "See? If we''d asked nicely, you''d have bolted. That''s why we did this." He chuckled, his grin widening ever so slightly. "Sorry for the scare."


    The smile, though faint, unsettled Silas and the others. There was something about it¡ªan edge of mischief or menace, something hidden behind the man''s seemingly casual demeanor. It was a smile that didn''t comfort but made the group shiver, unsure whether to feel relieved or more afraid.


    The man leaned closer, his tone sharpening. "But let me make one thing clear: if you disobey, then maybe we will kill ya. All you gotta do is listen, and things will go smoothly." He snapped his fingers, and the men surrounding Silas'' group gave them a rough shove, urging them forward.


    They marched in silence, the forest''s oppressive quiet broken only by the sound of their footsteps and the faint creak of rustling gear. Minutes later, they emerged into a clearing. Silas'' eyes widened slightly as he took in what lay before them. It was a settlement¡ªmore developed than the one they had left behind, though still a far cry from the civilization that once was.


    Makeshift homes built from salvaged materials dotted the area, with people moving about purposefully. There were gardens, reinforced barricades, and small watchtowers¡ªeverything about it screamed practicality born of hard-won survival.


    Despite the effort and time clearly put into it, there was an edge of unease. It wasn''t the kind of place where you could simply drop your guard. No, this was a place ruled by someone who expected complete control.


    The man gestured toward a row of battered tables, his finger lazily tracing the air. Without hesitation, the group of men surrounding Silas and his companions shoved them forward, forcing them to walk toward the seats. The wooden chairs creaked under their weight as they sat, and the armed men settled in behind them, silent and watchful like wolves guarding a fresh kill.


    The leader, still puffing lazily on his cigarette, sauntered toward a makeshift podium perched slightly above the gathering. He tapped the microphone¡ªor what looked like one¡ªbut it was purely for effect. His voice carried naturally, rough and deliberate. It wasn''t a shout, but it commanded attention.


    "Ahem. Gentlemen and¡­ hmm, just gentlemen, I suppose?" His tone was lighthearted, almost mockingly jovial, as he surveyed his audience. "Welcome! Lose those tense expressions; I have no intentions of harming anyone. Believe it or not, I''m quite the pacifist." He chuckled softly, as if expecting them to share in his amusement. No one did. His smile faded as quickly as it came, replaced by a more serious demeanor.


    "Now, I have one question for you all," he said, his voice lowering into something more contemplative, even ominous. He paused, drawing out the moment, letting the room simmer in uncomfortable silence. Finally, he cleared his throat and continued.


    "Does anyone here believe in God?"


    The question hung in the air like smoke from his cigarette, thick and choking. Silas stared at him, the weight of those words pressing against his chest. What a sick joke. Most people''s belief in God had died the same day the world had¡ªNovember 17th.


    "No takers? Na-da?" the man said, his voice lilting into disappointment. He let out an exaggerated sigh and flicked the ashes of his cigarette onto the floor. "Don''t worry, it''s not like I''m some madman who kills anyone with different beliefs. That would be ridiculous, wouldn''t it?" His lips curled into a sly smile, one that somehow managed to unsettle more than outright aggression.


    "I just want you all to see the beauties God has offered us," he continued, his voice suddenly soft and reverent, as if he were delivering a sermon. "Especially after what some call The Collapse. A world shattered, yet still full of divine gifts, if only you open your eyes."


    Silas clenched his fists under the table, his knuckles white. The words felt like mockery, a twisted fantasy that no one in their right mind could entertain. He fought back the searing urge to storm the podium, dagger in hand, and carve the smug smile off the man''s face¡ªeven if it meant dying in the process. But he stayed rooted, his rage simmering beneath a carefully constructed mask.


    Nothing about this world was beautiful anymore. Flowers had lost their vibrant colors, dulled by ash and rot. People had lost their spirits, their humanity, leaving only shells that pretended to live. Beauty was a relic of the past, as dead as the skeletons littering the earth.


    And yet, this man stood there, weaving his delusions into a performance, daring to call the ruins of the world a gift.


    "Is anyone here familiar with Collapse Sites?" the man asked, his tone teetering between curiosity and theatrics. Silas''s fist unclenched, and his group exchanged confused glances, the term foreign to their ears. The man chuckled at their blank expressions, clapping his hands together like a delighted child.


    "I guess not¡­ How truly marvelous!" he exclaimed, his voice rising with mock emotion. "This is a gift from God! Oh, how wonderful¡ªI feel like curling up into a ball and crying like a newborn baby." He dramatically dabbed at the corners of his eyes, though it was unclear if there were any actual tears.


    Clearing his throat, the man straightened, adopting a more serious tone. "Ahem. A couple of months after The Collapse, peculiar sites began to appear all over the world! Some say they grant your deepest desires¡­ Others whisper of supplies and food hidden within their depths! The truth, my friends, is shrouded in mystery. But one thing is certain¡ªthese sites are a gift from God."


    He spoke with excitement, his voice rising and falling like a preacher on Sunday morning. His passion only served to unnerve Silas and the others further. Each word, each insane claim, felt like another nail in the coffin of their patience. It was impossible to tell if this man was delusional, manipulative, or both. But to Silas, one thing was clear: he was mad.


    "I''ve gathered your group here for one reason," the man continued, his tone shifting to something almost tender, like a father addressing his children. "Truth be told, I planned to visit one of these sites myself. But alas¡­" He gestured dramatically to his chest, feigning weakness. "I am a man of limited time. My days are numbered. And so, I''ve decided to pass this opportunity on to you¡ªto show you the path and open your eyes to the wonders of God!"


    A sharp clap of the man''s hands echoed through the room, startling his subordinates into standing at attention. "Place your weapons down! How dare you threaten the children of God?" he bellowed, his voice thick with indignation. The hypocrisy of his statement was lost on him¡ªor perhaps deliberately ignored¡ªas he seemed to forget that none of them were religious and that he was the one who ordered his men to keep weapons trained on them in the first place.


    The man''s attention suddenly shifted, his gaze zeroing in on Silas. "You. With the messy black hair. Come up here, child."


    Silas stiffened, his heart pounding. Thomas and the others turned to him, concern etched into their faces. A nervous gulp escaped him, audible in the tense silence, but he slowly stood, raising his hands in cautious compliance as he walked forward.


    "Yes, yes¡­ good boy," the man said with an unsettling smile, his tone dripping with condescension as Silas approached the podium. Without warning, the man placed a folded piece of paper into Silas''s hands. "Open it."


    Silas hesitated but did as he was told, unfolding the worn paper to reveal a map. His eyes narrowed as he took it in. It was eerily similar to the one he''d drawn, but this version had strange, seemingly random locations marked across the globe.


    "Those," the man began, his voice dropping to a reverent whisper, "are the locations of Collapse Sites. God told me to keep track of them. He said someone like you would come to see me."


    Silas''s grip on the paper tightened, his jaw clenching. The thought of this deranged man kidnapping them, forcing them to endure his rambling sermons, and now claiming to have dreamed about him¡ªof all people¡ªmade his skin crawl. There was nothing divine about this. It wasn''t fate. It was insanity wrapped in delusion, and Silas didn''t trust for a second that this so-called "gift" wouldn''t come at a price.


    "Now¡­ Be free, birdies! Spread your wings and fly away! I''m saying you can leave," the man declared, his tone unsettlingly cheerful.


    Silas glanced toward his group, their wary eyes scanning the room, unsure if it was truly safe to move. With a shared, silent agreement, they began taking cautious steps toward the forest where they had been ambushed. Each step felt heavy, their senses on edge, listening for the faintest hint of a trap.


    Then the man''s voice cut through the air again, stopping them in their tracks.


    "I am worthy of facing you now, God."


    Before they could process his words, the man reached for a pistol at his side. Silas froze, a sick realization dawning in his mind as the man turned the gun on his own men and pulled the trigger.


    Bang.


    Bang.


    Bang.


    One after another, the men dropped, their bodies collapsing like puppets with their strings severed. Blood spattered across the floor, pooling around their lifeless forms. The man, his expression twisted with a bizarre sense of triumph, raised the pistol to his own temple.


    Bang.


    Silas and his group hit the ground instinctively, covering their heads as the sharp crack of the gun echoed through the room. For a moment, silence reigned, broken only by the soft ringing in their ears. Thirty agonizing seconds passed before they dared to move.


    Standing, they cautiously approached the podium. The gruesome scene before them was undeniable. Blood coated the floor and the splintered wood of the podium. The man lay slumped over, the remnants of his madness smeared across his stage of delusion.


    Warren broke the silence, his voice shaking. "N-Now that I think about it¡­ wasn''t it strange? There were so many homes, so many traces of civilization here¡­ but it was only him and his group of men?"


    A chill ran through the group as the eerie realization settled over them. They didn''t need to say it out loud. It felt better that way.

 Fool or Dreamers?

    Step. Step. Step. Step.


    8 men emerged from the forest: Silas, Warren, Thomas, Keith, and four others. The walk back was slow and eerie, the weight of the silence pressing down on them. No one spoke a word¡ªnot a slick remark, a joke, or even a compliment about the supplies they¡¯d gathered. It was just quiet, broken only by the sound of their footsteps, each one heavier than the last. The air felt thick, like something unspoken hung between them, a shared understanding that no words could fully capture.


    A part of Silas was genuinely intrigued by what the man had said before his death, especially about this ¡®God¡¯ he mentioned. What kind of god would ask someone to kill, then turn the weapon on themselves? The man had died with such conviction in his words, as if it was all part of some grand plan. Part of Silas wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it, to dismiss it as the ramblings of a madman. But another part of him couldn¡¯t shake the question: what if it wasn¡¯t just delusion? What if the man was actually onto something?


    Were the Collapse Sites real? Were they some kind of divine gift or curse? Silas had seen the way people clung to any scrap of meaning in a world that no longer made sense. And the idea that something out there could give them answers¡ªcould give him answers¡ªwas¡­ tempting. But he couldn¡¯t afford to believe it. The world was broken, and he knew better than most that hope was a fragile thing. But still, as much as he tried to brush it off, the idea gnawed at him.


    Shaking his head, Silas pushed the thoughts away. Focus, he told himself. It was easier said than done.


    The walk back to the community was long and silent, the weight of what they had just seen pressing down on everyone. The group moved like shadows, their steps slow and heavy. No one spoke. Not a word. There was no need. They were all thinking the same thing¡ªwhat now? It was as if the whole world had been reduced to the echo of their footsteps and the distant, ever-present hum of uncertainty.


    As they neared the community, a few of the residents gathered around them. Their faces, though worn and tired, were full of curiosity. Silas couldn¡¯t bring himself to meet their eyes for too long. There was a kind of expectation there that made his skin crawl, like they were all waiting for him to be something he wasn¡¯t. He wasn¡¯t a leader. He wasn¡¯t a savior. He was just a guy trying to survive.


    He wanted to pass the responsibility of speaking to someone else, but the others were too shaken, too silent. So, reluctantly, Silas stepped forward. He didn¡¯t know what to say, so he let the words fall out of his mouth, hollow and unconvincing.


    ¡°We found some canned food, drinks, a couple of animals¡­ and, uh, some coats,¡± he said, his voice quieter than usual, barely more than a murmur. ¡°It¡¯s gonna be cold, so¡­ yeah, take them. Should help.¡± His smile felt forced, like a mask that didn¡¯t fit right. He handed the supplies over mechanically, keeping his eyes on the ground, anywhere but their faces. It was easier that way. They didn¡¯t need to see how much it drained him just to get through this moment.


    When it was done, Silas moved away, seeking the solace of a nearby bench. He sat, looking up at the dull, gray sky. He didn¡¯t know how to move forward, didn¡¯t know what to do next. Part of him wanted to go after those Collapse Sites. They were only a short walk away, just half an hour or so. Maybe it was a trap, maybe it wasn¡¯t. Maybe it was just another wild goose chase. But that part of him¡­ the part that still wanted something to change¡­ wondered if it could lead to something.


    He rubbed his eyes and let out a breath, the weight of it all pressing down on him. He wasn¡¯t sure what he was searching for anymore. Hope? Answers? A way out? Maybe he just wanted some damn reason to keep going. But deep down, Silas knew it was fading. Little by little, his belief in any of this¡ªany of this meaning anything¡ªwas slipping away. Still, he pushed on. What else could I do?


    ¡°Uurgh¡­¡± Silas muttered, more to himself than anyone else. ¡°Why do I even try anymore?¡± He let the words hang in the air, but there was no laugh to follow them, no sarcasm. The world had drained that from him, too. It wasn¡¯t a joke. It was a question he didn¡¯t have an answer to.


    But even as the thought lingered in his mind, he could still feel the faintest trace of something¡ªsomething stubborn, something like a flicker of hope¡ªthat kept him from giving up completely. It was small, fragile, like the last ember of a fire that had long since burned out. But it was there. And as long as it remained, Silas knew he wouldn¡¯t stop looking.


    ¡°Giving up so easily?¡± The old bench creaked under the weight of someone else sitting down beside him. Silas didn¡¯t need to look up to know who it was. He could feel the presence, the weight of it¡ªWarren. When he turned his head, Warren¡¯s usual grin was absent, replaced by something a little more serious, a little softer.


    ¡°I don¡¯t blame you,¡± Warren added with a light chuckle, though it lacked its usual warmth. He glanced at Silas, searching for some sign of change in his expression. But it was the same as it had been for hours. Blank. Empty. The kind of look that told Warren everything he needed to know. Silas was in that place again¡ªthe place where nothing mattered.


    Warren¡¯s chuckle faded, and his face tightened with hesitation. ¡°Can I be honest with you?¡± he began, scratching the back of his neck as if unsure whether he should continue. ¡°It¡¯s something I never told you, Thomas, or Keith.¡± He looked away from Silas, clearly uncomfortable with what he was about to reveal.


    Silas didn¡¯t respond immediately. He didn¡¯t need to. He¡¯d learned that sometimes silence was all you needed to let someone open up.


    ¡°November 17th,¡± Warren continued, his voice quieter now, filled with a kind of weight Silas hadn¡¯t expected. ¡°You know, the day of The Collapse¡­ I wasn¡¯t the only one alone.¡± He paused, eyes dropping to the ground. ¡°There were two other students with me in the building. We eventually huddled up together. Everyone was shaken, obviously. Who wouldn¡¯t be? I mean, the world was falling apart right in front of us.¡± He finally met Silas¡¯ eyes. ¡°But it didn¡¯t last long.¡±


    The words hit harder than Silas expected, but he didn¡¯t flinch. He just waited, his body tense, as Warren¡¯s voice dropped further. ¡°The two of them¡ªthose two friends¡ªthey went into the bathroom. I thought they were just¡­ you know, relieving themselves. But they didn¡¯t come back. Twenty minutes passed, then thirty. And finally, I opened the door.¡± Warren swallowed hard. ¡°I found them dead on the floor. You can probably guess how it happened. Suicide.¡±


    Silas¡¯ gaze softened, his eyes briefly flickering with a mixture of sympathy and a quiet understanding. He hadn¡¯t known that part of Warren¡¯s story, hadn¡¯t known how much weight the kid had been carrying. The Collapse¡ªthe event that had shattered everything¡ªwasn¡¯t just something that had taken away their world. It had taken pieces of them, too. Silas could feel that truth in the pit of his stomach.Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know why I didn¡¯t do the same,¡± Warren said, shaking his head as he seemed lost in the memory. ¡°I just started walking, aimlessly, through the hallways. My mind was completely broken. I was on autopilot until¡­¡± He paused again, as if the next words were heavy, like they carried too much significance. ¡°Until I met you.¡±


    Silas blinked, surprised. Warren¡¯s gaze locked with his, the tension between them palpable.


    ¡°You startled me. Obviously, I punched the shit out of you,¡± Warren laughed softly, trying to brush it off, but his eyes were serious now, earnest in a way Silas hadn¡¯t seen before. ¡°But that punch, man¡­ it made me feel alive again. Like I woke up, like my body remembered what it was to feel something other than numb.¡±


    Silas, in spite of himself, felt a brief flicker of warmth. He hadn¡¯t expected that. He didn¡¯t know how to respond, so he just looked at Warren, letting the words settle between them. Warren¡¯s face twisted with that familiar nervous energy, and for a moment, Silas didn¡¯t know whether to say anything at all.


    ¡°When I met you, and the others, I felt something I hadn¡¯t felt in a long time or at all during that day,¡± Warren admitted, his voice quieter now. ¡°Hope. Like, even after everything that happened, maybe I didn¡¯t have to give up. Maybe there was a reason to keep going. And now I¡¯m here, with all of you.¡± Warren paused again, his eyes darting away as he rubbed his neck. ¡°I¡¯m just saying¡­ You shouldn¡¯t lose hope yet. You gave me a reason to keep pushing forward, so I guess I should return the favor.¡±


    Silas stared at Warren for a long moment, surprised by the rawness of his words. He didn¡¯t often let people see this side of him. Warren, despite his teasing and bravado, wasn¡¯t as tough as he appeared. He was just as lost, just as human, as everyone else. And for the first time in a long time, Silas felt something¡ªsomething like a flicker of connection.


    Without thinking, Silas reached out and ruffled Warren¡¯s hair. It was a simple, almost absent gesture, but it was enough to catch Warren off guard. ¡°Ack¡ªThe hell?!¡± Warren swatted at his hand, face flushing with a mix of surprise and irritation.


    Silas allowed himself a small, genuine smile¡ªa rare thing. ¡°Thanks, Warren,¡± he said, the words softer than usual. ¡°You¡¯re not such an asshole after all. It¡¯s good to know.¡±


    Warren let out an exaggerated tsch, looking away, but the corner of his mouth twitched upward. ¡°Yeah, whatever¡­¡± he muttered, but there was a hint of something lighter in his tone.


    Silas didn¡¯t respond. He didn¡¯t need to. The moment felt enough, something small but real amidst the weight of everything else. He was still here. Still alive. And, for the first time today, maybe that wasn¡¯t such a bad thing after all.


    ¡­


    In Silas Grayson¡¯s small, dimly lit room, four figures sat together, their faces illuminated by the flickering light of a lantern. Silas leaned against the wall, arms crossed, his expression skeptical. Warren sat on the edge of a creaky chair, arms resting on his knees, looking visibly annoyed. Across from them were Thomas and Keith, speaking with animated gestures as they tried to convince the other two of their plan.


    What were they arguing about?


    The Collapse Site.


    Silas had no interest in it¡ªat least, that¡¯s what he told himself. The words of the madman from earlier still lingered in his mind, unsettling and cryptic. Exploring some derelict ruins, ones allegedly labeled ¡°a gift from God,¡± was not something he¡¯d ever imagined adding to his to-do list. It sounded ridiculous, dangerous, and probably pointless.


    ¡°I¡¯m telling you,¡± Thomas said, his tone almost pleading, ¡°if there¡¯s even a chance there¡¯s something valuable there, we have to check it out. Food, medicine, anything¡ªit could be a game changer for everyone here.¡±


    ¡°Or it could be a wild goose chase,¡± Warren cut in, his voice sharp. ¡°We already have enough problems without chasing some lunatic¡¯s fever dream.¡±


    Keith frowned but kept his tone level. ¡°I get it, Warren. I really do. But what if it¡¯s real? We¡¯ve seen stranger things since The Collapse. Are we just going to ignore the possibility?¡±


    Warren scoffed and leaned back in his chair, folding his arms. ¡°You¡¯re talking about walking straight into a death trap based on the ramblings of a guy who literally shot his entire crew before killing himself.¡±


    The room fell silent for a moment, the tension hanging thick in the air.


    Silas, who had been quiet up until now, glanced down at the floor, his brow furrowed. He wasn¡¯t the type to take risks unless he absolutely had to. He liked things simple, calculated, and as safe as possible in their chaotic world. But this time¡­ this time was different.


    Despite everything¡ªthe madman, the danger, the absurdity of it all¡ªthere was something gnawing at him. Curiosity.


    Silas didn¡¯t want to admit it, not even to himself, but he was intrigued. The Collapse Site wasn¡¯t just any ruin. It was tied to something bigger, something mysterious, and for the first time in what felt like forever, Silas felt a spark of interest in something.


    ¡°I don¡¯t like this,¡± Silas finally said, his voice low but firm. The others turned to him, surprised that he was speaking at all. ¡°But¡­¡± He hesitated, his gaze distant. ¡°I¡¯m¡­ curious. If there¡¯s even a chance there¡¯s something worth finding, it might be worth the risk.¡±


    Thomas¡¯s eyes lit up, and even Keith¡¯s usually stoic face showed a hint of relief.


    ¡°You¡¯re kidding me,¡± Warren muttered, shooting Silas a look. ¡°You? Of all people? I thought you were the let¡¯s not die today guy.¡±


    Silas shrugged, his expression guarded. ¡°I still am. But¡­¡± He trailed off, unwilling to admit outright that he was as intrigued as they were. ¡°If we¡¯re doing this, we¡¯re doing it smart. No rushing in blind, no heroics, and if anything feels off, we leave. Agreed?¡±


    Thomas nodded eagerly. ¡°Agreed.¡±


    Keith gave a small nod as well.


    Warren sighed dramatically, rubbing his temples. ¡°This is a terrible idea. But fine. If you¡¯re in, I guess I¡¯m in, too. Someone¡¯s gotta keep you idiots alive.¡±


    Silas let out a faint, almost imperceptible chuckle. ¡°Great. Let¡¯s hope that man at least spoke some truth.¡±


    As the group settled into a tense but unified agreement, Silas couldn¡¯t shake the feeling in his gut¡ªpart apprehension, part anticipation. For once, he was stepping into the unknown willingly, and for better or worse, he had to see it through.


    The group agreed to set out on their journey the following morning. Nightfall was creeping in, and venturing out in the dark would be reckless. Silas couldn¡¯t help but feel a chill run through him at the thought of all the things that could go wrong. If something happened to them under the cover of darkness, no one would find them in time to help. He hated how his mind worked¡ªalways conjuring worst-case scenarios¡ªbut he also knew he wasn¡¯t wrong. The truth had a way of being uncomfortably sharp.


    Warren broke the silence, his tone heavy with lingering doubt. ¡°So¡­ what do we bring? Any specific supplies?¡± His reluctance was still clear, but with everyone else committed to the trip, he wasn¡¯t about to stay behind alone.


    Thomas tapped his chin in thought before answering. ¡°If it¡¯s the four of us, we should bring at least two others. Safety in numbers and all that. Don¡¯t you think, Silas?¡±


    Suddenly, the group¡¯s eyes turned to Silas, who had been staring off into space, lost in another grim train of thought. ¡°Huh? What? Uh¡­ what¡¯d you say?¡± He blinked, his voice thick with confusion.


    The others exchanged looks of disbelief and mild annoyance. Keith shook his head with a smirk, standing and stretching his arms. ¡°Guess that¡¯s our cue¡ªit¡¯s getting late. Just make sure you¡¯re ready tomorrow, alright? Don¡¯t be scatterbrained.¡± His teasing tone hung in the air as the group started to disperse, each heading to their rooms.


    Silas stayed seated for a moment longer before retreating to his own room. As he flopped onto the creaky mattress, he stared at the ceiling. His stomach churned¡ªnot from hunger, nor from anything he ate. It was that sinking, gnawing feeling of unease, the kind that settled in when something wasn¡¯t quite right.


    The thought of tomorrow¡¯s adventure loomed over him like a storm cloud. He didn¡¯t like it. In fact, he hated it. Still, a part of him was curious, and maybe that¡¯s what unnerved him the most. Curiosity could be dangerous. But he¡¯d already agreed to go, and there was no backing out now.


    With a deep sigh, Silas shut his eyes, willing his restless mind to quiet. Eventually, the tension in his body melted away, and sleep claimed him¡ªthough the bad feeling lingered, just out of reach.

 Deception

    Memories swirled in his mind like a storm refusing to calm, each one crashing against him with the weight of a tidal wave. His chest tightened, his eyes stung, and when he opened them, the faint blur of light from his window felt almost mocking. His mouth, dry from restless sleep, filled with saliva as he sat upright, as if his body itself was preparing for something dreadful. Silas Grayson had awakened¡ªnot just from his slumber, but into the reality he couldn¡¯t escape.


    The rusted, green alarm clock on his bedside table blared its shrill tone, cutting through the morning silence like a knife. He slammed his hand down on it, silencing its taunts, but it couldn¡¯t drown out the gnawing unease clawing at his chest. Today was the day.


    Today, he would abandon the small comfort of reason and march straight into the unknown. Today, he would follow a path drawn by the scribbles of a madman, to a place whispered to hold miracles¡ªor horrors. He ran a hand through his disheveled hair and sighed deeply. If only he could shake the sinking feeling that today marked the beginning of something far worse than just a bad idea.


    Removing the itchy blanket and stretching his stiff, aching limbs, Silas dragged himself out of bed and shuffled toward the bathroom. His reflection greeted him with an unkind familiarity¡ªhis hair, now longer and reaching a couple of inches past his neck, was a disheveled mess. He rubbed his jaw, feeling the scratchy texture of a beard that had grown fuller than it ever had before. He¡¯d always wanted facial hair, but it had taken years to get to this point. Now that it was here, it seemed more a sign of his neglect than a mark of maturity.


    His gaze shifted to the dark, heavy bags beneath his eyes. They had deepened over time, a clear reminder of how elusive sleep had become. Or was it just the quality of what little rest he managed to steal? He didn¡¯t know anymore, and he wasn¡¯t sure it mattered. Each passing day seemed to carve the wear and tear deeper into his face, as if his body was slowly betraying him, piece by piece.


    The cold bathroom air prickled his skin, but Silas barely felt it as he stared into the cracked mirror. The man looking back at him felt more distant with every glance.


    ¡°Where did the time go?¡± Silas muttered dryly, mocking his own grim reflection before splashing cold water onto his face. The icy shock jolted him awake, drawing a shiver that coursed through his tired body. He grabbed his toothbrush, scrubbed away the sourness lingering in his mouth, and spat out the minty foam.


    Taking a damp rag, he wiped down his face, the coolness lingering as he dried himself with a towel. With sluggish movements, he pulled a plain black T-shirt over his head, followed by a greenish-brown coat that had seen better days. He wrapped a scarf around his neck, its fabric frayed but reliable. Fully dressed, he strapped on his boots and grabbed his gear¡ªa well-worn dagger and the marked map of their destination.


    Stepping out of the makeshift home, Silas was greeted by a gloom that seemed to press down on everything. The sky hung low, darker than it should¡¯ve been for this time of day. Was it daylight savings? He¡¯d lost track of those things long ago, along with so many other trivial details from the world before.


    He wandered over to the same creaky bench he had claimed the day before. With a heavy sigh, he lowered himself onto it, leaning back as his hand instinctively went to rub his chin. ¡°For someone so eager about this, they sure are late,¡± he muttered, his voice tinged with impatience. The thought that they might¡¯ve backed out flickered through his mind, but he quickly dismissed it. ¡°Nope, they¡¯re not the type.¡±


    His musings were cut short when an arm suddenly slung around his shoulders, startling him. He flinched slightly, turning his head to find Keith grinning down at him. ¡°You¡¯re jumpy this morning,¡± Keith teased, his easygoing tone contrasting sharply with Silas¡¯s dour mood.


    Trailing behind him were four other men. Silas immediately recognized Warren and Thomas among them. ¡°Ah¡ªso you actually came,¡± he said flatly, earning a dramatic sigh from Warren.


    ¡°You don¡¯t sound excited,¡± Thomas remarked, smirking as he joined them.


    ¡°Of course not. I don¡¯t want to go,¡± Silas replied, his tone as monotone as ever.


    Thomas chuckled, nudging Warren. ¡°So if we find anything, we¡¯re not splitting it with him. Got it.¡±


    ¡°Like I¡¯ll accept that,¡± Silas shot back, his deadpan delivery prompting laughter from the group. Except for Warren of course because he was on the same boat.


    Despite the banter, the weight of the journey ahead loomed heavily over them all. The playful exchange was a fragile attempt to mask the unease settling in their stomachs as they prepared to head toward the unknown.


    ¡°Got the map?¡± Thomas asked, his voice breaking the momentary silence.


    ¡°Of course I do. We¡¯d be lost without it,¡± Silas replied, pulling the folded paper from his pocket and giving it a quick wave as proof.


    Thomas nodded in approval, leaning in to get a better look at the worn map. He traced a finger over the faded markings, pausing at a specific spot. ¡°This is where we¡¯re headed.¡±


    The location he pointed to was labeled Collapse Site #8 in scratchy, uneven handwriting. Silas¡¯s eyes lingered on it for a moment, his thoughts wandering. There were twenty different Collapse Sites marked across Cinderhaven alone. Who knew how many others existed beyond this ruined city¡ªor how many more had yet to be discovered?


    ¡°Eight out of twenty,¡± Keith muttered, glancing over their shoulders. ¡°We sure lucked out, huh? Only twelve more to go if this one¡¯s a bust.¡± His sarcasm wasn¡¯t lost on anyone.


    ¡°Let¡¯s not think about the rest just yet,¡± Warren said, crossing his arms. ¡°We¡¯ll take it one step at a time. No use stressing over things we can¡¯t deal with now.¡±


    Silas, still gripping the map, simply nodded. But deep down, the weight of the unknown tugged at his already fraying resolve. There was no guarantee this Collapse Site would offer anything useful¡ªor safe. Yet here they were, standing on the precipice of yet another decision driven by desperation and curiosity.


    ¡°Right,¡± Silas finally muttered. ¡°One step at a time.¡±


    Silas clenched his jaw, fighting the urge to scold everyone. Seriously!? They planned on going to twelve other sites if this didn¡¯t work? Were they out of their minds? The idea of trudging from one dangerous, unknown place to another, chasing some vague hope of answers¡ªor worse¡ªif this first one didn¡¯t pan out made his head spin. These guys must¡¯ve lost their sanity dealing with that madman, he thought.


    He glanced over at Warren, expecting some kind of shared skepticism, a sign that at least one of them had some semblance of rational thought. But instead, all he saw was the same determined expression that had been on the others¡¯ faces. Warren was just as committed as the rest.


    Goddammit, Silas thought, staring at Warren.


    He was the only sane one here. Everyone else had clearly gone off the deep end. Warren slightly shivered, feeling eyes on him. It was Silas who was shooting daggers with his eyes alone.


    And so, the group began their walk towards the trees. Thomas and Keith were determined, their steps sure and unwavering. Warren, as always, remained silent, his thoughts hidden behind a calm exterior. Silas, however, was not so composed. Every instinct screamed at him to turn back, to forget about this ridiculous journey. But with an uneasy sigh, he followed, his doubts growing with every step.


    The path was long, expected to take around 30 minutes, but nothing they hadn¡¯t handled before. It wasn¡¯t a grueling hike, just a walk through the forest. Even so, the silence between them felt heavy, and the weight of the decision lingered in Silas¡¯ mind.


    With that, the group continued their expedition.


    ¡­


    Silas scanned the surroundings as they walked, the dense forest slowly giving way to barren rocky terrain. The trees thinned, and the ground became uneven, pebbles crunching underfoot with every step. The sharp sound of the rocks shifting beneath their boots echoed in the still air, a constant reminder that they were far from the safety of their makeshift home.This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    He pulled out the map again, his eyes studying the marked location of Collapse Site #8. The sketches on the map were surprisingly detailed, showing every curve and crack in the earth. Yet, despite the skill of the artist, there was something about the markings that unsettled him. It was clear that the creator had once been focused, methodical, but something had driven them to the edge, a madness hidden beneath the lines.


    Tracing the gray markings on the map, he looked around, recognizing the same jagged rocks scattered across the landscape. They were getting closer, and a knot of both excitement and dread twisted in his stomach. He was on the brink of discovering something monumental, yet the feeling of unease lingered, gnawing at him with every step.


    ¡°We¡¯re getting closer,¡± Silas muttered under his breath, then called out to the group, his voice low but firm. ¡°Just keep walking straight. We¡¯re almost there.¡±


    The others nodded, faces set in quiet determination, but Silas could sense the weight of their thoughts, the unspoken tension between them all. As they continued on, each step seemed to echo louder than the last, drawing them toward the unknown.


    The group pressed on, the crunch of rocks beneath their boots accompanying their every step. Silas, as usual, found his thoughts drifting in the quiet between them. After a few minutes, he broke the silence.


    ¡°So, what do you think is actually in there?¡± he asked, glancing over at Thomas, who was walking ahead.


    Thomas scratched his chin thoughtfully, his eyes scanning the rocky terrain around them. ¡°I¡¯m hoping it¡¯s more supplies. Something that¡¯ll make the upcoming winter¡­ more bearable, I guess you could say.¡± He chuckled lightly, clearly trying to lift the mood. ¡°What about you? What do you want to be there?¡±


    Silas was quiet for a moment, his boots scraping against the ground. He¡¯d never been one to let himself hope too much. ¡°I don¡¯t believe anything is there,¡± he said flatly, his voice almost detached. ¡°So I¡¯m not getting my hopes up.¡±


    Thomas frowned jokingly, throwing a glance over his shoulder. ¡°If that¡¯s the case, then why¡¯d you even come with?¡±


    ¡°Merely for the walk,¡± Silas replied with a smirk, his tone casual as he shrugged, though he knew it didn¡¯t quite sound convincing. He could feel Thomas eyeing him, but he didn¡¯t give in.


    Thomas didn¡¯t press further, but Silas could sense the amusement in his expression. He could tell Thomas knew he was lying, but he let it slide. It wasn¡¯t like Silas wanted to be here¡ªhe didn¡¯t particularly care about whatever lay at the end of this journey. But there was something in his gut, some nagging curiosity that pushed him to go along, no matter how much he wished he didn¡¯t.


    Silas¡¯s instincts kicked in as the crunching of rocks became louder, distinct from the steady rhythm of their steps. It wasn¡¯t just their feet anymore¡ªthere was something else. Something that wasn¡¯t supposed to be there. He glanced quickly at Thomas, who was a few steps ahead of him. That¡¯s when the sound picked up pace, too fast to be a coincidence.


    ¡°Thom¡ª¡±


    Silas¡¯s warning was cut off as he felt a sharp tug on his jacket. Thomas had yanked him to the side just in time as a rabid dog¡¯s jaws snapped mere inches from his face.


    ¡°Ahhrugh¡ª!¡± Silas gasped, barely able to steady himself as his heart raced. He staggered but regained his footing quickly. His eyes darted around. Everyone was still here, thank God. No one had gotten separated in the chaos. But there were more dogs now, surrounding them in a tight circle. The creatures snarled, saliva dripping from their foaming mouths as they paced around the group like hungry, desperate predators.


    Silas didn¡¯t dare take his eyes off them, his senses heightened. The others instinctively reached for their weapons, the tension palpable in the air. In that split second, when Silas¡¯s gaze shifted for just a moment, the dogs charged.


    Saliva flew as the pack lunged forward, and everyone instinctively sidestepped or ducked, narrowly avoiding the snapping jaws.


    ¡®They¡¯re slow?¡¯ Silas thought, an odd realization piercing through his adrenaline. ¡®I guess the lack of food is taking its toll. Their bodies are withered¡­ weakened.¡¯


    The group reacted swiftly, their weapons flashing through the air. The dogs yelped as slashes made contact, sending them reeling back. But they didn¡¯t retreat¡ªthey dodged and circled around, determined to close the gap.


    ¡°Don¡¯t get too close!¡± Silas shouted, eyes narrowing. He remembered his childhood warnings about rabid animals. The disease was vicious, almost always fatal if it wasn¡¯t treated. And these creatures, with their ragged fur and crazed eyes, seemed like the perfect vessels for it.


    The air was tense with danger, each second stretched as the group fought back, trying to keep the dogs at bay.


    Warren¡¯s foot shifted into the ground, pressing lightly before he launched it forward with unexpected force. The kick didn¡¯t connect with the dog, but that wasn¡¯t his intention. As his foot made contact with the rocky earth, a spray of dirt and small pebbles shot forward, striking the dog square in the face. The creature yelped, stumbling back as dirt flew into its eyes, causing it to blindly retreat for a moment. The other dogs, momentarily distracted by the noise and chaos, hesitated, giving the group a brief window to strike.


    Thomas seized the opportunity. With a swift dash, he closed the distance to the dog focused on him. He planted his foot into its side with enough force to make it stumble, then brought his dagger down in one fluid motion. The blade met flesh, and with a sickening crack, the dog¡¯s body went still. Blood splattered across the rocky terrain, mixing with the dust and dirt. The sound of snapping bone echoed in the air, and Thomas stepped back, wiping his blade clean as the dog collapsed.


    The rest of the group followed suit, utilizing every tactic they could to keep the remaining dogs at bay. Keith used his makeshift spear to jab and push the animals back, while Warren stomped and kicked, ensuring they couldn¡¯t get too close. The dogs fought with desperation, but the humans were quicker, more organized. It wasn¡¯t long before they were all subdued, their bodies lying lifeless across the rocks.


    But Silas didn¡¯t join in the chaos of slashes and strikes. He observed for a brief moment, then took a different approach. His fingers worked swiftly, removing his scarf and wrapping it around the neck of the dog closest to him. The animal struggled, its teeth snapping at the air, but Silas was determined. He looped the fabric around its throat twice, then pulled with all his strength. The dog¡¯s body writhed and barked weakly, but Silas didn¡¯t let go, his grip tightening until the animal¡¯s movements slowed. Spittle sprayed from its mouth, soft, desperate barks escaping its throat. With one final tug, its body went limp.


    Silas released the scarf, and the dog collapsed, its lifeless form sinking to the ground. His breath was steady, but his eyes lingered on the creature for a moment longer. It had been a clean end, but still¡­ a necessary one. As he stood, he wiped the remnants of saliva from his hand and glanced at the others, who had already begun to regroup, their eyes scanning for any more threats.


    The group¡¯s eyes settled on Silas, still panting slightly from the struggle. For a moment, the air felt heavier, and the weight of the recent violence hung over them. Silas, noticing their gaze, glanced up with a furrowed brow. ¡°What? Is there something on my face?¡± he asked, a slight rose hue creeping up his cheeks, unsure of why he was getting so much attention.


    Warren broke the silence with a chuckle, raising an eyebrow. ¡°Not that¡­ Just didn¡¯t expect you to go to such extremes,¡± he said, his eyes still lingering on Silas. A mischievous grin spread across his face as he continued, ¡°Sure you didn¡¯t get possessed? Or maybe there¡¯s some part of you who loves to kill.¡±


    Silas¡¯s eyes narrowed in annoyance, but the joke didn¡¯t seem to faze him as much as it might have before. He stood up straighter, brushing the dirt off his coat with one hand as he spoke, ¡°I didn¡¯t have a choice, you know. If I could¡¯ve escaped without any casualties, then I would¡¯ve.¡± His tone was flat but sincere, and his gaze shifted to the others as he adjusted his dagger on his side, the tension from the battle still lingering in his body.


    Warren raised his hands in mock surrender, his grin softening. ¡°Alright, alright. I get it,¡± he said, a light chuckle still in his voice. ¡°But you¡¯ve got to admit, you handled it¡­ well, differently. Don¡¯t know whether to be impressed or scared.¡±


    Silas shot him a look that was hard to read, then simply turned to face the path ahead, signaling that it was time to continue. As they moved forward, the group fell into a comfortable silence, the earlier tension easing¡ªat least for the moment. But Silas couldn¡¯t shake the feeling that the moment had marked a subtle shift in the group dynamic. Whether they were willing to admit it or not, they had all crossed a line today.


    ¡°Let¡¯s continue.¡± Keith patted Silas on the back, his hand heavy and reassuring. He pointed straight ahead, his voice carrying a sense of purpose. ¡°Go straight, correct?¡±


    Silas gave a curt nod, the weight of the past events still lingering on him. ¡°Yeah, just keep going straight.¡±


    ¡°Alright¡­ well, let¡¯s stay on the lookout,¡± Keith added, his tone shifting to one of caution as he scanned the surroundings. The others nodded in agreement, their expressions hardening as they took up their positions, ready for whatever the path ahead held.


    ¡­


    A pathway made of stone, weathered and ancient, loomed in front of the squad, its shadow stretching like the maw of some great beast. The jagged edges of the entrance and the eerie quiet surrounding it made the place feel less like a destination and more like a grave. Silas glanced down at his map, tracing the lines to confirm what he already knew, then looked back up. This was it. Collapse Site #8.


    Warren stepped up beside him, his eyes wide as he took in the foreboding sight. ¡°Ooooo~ Looks¡­ eerie,¡± Warren muttered, his voice trying for humor but tinged with unease.


    Silas nodded, his skepticism melting away, replaced by a strange mix of dread and satisfaction. Against all odds, they¡¯d made it. Despite his doubts, he smirked slightly, the corner of his lip curling as he turned to address the others. ¡°Yeah¡­ Don¡¯t you agre¡ª¡±


    His words caught in his throat.


    Thomas and Keith stood just a few feet away, their faces blank, their clothes drenched in red. The metallic tang of blood hung in the air, sharp and overwhelming. It wasn¡¯t their blood¡ªnor was it from the rabid dogs they¡¯d encountered earlier.


    Silas¡¯s eyes darted downward, and there they were¡ªthe pale, lifeless bodies of the two men who had joined them on this journey. They lay crumpled on the rocky ground, faces frozen in shock, throats slit clean.


    Silas froze, his mind racing. It didn¡¯t take a genius to put it together.


    Thomas and Keith had murdered them.

 Just The Beginning

    Thomas and Keith had murdered them.


    No.


    Thomas and Keith had murdered them?


    Despite the grotesque scene in front of him, Silas couldn¡¯t fully process it. His mind reeled, searching for some alternative explanation, but there wasn¡¯t one. The blood on their hands, the lifeless bodies on the ground¡ªit was undeniable. And yet, it made no sense.


    The same Thomas and Keith who always lent a hand to anyone in need? The same ones who had helped Silas time and again? Murderers?


    His breaths came in shallow gasps.


    Exhale.


    Inhale.


    Exhale.


    Inhale.


    exhaleinhaleexhaleinhaleexhaleinhaleexhaleinhaleexhaleinhaleexhaleinhaleexhaleinhaleexhaleinhaleexhaleinhaleexhaleinhaleexhaleinhaleexhaleinhaleexhaleinhaleexhaleinhaleexhaleinhaleexhaleinhale¡ª


    His chest heaved as the rhythm spiraled out of control, his breath no longer keeping time with the pounding in his head. His vision blurred at the edges, and he was afraid to blink, terrified of what might happen in the split-second he couldn¡¯t see.


    They were fast. Too fast. He didn¡¯t hear the dogs until it was too late, and he hadn¡¯t heard the men until¡­


    The image of their cold, efficient strikes replayed in his mind. Two human lives snuffed out like nothing, and it had happened right behind him. How had he not noticed? How had he not felt it?


    The realization sent a shiver down his spine. It wasn¡¯t just the brutality. It was the fact that it had happened so quietly, so effortlessly.


    Silas tried to speak, but his throat closed up. His hand instinctively reached for his dagger, trembling as it hovered over the handle. He wanted to trust them¡ªneeded to trust them¡ªbut every fiber of his being screamed at him to run.


    ¡°Silas.¡±


    The sound of his name snapped him out of his spiraling thoughts. Thomas¡¯s voice was calm and steady.


    ¡°Please don¡¯t make me kill you too.¡±


    Thomas¡¯s words echoed in the air, chilling Silas to his core. The raw sincerity in his voice, coupled with the weight of their meaning, made Silas¡¯s stomach twist in knots. It wasn¡¯t a threat¡ªit was a plea, and that made it all the more horrifying.


    Silas took a shaky step back, his thoughts racing. The realization that Thomas *could* kill him¡ªthat he was *willing* to¡ªmade his whole body tremble.


    ¡°What¡¯s the commotion?¡± Warren¡¯s voice broke through the tension. He turned to face them, his usual casual tone fading the moment his eyes landed on the scene. ¡°We¡¯re here, no¡ª!¡± His words cut off abruptly, his gaze locking onto the pale corpses sprawled on the ground and the blood-soaked figures of Thomas and Keith.


    A single bead of cold sweat rolled down Warren¡¯s temple as his lips parted, but no sound came out.


    Silas forced himself to speak, though his voice wavered. He raised his trembling hands, trying to keep the situation from spiraling further. ¡°O-Okay, look¡ªmy hands are right here. Just¡ªwhy? Why did you do this?¡± He tried to sound calm for Warren¡¯s sake, but his heart was beating out of his chest.


    Thomas exhaled heavily, the sound thick with regret. ¡°On the day of¡­ November 17th,¡± he began, his voice steady but broken, ¡°I heard a voice. It told me I¡¯d meet you two.¡±


    Silas blinked in confusion. A voice?


    ¡°I wasn¡¯t the only one,¡± Thomas continued, glancing at Keith, who nodded grimly. ¡°The voice told me that if I didn¡¯t kill you two, Keith would die.¡±


    The air around them seemed to freeze, the weight of his words suffocating. Silas¡¯s mind reeled. He couldn¡¯t deny the logic¡ªtwisted as it was. In their shoes, would he have done the same?


    Thomas gestured toward the bodies on the ground, his voice cracking. ¡°I killed them because I knew they¡¯d try to stop me.¡±


    Silas swallowed hard, fear and disbelief swirling in his chest. ¡°B-But you said, ¡®Please don¡¯t make me kill you too.¡¯ What does that mean?¡±


    Thomas¡¯s shoulders slumped, his sadness palpable. ¡°The voice told me everything. It said I¡¯d meet you, then Warren. That we¡¯d travel together, learn about these Collapse Sites. And that someone would be inside¡­ to finish the job.¡±


    Silas felt his knees weaken. This wasn¡¯t just murder. This was orchestrated. Someone¡ªor something¡ªwas pulling the strings.


    ¡°What is this ¡®voice¡¯ you keep talking about!?¡± Warren shouted, his trembling fists clenched. ¡°Utter bullshit!¡±


    Tears streamed down Thomas¡¯s face, his composure finally breaking. ¡°I¡ªI can¡¯t say. If I do, it¡¯ll kill me. Or Keith.¡± His voice cracked with desperation.


    As Thomas and Keith stepped forward, Silas and Warren instinctively moved back, their steps hesitant and uneven. The cavern¡¯s entrance loomed behind them, its dark maw threatening to swallow them whole.


    ¡°Please,¡± Thomas whispered, his voice heavy with guilt. ¡°Don¡¯t make this harder on us. I don¡¯t want to do this, but I have no choice.¡±


    Their backs were against the edge now, the chilling breeze from the cavern brushing their skin. Thomas and Keith lowered their weapons, but the gesture wasn¡¯t comforting. Slowly, they raised their boots.


    ¡°Forgive me,¡± Thomas murmured, his voice thick with regret. ¡°I enjoyed our time together¡­ I know it¡¯s too much to ask, but I need your forgiveness.¡±


    Silas barely registered the words before the world spun.


    The last thing they heard was the sound of Thomas¡¯s voice, broken and distant, as they were kicked in and fell.


    Thud.


    ¡­


    Freefalling, without a doubt, was one of the most terrifying ways to die. There was no dignity in it, no chance to resist, no opportunity to brace for impact. It was an agonizing surrender to the unknown, a descent into inevitable doom. Worse yet, the darkness consumed you. The world vanished, leaving only the suffocating black that wrapped itself around your body like a shroud.


    Fear had no rival in moments like this. It overrode everything else¡ªthought, instinct, even pain. Fear was the sharp edge that cut through the air, the relentless drumbeat that pounded in your ears, louder than your own screams.


    But fear wasn¡¯t the worst part. No, the worst was waiting. The freefall wasn¡¯t instant; it dragged on for an eternity, long enough for every anxious thought to claw its way to the surface. How far was the fall? How long until it ended?


    And the end¡ªoh, the end¡ªwasn¡¯t merciful. You didn¡¯t wonder if you¡¯d die. That was certain. You wondered how. Would your body shatter like glass, every bone crushed in a symphony of pain that stretched seconds into eternity? Or would you be fortunate enough to land wrong¡ªno, right¡ªand snap your neck, delivering death in the blink of an eye?


    But really, was that even lucky? It was absurd to call it that. The thought of being grateful for a swifter death felt like the sickest joke. A cruel, cosmic irony that mocked you even as you plunged into the void.


    The darkness offered no answers. It didn¡¯t care for your terror, your desperate bargaining, or your futile prayers. It swallowed everything¡ªyour screams, your thoughts, and soon, it would take your life too.This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    ¡°¡ªilas! S¡ªilas!¡±


    The muffled sound clawed its way into his consciousness, the broken syllables echoing through the fog in his head. It took Silas a moment to register the voice calling his name. Familiar. Urgent. He forced his heavy eyelids open, and the blurred outline of Warren¡¯s face hovered above him, panic etched into every line.


    ¡°Silas! You¡¯re alive!¡± Warren¡¯s voice cracked, the relief flooding over him like a wave.


    Alive. That much was clear. But how was another question. Silas groaned, his body protesting every inch of movement as he shifted to sit up. The sharp, throbbing pain in his arm brought him back to reality. The dim light in the cavern cast long, jagged shadows on the walls, giving the place an eerie, suffocating atmosphere.


    Warren knelt beside him, studying Silas as if making sure he wasn¡¯t about to keel over. Silas blinked a few times, trying to gather his thoughts. His surroundings, the dull ache in his bones, Warren¡¯s voice¡ªit all came together like puzzle pieces, forming a grim realization: they had survived the fall.


    But the thought brought him no comfort. His eyes lingered on Warren¡¯s face, and in that moment, his memory betrayed him. He remembered when Thomas and Keith had found him¡ªhow they¡¯d hovered over him. Now those same hands had shoved him into this nightmare.


    The bitter irony wasn¡¯t lost on him. The ones he once trusted had sent him hurtling into the depths of this cavern, and now, here he was, alive but broken, with Warren as his only ally.


    He let out a shaky breath, his voice a low murmur. ¡°Figures it¡¯d come full circle like this¡­¡±


    Warren frowned. ¡°What are you mumbling about? Can you move? Are you hurt bad?¡±


    Silas thought before answering, staring up at the jagged ceiling above them. His thoughts raced, but one thing stuck out above the pain, the betrayal, and the fear: they had survived the fall. Somehow, they¡¯d made it.


    Finally answering Warren¡¯s concerns, Silas gritted his teeth and tried to push himself upright, leaning on both arms for support. But something was wrong. His left arm didn¡¯t respond, hanging limp at his side as if the connection between it and his brain had been severed.


    A wave of panic surged through him. He quickly looked down, half-expecting the worst, only to see the arm still attached. Relief was short-lived, though, as he noticed something off: the limb hung unnaturally, a couple of inches lower than his right.


    ¡°Dislocated,¡± Warren muttered, his brows knit in concern as he crouched closer. ¡°The fall must¡¯ve done it.¡±


    Silas stared at the arm, his breathing uneven. Dislocated. The word sounded distant, almost detached from his own reality. Strangely, he didn¡¯t feel the intense, stabbing pain he thought he would. Instead, there was a dull ache, overshadowed by the chaotic storm of adrenaline still coursing through him.


    ¡°It¡­ doesn¡¯t hurt that bad,¡± Silas admitted, his voice shaky. ¡°Shouldn¡¯t this¡­ I don¡¯t know, feel worse?¡±


    Warren¡¯s eyes lingered on him for a moment before he sighed. ¡°You¡¯re running on adrenaline. Trust me, it¡¯s gonna hurt like hell when that fades.¡± He glanced at their surroundings, the dim cavern walls and jagged rocks adding an oppressive weight to the situation. ¡°We need to figure out how to fix it¡ªfast. You can¡¯t stay like this.¡±


    Silas nodded weakly, though the very idea of popping his arm back into place sent a shiver down his spine. He wasn¡¯t ready for what came next. He wasn¡¯t sure he¡¯d ever be ready.


    Grasping Warren¡¯s outstretched hand, Silas staggered to his feet, his legs shaky beneath him. Once upright, he instinctively cradled his injured arm with his good hand. The limb hung awkwardly, throbbing with small, sharp jolts of pain that shot up to his brain like tiny needles. Manageable¡ªfor now.


    Warren rummaged through his bag, pulling out a flashlight. Its beam flickered briefly before stabilizing, cutting through the cavern¡¯s oppressive darkness. Silas blinked at their surroundings, his eyes tracing the jagged walls and eerie shadows. There was something surreal about it. He couldn¡¯t help but imagine this was like the opening of a game he used to play¡ªone where a dangerous boss lurked just beyond a foggy door.


    ¡°C¡¯mon,¡± Warren muttered, stepping forward. Silas followed reluctantly, every step a reminder of his precarious arm.


    The duo walked deeper into the site, their footsteps echoing faintly off the walls. Just as the silence started to stretch too long, Warren stopped abruptly, the flashlight¡¯s beam catching on something up ahead. ¡°Wait¡­ what¡¯s that?¡±


    They moved closer, and Warren crouched down, picking up a piece of faded fabric. It was a plaid shirt, tattered and coated in dirt. His eyes lit up with an idea. ¡°Quick. Give me your dagger.¡±


    Before Silas could respond, Warren snatched the blade from his side, crouching down to hack away at the shirt. He worked swiftly, cutting through the arm sleeve with surprising precision. Silas raised an eyebrow, watching in curiosity as Warren fashioned a makeshift sling.


    Warren stood, a hint of pride in his expression, and carefully looped the fabric under Silas¡¯s injured arm, tying it securely around his neck. ¡°There. That should hold it in place for now.¡±


    Silas blinked a few times, looking at the sling, then back at Warren. ¡°What?¡± Warren asked, already sounding annoyed. ¡°You¡¯re not gonna say thank you or something?¡±


    ¡°I mean¡­ thanks,¡± Silas said, his voice tinged with surprise. ¡°But seriously, I didn¡¯t expect this from you. Did you plan on being a doctor or something? Where¡¯d you learn to do that?¡±


    Warren smirked proudly as he admitted something disturbing. ¡°I¡¯ve broken my fair share of arms! Wait.. I mean my arms were broken, not that I broken anyone else. Though there was this one time¡ª,¡± he admitted as he talked about his grim experience with pride.


    ¡°Yikes,¡± Silas muttered, his lips quirking in an uneasy smile. ¡°Not the answer I expected, but¡­ fair enough.¡±


    With his arm now stabilized, the two continued forward, the flashlight beam their only guide into the unknown.


    As they pressed on through the darkness, their steps grew slower, more hesitant. The air thickened with a rancid stench, pungent and overpowering, that made both Silas and Warren instinctively wrinkle their noses. The longer they walked, the stronger the smell became¡ªso strong that it clawed at their throats and made their stomachs churn.


    ¡°It reeks¡­ Makes me wanna just stop right here,¡± Silas muttered, trying to mask his unease with a half-hearted quip. His voice cracked slightly, betraying his nerves.


    Neither of them stopped, though. They pushed forward until Silas suddenly stumbled, his boot slipping on something slick. He threw out his good arm to steady himself, hissing as his injured arm jostled in its sling.


    ¡°What the¡ª?¡± Warren swung the flashlight down, the beam catching on a dark, glistening liquid beneath their feet. Its hue was unmistakable, even in the dim light.


    Blood.


    A fresh chill crept up their spines as the realization sank in. Silas stared down at the crimson trail, his throat dry. It wasn¡¯t just a smear¡ªit was a path. A deliberate trail leading somewhere deeper into the cavern.


    ¡°¡­Fuck.¡± Silas whispered, He rarely swore unless under extreme amounts of pressure.


    Warren didn¡¯t look back at the profanity Silas mumbled, his jaw tightening as he pointed the flashlight ahead, illuminating where the trail led. It pooled at the base of a door¡ªwooden, old, and slightly ajar. The light revealed the way the blood seeped from underneath it, forming rivulets that snaked toward them like hungry fingers.


    Silas swallowed hard, his pulse quickening. His feet felt rooted to the spot, but Warren stepped forward, his gaze fixed on the door as if drawn by something unseen.


    ¡°Wait¡ª¡± Silas called out, but his voice came out weak, drowned out by the oppressive silence of the cavern. Warren stopped and looked back. The two heard footsteps¡ªnot coming toward the door, but seemingly wandering aimlessly, with no clear destination.


    Putting his ear to the door, Silas strained to make out the sound. Shoes. Whoever was walking behind the door was human!


    Warren quickly caught on and carefully pushed the door open. At first, just a sliver. Then, after a few moments of silence, he opened it fully.


    They were met with the sight of an elderly man. He wore a coat, trousers, and had something long strapped to his hip. They couldn¡¯t quite make out what it was. He was taller than Warren but shorter than Silas.


    ¡°Er¨C Excuse me.¡± Silas broke the silence, raising his hand nervously as they stepped inside, the door still ajar.


    The elder turned toward them, his expression eerily neutral, almost detached.


    ¡°Sorry, didn¡¯t mean to startle you. You see, me and my partner, uhh¡­ got lost.¡± Silas didn¡¯t want to admit they¡¯d been betrayed. Warren nodded along silently.


    ¡°Ah, no worries. I¡¯m just like the both of you,¡± the elder replied as he began to walk toward them slowly.


    As the man approached, Silas¡¯s mind began to churn, the memory of Thomas¡¯s words resurfacing, clear and heavy.


    ¡°The voice told me everything. It said I¡¯d meet you, then Warren. That we¡¯d travel together, learn about these Collapse Sites. And that someone would be inside¡­ to finish the job.¡±


    At the time, Silas had dismissed it, assuming it was just a lie Thomas told himself to justify the betrayal. But now, as the pieces came together, the situation felt too perfect to be a coincidence.


    An elderly man, alone in a cavern, surviving without anyone else? The odds of that were laughably low.


    Could this be the man Thomas meant? The one who would ¡°finish the job¡±?


    As Silas¡¯s gaze dropped, something caught his attention. Something was off.


    The blood pooled on the ground when they walked in¡ªit was moving. Slowly, steadily, toward the elder.


    This should¡¯ve been impossible. The blood had been stationary before. Why was it moving now?


    Silas looked back up, just in time to see the elder reach for his hip. He withdrew a Japanese-style sword.


    So that¡¯s what the long object was, Silas thought.


    Warren¡¯s eyes widened as the elder raised the blade and sliced upward through the air.


    The blood followed the motion, rising in a sharp, fluid arc toward them.


    Silas, quicker on the uptake, reacted first. He shoved Warren out of the way, both of them barely avoiding the attack.


    Wait¡­ what?


    As Silas hit the floor, pain shooting through his arm, his thoughts raced.


    Unless¡­ the man had some type of ability? Even thinking that almost made Silas laugh. This wasn¡¯t a manga or a game he played when he was a teenager, so why would he think something so ridiculous?


    But no matter how much he tried to rationalize it, the sight before him made no sense. The man controlled the blood.


    The elder exhaled, his tone casual, almost bored.


    ¡°Using this Soul Fragment bullshit is difficult,¡± he muttered.


    Soul Fragments¡­?


    What?

 Pure Unfiltered Agony

    Soul fragments?


    What?


    Silas blinked slowly at the elder, forcing himself to rise despite the sharp, persistent ache in his arm. Pain rippled through his body, but he bit down on the sensation, breathing through clenched teeth. His arm hung uselessly at his side, the discomfort now a dull roar in the back of his mind. He couldn¡¯t afford to focus on it. Not now.


    The elder, however, didn¡¯t seem to notice Silas¡¯s struggle¡ªor if he did, he didn¡¯t care. Instead, his brows furrowed as he tilted his head slightly, as though trying to decipher some inexplicable puzzle. ¡°Why are you looking at me like that?¡± the elder asked, his tone laced with genuine confusion. He shifted his sword slightly, the blade catching the dim light of the cavern as its tip rested against the ground. ¡°You came into a Collapse Site, and you¡¯re surprised I¡¯m using the power of a Soul Fragment?¡±


    Silas stared at the man, unblinking, the words not fully registering. A Soul Fragment? What the hell was he even talking about?


    ¡°Do you not have your Soul Fragment ability yet?¡± The elder¡¯s voice broke through Silas¡¯s thoughts again, this time tinged with curiosity rather than concern.


    Behind him, Warren groaned as he pulled himself upright. His movement was slower, his body stiff from the sudden fall and the shove that had likely saved his life. He leaned against the cavern wall for support, favoring one leg as he stood. ¡°Seriously¡­ I¡¯m sick of this bullshit,¡± Warren spat, his voice brimming with frustration and rage. His glare locked onto the elder. ¡°What are you even talking about?! My head seriously hurts, and the fact you¡¯re so calm about all this makes me want to kill you even more.¡±


    There was no hesitation in Warren¡¯s words, no attempt to mask his anger.


    The elder sighed, shaking his head as though explaining something to a child who refused to understand. ¡°When the Collapse happened¡­ it gave birth to Collapse Sites.¡± His tone was calm, deliberate, as though reciting a well-rehearsed script. ¡°Collapse Sites could be anything¡ªstructures, caverns, anomalies. The mystery of them lies in the fact no one knows what they contain or where they will appear. But eventually, people began to explore these sites more often, and inside, they discovered Soul Fragments.¡±


    The elder paused, reaching into the pocket of his coat. Slowly, he withdrew a small object that glimmered faintly in the dim cavern light. Silas squinted, his eyes narrowing as he tried to make sense of it. A shard of glass? No, not quite. It looked more crystalline¡ªpristine yet somehow imperfect. The edges shimmered faintly, almost as though it pulsed with a weak heartbeat.


    The crystal¡¯s faint light flickered in and out, steady and rhythmic, much like a dying bulb fighting to stay alive.


    ¡°Usually¡­¡± The elder¡¯s voice broke the silence. He held the shard up for both of them to see. ¡°The light is brighter. It doesn¡¯t go out unless it¡¯s been used.¡± He spoke with a tinge of disappointment, as though the crystal in his hand had failed to meet his expectations.


    Silas¡¯s eyes darted between the elder¡¯s face and the shard. ¡°Used?¡± he echoed faintly, though he wasn¡¯t sure he wanted to hear the answer.


    ¡°In order to gain the power of a Fragment¡­ you must stab yourself with it.¡± The elder¡¯s words were matter-of-fact, cold and blunt. He held up his arm, pulling back his sleeve to reveal a small, jagged scar. The wound matched the size and shape of the shard in his hand perfectly.


    Silas felt a bitter laugh escape him before he could stop it. His gaze wandered back to where the elder¡¯s blood-fueled slash had missed them, the aftermath now etched into the environment itself. The doorframe and nearby rocks bore deep, jagged scars¡ªvertical cuts identical to the trajectory of the elder¡¯s attack. The sheer force had carved through solid stone with ease. That could have been them. No, it should have been them.


    ¡°Seriously¡­¡± Silas muttered, his laugh fading into a sigh as he shook his head. ¡°It¡¯s like something new happens every day. Makes me wish I was the first to go that day.¡±


    Warren shot him a sharp look, but Silas ignored it, drawing his dagger with his good hand. His grip was shaky, unsteady, but his resolve remained firm. It was a battered, one-armed Silas and a limping Warren versus a man who could cleave through stone with blood and steel. The odds weren¡¯t just against them¡ªthey were stacked so high they could crush them outright.


    But even so, they wouldn¡¯t go down without a fight.


    Silas charged headfirst at the elder, his dagger gripped tightly in his good hand. ¡°Oorgahhhh!¡± he yelled, his voice echoing through the cavern with raw desperation. Behind him, Warren followed suit, each step a reminder of the sharp pain in his injured leg. But pain didn¡¯t matter now. Nothing mattered except stopping the elder.


    As Silas closed the distance, his mind raced. The elder had explained Collapse Sites and Soul Fragments, but none of that gave him an immediate solution to their predicament. The man could control blood¡ªhis, theirs, anyone¡¯s¡ªand the key to beating him seemed almost cruelly ironic: they¡¯d have to make sure he didn¡¯t bleed.


    But how?


    If Silas tried the same tactic he used on the dog earlier¡ªbaiting the enemy into a mistake¡ªit would be suicide. This wasn¡¯t an animal acting on instinct. The elder could stab himself, Silas, or Warren, and all that blood would just become another weapon.


    Desperate times called for desperate measures.


    The elder turned his cold gaze on the charging Silas and raised his sword, the blade gleaming faintly in the dim light. Silas knew better than to charge recklessly without a plan¡ªmedia and fiction had taught him that much. But sometimes, the best plan was to act on instinct.


    As the elder swung his sword, Silas raised his dagger, bracing for the clash.


    Cling!


    Sparks flew as the two blades collided, the sound reverberating like a chime through the cavern. The weight of the elder¡¯s sword forced Silas to brace hard, but the lighter dagger had one key advantage: speed. Silas shifted his stance quickly, catching the elder¡¯s blade at an awkward angle and throwing it off balance.


    The elder¡¯s grip faltered just slightly¡ªjust enough.


    Silas lunged forward, grabbing the elder¡¯s arm and forcing it down. The sword slipped from his grasp, clattering onto the rocky ground. ¡°Warren!¡± Silas shouted, his voice sharp and commanding. ¡°Aim for his neck!¡±


    Warren¡¯s steps quickened as he closed the gap, his arms outstretched, hands ready to grab hold of the elder¡¯s throat. The elder struggled against Silas¡¯s grip, but for the first time, the man¡¯s calm demeanor cracked.


    And then¡ª


    Squish.


    The sound was grotesque, like something wet and soft being crushed.


    Silas¡¯s heart skipped as he glanced at the elder¡¯s face, his stomach sinking. The man had bitten down hard on his lip, splitting it open. Blood poured from the wound, thick and dark, pooling along the edge of his mouth.


    ¡°Silas!¡± Warren¡¯s voice rang out in sheer panic. ¡°Ruuuuunnn!¡±


    But it was too late.


    The elder¡¯s blood surged unnaturally, shifting from liquid to solid as it formed sharp, deadly tendrils that aimed straight for Silas¡¯s head.


    Silas¡¯s instincts screamed at him to move, but as he turned to flee, his leg caught against the elder¡¯s. The two stumbled awkwardly, and by some chaotic twist of fate, the elder¡¯s aim faltered. The tendrils of blood missed their mark, slicing through the air just inches from Silas¡¯s face.


    The elder hit the ground hard, his sword clattering further out of reach. Silas, still reeling from the near miss, scrambled to his feet, dagger trembling in his hand. His breaths came in sharp, frantic gasps as he looked down at the elder, now sprawled on the ground only a few feet away.


    Silas lunged forward, his dagger poised to strike, his mind locked in a single thought: they weren¡¯t out of danger yet.


    Silas¡¯s mind raced as he executed his plan, a plan that now felt more fragile with every second. The key was to prevent any bloodshed¡ªany at all. The elder¡¯s ability fed off it, turned it into his weapon, and giving him even a drop was the equivalent of handing him a loaded gun. Silas had seen the devastating results of just one mistake. He wouldn¡¯t let it happen again.The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.


    Sliding the dagger toward Warren, Silas took a leap of faith¡ªliterally¡ªhurling himself onto the elder¡¯s stomach.


    ¡°Puu¡ªuh!¡±


    The sound of air being forcibly expelled from the elder¡¯s lungs filled the cavern as Silas¡¯s weight came crashing down on him. The man¡¯s body jerked, his face contorted in pain as he struggled to breathe. Silas planted his knees on either side of the elder, pinning him to the ground.


    ¡°Okay¡­ listen,¡± Silas panted, his chest heaving as he fought to steady himself. ¡°I don¡¯t want to kill you. So just¡­ cooperate, okay?¡±


    It was a desperate plea, one tinged with hope but grounded in fear. Silas wasn¡¯t a killer. He didn¡¯t want this to end in blood. If the elder surrendered now, maybe¡ªjust maybe¡ªthis nightmare could end without further disaster.


    But the elder¡¯s gasps turned into something else. A smile¡ªa wide, sinister grin¡ªstretched across his face.


    Silas felt his stomach sink.


    Then he saw it. The crimson streaks on the elder¡¯s hands.


    Blood.


    ¡°Shitshitshitshitshit!¡±


    The thought raced through Silas¡¯s mind like a broken record as he instinctively threw his arms up to shield his face. He was too late. The blood on the elder¡¯s hands shot forward, hardening midair into a lance-like form that slammed into Silas with the force of a battering ram.


    Thwack!


    Silas¡¯s body rocketed backward, the sheer impact of the attack lifting him off the elder and sending him crashing into the cavern wall.


    Crack!


    The jagged rocks greeted him mercilessly, digging into his back as he struck the surface. For a moment, his world was nothing but pain¡ªa sharp, unrelenting agony that radiated through his entire body. He bounced off the wall and crumpled to the floor in a heap, dazed and gasping for air.


    ¡°Oooogh¡­ My body¡­¡± Silas groaned, his voice weak and strained. His limbs felt like dead weight, his dislocated arm screaming in protest with every attempt to move.


    ¡°Silas!¡± Warren¡¯s voice cut through the haze. He was at Silas¡¯s side in an instant, pulling him up with trembling hands. ¡°Here, let me help you¡ª¡±


    ¡°T-Thank you¡­¡± Silas muttered, his voice barely audible. He reached out his good hand toward Warren, his fingers twitching weakly. ¡°My dagger¡­ give it to me¡­¡±


    Warren hesitated, the color draining from his face as he froze mid-motion.


    ¡°What? Give it to me,¡± Silas snapped, frustration bubbling to the surface. ¡°I¡ª¡±


    His words died in his throat as he followed Warren¡¯s gaze.


    His hand.


    No, not his hand.


    What should have been his hand¡ªhis familiar, five-fingered hand¡ªwas now a grotesque, mutilated shadow of itself. Only two fingers remained, the others severed cleanly.


    Silas stared, uncomprehending, as the realization dawned on him. He remembered the blood¡¯s trajectory, the way he had raised his hand to block the attack meant for his face. The elder¡¯s blood blade had sheared through his fingers like they were nothing.


    His brain caught up a moment later.


    ¡°Huuu¡ªOOHGUHHHHHH!¡±


    The scream that tore from Silas¡¯s throat was raw, primal, a sound born of pure, unfiltered agony. The pain struck him like a tidal wave, overwhelming and relentless.


    The adrenaline that had kept him going, that had dulled the ache of his dislocated arm and masked the sting of his wounds, now vanished entirely. In its absence, the full extent of his injuries hit him all at once.


    His hand throbbed violently, the open wounds pulsing in time with his racing heartbeat. His arm hung uselessly at his side, the joint twisted at an unnatural angle. His back ached from the collision with the wall, and every shallow breath sent sharp, stabbing pain through his ribs.


    Warren crouched beside him, his face pale and stricken with helplessness. ¡°Silas¡ªjust hang on¡ª¡±


    ¡°IT HURTS! IT HURTS!!!¡± Silas squirmed, his voice trembling as he clutched at his mangled hand. His vision blurred, tears of pain and frustration spilling down his cheeks.


    The elder rose slowly from the ground, brushing dust off his coat as if nothing had happened. He looked down at Silas and Warren with a calm, almost amused expression.


    ¡°You should¡¯ve listened,¡± the elder said, his voice cold and measured. ¡°Blood always finds its way.¡±


    The elder extended his hand, pointing directly at Silas¡¯ mangled excuse of a hand. Silas could feel it¡ªthe blood inside his body reacting to the elder¡¯s will. A sharp, pulling sensation coursed through him as crimson droplets began to seep from the mutilated wound. The elder was extracting his blood, twisting it to his own ends.


    ¡°Aaaaagh¡ª!¡± Silas screamed, the pain unlike anything he had felt before. It wasn¡¯t just the physical agony of having his blood forcibly drawn from him¡ªit was the complete helplessness that came with it. His body was no longer his own.


    The thought gripped him: How will I die? Would it be from the pain, the unbearable torment that threatened to drag him into unconsciousness? Would it be the fear, gnawing at the edges of his mind, whispering that this was the end? Or perhaps it would be blood loss¡ªa slow, agonizing draining of life as the elder consumed every last drop.


    Silas didn¡¯t care anymore. Living like this, in this state of raw, unending agony, was unbearable.


    ¡°Silas!¡± Warren¡¯s voice cut through the haze like a lifeline.


    Warren clenched his fist, his knuckles white with fury, and launched himself at the elder. His movements were unsteady, his injured leg buckling with each step, but he didn¡¯t hesitate.


    The elder¡¯s eyes flicked toward Warren, calm and calculating. He sidestepped the punch with almost lazy ease and retaliated, flicking a tiny drop of blood forward. The crimson pebble shot through the air like a bullet, embedding itself in Warren¡¯s knee with a sickening pop.


    ¡°Gh¡ªahhh!¡± Warren stumbled, his leg giving out beneath him as he fell to the ground. His teeth clenched tightly, suppressing any further cries of pain.


    The elder loomed over him, his expression unreadable, the faint flicker of amusement in his eyes. But Warren wasn¡¯t done yet.


    Crack!


    The unexpected backhand fist to the elder¡¯s jaw was enough to make him stagger.


    ¡°Damn it¡­¡± Warren growled, dragging himself upright, his body trembling with effort. ¡°I don¡¯t care if you bleed or not. I¡¯ll kill you before you can even use that damn power!¡±


    Fueled by desperation and rage, Warren closed the distance, lunging toward the elder as he regained his balance. With a forceful hop to compensate for his injured leg, Warren delivered a brutal kick to the elder¡¯s face.


    Thwack!


    The sound of Warren¡¯s boot meeting the elder¡¯s face echoed through the cavern, the impact snapping the elder¡¯s head to the side.


    Silas blinked through the haze of pain, his vision swimming as he struggled to make sense of the scene before him. Warren was fighting¡ªfighting for both of them. Each blow, each desperate attack, was a testament to Warren¡¯s resolve, to his refusal to give up even when the odds were stacked against them.


    Silas tried to move, tried to push himself off the ground, but his body felt like lead. His arm throbbed, his hand pulsed with unbearable pain, and his mind wavered on the edge of unconsciousness.


    He weakly sat up, his body trembling as he propped himself against the jagged wall. His gaze locked onto Warren, who fought with everything he had, refusing to back down.


    Silas¡¯s chest tightened. He felt so utterly useless.


    Why couldn¡¯t he do anything?


    Warren was bleeding, fighting, risking everything to give them a chance. And all Silas could do was sit here, broken and helpless, watching as his friend faced the elder head-on.


    Hopelessness clawed at him, threatening to swallow him whole.


    ¡±If I don¡¯t do something¡­ if I don¡¯t get up¡­ we¡¯re both going to die.¡±


    The thought gnawed at Silas¡¯ very existence, burrowing into the pit of his soul. All his life, he had felt the same hopelessness. It had clung to him like a shadow, an ever-present reminder of his failures. And now, as he lay broken and bleeding, watching the life drain from his only ally, he realized that feeling was about to follow him to his end.


    Warren sent another kick to the elder, his movements wild and desperate. The elder blocked it with ease, his sword steady in his hand. With a flick of his wrist, he sent a needle-thin stream of blood hurtling toward Warren¡¯s eye.


    The shot went wide, striking just above Warren¡¯s left eye. Blood seeped into the wound, dripping down and blinding him temporarily. Warren staggered, his footing unsteady, his hands instinctively trying to wipe the blood away.


    ¡°Warren!¡± Silas croaked, his voice raw and useless.


    The elder moved in, quick and merciless. Gripping his sword tightly, he thrust it into Warren¡¯s ribs with a sickening force.


    Crack.


    The sound of bone breaking, flesh tearing, and steel sinking into muscle echoed through the cavern.


    Squelch.


    Warren gasped, his mouth opening in a silent scream before vomiting a torrent of blood. His body trembled, his strength evaporating as the elder twisted the blade slightly before withdrawing it.


    Warren fell to his knees, then crumpled entirely. His body slumped against the cavern floor, lifeless eyes staring toward Silas.


    Silas stared in horror, his breath caught in his throat. This can¡¯t be real. This can¡¯t be happening. No. No, no, no!


    His chest tightened, his thoughts spiraling into chaos. He was just a kid. A seventeen-year-old with his whole life ahead of him. And now, that life was gone, slowly leaking away before his very eyes.


    Silas shook his head violently. This is my fault. If I were stronger¡ªif I had been faster, smarter, more capable¡ªhe wouldn¡¯t have had to fight alone.


    The guilt was suffocating.


    Warren¡¯s body collapsed next to him, lifeless and crumpled like a discarded rag doll. Silas reached out weakly, his trembling hand brushing against Warren¡¯s shoulder.


    This can¡¯t be it.


    A sharp poke against his leg interrupted his spiraling thoughts. Silas blinked, sluggishly glancing down to find the source. There, nestled against his leg, were two crystal-like objects.


    Soul Fragments?


    His heart skipped a beat as the elder¡¯s words came rushing back. ¡°To gain the power of a Soul Fragment, you must stab yourself with it.¡±


    Silas didn¡¯t want to believe it. The thought of it seemed absurd, impossible, and yet¡­


    He glanced at Warren, his bloodied form barely clinging to life.


    There was no time to think.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry¡­¡± Silas whispered, his voice cracking as tears blurred his vision. ¡°Please, trust me.¡±


    He gripped one of the crystals tightly, his hand shaking as he brought it to Warren¡¯s leg. With a swift motion, he stabbed it into the boy¡¯s flesh.


    Warren¡¯s body jerked violently, his face contorting in pain as the shard dug into him. Silas flinched, guilt stabbing at his heart.


    ¡°I¡­ I¡¯m sorry,¡± he choked out again, gasping as his own strength began to wane.


    There was no time left.


    Silas grabbed the remaining Fragment and, without hesitation, stabbed it into his own leg.


    Pain.


    A searing, unbearable pain exploded through his body. His vision blurred, his breathing faltered, and the world around him dissolved into nothingness.


    .


    ..


    ¡­


    Silence.


    An empty void surrounded him.


    Silas felt¡­ nothing. No pain, no sound, no sense of his body. Just an overwhelming emptiness.


    ¡°Am I¡­ dead?¡± he whispered into the void.


    There was no response. Only silence.


    Then, a voice.


    ¡°Welcome.¡±


    Silas spun around, his body moving instinctively only to be met with.. a floating blue aura?

 Become Anew

    Silas Grayson and Warren Hale had died.


    At least, that¡¯s what Silas believed in his final moments¡ªbleeding out as Warren fell beside him, both consumed by pain and failure. Yet, against all logic, here he was. Alive. Whole.


    He stood in an impossible void, face-to-face with something beyond comprehension: a floating blue aura.


    ¡°Welcome,¡± it had said.


    Silas stared blankly at the being, his mind racing to piece together a reality that no longer made sense. He¡¯d heard the stories¡ªabout seeing your life flash before your eyes at death¡¯s door, about divine beings waiting to guide you to the afterlife. But none of that fit this.


    ¡°¡­Is this heaven? Are you God?¡± Silas asked, his voice unsteady. His hand instinctively went to his face, fingers massaging his chin in thought.


    Fingers.


    His heart skipped.


    Fingers. Five of them.


    The sudden realization hit him like a bolt of lightning. He¡¯d lost three fingers on that hand. He remembered the pain, the blood, the sickening sight of mutilation. Yet here they were, intact, as if nothing had happened.


    Silas looked down at his left arm¡ªthe one that had been dislocated, useless in battle. He raised it cautiously, testing its motion. It moved freely, without pain, without hesitation. His arm worked.


    ¡°What the hell¡­?¡± he muttered, flexing his fingers again, unable to believe what he was seeing.


    ¡°Something like that,¡± the aura replied, its voice calm but tinged with an air of pride. ¡°I suppose you could call me a god of sorts.¡±


    Silas snapped his gaze back to the entity, its glow pulsing gently with each word. ¡°A god of sorts? Right. Sure. Let¡¯s just roll with that,¡± he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. ¡°Well, if you¡¯re such a ¡®god,¡¯ then why don¡¯t you explain why I¡¯m here¡ªand why I¡¯m not dead?¡±


    The aura¡¯s light flickered, almost as if it were amused. ¡°Won¡¯t you at least thank me first?¡± it said, ignoring the question. ¡°I healed your wounds and injuries. You¡¯re welcome, by the way.¡±


    Silas raised an eyebrow. ¡°Uh-huh. That doesn¡¯t make sense. I definitely died back there, so how the hell am I still breathing? And don¡¯t give me some vague ¡®it¡¯s divine intervention¡¯ nonsense¡ªwhat¡¯s really going on here?¡±


    ¡°Well¡­¡± The aura paused, as if considering its response. ¡°I didn¡¯t exactly heal you. Not entirely, anyway.¡±


    Silas narrowed his eyes. ¡°What¡¯s that supposed to mean?¡±


    ¡°This place,¡± the aura explained, its tone turning more serious, ¡°is unique. It dispels anything impure. Injuries, illness, afflictions¡ªthey¡¯re all considered impurities, and they cannot exist here.¡±


    Silas blinked, trying to process the explanation. ¡°So, you¡¯re telling me this¡­ place just magically healed me? What, like some kind of divine spa?¡±


    ¡°Something like that,¡± the aura admitted, its light pulsing faintly. ¡°You can thank Ayelyn for that. She designed this space to function that way, after all.¡±


    Silas frowned. ¡°Ayelyn? Who the hell is Ayelyn?¡±


    The aura didn¡¯t respond immediately, its light dimming slightly as if caught in thought. Silas crossed his arms, tapping his fingers against his bicep. This place, this being, this entire situation¡ªit was all too much to process, but one thing was clear: whatever had brought him here was no accident.


    ¡°Fine,¡± Silas said at last, his voice tense. ¡°So this place keeps people alive, huh? Great. But if that¡¯s the case, then where¡¯s Warren?¡±


    ¡°Couldn¡¯t tell you,¡± the blue aura said, its light pulsing faintly. ¡°He¡¯s safe¡­ I assume. Only Lorian would know the answer to that question.¡±


    ¡°Lorian?¡± Silas repeated, narrowing his eyes. ¡°First Ayelyn, now Lorian? Who the hell are these people?¡±


    The aura made a sound like an amused sigh, if such a thing were possible from a glowing orb of light. ¡°If they wanted to meet you the way I wanted to, they would¡¯ve done so already. Finders keepers.¡±


    Silas blinked. ¡°Finders keepers?¡±


    ¡°Finders. Keepers.¡± The aura¡¯s tone practically dripped with smugness.


    ¡°What the hell is that supposed to mean? Are you some kind of false god or something?¡± Silas snapped, throwing his hands up in frustration. ¡°Seriously, this is insane. Maybe I really am dead, and you¡¯re just here to rub it in.¡±


    The aura dimmed slightly, as if offended. ¡°False god? Rude. I brought you here, didn¡¯t I? I fixed you. Well, technically, this place fixed you, but still¡ªyou¡¯re not dead. A little gratitude wouldn¡¯t kill you, you know.¡±


    ¡°Oh, excuse me for not bowing down to the almighty blue glow that won¡¯t give me a straight answer!¡± Silas shot back. ¡°You¡¯re out here saying my friend¡¯s probably safe and then tossing around names like Lorian and Ayelyn like I¡¯m supposed to know who they are. How about a little context?¡±


    The aura pulsed, almost like it was rolling its metaphorical eyes. ¡°Look, Lorian handles¡­ other things. If you want answers about your friend, go bother him. Or don¡¯t. I don¡¯t really care.¡±


    ¡°Great. Super helpful,¡± Silas said, crossing his arms. ¡°And Ayelyn? What¡¯s her deal? Some goddess of good housekeeping or something?¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s not a housekeeper,¡± the aura said, its light flickering indignantly. ¡°She¡¯s more of a¡­ manager. Think of her like quality control. You¡¯re standing here with all your fingers and no dislocated arm thanks to her rules, by the way. So maybe show some respect.¡±


    Silas scoffed as he sat cross-legged on the ¡°ground.¡± Though, calling it a ground felt wrong¡ªthere was no texture, no depth, just an endless expanse of white. He ran his fingers through his hair, feeling more overwhelmed with each passing second.


    ¡°Enough small talk,¡± the aura said suddenly, its voice cutting through Silas¡¯s thoughts. ¡°We should get to the most important thing. The reason I called you here¡ªor, well, forcibly dragged you here.¡±


    ¡°Dragged me?¡± Silas raised an eyebrow. ¡°Pretty sure stabbing a Soul Fragment into my leg wasn¡¯t part of your invitation process.¡±


    ¡°Details, details,¡± the aura replied dismissively. ¡°The point is, you used a Soul Fragment. Two, actually¡ªone for yourself, one for Warren. And when someone does that, I¡¯m obligated to grant them an ability. That¡¯s the deal.¡±


    Silas¡¯s eyes widened. So the elder wasn¡¯t lying about Soul Fragments granting powers. That raised even more questions, but he kept quiet, waiting for the aura to continue.


    ¡°However¡­¡± The aura¡¯s tone shifted, almost mockingly apologetic. ¡°You did die right after using it, so technically, I¡¯m supposed to just let you move on to the afterlife. No powers, no second chances. Just poof, lights out.¡±


    Silas¡¯s stomach twisted. ¡°Oh. Cool. That¡¯s¡­ comforting.¡±


    ¡°Buuuuut,¡± the aura interjected, its glow brightening mischievously, ¡°I¡¯m feeling extremely generous today. So I¡¯ve decided to bend the rules and bring you back¡ªwith an ability.¡±


    Silas blinked, caught between relief and disbelief. ¡°You¡¯re serious?¡±


    ¡°Deadly serious,¡± the aura replied, then added, ¡°No pun intended.¡±


    ¡°Right.¡± Silas exhaled, leaning back slightly. ¡°So, uh¡­ what kind of ability are we talking about here? Something flashy, I hope. Like creating clones of myself or summoning a giant aura bomb or¡ªwait¡­¡± His expression darkened. ¡°If I revive, I¡¯m gonna have to face that blood-manipulating asshole again, aren¡¯t I?¡±


    ¡°Precisely,¡± the aura said with an almost gleeful tone.


    Silas groaned, running a hand down his face. ¡°Great. Can''t wait for my second inevitable demise.. Why would you even give him something so strong.¡±


    ¡°Actually, I¡¯ve got the perfect ability for you,¡± the aura said, ignoring Silas¡¯s sarcasm. It began pulsing rhythmically, as if it were growing excited.


    The blue aura pulsed with an almost rhythmic energy, the air around Silas growing heavy with an unseen weight. Its voice was calm but carried an unmistakable power, resonating within the expanse of the white void.


    ¡°In the presence of Silas Grayson, all things¡ªpeople, objects, concepts¡ªmust face your absolute judgment,¡± the aura began, its words lingering like an incantation. ¡°You hold the authority to choose their destiny. Either they revert to their origin, the purest state from which they began, or they are forced to their apex, the pinnacle of what they can ever achieve. This is the nature of your ability: Temporal Apex.¡±


    Silas blinked, trying to process the cryptic explanation. ¡°So¡­ you¡¯re saying I can make stuff go backward or forward? Like, I can reverse time or fast-forward it?¡±


    The aura emitted a low hum, as though considering his question. ¡°Not exactly. You don¡¯t manipulate time as much as you impose a final truth upon existence. When something faces your judgment, it will be returned to what it was always meant to be¡ªits true self, untainted by time, circumstance, or decay. To its origin, where its potential was limitless, or to its apex, where its potential has been fulfilled.¡±This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.


    Silas frowned, his confusion deepening. ¡°Okay, but how do I decide which one it goes to? And what does that even look like?¡±


    ¡°You will understand in time,¡± the aura replied cryptically. ¡°But know this: your ability isn¡¯t just about what you choose to do, but what you discern about the world around you. You will see the threads of what something was, and what it can become. Your will decides which thread to pull.¡±


    Silas scratched his head, trying to make sense of the vague explanation. ¡°So I just¡­ judge things? That doesn¡¯t sound super useful when I¡¯m up against some guy who can stab me with blood.¡±


    The aura pulsed again, this time with a faint chuckle. ¡°You¡¯ll find it¡¯s more useful than you realize. After all, Silas, even your enemies have origins¡ªand even they have a peak. It¡¯s up to you to decide where they end.¡±


    A chill ran down Silas¡¯s spine as he tried to comprehend the full weight of those words. ¡°You mean I could¡­?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re waking up, Silas,¡± it said softly while interrupting him, its tone almost fatherly now. ¡°Be safe this time around, okay?¡±


    ¡°Wait!¡± Silas shouted, his voice echoing in the void. ¡°What about Warren? What about¡ª¡±


    Before he could finish, the white void crumbled around him, fading into black. The soothing yet mysterious presence of the blue aura vanished entirely, leaving him alone once more.


    .


    ..


    ¡­


    Silas groaned as he pushed himself up, his body trembling from the effort. His left arm moved freely, and his right hand flexed¡ªfive fingers intact. A shiver ran down his spine. Everything he had experienced earlier wasn¡¯t a dream. His gaze fell on the dagger lying nearby, its blade dulled with use but familiar in his grip. He snatched it up, his knuckles white as his thoughts raced.


    He turned toward Warren¡¯s motionless body. The sight struck him like a hammer to the chest. ¡°That bastard¡ª! Warren really is¡­¡± His words faltered, heavy with the weight of loss.


    Before he could finish the thought, Warren¡¯s eyes shot open, a sharp gasp tearing through the silence.


    ¡°Haa¡ªHaa¡ª!¡± Warren¡¯s breathing was jagged and desperate. His trembling hands roamed over his torso, stopping at the tear in his shirt where the elder¡¯s sword had pierced him. The wound was gone, but the memory of pain lingered in his wide, tear-filled eyes. He looked at Silas, the tears threatening to fall.


    ¡°You¡¯re alive! I¡ªI thought you¡¯d be dead¡­ I thought I was dead!¡± His words spilled out in frantic relief. ¡°But this¡­ red globe of¡­ I don¡¯t even know.¡±


    Silas¡¯s breath caught. He had been through the same. ¡°Ah, so you had something similar?¡±


    Warren nodded, his hand brushing away tears as he struggled to compose himself. ¡°Yeah¡­ it¡ªit talked to me. Gave me something. It called itself¡ª¡±


    ¡°Lorian,¡± Silas cut in, his voice low but certain, a chill spreading through him.


    Warren froze, his eyes widening as he looked at Silas in disbelief. ¡°How did you know?¡±


    Silas shook his head, the weight of it all pressing down on him. ¡°I was told you would meet someone of that name.¡± He flexed his fingers again, marveling at their return, before pushing himself fully upright. His legs were shaky, but he forced himself to stand.


    Warren did the same, still clutching his torso where the sword had struck. He glanced at Silas for some unspoken reassurance, but Silas didn¡¯t meet his gaze.


    The sound of shifting rubble pulled both of their attentions forward.


    The elder, hunched slightly but still menacing, turned toward them. His bloodied lips curled into a grin, his expression dark with amusement.


    ¡°Oh?¡± he muttered, his voice low and taunting. ¡°How persistent.¡±


    Silas tightened his grip on the dagger, his knuckles whitening as the familiar tension of survival overtook his body. Warren, though trembling, clenched his fists.


    ¡°Warren, quick! Give me a small rundown of your ability,¡± Silas whispered urgently, eyes darting to the elder as he slowly advanced toward them, blood dripping from his fingertips.


    ¡°Uh¡­¡± Warren hesitated, glancing back at Silas with a furrowed brow. ¡°It¡¯s like when you shake a soda bottle, and it pops? I can bottle up any physical pain and send it back as an attack¡­ Lorian called it Echo Rebound, if I remember correctly.¡±


    Silas marveled at the description. It was simple but ingenious. The idea of turning pain into a weapon¡ªit was perfect. A grin tugged at his lips, his mind racing with possibilities. ¡°I have a couple of ideas¡­¡± he muttered under his breath, already planning their next move.


    Before he could say anything else, the elder, with a twisted grin on his face, flicked his fingers, sending a small but dangerous bullet of blood speeding toward Silas¡¯ head. It was faster than Silas could react, but in the instant before it made contact, his instincts took over.


    With a swift motion, Silas raised his dagger, deflecting the blood projectile. The moment it collided with the blade, something unexpected happened.


    Time seemed to freeze.


    The world around him slowed, the blood bullet hanging in the air, its trajectory halted as if caught in a still moment. Silas blinked, trying to make sense of what he was seeing. The dagger felt strange in his grip, and when he looked closer, he saw something he hadn¡¯t noticed before¡ªtwo faint threads, attached to the blade.


    ¡°¡­?¡± He stared in confusion, unsure of what was happening. His gaze shifted to the blood bullet, now frozen in midair, its form flickering between solid and liquid.


    A memory surfaced¡ªthe blue aura¡¯s words echoed in his mind. ¡°In the presence of Silas Grayson¡­ people, things, and concepts must face your absolute judgment. That being rather to return to their origin or reach their peak.¡±


    Origin. The word felt right. Simple, yet powerful.


    He whispered it softly, almost unconsciously. ¡°Origin.¡±


    The moment the word left his lips, time snapped back into motion. The blood bullet began to disintegrate, its hardened shape turning back into liquid and falling to the ground in a small puddle. Silas stood frozen for a moment, his mind racing to understand what had just happened.


    That was it. That was Temporal Apex in action.


    He had reversed the blood¡¯s transformation, returning it to its origin, before it could harm him. The weight of the ability settled in, and Silas realized what it meant. He wasn¡¯t just able to stop time or control it; he could force things back to their fundamental state¡ªwhether that was the start of their creation or the peak of their potential.


    The implications were staggering. And yet, in this moment, it felt like his first real victory against the elder.


    Silas didn¡¯t take his eyes off the elder. He could feel the weight of his next move hanging in the air, knowing that he had to act quickly. But for the first time in a long while, he felt like he had a chance.


    ¡°Oh? What was that just now?¡± the elder asked, his tone mockingly curious. His eyes flickered with something between intrigue and disdain. He knew he wouldn¡¯t get an answer. ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter. Die.¡±


    Without hesitation, the elder pressed the blade of his sword into his palm and yanked hard, slicing past layers of skin and muscle. The crimson lifeblood that flowed from the wound quickly coated the blade, and with a flick of his wrist, he sent droplets of blood hurtling toward Silas and Warren.


    The projectiles were fast¡ªalmost too fast to track. But the elder¡¯s movements were no longer as sharp as they had been earlier. Each strike seemed slower, more labored. The cracks in his composure were showing.


    ¡°I knew it!¡± Silas shouted, dodging to the side as one of the blood pellets whizzed past his face, slamming into the ground with a force that sent rubble and smoke into the air. ¡°You can use blood outside your body, but you can¡¯t put it back in! In other words, if we don¡¯t bleed and we keep making you bleed¡­ we¡¯ll win!¡±


    Another barrage of blood bullets zipped toward him, sharp as steel and deadly as ever. Silas ducked and rolled, narrowly avoiding one that shattered a chunk of the wall behind him. Dust clouded the air as the elder¡¯s attacks continued to tear through the environment with terrifying force.


    Warren followed Silas¡¯ lead, weaving between the onslaught of projectiles. Though his movements were still sluggish from his earlier injuries, the determination in his eyes was clear. For the first time, they had a strategy that might actually work.


    But the elder¡¯s smirk never faded. If anything, it grew wider. ¡°Oh? You think you¡¯ve figured me out?¡± His voice cut through the chaos, cold and sharp. ¡°Then let¡¯s see if you can survive long enough to prove it.¡±


    The elder¡¯s smirk twisted into a snarl as he drove the blade through his own hand, further tearing flesh and muscle to fuel his arsenal. Blood poured freely, shaping into sharp, deadly pellets. The sheer number of projectiles multiplied, a storm of crimson death now flying toward Silas and Warren.


    Warren clenched his teeth, his mind racing. If what Lorian had said was true, he could take the pain from the attacks and channel it into something even stronger. But that required him to endure. He inhaled sharply, extending his hand behind him. The blood pellets pelted his palm and arm, each impact like a swarm of stinging wasps. He winced, the pain nearly overwhelming, but it was just enough.


    ¡°I can work with this,¡± he muttered under his breath, his fingers trembling but steady.


    Meanwhile, Silas had his own approach. His dagger flashed in the air as he sliced toward an incoming blood pellet, the blade meeting it with precision. The moment it made contact, the world froze again. Everything seemed suspended¡ªtime itself at a standstill.


    Silas stared at the frozen pellet hovering just above his dagger. He had already tested Origin, forcing the blood to revert to its liquid state. But now it was time to explore the other side of his ability.


    ¡°Apex,¡± he whispered, his voice low but resolute.


    This time, he wasn¡¯t attempting to elevate the blood itself, but rather its velocity. His focus sharpened, imagining the projectile accelerating far beyond what it was before. If he was right¡­


    Time resumed, and the blood pellet ricocheted off his dagger, rebounding toward the elder with impossible speed. The elder had no chance to react as the projectile pierced clean through his arm. A sharp thud echoed as the blood splattered behind him, leaving a noticeable hole in his forearm.


    Blood dripped freely from the wound, and for the first time, the elder¡¯s expression faltered¡ªjust slightly. He glanced at the injury, his teeth clenched, then back at Silas with a mixture of fury and disbelief.


    Silas allowed himself a small, triumphant smirk. ¡°Losing so much blood already.. I was right! You''re being cautious because anymore could be your end.¡±


    The elder¡¯s face twisted in rage and desperation, a mix of disbelief and fury as Silas and Warren continued to counter his every move. He growled through gritted teeth, refusing to acknowledge the truth. They had outmaneuvered him. They had forced him into a corner.


    ¡°Arghh!¡± the elder bellowed, his voice echoing through the cavern. He pressed on, refusing to yield. Summoning the last reserves of his strength, he gathered the blood around him into a massive, crimson spear. The weapon shimmered and pulsed with raw power, its surface unnervingly organic as if it were alive and thirsting for destruction.


    He raised it high above his head, the sharp point aimed directly at Silas. Every muscle in his body trembled with exertion, the toll of blood loss finally catching up to him. Still, he knew this would be his final strike, his only chance to end this.


    ¡°I will not lose to the likes of you!¡± he roared, bringing the spear down with every ounce of his strength.


    The cavern was alive with tension, the spear cutting through the air like a crimson comet. Silas braced himself, dagger in hand, ready to counter. But before the elder could finish his attack, a sharp, resonant crack echoed through the cavern.


    It was not the sound of the elder¡¯s spear piercing its target.


    The elder froze mid-motion, his body stiffening. Slowly, he turned his head, the sound still ringing in his ears. Behind him, Warren stood, his fist outstretched. But this was no ordinary strike. Around Warren¡¯s fist, the very fabric of existence warped and twisted unnaturally. The cavern seemed to groan under the weight of whatever power he had called forth.


    The air shimmered with fractal-like distortions, each one a crack in reality itself. It wasn¡¯t just space that bent¡ªit was time, concepts, and something far deeper, far more fundamental. Warren¡¯s fist carried not just physical force but the weight of everything he had endured.


    The elder¡¯s eyes widened, his bravado shattered in an instant. He tried to move, to raise his spear in defense, but his body wouldn¡¯t respond. The distortion around Warren¡¯s fist was all-consuming, a force of inevitability.


    Crack.


    Warren¡¯s fist collided with the elder¡¯s face. The sound wasn¡¯t just the crunch of bone but the shattering of something far more significant. The crimson spear dissolved mid-air, splattering harmlessly to the ground. The elder¡¯s body crumpled under the sheer impact, his head snapping back as he was launched into the far wall of the cavern.


    The force of the blow reverberated throughout the space, causing loose stones and debris to rain down. Dust filled the air as the elder¡¯s limp form slumped to the ground.


    His once-commanding presence was now reduced to a broken shell, motionless and defeated.

 Aftermath

    Rocks and debris crumbled from the walls, their fall punctuated by sharp clatters on the cavern floor, mirroring the elder¡¯s collapse. His distorted body lay in a twisted heap, the once-commanding presence reduced to a pitiful remnant. Blood pooled beneath him, its dark sheen glistening faintly in the dim light, flowing freely from countless wounds. His inhumane use of blood as a weapon had ultimately backfired, draining him of life. Each ragged, shallow breath was a struggle, his defiance reduced to the faintest flicker, fading with every moment.


    Nearby, Warren panted heavily, his chest rising and falling in desperate rhythm as he struggled to steady his breath. His body trembled under the strain, his every movement a reminder of how far he had pushed himself. He glanced down at his hand, watching as the unnatural warping effect dissipated. The air around it, which had twisted and cracked like fragile glass mere moments ago, now stilled. The calm was jarring, a stark contrast to the chaos that had just unfolded.


    The price of their victory was evident. Warren¡¯s legs wobbled, his breaths growing uneven as the adrenaline faded. The immense pain he had absorbed and reflected was catching up to him, and his body now rebelled against the punishment it had endured. A violent shiver coursed through him, his form sagging as exhaustion overwhelmed him.


    Silas, seeing his companion falter, moved without hesitation. He caught Warren as his knees buckled, steadying him before he could collapse fully. Silas¡¯s sharp gaze scanned Warren¡¯s pale face, noting the faint rise and fall of his chest. He was alive¡ªunconscious, perhaps, but breathing. Relief flooded through Silas, though he knew they couldn¡¯t linger.


    With a soft grunt, Silas adjusted Warren, lifting him onto his back. Warren¡¯s weight pressed down on him, lighter than Silas had expected but still a burden on his fatigued body. Silas groaned as his aching muscles protested, but he steadied himself and rose to his full height.


    The cavern was eerily quiet now. Only the faint drip of water and the elder¡¯s labored, fading breaths disturbed the stillness. Silas didn¡¯t look back at the broken figure of his opponent. The fight was over, and there was no point dwelling on it.


    As he turned, his eyes caught sight of something he hadn¡¯t noticed before: a door on the far side of the cavern. Faintly illuminated by a soft, natural light, its presence was subtle yet undeniable. Its surface was worn, etched with faint patterns that hinted at age and mystery. In the heat of the battle, it had been invisible, obscured by the dust and chaos.


    Without hesitation, Silas began moving toward it. Each step was slow and deliberate, the weight of Warren on his back and his own exhaustion pressing heavily upon him. Every movement was a test of his resolve, but the sight of the door¡ªand the light beyond¡ªdrove him forward.


    The door loomed closer, its surface seeming almost warm in the gentle glow of the light. Silas paused for a moment as he reached it, steadying himself. A cool draft seeped through the edges, carrying with it the promise of something new.


    He leaned into the door, pushing it open. The hinges groaned, their sound echoing through the cavern. As the door creaked wide, a soft, golden light spilled into the dim space, washing over Silas and Warren like a soothing balm. It wasn¡¯t harsh or blinding; it was gentle, warm, and full of promise.


    What lay beyond wasn¡¯t immediately clear, but it didn¡¯t matter. The light alone was enough¡ªa beacon of hope after the suffocating darkness of the cavern. Silas stepped forward, leaving behind the bloodied battlefield and the broken remnants of their opponent.


    Some minutes of walking passed, each step heavy with exhaustion but steadied by determination. The narrow passage beyond the door carried them upward, and the light ahead grew steadily brighter. It wasn¡¯t just light; it was the light of the outside world, unmistakable in its purity.


    ¡°We¡¯re getting closer,¡± Silas murmured softly, his voice more for himself than for the unconscious Warren. Each step felt lighter than the last, buoyed by the sight of the world beyond.


    Finally, the passage widened, spilling them into the open. Silas stepped forward into the sunlight, its warmth washing over him like an embrace. The sky stretched wide above them, a brilliant canvas of blue unmarred by clouds. The fresh air filled his lungs, a stark contrast to the damp, heavy air of the cave.


    For a moment, Silas simply stood there, letting the relief sink in. They had made it. Whatever trials awaited them, this moment was a reprieve, a reminder that there was still beauty and life beyond the battles they fought.


    With Warren secure on his back and the sunlight guiding their way, Silas took another step forward. The cavern and its horrors were behind them now, and the path ahead, though uncertain, was bathed in light and hope.


    Silas traversed the rocky surface with care, each step measured as he navigated the uneven terrain. The soft crunch of gravel beneath his boots and the occasional groan of shifting rocks were the only sounds accompanying him, but his mind wasn¡¯t on the path ahead. It was on the lingering threat behind.


    One thought gnawed at him relentlessly: now that he and Warren had escaped the cavern, Thomas and Keith might seriously finish the job. Silas¡¯s grip on Warren tightened at the idea, his jaw clenching in frustration and unease.


    Sure, he¡¯d gained a new ability in that harrowing fight, but that didn¡¯t mean much when the odds were stacked so heavily against him. He was only one person, burdened by an unconscious partner, and Thomas and Keith weren¡¯t just anybody. Together, they were a deadly pair¡ªresourceful, ruthless, and willing to do whatever it took to survive.


    Silas¡¯s breath hitched as the weight of reality pressed on him. Warren was the reason they¡¯d made it out alive, the driving force behind their victory against the elder. Without Warren¡¯s counterattacks and sheer resilience, Silas doubted he¡¯d even be walking right now.


    He glanced over his shoulder instinctively, scanning the horizon for any sign of pursuit. The expanse behind him was empty, but he couldn¡¯t shake the feeling that danger was looming just out of sight. He adjusted Warren on his back, shifting the unconscious man¡¯s weight to distribute it more evenly.


    Then another thought hit him¡ªa far more chilling one. What if I don¡¯t come back next time?


    Silas swallowed hard, his throat dry despite the fresh air around him. He didn¡¯t fully understand how or why he had returned after dying before. It was a phenomenon he barely had time to question, let alone test, and one he¡¯d started taking for granted. But something felt different this time. His gut told him that the tiny thread keeping him tethered to life was fraying, and if it snapped, there¡¯d be no second¡ªor third¡ªchances.


    The thought made his steps falter for a moment, but he forced himself to keep moving. The horizon ahead was still bright, still promising. Silas wasn¡¯t ready to give up¡ªnot for himself, not for Warren, and not to the two who had betrayed them.


    Each step forward felt heavier than the last, but Silas pressed on, his determination unyielding. He wouldn¡¯t stop. Not until they were truly safe.


    The last thirty minutes felt like an eternity to Silas. His steps dragged, his boots scraping against the uneven ground as exhaustion weighed heavily on his shoulders. He had no destination in mind, no clear goal other than to keep moving forward. Every muscle in his body screamed for rest, but the cold air showed no mercy, biting at his exposed skin and making his pale face flush red. His breath clouded the freezing air, his nose running uncontrollably, but none of it mattered compared to the weight of Warren on his back.


    He had tried everything to wake him, shaking him, calling his name softly, even patting his cheeks¡ªbut Warren remained unresponsive. Each attempt that failed made Silas¡¯s chest tighten with worry. Warren was still breathing, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm, but his unconscious state refused to break.


    ¡°If only I wasn¡¯t so¡ªso useless¡­¡± Silas muttered bitterly under his breath, the cold air carrying his words into the void. His voice cracked slightly, the edges of frustration, guilt, and fear blending together. ¡°If I wasn¡¯t so¡­ so codependent, you wouldn¡¯t have had to push yourself this hard.¡±You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.


    The words stung as they left his lips. He knew they were true. Warren had done so much¡ªtaken so much¡ªand all because Silas couldn¡¯t hold his own when it mattered most.


    The pain in his chest spread, pulling his thoughts to a place he hadn¡¯t wanted to go. He couldn¡¯t stop the memories from surfacing, the echo of his sister¡¯s laughter haunting the silence around him.


    Sarina.


    Her name felt fragile in his mind, like a shard of glass he couldn¡¯t bear to touch too hard for fear it would shatter completely. The guilt he felt now was nothing new¡ªit was a weight he had carried for years, ever since they had been separated. Their parents¡¯ deaths had ripped their sibling relationship apart, and Silas had never stopped blaming himself for what happened afterward.


    He had tried to convince himself she was okay, but the questions never stopped tormenting him. Did she eat enough? Is she doing okay? Does she go to school? Does she even have a place to live? Is she lonely? The worst question of all, though, was the one he feared the most: Does she even remember me?


    His throat tightened, and his legs faltered for a moment before he forced himself to keep moving.


    ¡°Please,¡± he whispered hoarsely to no one, his breath quivering. ¡°Please don¡¯t let her end up like me. Don¡¯t let her¡­ don¡¯t let her give up.¡±


    The words caught in his throat, thick with the weight of his emotions. His free hand curled into a trembling fist at his side as tears stung his eyes, threatening to freeze on his cheeks.


    Meeting Warren had been both a blessing and a curse. In Warren, Silas saw someone who reminded him too much of Sarina. His instinct to protect had gone into overdrive, desperate to shield Warren from the same struggles he himself had endured. But now, as he carried Warren¡¯s unconscious body through the biting cold, he couldn¡¯t help but feel he had failed him, too.


    His voice broke completely as he murmured, ¡°Sarina¡­ are you out there?¡± His lips trembled as the tears finally spilled over, hot streaks cutting through the cold on his face. ¡°Please, don¡¯t give up. Please¡­ don¡¯t lose hope. I¡¯m still trying, I promise. I¡¯m still¡ª¡±


    The words died in his throat as the grief choked him, the sound of his strained breathing filling the silence. The only answer to his plea was the relentless wind, whistling through the barren expanse. He bowed his head slightly, shielding Warren from the worst of the cold, and continued walking.


    Each step felt heavier than the last, but he pushed forward, his only solace the faint hope that somewhere out there, Sarina was still alive¡ªand that she still believed in him. Even if he couldn¡¯t forgive himself, he hoped she could. And that hope, fragile as it was, kept his feet moving.


    .


    ..


    ¡­


    The cold was unbearable. The wind howled like a chorus of unseen predators, each gust cutting deeper into Silas¡¯s already raw skin. He pressed on, one foot after the other, moving by instinct alone. The eerie feeling of being watched clung to him, an oppressive weight that refused to lift.


    ¡°Cold¡­ it¡¯s cold¡­ Warren¡­ safety¡­¡± Silas mumbled, his breath fogging the air. Then, his foot struck something. Not hard, not soft¡ªsomething in between. He froze, dread pooling in his chest. Slowly, he looked down.


    An arm.


    The severed limb lay in the snow, pale and lifeless. The edge was jagged and uneven, torn by something savage. Deep bite marks marred the flesh, like a beast had ripped it free in a frenzy. Silas¡¯s stomach churned, heat flushing his body in a sick wave of panic.


    Whose arm¡­?


    Two rings adorned the fingers¡ªone on the middle, the other on the pinky. Silas¡¯s breath caught as recognition struck him.


    ¡°Keith¡­¡± he whispered, his voice trembling.


    Blood splattered a nearby tree in violent streaks, too much for just an arm. Silas realized the truth: Keith wasn¡¯t the only one who had died here. Both he and Thomas had met something far worse than the fate they¡¯d tried to inflict on him and Warren.


    Karma, cruel and merciless.


    But even as he thought it, bile rose in his throat. To be torn apart, limb by limb, and devoured alive was a punishment beyond imagining.


    The sense of being watched grew stronger, pressing down on him like a heavy hand. Whatever had done this was still nearby. Silas forced his legs to move, stepping back shakily. ¡°Keith¡­¡± he muttered, his voice hollow. ¡°What¡­ did this?¡±


    No answer came, only the wind¡¯s howling roar. Silas turned and marched forward, carrying Warren on his back. The image of the severed arm and the blood-soaked tree burned into his mind, haunting each step he took.


    Silas broke into a sprint, every nerve in his body screaming at him to move faster. Whatever had torn Keith apart could still be out there, and Silas had no intention of being its next meal. His boots crunched against the frozen ground, his breath coming in sharp, uneven gasps that matched the frantic pounding of his heart.


    The trees blurred past him as he ran, shadows flickering in the corner of his vision like they were chasing him. And then, through the maze of skeletal branches, he saw it: smoke, rising in lazy spirals beyond the treetops.


    For reasons he couldn¡¯t explain, Silas veered toward the smoke. It could be a fire. Maybe there¡¯s safety there¡­ warmth¡­ people. The thought pushed him forward, though his legs screamed for rest. He clung to the hope like a lifeline, the weight of Warren on his back a constant reminder of what was at stake.


    The closer he got, the clearer the source of the smoke became. A chimney. Solid, made of brick¡ªattached to an actual house. Not a ramshackle shelter or a hastily constructed lean-to, but a real, well-built home.


    The sight of it nearly brought Silas to his knees. Relief flooded through him, but it was tinged with disbelief. What was a house like this doing out here, in the middle of nowhere? Who lived here? Questions swirled in his mind, but he pushed them aside.


    Safety was all that mattered now.


    .


    ..


    ¡­


    Silas stood in front of the building. No, calling it a house would be an insult. What loomed before him was no mere house but a towering structure¡ªa mansion that seemed plucked straight from the pages of a fantasy novel. Its design was nothing like the modern mansions that once graced high-end neighborhoods. This was something else entirely: grandiose, ancient, and foreboding. It was the kind of mansion you¡¯d imagine standing resolute in a world of knights and dragons.


    ¡°A good ninety percent of it¡¯s covered in greenery,¡± Silas muttered, his voice hoarse from exhaustion. His eyes traced the vines and moss that wrapped around the mansion like skeletal hands. The structure¡¯s majesty was marred by time and neglect. Its once-pristine stone walls were weathered and cracked, overtaken by nature.


    In front of the mansion stood a simple garden post. No flowers adorned it¡ªjust barren, lifeless soil. Silas knelt, prodding at the dirt with his fingers. The ground was stiff and unyielding, untouched for what felt like years. Maybe the harsh weather made planting impossible, or perhaps whoever lived here simply didn¡¯t bother.


    Silas straightened and marched toward the front door, which loomed ominously beneath the mansion¡¯s towering facade. He tested the handle, and to his surprise, it creaked open with little resistance.


    ¡°Not locked? Bold choice for someone living in a mansion like this,¡± Silas muttered under his breath. He hesitated on the threshold, unease prickling at the back of his mind. What if this was a trap? What if someone expected his arrival? Still, retreat wasn¡¯t an option¡ªnot with Warren¡¯s life hanging in the balance.


    ¡°Too late now¡­¡± Silas sighed as he stepped inside, the door groaning behind him. ¡°Let¡¯s hope whoever lives here isn¡¯t a lunatic.¡±


    His thoughts turned bitter as he recalled the betrayal he and Warren had endured just hours ago. ¡°Doubt my luck¡¯s that good,¡± he muttered to himself, trudging forward.


    The mansion¡¯s interior was dimly lit, cold, and eerily quiet. Dust blanketed every surface, and cobwebs hung like curtains in the corners. It felt like stepping into a forgotten relic of another time.


    After a few moments of wandering, Silas finally found what he was searching for: the source of the smoke. A modest fireplace crackled in the corner of a spacious room, its flame small but steady. Relief flooded Silas as he knelt by the fire, carefully lowering Warren¡¯s unconscious body beside it.


    He shrugged off his coat, laying it over Warren like a makeshift blanket. The shivering man needed warmth more than he did. Silas then hovered his own hands near the fire, letting the flickering heat wash over his frozen fingers.


    ¡°How long has it been since I¡¯ve felt this?¡± he murmured, a tired smile breaking across his face. The warmth was a balm for his aching body, and for the first time in hours, a tiny flicker of comfort returned.


    But the moment was fleeting. The sound of footsteps echoed from deeper within the mansion. Silas shot to his feet, his body tensing like a coiled spring. His hand darted to his dagger as he turned, ready to defend himself.


    What he saw wasn¡¯t a beast or a bandit but a woman.


    She was stunning. Her long, blonde hair curled delicately at the ends, catching the dim light like spun gold. Her emerald eyes sparkled with an almost unnatural vibrancy, and her cheeks were kissed with a rosy hue. But what unnerved Silas most was her calmness¡ªtoo calm. No normal person would react this nonchalantly to a stranger breaking into their home.


    ¡°Welcome,¡± she said, her voice soft and melodic. ¡°It¡¯s nice to see a new face.¡±


    Silas didn¡¯t lower his dagger. Her demeanor set him on edge, and her pleasant smile only made him more wary.


    ¡°What does that mean?¡± he demanded, his voice sharp. ¡°Were you expecting me?¡±


    She tilted her head slightly, her expression serene. ¡°Not at all. The fact that you¡¯re here now simply means you were meant to be. The Garden of Commodity doesn¡¯t just accept anyone.¡±


    Her words hung in the air, and Silas felt his pulse quicken. ¡°The Garden of Commodity?¡± he echoed, his voice tinged with disbelief. ¡°What does that even mean?¡±


    But the woman didn¡¯t answer. Her calm smile didn¡¯t falter, and her bright eyes seemed to look straight through him.


    Silas tightened his grip on his dagger, his mind spinning. Her words didn¡¯t make sense, but something about the way she spoke¡ªthe certainty, the serenity¡ªunsettled him.


    As the fire crackled softly behind him and the frostbitten memories of the forest loomed fresh in his mind, Silas realized one thing: he had stepped into something far greater than he could comprehend.

 Garden Of Commodity

    The crackling of burning wood was the only sound in the room, a rhythmic backdrop to the tension that hung between Silas and the mysterious woman. Tiny sparks flared and faded in the hearth, their fleeting light dancing on the walls. The warmth of the fire was a stark contrast to the chill that still clung to Silas¡¯ skin, but even that comfort couldn¡¯t ease the storm of questions raging in his mind.


    Despite everything, the woman before him radiated an unsettling calm. There was no trace of hostility in her expression, no flicker of malice in her emerald eyes. If anything, her demeanor was¡­ welcoming. It threw Silas off.


    He slowly set the dagger down on the nearest table, the metallic clink echoing in the quiet. ¡°Sorry for pulling a weapon on you,¡± he said, his voice still cautious. ¡°But I have a lot of questions.¡±


    The woman offered a small, understanding nod. ¡°Go right ahead.¡±


    Silas hesitated before asking the most pressing one. ¡°You said this place doesn¡¯t ¡®just accept anyone.¡¯ What does that mean? I mean¡­ I walked in here with relative ease. It didn¡¯t seem like it was guarded or hidden.¡±


    The woman smiled faintly and tucked a strand of her golden hair behind her ear. ¡°This mansion is known as The Garden of Commodity. To me and the others, we found it relatively easy to locate as well, just like you and your partner. But for most¡ªthose who aren¡¯t meant to be here¡ªit¡¯s as if this place doesn¡¯t exist at all.¡±


    Silas frowned. ¡°Doesn¡¯t exist? What¡¯s that supposed to mean?¡±


    She tilted her head slightly, her expression serene. ¡°Exactly what I said. The Garden of Commodity only reveals itself to those it accepts. The fact that you¡¯re standing here means you belong here. So¡­ welcome.¡±


    Silas struggled to process her words. He glanced toward Warren, still unconscious by the fire, then back to her. ¡°Wait. You said ¡®others.¡¯ Are there more people here?¡±


    The woman nodded without hesitation. ¡°Yes. There are five others, including myself. With you and your partner, that makes seven.¡±


    Seven people? The idea of more strangers lurking in this sprawling mansion didn¡¯t sit well with Silas. He folded his arms, trying to hide his unease. ¡°And who exactly are these ¡®others¡¯? What are they doing here?¡±


    ¡°They¡¯re like you,¡± she replied simply. ¡°People who were led here by circumstance. Each of us arrived with a purpose, though not all of us understood it at the time. Perhaps you¡¯ll discover yours soon.¡±


    Her cryptic response made Silas¡¯ stomach churn. He didn¡¯t trust the serenity of her tone or the certainty in her words. But the fire¡¯s warmth and the shelter of the mansion were undeniable comforts he desperately needed. For now, he decided to push his suspicions aside.


    ¡°Alright, then.¡± Silas leaned back slightly, his tone hardening. ¡°What¡¯s your name? If we¡¯re going to be sharing this place, I think it¡¯s fair I know who you are.¡±


    ¡°Assuming you¡¯re staying here?¡± The woman tilted her head with a playful glint in her eye. ¡°Kidding. Be my¡ªour guest.¡±


    Without waiting for a response, she stepped forward and extended her hand. ¡°Charlotte Greene, at your service,¡± she said, her voice steady and calm, carrying a kind of humility that felt almost too perfect for the setting.


    Silas hesitated for a moment before shaking her hand. The warmth of her touch caught him off guard, and he felt a faint blush rise to his cheeks. ¡°Silas Grayson,¡± he introduced himself, clearing his throat quickly, ¡°and my partner over there is Warren Hale.¡±


    Lowering his voice as he leaned in slightly, he added with a hint of mischief, ¡°Just¡­ don¡¯t be startled when he wakes up. He¡¯s probably still in his rebellious phase.¡±


    Charlotte chuckled softly, her laugh light and genuine. ¡°I see. Noted,¡± she replied with a slight nod, as if she¡¯d just been handed an important secret.


    Suddenly, the quiet warmth of the room was interrupted by the sound of tossing and groaning. Charlotte gestured behind Silas with a calm expression. He turned to see Warren stirring by the fire.


    ¡°Warren!¡± Silas rushed to his side, crouching to help him sit up. ¡°You¡¯re awake!¡± His voice cracked with a mix of relief and worry.


    Warren groaned as he tried to sit upright, leaning heavily on Silas for support. ¡°Oogh¡ª¡± he mumbled, his voice hoarse and weak.


    ¡°You¡¯re okay!¡± Silas exclaimed, his eyes scanning Warren for any signs of serious injury. He looked around the room, the change of surroundings striking him again. ¡°There¡¯s a lot to explain, so just bear with me¡ª¡±


    ¡°No need,¡± Warren interrupted, his voice more stable now. ¡°I heard it all in my ¡®sleep.¡¯¡±


    Before Silas could respond, Warren pushed him away with surprising strength. ¡°Damn you,¡± he grumbled, standing shakily on his own. ¡°I¡¯m seventeen. Why in the hell would I still be rebellious?¡±


    Silas stumbled back, almost losing his balance. ¡°Hey, I was just trying to¡ª¡±


    But before he could finish, the sound of hurried footsteps echoed from deeper within the mansion. Silas instinctively reached for his dagger, but Charlotte raised a hand, signaling there was no need for alarm.


    The door to the living room swung open, and four figures entered. Leading them was a pale, white-haired boy with wide, bright blue eyes that practically sparkled with excitement. His clothes were loose and a bit tattered, and his face was lightly dotted with bandages that looked like remnants of recent mishaps.


    ¡°Ooo, new people!¡± he exclaimed, his grin warm and full of enthusiasm. He bounced slightly on his feet, his energy almost infectious. ¡°Did you invite them, Goldilocks?¡± His tone was teasing, but there was no malice behind it¡ªjust genuine curiosity.


    Charlotte smiled softly at the nickname, clearly accustomed to it. ¡°Yes, they¡¯ll be staying with us.¡±


    ¡°Goldilocks, huh?¡± Silas thought, raising an eyebrow. ¡°That¡¯s¡­ fitting, actually.¡±


    In the order of people standing before Silas, the first to catch his attention was an average-height man, his eyes framed by a pair of glasses that gleamed in the light. There was something familiar about him, though Silas couldn¡¯t quite place it. Maybe he had seen him in a magazine or some public forum.


    Next was a tall, bulky man whose presence seemed almost overwhelming. His short hair and sharp eyes gave off an intense vibe, but Silas could tell by his posture and demeanor that he wasn¡¯t the type to pick fights. In fact, he had a warmth to him that felt reassuring. Silas, for example, often found himself mistaken for angry because of his default deadpan expression, but this man had an air of kindness despite his appearance.


    The third was a woman with a smug smirk playing on her lips. Her long black hair cascaded down her back, and she wore a black coat trimmed with dark fur. There was something mischievous in her gaze, as if she was just waiting for the perfect moment to say something. The expression on her face reminded Silas of a child who had just received a new toy, eager to show it off.


    Finally, there was the pale kid¡ªhis white hair making him stand out even more. The bandages covering his left eye and other parts of his face only added to his mysterious, slightly rebellious look. He gave off the vibe of a troublemaker, but there was something about him that told Silas he likely caused mischief for a good cause, or at least with good intentions.Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.


    The white-haired kid locked eyes with Silas and closed the distance between them at an unnatural speed, almost causing Silas to stumble back. ¡°Hi there! I¡¯m Ronan! Ronan Reed! And you are?¡± the kid said, his words tumbling out rapidly. Silas quickly learned his name.


    ¡°I-I¡¯m Silas Grayson¡­ This is Warren Hale.¡± Silas glanced at Warren, who made brief eye contact with Ronan before looking away, a slight nervousness flickering across his face. Ronan, on the other hand, stared at Warren in awe, his mouth opening as if about to shout something¡ªuntil the average-height man spoke up.


    ¡°Nice to meet you, Silas and Warren. I¡¯m Lumian Chen.¡±


    Silas¡¯s eyes widened. He recognized the name immediately. ¡°Lumian Chen¡­ The model in the magazines!?¡±


    Lumian was quite well-known, not only for his work as an amateur actor but also for his prominent modeling career with major companies. His looks certainly explained it.


    ¡°Please, don¡¯t bring up something so artificial,¡± Lumian replied with a slight chuckle, but his tone carried a subtle hint of arrogance. Continue praising me, peasant seemed to be the unspoken message.


    Lumian continued with introductions. ¡°The tall guy is Calem Vale. The black-haired girl with the dopey smile is Seraphina Hart. Goldilocks, of course, is Charlotte Greene. I¡¯m sure Ronan made a lasting impression on you. And I¡¯m Lumian. Nice to have you.¡±


    Silas felt his brain spinning from the barrage of information in such a short amount of time, trying to keep up with the names and personalities of everyone in the room.


    One thing caught Silas¡¯ attention¡ªthe way Ronan closed the gap between them so quickly. It made his mind overload with questions. How was it possible for someone to move that fast? Silas had to steady himself, but his voice remained calm. ¡°Hey¡­ so you all also used Soul Fragments¡­ right?¡±


    The room went silent. A tense atmosphere settled over them, and Silas instantly felt the weight of his words. Had he said something wrong? His heart skipped a beat as he awaited their reactions. To his surprise, Ronan was the first to speak.


    ¡°Indeed! That¡¯s why I closed the gap so fast. Pretty cool, right?¡± Ronan beamed up at him, his infectious energy cutting through the silence. Silas, still trying to process the situation, weakly nodded. ¡°Uh¡­ Yeah.¡±


    The silence lingered for a moment before Charlotte spoke up, her tone thoughtful as she placed a hand on her chin. ¡°So there are others with this power¡­ Interesting indeed. And here I thought it was a small handful.¡±


    Silas shook his head, trying to push down his growing unease. ¡°Not even close. Ran into someone with the power of a Soul Fragment¡­ not something I wanna do again.¡±


    His mind raced as he considered the implications. If these people, too, wielded the power of Soul Fragments, they could easily team up against him and Warren. The odds would be stacked against them, and Silas didn¡¯t know if they would survive that. He knew he¡¯d be outmatched.


    Ronan seemed to pick up on the tension and, with a casual smile, placed a hand on Silas¡¯ shoulder. ¡°Are you worried? Don¡¯t be!¡±


    Before Silas could respond, Ronan¡¯s hand disappeared in a blur, and suddenly, a punch landed squarely on Silas¡¯ cheek. It was so fast, Silas didn¡¯t even register it until the force made contact, but something was strange. The punch was light, almost like a pillow, despite its incredible speed. Silas staggered back, rubbing his face in confusion. For a punch that fast, it should¡¯ve been far harder. This made no sense.


    However, a strange, dripping sound caught his attention. Silas turned his head, only to find that Ronan¡¯s nose was bleeding profusely, as if he¡¯d been struck. Blood poured from his nostrils like a fountain. It was almost comical, but Silas¡¯ mind was still reeling from what had just happened.


    Ronan flashed a grin. ¡°See? Causing harm to someone else only has it happen to you in The Garden of Commodity. Cool, right?¡±


    The entire room sighed in annoyance as they were used to this since Ronan did the same thing to them. All eyes were on Ronan, who seemed completely unfazed by the situation. His bandages were soaked through with the blood dripping from his nose, but he didn¡¯t seem to care. Charlotte was the first to move, walking over to his side with a small sigh.


    ¡°Now, what did I say about startling guests¡­ especially with such cruel outcomes that only harm you?¡± Charlotte¡¯s voice was firm but gentle. She reached into her back pocket and pulled out a handkerchief, wiping the blood from Ronan¡¯s face with practiced care.


    Ronan, ever the optimist, simply smiled, his eyes still gleaming with that same mischievous energy.


    Charlotte shook her head but couldn¡¯t suppress the small, affectionate smile that tugged at the corners of her lips.


    Silas stood there, still processing the bizarre sequence of events. His brain was struggling to catch up, and his heartbeat was still racing from the unexpected punch and the strange rules of this place. If the Soul Fragments worked this way, it meant there were dangerous consequences for attacking or even causing harm in The Garden of Commodity, which added another layer of complexity to everything. But the fact that Ronan could act so carefree about it left Silas wondering just how much he was used to this strange, otherworldly place.


    .


    ..


    ¡­


    It was now 10 PM, and the mansion had fallen into a deep, serene silence. The warmth of the fire still lingered in the air as Silas sat alone in his room. He had been shown the way by Charlotte earlier in the evening, and now he found himself in this quiet space, pondering everything that had happened.


    The room was simple, but it held a sense of comfort. A desk sat in the corner, alongside a few of his personal belongings scattered on it. The bed, large and inviting, had an almost angelic softness to it, a stark contrast to the cold and isolation Silas had endured before. The luxury of the bed was a reminder of how far he had come, but the greater sense of peace lay in the unexpected bond he had begun to form with the others. He had spent so many years locked in his thoughts, a prisoner of his own mind, unwilling to let anyone get too close. He had been too afraid to open up. But now, as he sat there in the quiet of his new room, he felt a strange sense of accomplishment, as if something had shifted within him.


    For the first time in a long time, Silas felt a glimmer of hope. He allowed himself to trust, to grow with these people. It wasn¡¯t just the warmth of the bed or the mansion; it was the warmth of connection. A sense of relief washed over him, as though years of regret, years of isolation, had been slowly lifted away. He was no longer alone.


    With that, Silas finally succumbed to sleep, the exhaustion of the day pulling him into a deep rest.


    But twenty minutes later, he awoke, his mind racing, his heart pounding. Silas tossed and turned in bed, struggling to return to the dreamless slumber that had once felt so easy. Yet, no matter how hard he tried, sleep wouldn¡¯t come back to him. Finally, in frustration, he opened his eyes.


    The first thing he noticed was the light¡ªthe sun shining brightly through the curtains, far too bright for the time of year. He squinted against it, confused. The last time he had checked, it was winter, and the days had been shorter, the sun much dimmer. The world outside had been covered in snow, the harsh cold of the season all around. But now, as Silas looked out the window, the snow had completely melted.


    ¡°What the hell?¡± he whispered under his breath. His pulse quickened as he jumped out of bed, his feet hitting the cold floor as panic started to rise within him. Something was wrong¡ªsomething had shifted.


    Without thinking, Silas bolted for the door, rushing to Warren¡¯s room. His heart pounded in his chest, each step heavier than the last. When he threw open the door, his breath caught. The room was empty¡ªno sign of Warren, no bags, no clothes, nothing. It was as if Warren had never even been there. The bed was the same as it had been when they first arrived, untouched and pristine.


    ¡°W-What the¡ª¡± Silas stammered, his voice catching in his throat. He could hardly believe his eyes. Where had Warren gone?


    Suddenly, a familiar voice cut through the confusion, distant but unmistakable. The voice was something Silas had only heard once before, yet it was burned into his memory, deep and resonant. It was a voice that had spoken to him as he had gained his power¡ªthe voice of the blue aura, the mysterious presence that had granted him his Temporal Apex ability.


    ¡°No way¡­ It can¡¯t be¡­¡± Silas muttered to himself, his heart racing. His thoughts were a blur, but he couldn¡¯t ignore the pull of that voice. The voice was too familiar.


    Silas rushed down the hallway and out of the front door, barely registering the beautiful scenery around him. The mansion¡¯s courtyard had transformed. The once barren soil was now teeming with vibrant plants and flowers, the greenery filling the air with a soft, fragrant scent. But it wasn¡¯t the sight of the plants that made his breath catch¡ªit was the voice, the unmistakable sound of the blue aura, echoing through the air once again.


    His steps became unsteady as he walked through the garden, his body trembling. The cold morning air didn¡¯t seem to match the heat growing inside him as he approached the backyard. The voice called to him again, pulling him toward the table he could see in the distance, where several figures sat, chatting quietly.


    As Silas drew closer, his eyes widened, and his breath hitched in his chest. Sitting at the table were seven individuals, each of them seeming impossibly out of place. His gaze locked onto a young boy sitting at the table¡ªa boy with long, dark brown hair tied messily into a ponytail. He turned, and the moment their eyes met, Silas felt an odd mix of recognition and fear. There was something about this boy¡¯s gaze¡ªhis bright blue eyes¡ªthat was both welcoming and terrifying at the same time.


    The boy smiled, a knowing look crossing his face as he spoke, his voice warm but eerily calm.


    ¡°Hello there. How embarrassing. You can see me when I¡¯m not that floating blue aura.¡±


    The boy¡¯s words hit Silas like a punch to the gut. His breath caught in his throat, and his hands shook as he took a step back. The boy before him¡ªthe one sitting at the table, so human, so real¡ªwas impossible.


    The boy had long black hair, a light brown skin complexion, and striking blue eyes¡ªhe was, unmistakably, the personification of the blue aura that had granted Silas his power.

 Names and Faces

    The boy with striking blue eyes and long black hair casually sipped from the classical white mug in his hand. The liquid inside was opaque, giving Silas no clue as to its contents. Yet, despite the boy¡¯s relaxed demeanor, an unshakable sense of authority radiated from him.


    ¡°Staring is rude, y¡¯know. You haven¡¯t even said hello!¡± the boy teased, his voice light yet sharp enough to bring Silas back to the moment.


    Silas blinked, realizing he had been frozen in place, unable to fully process what he was seeing. At the same table sat two others. One was a man with neatly styled comb-over hair. He wore glasses that reflected the golden morning light, his eyes closed, but his face framed by a calm, almost serene smile.


    The other was a woman¡ªan imposing figure that made Silas falter in his step. She was taller than Calem, who Silas had already considered a giant, with a well-defined, muscular yet feminine physique. Her sleeveless dress did little to hide her strength, and her presence was just as striking as her appearance. She noticed Silas staring and quickly looked away, a slight blush rising to her cheeks as she adjusted her posture.


    ¡°If looks could kill,¡± the man with glasses mused, breaking the silence. His tone carried an air of amusement. ¡°I must apologize on behalf of Ciel. He can be¡­ rather tactless with introductions.¡±


    Ciel. The name struck Silas like a bolt of lightning.


    The boy scoffed, clearly unbothered. ¡°Tactless? Please, I¡¯m just efficient.¡±


    Seeing Silas¡¯ puzzled expression, the man with glasses continued, ignoring Ciel¡¯s interjection. ¡°I see he hasn¡¯t told you his name yet. Shame on him, indeed.¡± He gave a polite nod toward the boy. ¡°Allow me to formally introduce myself. I am Lorian. And this,¡± he gestured toward the tall woman, ¡°is Ayelyn.¡±


    Silas took a hesitant step forward, his mind racing as he processed the names. He repeated them in his head over and over. Lorian. Ayelyn. They sounded achingly familiar, but the weight of realization didn¡¯t fully hit until¡ª


    ¡°Wait¡­¡± Silas suddenly blurted out, his voice louder than he intended. ¡°I know you!¡± He pointed at Lorian, his eyes widening as the pieces fell into place. ¡°Warren mentioned you! You¡¯re the one who gave him his power!¡± His attention snapped to Ayelyn, his pulse quickening. ¡°And you¡ªyou created that place. The one that healed me.¡±


    Ciel leaned back in his chair, watching with mild interest as Silas pieced everything together. His smirk widened.


    ¡°So,¡± Ciel said, setting his mug down, ¡°it seems you¡¯re not as clueless as I thought. Maybe this will be more interesting than I imagined.¡±


    Silas rubbed his chin, his expression clouded with suspicion. ¡°So¡­ what is this place? A dream? No, that can¡¯t be right¡­¡± He glanced at the trio seated before him, their presence far too vivid to dismiss as a figment of his imagination. ¡°I don¡¯t even know anything about any of you.¡±


    Ayelyn raised her hand slightly, as though asking for permission to speak, her timidness catching Silas off guard. ¡°Um¡­ well, this is our home,¡± she said softly, her voice calm but unsure. ¡°You and your group¡­ you just sort of inhabited it.¡±


    Lorian adjusted his glasses with a small nod. ¡°That¡¯s correct. It used to be ours before¡ª¡± He stopped abruptly, clearing his throat in a rather forced manner. ¡°Ahem. Well, enough about that. Ancient history and all.¡±


    Silas narrowed his eyes. ¡°Right¡­¡± He could feel the evasiveness in their words but decided not to push just yet.


    Ciel, however, seemed far less interested in subtlety. He stood from his chair and sauntered over to Silas, his movements almost theatrical. His striking blue eyes locked onto Silas¡¯ with an intensity that made him instinctively take a step back.


    ¡°I¡¯ve called you here,¡± Ciel said dramatically, pointing at his chest with his thumb, ¡°for a very important job.¡± He twirled around, extending his arm with a flourish before pointing his finger upward at the blazing sun. ¡°You see, there¡¯s a place you call Cinderhaven. Inside, there¡¯s someone very important. All you have to do is go there, find them, and¡ªwell, you¡¯ll figure it out. Simple enough, right?¡±


    Silas blinked, his expression caught somewhere between incredulous and annoyed. ¡°Huh? That¡¯s it? Why the hell should I do any of this?¡± He crossed his arms, his voice laced with skepticism. ¡°I don¡¯t even know who this ¡®important person¡¯ is! Shouldn¡¯t you, I don¡¯t know, give me a hint or something? Aren¡¯t you supposed to be a god? You¡¯re a really incompetent one if you ask me.¡±


    Ciel clutched his chest dramatically as though Silas had just pierced his heart. ¡°Oh, the pain! The cruelty! Your words cut deeper than any blade!¡± He stumbled backward a step for effect before dropping the act with a sly grin. ¡°But seriously, I¡¯m not that incompetent.¡±


    Silas rolled his eyes. ¡°Could¡¯ve fooled me.¡±


    Ciel wagged a finger at him, leaning in closer with a conspiratorial smirk. ¡°You wound me again, Silas Grayson. Wound me! But here¡¯s the thing¡ªI didn¡¯t say you had to go alone.¡±


    ¡°Oh, great. I get to bring friends to a mystery destination for a mystery person on the orders of a mystery god,¡± Silas deadpanned.


    Ciel ignored him, straightening his posture as he returned to his explanation. ¡°Cinderhaven,¡± he said, his tone growing a fraction more serious, ¡°is more than just a settlement. It¡¯s a crossroads, a place where paths converge and fates intertwine. There¡¯s more waiting for you there than you realize¡ªanswers you didn¡¯t even know you were looking for.¡±


    Silas squinted at him. ¡°You couldn¡¯t have just said that from the start?¡±


    Ciel sighed dramatically, flinging his hands up in exasperation. ¡°And ruin the suspense? Where¡¯s the fun in that? Besides,¡± he added with a mischievous smile, ¡°you¡¯ll learn best by doing. It¡¯s one of those ¡®the journey is the reward¡¯ kind of deals.¡±


    Silas pinched the bridge of his nose. ¡°Oh, for crying out loud¡­¡±


    ¡°Look,¡± Ciel continued, now circling Silas like a hawk. ¡°All you need to know is this: going to the heart of Cinderhaven will change everything. You¡¯ll meet people, learn things about this world that¡¯ll make you question everything you think you know.¡± He stopped and faced Silas directly, his expression softening slightly. ¡°It¡¯s not just about finding someone. It¡¯s about understanding why you were chosen in the first place. And trust me, you were chosen for a reason.¡±


    The words hung in the air, heavy with a cryptic weight that Silas couldn¡¯t ignore, no matter how much he wanted to.


    ¡°So,¡± Ciel added, leaning back with a smirk, ¡°what do you say? Ready to embrace destiny, or do you want to keep sulking about how little you know?¡±


    Silas opened his mouth to argue but quickly shut it, realizing there wasn¡¯t much of a choice. As frustrating as Ciel¡¯s antics were, his words had a way of sinking in. ¡°Fine,¡± Silas muttered. ¡°But if this is some kind of elaborate prank, I¡¯m punching you in the face.¡±


    Ciel laughed, clapping his hands together. ¡°Fair enough! Though I wouldn¡¯t recommend it. You might end up punching yourself instead. This place does have its quirks, after all.¡±


    Ayelyn giggled softly, and even Lorian allowed himself a small chuckle. Silas groaned, feeling like he was being dragged into something far bigger than himself.


    And somewhere deep down, he couldn¡¯t shake the feeling that this was only the beginning.


    Silas¡¯s legs buckled beneath him, a sudden wave of exhaustion overwhelming his body. He stumbled forward, collapsing onto his stomach with a dull thud. His palms pressed into the ground, and his breath came in ragged gasps as he struggled to lift his head.


    Above him, the three figures watched, their forms beginning to shimmer and blur, like reflections on disturbed water.


    ¡°Oh dear,¡± Ayelyn said softly, her voice tinged with concern. ¡°He¡¯s waking up already.¡±


    Ciel, ever the casual one, shrugged as he turned on his heel and made his way back to the table. ¡°Well, what can you do? Until next time, Silas. Don¡¯t forget about us¡­ or, well, I suppose that¡¯s inevitable.¡±


    Silas¡¯s vision swam, but his mind latched onto Ciel¡¯s parting words. What did he mean by ¡®inevitable¡¯? The idea of forgetting them seemed impossible¡ªimplausible even. There was no way he could ever¡ªA case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.


    His thoughts fractured as everything around him crumbled. The vibrant world of lush greens and radiant sunlight faded away, swallowed by a yawning void of darkness. The figures disappeared, their edges consumed by shadow, until there was nothing left but silence.


    Silas felt as though he was floating, weightless and untethered, his consciousness adrift in the vast emptiness. And then, just as suddenly as it had begun, the darkness gave way to light.


    With a sharp inhale, he bolted upright in his bed, his heart pounding as though he¡¯d just run a marathon. The familiar surroundings of his room greeted him¡ªthe soft mattress beneath him, the singular desk by the wall, the faint chill of winter seeping through the cracks.


    Silas thought desperately about the dream he had, though even calling it that felt wrong. Nothing came to mind. No fleeting images, no fragments of sound or sensation¡ªjust a complete blank. It was as though nothing had existed the moment he fell asleep. He felt restless, trying to piece together the fleeting sense of importance that lingered in his chest. What was it? What had he dreamed of?


    The harder he tried to focus, the more it slipped away, like sand through his fingers. Silas furrowed his brow in frustration. Was it even a dream? Or something else entirely¡­?


    A distant noise pulled him out of his thoughts. Chattering¡ªenergetic and loud¡ªechoed from downstairs, breaking the eerie quiet. It was unmistakably Warren¡¯s voice, though it was mixed with someone else¡¯s who sounded far more excited. Silas shook off his dazed state and pushed himself out of bed.


    He opened the door to his room, his socks brushing against the cold wood floor. Down the hallway to his right was the bathroom, its door slightly ajar. Silas approached, peeking inside to make sure it was empty before stepping in. He turned the faucet on, letting the warm water pour over his hands. The sensation was soothing, pulling him further out of his fog. For a brief moment, he almost felt like drifting back to sleep as the steam curled upward. With a tired sigh, he splashed the water on his face, the warmth revitalizing him as it soaked into his skin.


    Satisfied, he dried his hands on a towel before heading downstairs.


    As soon as he entered the living room, the sight before him nearly made him stop in his tracks. Ronan was chasing Warren in circles like a hyperactive child, his expression bright and full of excitement. Warren, on the other hand, looked utterly exasperated, his brow furrowed and his lips pressed into a thin line. His body language practically screamed, Leave me alone!


    ¡°C¡¯mon! Just one more round! I¡¯m sure I¡¯ve gotten stronger!¡± Ronan yelled, lunging forward as Warren dodged with practiced ease.


    ¡°Dammit! Stay away from me! That was years ago¡ªgive it up already!¡± Warren shot back, his tone sharp and tired.


    Silas blinked at the odd scene before stepping further into the room. ¡°What in the world is going on here?¡± he asked, his voice cutting through the commotion. Warren immediately turned toward him, his shoulders sagging with relief.


    ¡°Man¡­ I¡¯m grateful to see you,¡± Warren panted, clearly out of breath. He leaned over, hands on his knees, trying to catch it. Meanwhile, Ronan crossed his arms and pouted like a child denied candy.


    ¡°What¡¯s he chasing you for?¡± Silas asked, raising a brow. ¡°It¡¯s barely morning, and you two are already at it.¡±


    Warren avoided his gaze, looking uncharacteristically sheepish. He didn¡¯t answer, so Silas turned to Ronan instead.


    Ronan¡¯s lips curled into a smug grin, clearly enjoying the attention. ¡°Warren beat the shit out of me when we were in middle school!¡± he declared, as though it was the funniest thing in the world.


    Silas froze for a second, staring at Ronan like he¡¯d just sprouted a second head. ¡°¡­What?¡± he asked, his voice flat with disbelief. He turned to Warren, who stood stiffly, clearly uncomfortable under Silas¡¯ scrutiny. ¡°There¡¯s no way that¡¯s true. Warren wouldn¡¯t hurt a fly. Right?¡±


    Warren stayed quiet, avoiding Silas¡¯ gaze. The silence only made Silas more curious. ¡°Warren,¡± he said, his tone firm, ¡°don¡¯t leave me hanging. Is he telling the truth?¡±


    Warren finally sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. ¡°When I was in middle school¡­¡± he began hesitantly, ¡°the school I went to wasn¡¯t the best. It was rough, and, well¡­ some of us ended up fighting kids from other schools.¡± He paused, clearly embarrassed, before mumbling, ¡°I may have beaten the crap out of Ronan once because he went to a rival school.¡±


    ¡°Not just once,¡± Ronan interjected gleefully. ¡°It was eight times!¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s because you kept showing up looking for more!¡± Warren snapped, his voice rising defensively. ¡°I only fought you the first time. The other seven times were your fault!¡±


    Silas stared at both of them, utterly baffled. ¡°Hold on. Hold on.¡± He held up his hands, as if trying to physically stop the absurdity. ¡°You mean to tell me you were a delinquent, Warren? You?¡±


    Warren¡¯s cheeks turned red, and he scratched his neck again, clearly mortified. ¡°It wasn¡¯t like that,¡± he muttered, refusing to meet Silas¡¯ amused gaze.


    ¡°Oh, it absolutely was!¡± Ronan chimed in, grinning ear to ear. ¡°Warren was one of the strongest in the area! He even had a nickname! What was it again? Oh yeah¡ª¡®The Stone Fist of Argon!¡¯¡±


    ¡°Stop talking,¡± Warren growled, his tone low and threatening, though his face burned even brighter.


    Silas let out a laugh, shaking his head. ¡°I never thought I¡¯d hear those words in the same sentence. Warren¡­ a delinquent. The Stone Fist.¡± He smirked at Warren, who groaned in embarrassment.


    ¡°Can we just not?¡± Warren pleaded, clearly desperate to change the subject.


    But Ronan wasn¡¯t letting it go that easily. ¡°What? You don¡¯t want your new friend to know what a badass you used to be?¡± He smirked mischievously, dodging a half-hearted swipe from Warren.


    ¡°So loud¡­ please, quiet down. The others are still sleeping,¡± a deep, rumbling voice cut through the noise like a blade. Silas froze mid-step, the hairs on his neck standing on end as he turned around. Standing in the doorway was a man whose sheer presence seemed to fill the entire room.


    Silas¡¯s eyes darted up to meet a piercingly dark gaze. His brain immediately went into overdrive, calculating the man¡¯s dimensions as if it were some survival instinct. 6¡¯7¡­ maybe 6¡¯8. At least 230 pounds. Maybe 240. In simpler terms, an absolute unit.


    Silas instinctively took a step back, feeling like a twig caught in the shadow of a redwood tree. He stumbled slightly, nearly losing his balance, but managed to catch himself before collapsing entirely. For a brief moment, he wondered if he¡¯d accidentally wandered into the wrong house. Was this man part of their group?


    ¡°Calem!¡± Ronan called out cheerfully, running up to the giant like a puppy greeting its owner. ¡°Up so early? Aren¡¯t you usually out cold until the afternoon?¡± Ronan slapped the man¡¯s raised palm in a casual high-five, though the sound of their hands clapping together was loud enough to echo in the room.


    Ah, that¡¯s right¡ªCalem Vale. Silas vaguely remembered hearing his name once or twice before, but the man himself hadn¡¯t left much of an impression. Now Silas understood why. Unlike Ronan or Warren, who had big personalities, Calem didn¡¯t seem like the type to speak much¡ªor at all, for that matter.


    ¡°I thought I¡¯d introduce myself to the newbies,¡± Calem said, his voice low and steady, like distant thunder. His expression remained deadpan, giving away nothing.


    ¡°Well, here¡¯s your chance!¡± Ronan grinned, gesturing toward Silas and Warren like a proud host showing off his guests.


    Calem approached, each step of his boots heavy enough to vibrate the floor beneath them. Silas felt like a bug under a magnifying glass as the giant stopped just a foot away, staring him down. His sharp eyes narrowed ever so slightly, his features unreadable.


    ¡°Now¡­¡± Calem said, his tone steady but weighty, ¡°I have a question for you both.¡±


    Warren audibly gulped, his posture straightening like he was facing a drill sergeant. Silas, who hadn¡¯t done anything even remotely suspicious, suddenly felt an overwhelming urge to confess to crimes he hadn¡¯t committed. Why is he staring at me like that? Silas thought.


    ¡°Uh¡­ o-okay?¡± Silas stammered, his voice cracking slightly.


    ¡°How familiar are you¡­¡± Calem paused for dramatic effect, his gaze unwavering, ¡°with the star Aldebaran?¡±


    Silas blinked. ¡°¡­What?¡±


    Warren glanced at him, then back at Calem, equally confused. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, the what now?¡±


    Calem¡¯s serious expression didn¡¯t falter. ¡°Aldebaran,¡± he repeated, like it was obvious. ¡°It¡¯s a star in the Taurus constellation. A red giant. It¡¯s one of the brightest stars visible from Earth.¡±


    ¡°..Will you kill me for not being familiar with it?¡± Silas asked, his voice laced with genuine nervousness as he eyed Calem¡¯s massive frame.


    Calem blinked, his stoic expression breaking slightly as a look of mild confusion crossed his face. ¡°What? No. It¡¯s not a sin to be unfamiliar with the stars¡­ I assume,¡± he said, his voice still as low and measured as ever, though now tinged with incredulity. He glanced between Silas and Warren like he wasn¡¯t sure if they were joking or genuinely afraid of him.


    Silas let out an awkward laugh, scratching the back of his head. ¡°Right. Of course not. That would be ridiculous.¡±


    Warren, still looking shaken, muttered, ¡°I think I saw it in a textbook once. Does that count?¡±


    Calem sighed like a disappointed teacher. ¡°It¡¯s a shame,¡± he said, shaking his head slowly. ¡°Aldebaran has great significance. Its light has guided many travelers, its energy¡ª¡±


    Ah.. He¡¯s a total nerd. Silas thought, toning out the man as he rambled on and on about the star.


    Moments after the lively interaction, the rest of the house began to stir from their slumber. Silas found himself in the kitchen, the quiet hum of the morning broken only by the faint clink of his glass against the counter as he sipped on water. The coolness grounded him as his thoughts wandered aimlessly.


    ¡°Ah, there you are,¡± a soft, familiar voice broke the silence. Silas turned to see Charlotte walking in, her golden curls catching the early light. She moved with an effortless grace, her bright smile immediately disarming.


    ¡°You seem to be getting along well with the others,¡± she said, her voice warm and pleased. ¡°That¡¯s a relief to hear.¡±


    Silas froze for a moment, feeling heat rise to his face. He quickly finished the rest of his water in a desperate attempt to cool himself down. ¡°O-Of course. It¡¯s the least I can do for being allowed in,¡± he said, trying to sound casual.


    Charlotte tilted her head slightly, her smile never faltering as she began to twirl one of her curls absentmindedly. ¡°Well, if that¡¯s the case¡­ can you be a dear and take a trip to the Heart of Cinderhaven for me? We¡¯re running low on supplies.¡±


    She paused, watching for his reaction before continuing. ¡°Don¡¯t worry¡ªI¡¯ve already asked Ronan and Lumian to go with you, and they agreed. I¡¯m sure Warren would join you, too.¡±


    The mention of Cinderhaven sent an odd ripple through Silas¡¯s mind. It was fleeting, like the faint echo of a forgotten dream, but it left him with an uncomfortable sense of d¨¦j¨¤ vu.


    Still, he smiled and nodded, shaking off the strange feeling. ¡°It¡¯s the least I can do,¡± he said simply, repeating himself.


    Charlotte¡¯s expression softened. ¡°Thank you, Silas,¡± she said, her tone filled with quiet gratitude.


    He watched her leave, the faint scent of lavender trailing behind her. For a moment, Silas lingered in the quiet kitchen, staring at the empty glass in his hand. His mind itched with the strange sensation that he was forgetting something¡ªsomething important¡ªbut no matter how hard he tried to grasp it, it slipped through his fingers like water.


    With a sigh, he placed the glass down and turned toward the others. Whatever lay ahead in Cinderhaven, he¡¯d figure it out when he got there.

 Preparation for the road ahead

    The seven members of the Garden of Commodity sat around the circular table, the crackling fire filling the room with a soft warmth. Ember sparks occasionally danced into the air, their fleeting light reflecting in the quiet, thoughtful expressions of the group.


    Charlotte broke the silence, her cheer cutting through the tense atmosphere. ¡°Why the long faces? I think this is the perfect time to get to know each other!¡± She clapped her hands lightly, her smile as bright as ever.


    Silas, sitting near the edge of the table, barely registered her words. His mind was elsewhere¡ªfragments of a dream he couldn¡¯t remember gnawed at the corners of his thoughts. And now, there was the looming journey to the Heart of Cinderhaven. He had only heard stories about the place, each one more outrageous than the last. A land of excess, resources, and secrets that seemed almost too good to be true.


    Warren, seated across from him, raised a hand, breaking the silence. Charlotte turned to him eagerly. ¡°Warren, do you have something to add?¡±


    ¡°Something like that,¡± Warren said, his tone pragmatic. ¡°I just want to know¡ªhas anyone here actually been to Cinderhaven? I¡¯ve heard the stories like everyone else, but it¡¯d be nice to know what we¡¯re actually walking into.¡±


    The group exchanged glances, uncertainty spreading like a ripple through the table. Finally, Calem broke the quiet.


    ¡°I have,¡± he said simply, his deep voice carrying an air of authority. He leaned back slightly, his dark eyes reflecting the flickering firelight. ¡°I lived there for a few months before I found this place.¡±


    All eyes turned to him, curiosity mixing with the unease already lingering in the room.


    ¡°Cinderhaven is¡­ different,¡± Calem continued, his tone even. ¡°It¡¯s a place that feels almost fictional. You won¡¯t find dragons or otherworldly creatures wandering the streets, but what you will see¡­¡± He trailed off, his gaze sharpening. ¡°Let¡¯s just say it¡¯s enough to make you question everything you think you know about civilization.¡±


    This vague explanation of the Heart of Cinderhaven only left everyone more confused. Silas, meanwhile, was spiraling. His mind kept circling back to the elder¡ªif someone like that showed up again in a place like Cinderhaven¡­ He shuddered at the thought.


    Then Lumian, with his ever-sunny enthusiasm, chimed in. ¡°So like a fantasy novel!?¡± His eyes sparkled, and his curly hair seemed to bounce with his excitement.


    Silas blinked. What.


    A fantasy novel? Did Lumian not grasp the sheer weight of the situation? Silas could practically feel the stress pressing down on him like an anvil, and here Lumian was making literary comparisons.


    Ronan, to Silas¡¯s relief, looked equally appalled. ¡°Lumian¡­ seriously?¡± His tone was stern, but his headshake of disappointment said it all.


    For a moment, Silas felt validated¡ªuntil Ronan kept going. ¡°A novel? Who would read something so lame! Everyone knows a game is more fitting. Like The Legend of¡ª¡±


    Nevermind. Silas stared at the two, utterly dumbfounded. These two were supposed to accompany him to Cinderhaven? Maybe he was better off going alone.


    ¡°What children¡­¡± Seraphina muttered, her tone laced with exasperation. She sat next to Calem, a faint blush dusting her cheeks. ¡°Hey, Silas, Warren, I feel bad for ya.¡± She gestured toward Lumian and Ronan, who were currently engaged in some overdramatic display of mutual agony. ¡°Those two? They get each other started, y¡¯know? Like a comedic duo¡ªbut at the worst possible times.¡±


    Silas nodded in agreement, glancing at Lumian and Ronan as they clutched their chests in theatrical despair. He couldn¡¯t help but think this was spot on. Meanwhile, this was the first real interaction he¡¯d had with Seraphina, and she struck him as the cooler older sister archetype¡ªthe type who was supposed to babysit but would rather talk on the phone in her room.


    ¡°Any questions?¡± Charlotte¡¯s bright voice cut through his thoughts, pulling him back to reality.


    Silas blinked, scrambling to refocus. ¡°Uh, yeah. We¡¯re going for supplies, right? What exactly do we need? Most of the stuff here seems to work fine. And how are we supposed to pay for this? If Cinderhaven is as¡­ developed as Calem says, I¡¯m guessing currency is still a thing, right?¡±


    Warren nodded in agreement. Money hadn¡¯t held value for years, so how exactly were they supposed to barter in a place like that?


    ¡°I¡¯m glad you asked!¡± Charlotte exclaimed, clearly thrilled to elaborate. ¡°First, we need more food¡ªespecially since you two joined us. Second, I heard there¡¯s a market selling pillows and blankets, and with winter coming, we could definitely use those. And third¡­¡± She placed a hand over her chest, looking almost regal. ¡°I need someone to resupply my tea. There¡¯s a woman there¡ªyou can¡¯t miss her! Just mention my name, Charlotte Greene, and she¡¯ll know what to do.¡±


    Charlotte¡¯s enthusiasm was so strong it was almost infectious. Almost.


    ¡°And,¡± she added with a proud flourish, ¡°if you have anything left over, treat yourselves! Consider it a token of our gratitude.¡±


    Silas¡¯s head spun from the sudden rush of information, but one key issue stood out. ¡°Right¡­ but, uh¡­ how exactly are we supposed to afford all this? Like I said, money doesn¡¯t mean anything anymore.¡±


    Charlotte smiled knowingly, as if she¡¯d been waiting for this moment. She reached under the table and pulled out a small box, setting it in front of them with a flourish.


    Cigarettes.


    Silas squinted at the box. ¡°¡­Pardon?¡±


    ¡°What?¡± Charlotte replied, her tone as innocent as could be.


    ¡°I don¡¯t smoke, you know that, right?¡± Silas said, pointing at the offending items.


    ¡°I¡¯m aware.¡± Charlotte tilted her head, her smile still firmly in place. ¡°You don¡¯t smell like tobacco.¡±


    ¡°So¡­ what¡¯s the point?¡± Silas asked, genuinely baffled.


    ¡°You see,¡± Charlotte began, holding up a single cigarette like it was a sacred relic, ¡°after that fateful day, people with¡­ certain habits still needed their fix. Cinderhaven turned to cigarettes¡ªand other items¡ªas a form of currency. It¡¯s like a barter system. You trade these for what you need.¡±


    Silas stared at her, deadpan. ¡°So, you¡¯re telling me the fate of our supplies hinges on a pack of smokes?¡±


    Charlotte nodded, her expression as radiant as ever. ¡°Exactly!¡±


    Warren pinched the bridge of his nose. ¡°This is insane.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s innovative,¡± Charlotte corrected, clearly proud of her explanation.


    ¡°Right, sure,¡± Silas muttered, shaking his head. ¡°Innovative.¡± He wasn¡¯t sure if he was more stressed about going to Cinderhaven or the fact that their entire operation relied on trading tobacco.


    Silas was once again pulled from his wandering thoughts when Ronan raised his hand. The group collectively turned to look at him, and when no one acknowledged him further, he simply spoke up.


    ¡°Alright, important question,¡± Ronan began, his tone uncharacteristically serious. ¡°Is Cinderhaven, like, a free place? You know, with no ruler or anything? I just can¡¯t see that going well¡­ at all.¡±Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.


    For the first time, Ronan sounded like he was actually invested in the discussion. It was so unexpected that Silas found himself raising an eyebrow, genuinely curious about where this was going.


    Charlotte tapped her chin thoughtfully, clearly enjoying the opportunity to educate¡ªor pretend to. After a dramatic pause, she shrugged with an almost comical nonchalance. ¡°Hmm, I haven¡¯t really heard much about that¡­ or been there, so I can¡¯t say for sure.¡±


    Ronan deflated slightly, but Charlotte wasn¡¯t done. She clapped her hands together, her face lighting up with excitement. ¡°Oh, but this is a question for¡­ Calem!¡± She pointed at him like a game show host announcing the next contestant.


    Calem blinked, visibly caught off guard. ¡°Uh¡­ something like that,¡± he started hesitantly, clearly uncomfortable being put on the spot. ¡°There is a ruler, technically, but not really? She has someone else govern for her, even though she¡¯s still in power. She¡¯s¡­ arrogant and prideful.¡±


    The sound of that made the group slightly skeptical and nervous. A ruler too cocky, arrogant, or powerful that they would rather have someone else rule while still having power over that person? What a corrupted way to think of things.


    Silas, trying to move past the unease settling in the room, contributed to the conversation. ¡°Is that all we need to know? If so, we should be getting on our way.¡± He directed the question toward Charlotte, who gave him a simple nod of confirmation.


    With that, the group stood and began to disperse, carrying on with their individual tasks to prepare for the journey. Lumian went straight to his room, muttering something about needing to finish packing. Ronan, who had been far too eager about this trip, had already packed everything he needed the day before and wandered off with nothing to do. Warren, ever practical, didn¡¯t seem to be packing much at all¡ªjust the bare essentials for travel.


    Silas had just reached the stairs to his room when Charlotte¡¯s voice called out to him. ¡°Silas, wait.¡±


    He stopped mid-step and turned to see her standing by the table, her expression unreadable but softer than usual. ¡°Hm? Is something wrong?¡± he asked, tilting his head.


    Charlotte shook her head gently, gesturing for him to sit. ¡°Not at all. I just need a moment of your time. Can you spare me that?¡±


    Silas hesitated for only a second before walking back and taking a seat beside her. Her calm demeanor felt oddly heavy, as though there was a weight behind her words that he wasn¡¯t sure he wanted to face.


    On the table next to the boxes of cigarettes, she laid out a few items: a rolled-up piece of paper, a marker, and some clean bandages. Her fingers moved deftly, as though she¡¯d been waiting for this conversation.


    ¡°Silas,¡± she started, her voice quieter than usual, ¡°can I ask you something? And I want you to be honest with me.¡±


    Silas nodded slowly, unsure of what was coming. ¡°Of course.¡±


    Charlotte met his gaze, her tone dipping into something vulnerable and sincere. ¡°Are you the type to let people in?¡± She paused, watching him carefully. ¡°I know it¡¯s only the second day, but I can¡¯t figure you out. There¡¯s a part of me that wonders if you¡­ resent us. Or if we¡¯ve failed to make you feel welcome.¡±


    The question caught Silas off guard, his mind racing. ¡°What? No, not at all,¡± he replied quickly, his voice tinged with disbelief. ¡°Do I really come off like that? I sound like an ass.¡±


    Charlotte chuckled softly, shaking her head. ¡°Don¡¯t belittle yourself. That¡¯s not what I mean.¡± She tapped the marker lightly against the bandages, thinking carefully. ¡°It¡¯s just¡­ I can see you¡¯re carrying something heavy. And I know it¡¯s none of my business, but you¡¯ve been holding the world at arm¡¯s length since you arrived here. You don¡¯t have to do that with us. Not here.¡±


    Silas stared at her, unsure of how to respond. He wasn¡¯t used to people looking through him, let alone into him.


    ¡°You¡¯ll find,¡± Charlotte continued, her smile small but earnest, ¡°that this group isn¡¯t perfect. But we do lean on each other. We¡¯re stronger for it. I chose you for this trip because I believe you¡¯ll be someone we can rely on, especially Lumian and Ronan. I believe in you, Silas. But you have to let us in first. Will you let us?¡±


    Her words sank into him like stones in still water, each one rippling through the walls he had so carefully built. For a moment, he didn¡¯t know what to say.


    ¡°I¡­¡± he started, his voice trailing off. He looked down at his hands, flexing them unconsciously.


    Charlotte smiled faintly, picking up the bandages. She began to write something on them in neat, deliberate strokes with the marker. ¡°Take your time,¡± she said gently, her tone devoid of pressure or expectation.


    Silas¡¯s thoughts spiraled inward, pulling him into memories of failure and regret. He had spent so long believing he was better off alone, that he couldn¡¯t be trusted with the well-being of others. And yet, here was someone who didn¡¯t just see his flaws but saw past them. Someone who believed in him despite the weight he carried.


    ¡°Rely on me?¡± he finally said, his voice quieter, almost to himself. He lifted his head, meeting her gaze. ¡°I¡­ don¡¯t know if I¡¯m the kind of person you think I am. But if you¡¯re willing to trust me, then I¡¯ll do my best to prove you right.¡±


    Charlotte¡¯s smile widened, and she slid the bandages over to him. Written across them in bold, unwavering letters were the words: You are enough.


    Silas blinked, stunned by the simplicity and power of the message.


    ¡°You¡¯ve been walking your path alone for too long,¡± Charlotte said softly. ¡°But here, you don¡¯t have to. And one day, you¡¯ll see it, Silas. That everything you¡¯re carrying? It¡¯s not a weakness. It¡¯s what makes you strong.¡±


    Silas stared at the bandages for a long moment before gripping them tightly in his hands. ¡°I¡¯ll allow it,¡± he said, his voice firmer this time. ¡°And I¡¯ll try my best.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s all I ask,¡± Charlotte replied, her tone warm.


    As Silas stood, the words on the bandages seemed to weigh a little less in his hands. And for the first time in a long time, he felt like he was walking toward something, rather than away.


    If no one else would be what Silas needed all his life, then he shall be it for others. Hope.


    Silas began wrapping the bandage around his left hand, the words You are enough hidden beneath the neat layers. Charlotte smiled softly, watching him in silence. She stood from the table, giving him a small nod of approval. ¡°Take care of yourself, Silas,¡± she said warmly before heading to her room. The quiet click of the door closing left Silas alone for only a moment.


    The sound of footsteps echoed from the staircase as Lumian, Warren, and Ronan descended, their expressions a mix of eagerness and focus.


    ¡°You ready?¡± Lumian asked, a wide grin on his face.


    Silas gave a small nod, grabbing the box of cigarettes and the rolled-up paper¡ªa map detailing the best route to the Heart of Cinderhaven. His eyes scanned the crude markings and landmarks, his brow furrowing slightly.


    Noticing Silas¡¯s puzzlement, Lumian quickly stepped forward. ¡°The walk there¡¯s about five hours,¡± he explained, pointing to a spot on the map. ¡°But there¡¯s a community about an hour in where we can rent horses. That¡¯ll cut the rest of the trip to about an hour and a half. So, two and a half hours total.¡±


    Silas looked up from the map, giving Lumian a brief nod. ¡°Right. Thank you,¡± he replied, his voice calm but steady.


    Lumian¡¯s grin widened. ¡°Don¡¯t mention it. Let¡¯s just make it there in one piece, yeah?¡±


    With that, the group made their final preparations and stepped out into the crisp morning air, the road to Cinderhaven stretching before them. Silas glanced at the others, his thoughts returning briefly to Charlotte¡¯s words. He tightened the bandage on his hand, the faint imprint of the message grounding him. You are enough, he reminded himself.


    And with that, they began their journey.


    .


    ..


    ¡­


    The group was getting closer to the community. Ronan¡¯s jokes and random tangents had kept them entertained, holding their sanity together as the agonizingly boring walk threatened to drive them to madness. Every so often, the crack of a twig or rustle of leaves would pull their attention, but it was never more than the wind or a small animal.


    As they trudged forward, Silas¡¯s thoughts drifted back to what Charlotte had said: ¡¯I chose you for this trip because I believe you¡¯ll be someone we can rely on, especially Lumian and Ronan.¡¯ Her words played on repeat in his mind. Occasionally, he glanced at the two of them, hoping he¡¯d see something¡ªanything¡ªthat proved her point.


    Lumian walked ahead with a confident posture, his ever-present grin on full display. But this time, Silas noticed something¡­ off. There was a smugness to his smile, like he was holding onto some joke he couldn¡¯t wait to unleash.


    ¡°What¡¯s so funny?¡± Silas asked, genuinely curious¡ªand a little concerned.


    ¡°Oh, nothing,¡± Lumian said, his grin widening. ¡°I was just thinking¡­ Walking to a city taken over by humans after an apocalypse? Totally reminds me of this fantasy novel I read once.¡±


    Silas¡¯s brow furrowed, but before he could respond, Lumian kept going.


    ¡°Yeah, it had all these survivors trying to rebuild civilization, lots of intrigue, hidden secrets, you know the deal. Kind of feels like our journey, doesn¡¯t it? Except, you know, no dragons. Bit of a letdown, really.¡±


    ¡®I chose you for this trip because I believe you¡¯ll be someone we can rely on, especially Lumian and Ronan.¡¯


    Silas sighed. He didn¡¯t even bother masking his disappointment as he glanced back at Ronan, who looked like he was on the verge of adding to the nonsense.


    ¡°Actually,¡± Ronan began with a sparkle in his eye, ¡°if this were a fantasy novel, I¡¯d totally be the dashing rogue. You know, the one who¡¯s too charming for his own good but secretly carries the team with his brilliance.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Lumian cut in, deadpan. ¡°You¡¯d be the character who dies in the middle of the book for comedic effect.¡±


    Ronan gasped dramatically, clutching his chest like he¡¯d just been shot. ¡°How dare you! I¡¯m clearly the fan favorite! If anyone¡¯s dying for comedic effect, it¡¯s you.¡±


    ¡°Oh, please,¡± Lumian retorted. ¡°I¡¯m the one keeping this group sane. You¡¯re just here to provide backup when we need someone to trip over a rock and set off a trap.¡±


    Silas rubbed his temples, barely suppressing a groan. His patience was hanging by a thread, and these two were gleefully sawing at it. ¡¯Especially Lumian and Ronan,¡¯ Charlotte had said.


    ¡°Charlotte,¡± he muttered under his breath, his voice filled with dry resignation. ¡°You¡¯re a terrible liar. These two are hopeless.¡±

 Common Ground

    ¡°Damn it¡­¡± Warren grumbled, hunched over under the weight of Silas¡¯s bag. ¡°This thing weighs more than a damn horse. How long is this trip supposed to last? You packed like we¡¯re relocating permanently.¡±


    Silas didn¡¯t even glance back, his tone as flat as his expression. ¡°You¡¯re the only one who didn¡¯t bring anything, Warren. Common sense dictates you¡¯d carry the luggage. Honestly, you should be grateful it¡¯s mine and not Lumian¡¯s.¡±


    At that, Lumian¡¯s grin widened, insufferably smug. His bag, absurdly oversized, could¡¯ve been mistaken for a survival kit for an entire army, yet he carried it effortlessly. ¡°What? Don¡¯t tell me you thought I was some fragile, delicate type with no strength to back up my looks.¡±


    Warren let out a dry laugh, readjusting Silas¡¯s bag on his back. ¡°Oh, we knew you weren¡¯t fragile. You¡¯re just annoyingly proud of it.¡±


    Lumian threw his head back in mock offense. ¡°Annoying? Or inspiring? Let¡¯s not confuse the two.¡±


    Meanwhile, Silas caught sight of his reflection in the metal clasp of Lumian¡¯s bag¡ªpale, sunken eyes, hair slightly disheveled, and an overall aura of exhaustion. Standing next to Lumian, who looked like he¡¯d stepped out of a commercial for perfect post-apocalyptic travelers, was almost insulting.


    Continuing their descent into the forest, Lumian unfurled the map with an air of purpose, pointing confidently at a marked spot. ¡°We¡¯re close,¡± he said, his voice carrying just enough excitement to make Ronan curious.


    Ronan leaned over, peering at the map. ¡°Looks like it,¡± he agreed, though his tone was far less dramatic.


    Warren shuffled over, still carrying Silas¡¯s bag like it was some ancient curse. ¡°Finally,¡± he muttered, glaring at the map as though it were responsible for his aching back. ¡°If we¡¯re not close, I¡¯m dropping this thing right here and walking back empty-handed.¡±


    Lumian grinned but didn¡¯t look back. ¡°Straight ahead, follow the leaderrrr!¡± he said, his steps quickening like he was leading some grand expedition.


    ¡°Who made you the leader?¡± Warren grumbled, adjusting the bag with a grunt.


    Silas trailed behind them, quietly amused as Warren muttered something about ¡°irresponsible packing¡± and Lumian¡¯s overly energetic pace. The thinning trees ahead suggested they were, in fact, close¡ªmuch to Warren¡¯s visible relief.


    As the group continued their journey, Warren pointed toward a building emerging from the trees. With an exhausted but determined expression, he turned to Lumian. ¡°Is this it?¡± he asked, his voice laced with the hope of relief.


    Lumian gave a small nod. ¡°Yep, we¡¯ve arrived.¡±


    Warren let out a deep sigh, clearly thankful the trek was finally over.


    ¡°Let¡¯s not waste any more time, shall we? Before poor Warren drops dead,¡± Ronan joked, patting Warren on the back. The unexpected gesture made Warren stumble slightly.


    ¡°Ack¡ªget your hands off me!¡± Warren grumbled, swatting Ronan¡¯s hand away as the latter chuckled softly.


    As they got closer, the building came into clearer view, and Lumian and Silas fell into conversation.


    ¡°Looks the same, even after all this time,¡± Lumian remarked, his usual playful tone replaced by something quieter, more reflective. Instead of his usual carefree grin, his face carried a gentle, almost nostalgic expression.


    ¡°You¡¯ve been here before?¡± Silas asked, his curiosity piqued by Lumian¡¯s words.


    Lumian nodded as he shifted the weight of his bag. ¡°Yeah. I was here when this place was first built. The people who created it were incredible¡ªa group of folks you could truly lean on.¡± His voice softened, filled with a quiet fondness.


    ¡°About eight months ago, I was out in the forest searching for supplies. That¡¯s when I stumbled upon the Garden of Commodity. Back then, it was just Charlotte and me. Calem and Seraphina joined about a week later, and Ronan came along a month after that. Then you and Warren arrived, making you the newest ¡®members,¡¯ if you want to call it that.¡±


    Silas listened carefully, nodding as Lumian continued.


    ¡°I still keep in touch with the group who built this place. At first, I was terrified to face them again¡ªI thought they¡¯d see me as a deserter. But when I finally worked up the courage, they were¡­ happy for me. It was such a strange feeling, being accepted like that. Every week, I make it a point to come here, to reconnect with them and share how things are going. It feels¡­ grounding, I guess. Like no matter where I go or what happens, there¡¯s always a place that reminds me of the kind of people I want to be around, and the kind of person I want to be.¡±


    Silas glanced at Lumian, noticing the genuine warmth in his expression. For all his quirks, Lumian had a deep appreciation for the connections he¡¯d built¡ªa rare quality in a world that had been shattered. It was a reminder that even amidst chaos, there were still moments of hope and belonging to hold onto.


    ¡°Lumian!¡±


    An unfamiliar voice called out to the group¡ªthough it was clearly meant for one person. Everyone turned toward the sound, their eyes falling on Lumian, whose usual dumb smile widened slightly as if he¡¯d been expecting it. The voice belonged to an elderly man with gray hair and soft, pale blue eyes. On closer inspection, it was clear that sight had abandoned his left eye entirely, leaving it clouded and unmoving.You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.


    Lumian stepped forward, meeting the man halfway and wrapping him in a firm hug. ¡°Gramps! What are you doing wandering out here?¡± Lumian pulled back but kept his hands on the man¡¯s shoulders, his grin as wide as ever.


    The man chuckled softly, patting Lumian¡¯s arm. ¡°Don¡¯t be so dense, boy. I could hear you and Ronan from a mile away. Figured I¡¯d come meet you halfway rather than sit around.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not exactly halfway.¡± Lumian pointed past the trees to the building just barely visible through the foliage. ¡°The cabin¡¯s right there. But hey, I¡¯m glad to see you! How long has it been? Are the others doing okay?¡±


    The elderly man nodded in response, his expression warm but unreadable.


    From where he stood with the others, Silas observed the exchange with quiet curiosity. It didn¡¯t take long for him to piece it together¡ªthis man must have been part of Lumian¡¯s earlier ventures, one of the many connections he seemed to have scattered across the wasteland.


    ¡°We shouldn¡¯t stand out here too long,¡± Lumian said, glancing back at the group. ¡°Gramps, I¡¯ll explain everything once we¡¯re inside, alright? Let¡¯s not waste any more time.¡±


    With that, the group followed Lumian toward the building.


    Inside, the interior of the cabin reminded them of an old forest lodge. Perhaps that¡¯s what it had been used for before the Collapse, back when people took vacations instead of struggling to survive. The walls were lined with aged wooden beams, and the faint scent of herbs and smoke lingered in the air.


    The elderly man led them into a small but cozy room, where he served tea from a set of mismatched mugs. The drink had a minty aroma with hints of citrus and other herbs that made it oddly refreshing.


    ¡°Refreshing, isn¡¯t it?¡± Lumian asked, nudging Silas lightly.


    Silas took another sip, letting the warmth spread through him before nodding. ¡°It¡¯s fresh. A relief in a world like this.¡± The heat of the tea brought a faint pink tint to his cheeks, a small but noticeable contrast to his usually pale complexion.


    Meanwhile, Ronan took a sip and immediately gagged, small drops of tea sputtering from his mouth. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, his face twisted in disgust. ¡°Blergh¡ªthis is so bitter! What kind of madman drinks tea without sugar or honey? And you¡¯re all acting like it¡¯s some kind of divine blessing!¡±


    Lumian raised his hand theatrically, his ever-present grin turning smug. ¡°Well, sweeteners are a luxury these days. Want to be the hero who goes out and buys some for us?¡±


    Ronan flushed slightly, avoiding Lumian¡¯s gaze.


    ¡°Besides,¡± Lumian continued, ¡°why mess with the natural flavor? If they wanted sweet tea, they would¡¯ve made sweet tea. I mean, Silas and Warren seem to be enjoying it. Are you really going to be the odd one out?¡±


    Warren, who had been quietly sipping his tea without complaint, shot Ronan a side glance. ¡°It¡¯s not bad. Maybe you¡¯re just soft.¡±


    Ronan¡¯s eyes narrowed as he glanced between Warren and his tea. His grip on the mug tightened as his competitive streak flared. ¡°Soft? Me? Not a chance! I¡¯ll drink it, no problem!¡±


    And with that, he tipped the mug back, downing the tea in one go¡ªonly to realize too late that it was still scalding hot.


    .


    ..


    ¡­


    ¡°Charlotte¡­ I¡¯m never believing you again,¡± Silas muttered under his breath, focusing intently on mixing chilled water with ice, which only seemed to make the situation colder and more miserable.


    ¡°Whawts wuss thass?¡± Ronan slurred, gargling the freezing water as Silas poured it down his throat. The liquid splashed messily, drenching everything nearby.


    ¡°Damn it! Keep your mouth shut¡ªwait, no, don¡¯t actually shut it! Argh¡ª¡± Warren¡¯s frustration boiled over as he watched the chaos unfold, his brain seemingly short-circuiting in the face of Ronan¡¯s antics.


    In the background, Lumian wandered back in from the lobby, a bucket of ice balanced effortlessly in his hands. ¡°Maybe this will teach you to¡­ think ahead? Or at least not so recklessly,¡± Silas tried to sound encouraging, though his tone betrayed his exhaustion.


    ¡°Awre chu cwalling meh dwumb?!¡± Ronan managed to shout, his words garbled through the water. He raised a soaked fist into the air, spraying droplets everywhere in the process.


    ¡°Damn you!¡± Warren barked, his irritation now redirected at Silas. ¡°He¡¯s splashing me on purpose, isn¡¯t he?¡±


    Silas raised his hands in surrender, palms open to signal innocence. ¡°I mean no harm! But if you want to blame someone, blame Charlotte for sending us out in this mess.¡±


    ¡°Whawt abouwt meh?!¡± Ronan exclaimed, nearly choking again as he swung his soggy arm in protest, inadvertently soaking everyone further.


    ¡°Forget it,¡± Warren grumbled, snatching a towel with a scowl. ¡°This whole thing is cursed.¡±


    Lumian walked in, casually balancing more ice and, of course, a bottle of pain relief medicine. ¡°Here.¡± He handed a pill to Ronan, who took it with a grimace, swallowing it along with the cold water.


    ¡°Ah¡­ Much better,¡± Ronan sighed, patting his stomach in relief before wincing slightly, remembering the pain that had settled there.


    ¡°Come on, Ronan,¡± Lumian said, his voice teasing as he ran a hand through his perfectly styled hair, ¡°we seriously can¡¯t keep babying you, even if you are the youngest.¡±


    Silas, who had been quietly observing, froze at Lumian¡¯s words. ¡°Wait¡­ He¡¯s the youngest?¡± Silas pointed at Ronan in disbelief.


    Ronan puffed out his chest proudly. ¡°Yep! I¡¯m 15 years old!¡±


    Silas blinked in surprise. ¡°Ah¡­ Makes sense.¡± He started to turn away, but curiosity got the better of him. ¡°If that¡¯s the case¡­ How old are you, Lumian?¡±


    Lumian grinned, raising a hand to his chest in mock humility. ¡°Aw shucks. I mean, I know I can look quite young, especially with my well-rounded physique and shining hair!¡± He struck a pose. ¡°I am¡­ a whole 24 years of age!¡±


    Silas blinked, processing the information, before turning his gaze to Warren, who was busy drying himself off. ¡°And you, Warren? Let me gue¡ª¡±


    ¡°17,¡± Warren interrupted, his voice flat, clearly not interested in playing along.


    Silas stared at the trio, his mind whirling. 15¡­ 17¡­ 24¡­ Wait. That meant¡­ Silas was the oldest on this trip! He flushed, his face suddenly warm. Ronan caught the change and pointed at him excitedly.


    ¡°Hey, Silas! We told our ages, now it¡¯s your turn!¡± All eyes were suddenly on him. He hesitated, but reluctantly opened his mouth.


    ¡°28,¡± Silas muttered, not meeting anyone¡¯s gaze. ¡°I¡¯m 28.¡±


    The room went quiet until Warren spoke up, his usual cocky attitude unshaken. ¡°Seriously? I thought you¡¯d be older. I mean, look at you. I¡¯m surprised you haven¡¯t started a family yet.¡±


    Ronan chimed in with an exaggerated nod. ¡°Agreed! I thought you were at least 37.¡±


    Lumian laughed, clearly enjoying the attention. ¡°There, there¡­ I mean, if it makes you feel better, I¡¯m sure you looked as good as me when you were 24! So, that¡¯s something to be proud of.¡±


    ¡®I wonder if Charlotte would believe that these 3 just happened to fall off a cliff.¡¯ Silas studied that thought with stroking his stubble beard.


    The room grew heavier as Lumian¡¯s shift in tone set in. His usual playful demeanor was replaced by an unusual seriousness, and it caught everyone¡¯s attention.


    ¡°Alright, alright. Enough jokes,¡± Lumian began, his gaze sweeping over the group. ¡°Silas actually said something when he and Warren first joined us. Something that stuck with me. I don¡¯t think any of us ever really addressed it, but I think now¡¯s the time.¡±


    The room went quiet as everyone leaned in slightly, curious. Lumian¡¯s eyes landed on Silas. ¡°If I remember correctly, you asked us if we had awakened any abilities from soul fragments, right? And we all agreed that we had.¡±


    Silas shifted uncomfortably under the sudden scrutiny. ¡°Uh¡­ yeah, I remember that. What about it?¡±


    ¡°Well,¡± Lumian continued, crossing his arms, ¡°if we¡¯ve all got these abilities, shouldn¡¯t we be upfront about them? Tell each other what they are?¡±

 Show of Skills

    The unexpected question by Lumian threw the group into a contemplative silence. It wasn¡¯t that they were unwilling to share their abilities¡ªrather, most of them didn¡¯t fully understand what they were capable of. Silas and Warren, in particular, had only used theirs once, during their battle with the Elder in the Collapse Site.


    For Silas, the request unearthed a swirl of unease. The very nature of these abilities felt like a double-edged sword. Could there be a hidden drawback, some unforeseen price to pay? He recalled Warren¡¯s experience¡ªhow the sudden relief of pain from his ability left him so drained he¡¯d collapsed into a deep, involuntary sleep. Was that just the tip of the iceberg?


    Lumian¡¯s voice broke the silence, light but with a trace of insistence. ¡°Well, no objections so far. That¡¯s a good sign, yeah? Let¡¯s just go ahead, then.¡± He scanned the room, his gaze landing on Silas.


    ¡°Silas, why don¡¯t you start for us? You look like you¡¯ve got plenty on your mind, so go ahead.¡± Lumian clasped his hands together with a small grin, clearly trying to ease the tension.


    Silas felt his stomach twist. Of course, it had to be him first. He hesitated, his voice faltering. ¡°Uh¡­ Erm¡­ Well¡­¡± He rubbed the back of his neck, glancing at the others. ¡°Can we go outside? I feel like this is something best shown, not just explained.¡±


    The group exchanged glances, curiosity lighting up their faces. Lumian tilted his head with an amused expression. ¡°Fair enough. Lead the way, then.¡±


    With a reluctant nod, Silas stood and headed for the door, the others trailing behind.


    The group stood in the backyard of the lodge, an open space surrounded by overgrown grass and scattered debris. Warren, Lumian, and Ronan leaned casually against the weathered wooden wall of the lodge, watching Silas stand several feet away with an air of nervous determination. It was clear he was unsure how this demonstration would go.


    ¡°Alright, uh¡­ this might seem strange, but could someone throw something at me?¡± Silas¡¯s voice wavered as he rubbed the back of his neck, feeling foolish even as he said it. ¡°I can¡¯t just use it¡­ in still air.¡±


    Warren raised an eyebrow. Lumian stifled a laugh, but both turned their gaze toward Ronan, who was already nodding eagerly, excited to help with the showcase of Silas¡¯ ability. Without hesitation, Ronan grabbed a small rock from the ground.


    ¡°Alright,¡± Silas continued, oblivious to Ronan¡¯s enthusiasm as he reached for his dagger. ¡°Just throw when I take the dagger out, okay¡ª¡±


    Before he could finish, Ronan had already hurled the pebble with shocking speed, his expression oblivious as it flew toward Silas with dangerous speeds.


    ¡°¡ª!¡± Silas looked up just in time to see the projectile hurtling toward him. It was small, but the velocity made it far more dangerous than it seemed. He froze for a moment, his mind racing. There was no time to draw the dagger, no time to dodge.


    ¡°Damn it!¡± Silas shouted, raising his left hand instinctively to block the incoming rock.


    And then¡ªtime stopped.


    Silas¡¯s eyes squeezed shut, bracing for impact that never came. A few moments passed before he dared to open them, and what he saw left him breathless. The pebble hung in the air, mere millimeters from his outstretched hand, suspended in perfect stillness.


    Silas stared, wide-eyed. He knew this sensation all too well: Temporal Apex. But something was wrong.


    ¡°How the hell¡­?¡± he muttered to himself. ¡°I thought this was something only my dagger could do.¡±


    His confusion deepened as he examined the suspended rock. Before he could piece together what had happened, a sharp, searing pain jolted through his entire body.


    ¡°Gyaahguhh¡ª!¡± Silas gasped, clutching his chest as a second wave of pain surged, this time even more intense. It felt like his very essence was being torn apart. His breathing grew ragged as realization dawned on him.


    The ability stops time, disconnecting me from its flow¡­ but that¡¯s the problem.


    His body wasn¡¯t meant to exist outside the bounds of time and space. This frozen state was breaking him down, piece by piece, unraveling his connection to the normal world.


    Panic flooded Silas¡¯s mind as the agony increased. He knew he didn¡¯t have long. He had to act fast or he¡¯d die here, consumed by his own power.


    ¡°Origin!¡± Silas shouted through gritted teeth. The pain was unbearable, his body screaming for release. He didn¡¯t know what would happen to the rock if it reached its purest, most basic state, but anything was better than staying here.


    And just like that, as it should, time resumed.


    The ¡®rock¡¯ crumbled into mere dirt and debris, much of it scattering onto the ground while some filled Silas¡¯s lungs. He coughed slightly, spitting out the earthy particles. It wasn¡¯t a true rock after all but a compacted ball of dirt and natural elements. Over time, weathering patterns and environmental forces had compressed it into its hardened form.


    Lumian¡¯s lips formed a perfect ¡®O¡¯ as he stared, trying to make sense of what had just happened. He wasn¡¯t aware of what had transpired during the time stop, only the aftermath. Ronan mirrored his expression, scratching his head in confusion.


    ¡°I¡¯ve seen it before,¡± Warren muttered, his hand to his chin, eyes narrowing at Silas. ¡°But no matter how many times I see it¡­ it still makes no sense.¡± He turned sharply toward Ronan, scoffing. ¡°And you. Don¡¯t just throw rocks. Are you dumb or something?¡±


    Before Ronan could reply, Silas¡¯s voice cut through the tension, strained and hoarse. ¡°T-That was Temporal Apex¡­ The ability to force most things to their peak or origin¡­¡± He paused, swallowing hard as his chest tightened, each word leaving him weaker. ¡°Pardon me, will you?¡±


    With that, Silas dropped onto his rear, a sharp gasp escaping him as his lungs struggled to reclaim the air they had lost. Exhaustion swept over him, and he allowed himself to fall onto his back, sprawled out on the uneven ground. The lingering pain of being momentarily severed from the flow of time and space clung to his body, leaving him drained.Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.


    As he stared up at the overcast sky, Silas noticed the others approaching, their concerned expressions growing clearer with each step. Though his muscles protested, he managed to lift his hand, signaling to them that he was okay. The subtle gesture eased the tension slightly, though their concern still lingered as they gathered around him.


    .


    ..


    ¡­


    Warren leaned against the weathered wall of the lodge, arms crossed, watching Ronan stand a few feet away in the same spot Silas had just used to showcase his ability. Beside Warren, Lumian stood with his left hand resting thoughtfully against his chin, a distant look in his eyes. Nearby, Silas sat on an old wooden crate, holding a warm coffee in both hands. He sipped it quietly, his tired posture making it clear he was still recovering from his earlier demonstration.


    Warren raised an eyebrow. ¡°What¡¯s with the face? You look like you¡¯re trying to solve a puzzle. Don¡¯t tell me you¡¯ve never seen his ability before.¡±


    Lumian blinked, pulled from his thoughts, and shook his head. ¡°Not once. Like I said earlier, Ronan joined a few months after me. We¡¯ve never really had a reason to use it.¡±


    Warren shot him a skeptical look. ¡°Never had a reason, or you just didn¡¯t bother to find out?¡±


    Lumian sighed, recognizing how that might sound. ¡°Okay, maybe that came out wrong. What I mean is, I don¡¯t know anything about it. Not a clue. I¡¯ve never seen it in action, and honestly, this is as new to me as it is to you.¡±


    Warren tilted his head slightly, the skepticism easing into a faint look of understanding. ¡°Ah, fair enough.¡±


    Lumian offered a small smile before shifting his gaze back to Ronan, who was practically bouncing on his heels with anticipation. ¡°Still,¡± Lumian muttered, more to himself than anyone, ¡°can¡¯t help but wonder what he¡¯s about to do. Feels like it¡¯s either gonna be incredible¡­ or we¡¯ll regret standing this close.¡±


    Warren snorted softly, the corner of his mouth quirking up as he kept his eyes on Ronan. ¡°Let¡¯s just hope for the first one. Not in the mood for more chaos today.¡±


    Silas glanced at them briefly over the rim of his coffee cup, giving a faint shake of his head at their banter, but said nothing. He leaned back slightly, savoring the moment of calm.


    ¡°You guys over there talking down on me?¡± Ronan called over his shoulder, his voice laced with playful confidence. Without waiting for an answer, he began pacing the perimeter of an invisible square he seemed to map out in his mind. At each of the four corners, he crouched and pressed his hand to the ground with deliberate focus, as if charging the air itself. Once he finished marking all four points, he moved to the center of the square and repeated the motion.


    ¡°Nope!¡± Lumian shouted back casually, though his eyes followed Ronan with growing curiosity.


    ¡°Nah,¡± Warren added, his tone clipped but attentive, arms crossed as usual.


    ¡°No,¡± Silas muttered weakly from his seat, still catching his breath but watching nonetheless.


    ¡°Good, good,¡± Ronan said, straightening up and brushing off his hands with a theatrical flourish. ¡°Now, prepare to be blown away! Out of the waters! Whatever you wanna call it!¡± He crossed his arms over his chest, flashing the group a wide grin. ¡°Ready? I¡¯m only going to show you this once.¡±


    The group exchanged quick glances, then nodded, their collective curiosity piqued. Warren¡¯s sharp gaze narrowed slightly, Lumian leaned forward with a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, and even Silas seemed to muster a faint spark of interest despite his fatigue.


    Ronan closed his eyes, his grin fading as his expression turned serious. He took a deep breath, and then¡ªit happened.


    In an instant, Ronan disappeared from the center of the square, only to reappear at the top-left corner in a flash. A split second later, he vanished again, materializing at the bottom-right corner. Then the top-right. Then back to the center. Finally, he appeared at the bottom-left corner.


    It wasn¡¯t walking or running¡ªit was instantaneous, like teleportation. The group could only stare, unable to track his movements as he repeated the motion, flashing between points of the square faster than their eyes could follow.


    ¡°What¡­?¡± Lumian muttered under his breath, the smirk wiped clean from his face.


    Warren¡¯s brow furrowed as he analyzed the display. ¡°Teleportation? No, there¡¯s something¡­ more to it.¡±


    Silas, still seated, tilted his head slightly, his coffee forgotten in his hand as he watched with faint awe.


    Ronan came to a stop at the bottom-left corner, panting slightly but grinning triumphantly. He spread his arms wide, basking in their stunned silence. ¡°Well? Blown away yet? I told you this was something special!¡±


    Ronan planted his hands on his hips and let out a booming laugh, the kind you¡¯d expect from an ancient emperor basking in victory. His grin stretched wide, his chest puffed out¡ªhe looked like he¡¯d just claimed dominion over the universe itself.


    And then, in the blink of an eye, his triumphant pose crumpled.


    With a violent gag, Ronan doubled over, and bile erupted from his throat onto the grass. A sickly yellow-orange liquid, riddled with mysterious chunks, splattered everywhere. Whatever he¡¯d eaten had clearly decided it wanted no part in his theatrics.


    .


    ..


    ¡­


    Ronan¡¯s ability wasn¡¯t traditional cloning. Instead, he could create conceptual clones¡ªphantoms that weren¡¯t visible but acted as teleportation markers. He could jump to any clone¡¯s position, effectively bending space.


    During his demonstration, Ronan had five clones active. The more clones he used, the greater the toll on his body. Three clones meant three times the strain; five clones multiplied it even further. That¡¯s why he¡¯d been sick¡ªhis body breaking down from the sheer force of his teleportations.


    The real strength, though, lay in the amplification. Each clone didn¡¯t just mark a spot; it boosted his power. Seven clones would make his punches seven times stronger, but also seven times more painful. The power came with a hefty cost: the more clones he used, the greater the strain on both his body and mind. This was the power of Ronan Reed¡¯s Endless Legion: immense strength, bound by self-imposed limits.


    ¡°My turn, correct?¡± Lumian asked, his voice light but carrying a hint of uncertainty. He stood a few feet away from the spot where Ronan had collapsed, the air still tinged with the aftermath of his earlier display.


    Ronan, now wrapped in a blanket, sat on the grass, looking both amused and exhausted. Silas remained seated on the crate, watching with quiet curiosity, while Warren stood, his posture still and observant.


    They all nodded, anticipation hanging in the air. What could Lumian possibly show them?


    ¡°Be careful. I barely have any knowledge of this thing,¡± Lumian admitted, forcing out a nervous chuckle. The laughter didn¡¯t quite reach his eyes, and the tension in his stance betrayed his unease.


    What could that mean?


    The question barely had time to settle before the answer arrived. The air shifted. The wind, gentle at first, suddenly surged with unnatural speed. It wasn¡¯t random¡ªit was deliberate, drawn toward Lumian like a moth to a flame.


    The wind spiraled faster, white streaks forming faint, visible lines that coiled around him like threads of light. Grass, rocks, leaves, and debris were caught in its pull, spinning wildly in the vortex. The sheer force sent some of it flying outward, scattering across the yard.


    The others instinctively shielded their faces. Warren narrowed his eyes, his analytical gaze fixed on the storm. Ronan pulled his blanket tighter, half-impressed, half-confused. Even Silas, who rarely gave praise, found himself muttering under his breath.


    ¡°It¡¯s a scene from a movie¡­¡± he admitted reluctantly, his voice almost drowned out by the howling wind.


    Warren and Ronan gave slight nods, unable to tear their eyes away from the unfolding spectacle.


    Then, amidst the chaos, came a soft, almost otherworldly glow¡ªa delicate pink light blooming behind Lumian. It was faint at first, but as it intensified, the shape became clear.


    A pentagram.


    It hovered in the air, impossibly sharp and vivid, formed by something that defied explanation. The winds roared in harmony with its presence, as though they were its heralds. Such a thing shouldn¡¯t have existed, not without the influence of a Soul Fragment, yet here it was¡ªa symbol of Lumian¡¯s untapped power.


    And from within the pentagram, something began to emerge.


    A hand.


    It pushed through the symbol¡¯s center, its translucent pink form glowing softly. The hand extended only a few inches past its wrist, its surface smooth and unblemished, as if carved from light itself.


    Despite its surreal nature, there was nothing threatening about it. Quite the opposite. The hand exuded an overwhelming sense of calm, a strange, inexplicable peace that radiated outward.


    The others felt it immediately. Whatever this was, it couldn¡¯t harm them.


    Without a doubt, this was the authority of Lumian Chen.

 Lumian Chen

    The blinding light of the orange and yellow sun pierced through my eyelids, dragging me unwillingly into consciousness. My head pounded, and the distant chatter of my comrades became clearer, filling the quiet space around me. I cracked one eye open, immediately regretting it as the brightness seared my vision.


    It wasn¡¯t that I didn¡¯t want to see them or discuss the next stage of our plans¡ªI just couldn¡¯t shake the bone-deep exhaustion weighing me down. My body screamed for a few more hours of rest, but apparently, the universe had other ideas.


    ¡°He¡¯s awake. Perfect timing, Mr. Model Man.¡±


    A familiar voice cut through the haze of my thoughts. My eyes blinked, still blurry and unfocused as I reached blindly for my glasses. Everything was an indistinct blur until I slid them on, and his grinning face came into view.


    Dominic Reid.


    Out of the three people I called my ¡°adventure buddies,¡± Dominic was the one I trusted most. We¡¯d known each other since college, navigating late-night study sessions and cheap ramen dinners long before The Collapse turned the world upside down.


    ¡°Damn, Lumian, you¡¯re as blind as a bat,¡± Dominic quipped, his grin widening as he crossed his arms. ¡°You know, contacts are probably impossible to find now. This is why you should¡¯ve listened to me before The Collapse and switched over.¡±


    He chuckled at his own joke, clearly proud of his commentary. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes and instead muttered something incoherent, still fighting the urge to fall back into the embrace of sleep.


    ¡°Are Marcus and Elias up yet?¡± I asked, stifling a yawn. The stretch of my jaw seemed to shake off the last remnants of sleep, leaving me feeling marginally more awake.


    ¡°Yeah, they¡¯re already up and getting ready,¡± Dominic replied, his hand landing firmly on my shoulder. He gave me a light shake, as if ensuring I didn¡¯t drift back into sleep. ¡°We¡¯re heading down to that cave system we scouted last week. Need to find some kind of fire fuel before the cold rolls in.¡±


    Marcus Carter and Elias Flynn¡ªmy other two companions in this ragtag team of survivors.


    Marcus was, by far, the oldest of the group, easily in his sixties, but you wouldn¡¯t know it by watching him work. The man was relentless, a powerhouse who outpaced even Dominic and me when it came to manual labor. He made sure we knew it, too. Especially me.


    Marcus had this impression that I was some spoiled brat because of my modeling career. To be fair, I could see where he got that idea, but he wasn¡¯t entirely right. Sure, modeling paid the bills (and then some), but it wasn¡¯t like I ever wanted to be a model.


    My real passion had always been computers. That¡¯s what I went to college for¡ªcomputer science. It was where I met Dominic, actually. He and I were part of the ¡°struggling CS majors club.¡± Honestly, most of us in the program were barely keeping our heads above water, but that shared misery made us close.


    I didn¡¯t start modeling out of vanity or some deep desire to see my face on billboards. It was more like¡­ desperation. I¡¯d been told more than a few times that I was good-looking, and I figured, why not? Extra cash never hurt, especially when tuition and textbooks bled you dry.


    Elias, on the other hand, was the wildcard. Quiet, steady, and almost painfully chill, he was the glue that kept things from falling apart when tensions ran high. If Plan A (a.k.a. Marcus) failed, you could always count on Plan B (a.k.a. Elias) to get us through.


    Dominic gave my shoulder another squeeze before stepping back, his grin as sharp as ever. ¡°You ready to join the land of the living, or should I let Marcus yell at you for another five minutes?¡±


    I groaned, rubbing my face as I swung my legs over the side of my makeshift bed. Another day, another adventure.


    ¡°Anything but that. Any more of his scolding, and I¡¯ll be as deaf as him,¡± I grumbled, rolling my eyes as I stood up. My back protested the movement with a series of satisfying pops as I stretched.


    ¡°I¡¯ll be sure to tell him how you feel,¡± Dominic said, smirking with clear mischief in his tone.


    ¡°Damn you,¡± I muttered, glaring half-heartedly.


    Knock! Knock! Knock!


    ¡°Damn it, Dominic! I told you to wake the boy, not catch up like you haven¡¯t seen each other in years!¡± a booming voice yelled from the other side of the door. A voice I knew all too well.


    Dominic grinned before swinging the door open. ¡°Sorry, sorry. Any more of that and you¡¯ll take the door clean off its hinges.¡±


    On the other side stood Marcus, fully packed and looking as if he was already halfway down the cave. Elias stood behind him, equally ready but far less agitated. Marcus¡¯s eyes, however, locked onto me immediately.Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    ¡°You¡¯re not even dressed yet?! Damn it, Lumian! You¡¯ve got ten minutes¡ªtops¡ªor I¡¯m tearing this door down myself!¡± Marcus barked before storming off, his heavy steps echoing down the hall.


    ¡°Got it, Gramps! Stop yelling!¡± I shouted after him, though the command fell on deaf ears, as usual.


    Dominic chuckled, shaking his head as he looked back at me. ¡°If you weren¡¯t awake before, you sure as hell are now.¡±


    ¡°Damn right,¡± I muttered under my breath, grabbing my bag and wondering if Marcus practiced yelling as a hobby.


    .


    ..


    ¡­


    And so, after agonizing walks, irritating yells, bountiful laughter, and a cascade of shenanigans¡ªwe made it to the cavern. Elias held the map, glancing between its worn surface and the towering entrance before us. Meanwhile, Marcus patted Dominic¡¯s back with the force of a man who had never heard the term ¡°gentle,¡± his laugh loud and unfiltered like a drunken sailor¡¯s.


    ¡°Kekekeke¡ª! See, boy? We made it! You doubted your elders, didn¡¯t believe we¡¯d make it, and yet, here we are!¡± Marcus crowed triumphantly, his grin splitting his weathered face.


    Dominic groaned, brushing off the impact of Marcus¡¯s hand. ¡°Alright, alright, I get it. I¡¯ll respect my elder. I¡¯ll even listen to you more¡­ even though you¡¯re one croak away from¡ª¡±


    Before he could finish, Marcus¡¯s arm snaked around Dominic¡¯s neck, pulling him into a rough headlock. It was playful, but not without its lesson in humility.


    ¡°Damn brat,¡± Marcus growled, tightening his hold slightly. ¡°If I died tomorrow, you lot would be hopeless! Like baby birds without their mother! Say uncle, beg for mercy, and maybe I¡¯ll consider letting you go.¡±


    Dominic tapped frantically on Marcus¡¯s arm, his voice muffled. ¡°Okay, okay, I apologize! Damn it, just let me breathe!¡±


    With a hearty laugh, Marcus finally released him, and Dominic staggered backward, sucking in air like a man rescued from drowning.


    As they squabbled, Elias stood quietly to the side, his eyes scanning the cavern with quiet curiosity. I stayed back too, arms crossed and mind elsewhere.


    The others might have thought I was annoyed or uninterested, but something entirely different consumed my thoughts¡ªa sentiment they always teased me for, one they could never quite understand.


    ¡°This,¡± I muttered, almost to myself, ¡°reminds me of a fantasy novel I read once.¡±


    The words slipped out before I realized it, and I could already feel Dominic rolling his eyes and Marcus gearing up for another rant. But I couldn¡¯t help it. Moments like this, with all their absurdity and camaraderie, felt pulled straight from the pages of a book.


    And maybe that¡¯s why I liked them so much.


    ¡°That phrase will be the death of me one day,¡± Dominic muttered, rolling his eyes as we ventured deeper into the cavern. The dim glow of our scavenged flashlights bounced off the jagged walls, casting long shadows that made the place feel alive.


    ¡°Map says a couple more steps, and we¡¯ll hit a glory of coal,¡± Elias said, breaking his usual silence. His calm voice was almost eerie in the echoing cave. ¡°Just head straight, yeah?¡±


    We all nodded and moved forward, the air growing cooler with every step.


    And then we saw it¡ªa massive expanse of coal, more than any of us had anticipated. The black veins gleamed faintly under the beam of our flashlights.


    ¡°We hit the jackpot,¡± I whispered in awe, my voice barely carrying over the weight of the moment. ¡°Would it be wrong if I didn¡¯t want to tell anyone else about this? It could be¡­ our spot.¡±


    Dominic snorted, smirking. ¡°You say that like it¡¯s a treehouse or something.¡± He dropped his bag to the floor and began rummaging through it.


    Following his lead, the rest of us did the same, each of us pulling out our pickaxes. The tools were worn but reliable, a testament to how often we¡¯d done this.


    ¡°Well¡­ be careful,¡± I said, glancing around at the precarious ceiling. ¡°Don¡¯t hit anything too big, or this whole place will come down on us.¡±


    ¡°Got it,¡± Marcus replied gruffly, and the others nodded in agreement.


    Taking a deep breath, I hefted my pickaxe, the familiar weight of it grounding me. With a sharp swing, I brought it down onto the stone.


    Clang!


    Sparks flew as the pickaxe bit into the coal. Tiny shards of rock and debris scattered, some of it kicking up into the air. I coughed, instinctively pulling my shirt over my nose and mouth. The dust was thick, clawing at my lungs, but I pressed on.


    Each strike sent chunks of coal tumbling down, forming a growing pile behind me. The sound of pickaxes filled the cave¡ªa steady rhythm of labor, punctuated by occasional grunts and gasps for air.


    Thirty minutes in, and the strain was taking its toll. My hands were raw and red, my grip on the pickaxe slipping with every swing. Sweat poured down my face, soaking into my shirt.


    ¡°We¡¯ve got enough for a couple of months, maybe more if we¡¯re careful. Let¡¯s move,¡± Marcus said, his tone firm as we loaded the coal into our bags, distributing the weight as evenly as we could.


    I stayed back, double-checking our pile to make sure we didn¡¯t miss anything. The others had already started moving toward the exit when I heard it¡ªa low, rumbling sound, like a deep growl from the earth itself.


    I froze.


    The noise came from above. My eyes darted upward just as the ceiling began to crack and crumble, loose chunks of rock raining down. Instinct took over, and I leapt backward, narrowly avoiding the cascade of debris. The impact kicked up a cloud of dust so thick it obscured everything, cutting me off from the others.


    ¡°Lumian!¡± Marcus¡¯s voice rang out, sharp and panicked. ¡°Damn it, are you¡ªAGH!¡± His shout twisted into a pained scream, raw and guttural.


    I couldn¡¯t see them, but I could hear everything.


    ¡°You¡¯re bleeding like crazy¡­ what happened to your eye?¡± That was Elias, his tone unusually sharp, almost frantic.


    ¡°I¡¯ll deal with Marcus¡ªjust get to Lumian!¡± Elias barked, his voice growing fainter as the chaos continued.


    Then came the clanging¡ªDominic, striking at the debris separating us. The sound echoed in the confined space, metallic and desperate.


    I wasn¡¯t about to sit still. My heart pounded as I reached around in the dark, searching for my pickaxe. My hand closed around something solid, but the instant I gripped it, a searing pain shot through my palm.


    I yanked my hand back, gasping as warm blood began to drip steadily to the ground. My fingers throbbed as I looked down at what I had grabbed.


    It wasn¡¯t my pickaxe.


    It was a crystal.


    The shard pulsed with an eerie blue glow, its edges unnaturally sharp, almost unnatural in its perfection. It shimmered faintly, the light shifting like a living thing. My blood ran down its surface, staining its brilliance with deep crimson.


    The pain in my hand intensified, traveling up my arm like icy tendrils burrowing into my skin. My vision blurred, the edges of the world fading into an overwhelming white.


    Before I could process what was happening, I was no longer in the cave.


    I stood in a vast, empty space. Pure white stretched endlessly in every direction, a void so silent it felt oppressive.


    Floating before me was a small, pink orb, its glow soft yet piercing.

 Lumian Chen (2)

    Relaxing.


    Comforting.


    Soft.


    Those were the first words that came to mind as I floated in this strange place. Was this¡­ the afterlife? No way. There¡¯s no way a cut from a crystal could make me bleed out that fast. At least, I hoped not.


    Speaking of that crystal¡ªwhat the hell was it? I¡¯d never seen anything like it before. It pulsed blue, like it was alive, almost breathing. Could it be¡ª


    ¡°H-Hi there¡­ Lumian.¡±


    The voice jolted me from my thoughts. My name?


    I whipped around, scanning the endless white void, and locked eyes¡ªor what I assumed were eyes¡ªwith a glowing pink orb. Just floating there, as casual as could be.


    No way. This had to be a dream. Maybe I passed out from blood loss. Or maybe the others were clearing that debris right now, heroically rushing to save me. Probably bickering while they did it too. Hopefully they didn¡¯t scar my handsome face in the process.


    ¡°Yes, yes. That must be it,¡± I muttered, rubbing my chin with one hand, nodding sagely to myself.


    The orb interrupted again. ¡°Hm?¡±


    I didn¡¯t like the way it was judging me with its non-existent eyes. My body moved before my brain could catch up, and the next thing I knew, my leg was swinging in an upward kick toward the glowing globe.


    I had my reasons. Mostly because this thing was interrupting my inner monologue, and I felt like teaching it a lesson. Totally justified.


    Except it wasn¡¯t.


    The second my shin made contact, a surge of force sent me flying. Not stumbling, not falling¡ªflying.


    I was launched so far, the orb was a speck in the distance within seconds.


    The sensation was¡­ surreal. Wind I couldn¡¯t feel rushed past me, and the white expanse blurred into a dizzying smear. ¡°Wha¡ªwait! WAIT!¡± I screamed, flailing wildly as I soared through the void.


    It didn¡¯t last long.


    After soaring through the endless void like a ragdoll caught in a windstorm, I finally hit solid ground. The impact wasn¡¯t graceful. I landed flat on my back, skidded for what felt like forever, and eventually came to a stop. I stayed there, sprawled out and expecting every nerve in my body to scream in agony.


    But it never came.


    I blinked up at the endless white above me, my chest rising and falling as I tried to make sense of what just happened.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry for that¡­ I didn¡¯t mean to harm you! Well¡­ not you specifically!¡±


    The voice startled me. I turned my head to find the pink globe from earlier bounding toward me¡ªor rather, floating with a sort of awkward eagerness.


    What was its deal? I had just kicked it halfway across whatever dimension this was, and here it was, concerned about me? That, more than anything, made me feel like a colossal jerk.


    ¡°Right¡­ so this isn¡¯t a dream, huh?¡± I muttered to myself as I sat up, shaking the dizziness out of my head. My legs wobbled as I stood, but I managed. The globe floated closer, its shimmering surface trembling slightly.


    ¡°Sorry about that,¡± I said reluctantly. ¡°I just thought¡­ this wasn¡¯t real.¡± My eyes narrowed as I studied the strange thing. Was I really apologizing to a floating pink ball right now?


    ¡°No worries! Really, I¡¯m sorry you were flung away. It¡¯s just that impure actions, concepts, or anything of that sort are negated here. When you kicked me with¡­ uh¡­ less-than-kind intent, the environment reacted and, well¡­ punished you.¡±


    The globe¡¯s surface pulsed faintly with each word, like it was trying to emphasize its sincerity.


    ¡°Oh. Well, that¡¯s¡­ comforting, I guess,¡± I replied, scratching the back of my neck. ¡°But let¡¯s talk about the important stuff. What is this place? Where am I? How do you know my name? And who¡ªor what¡ªare you?¡±


    ¡°I created this place,¡± it said simply, its tone carrying a strange blend of pride and nonchalance. ¡°That¡¯s all you need to know about it. I know you because I¡¯ve been interested in you for some time now. And I am Avelyn. Nice to meet you, Lumian.¡±


    The globe¡ªAvelyn¡ªcircled around me as it spoke, its movements slow and deliberate, like it was sizing me up.


    ¡°¡­Interested? What do you mean interested?¡± I squinted at it, taking a cautious step back. ¡°Is this some kind of confession? ¡®Cause, no offense, but I¡¯ve never seen you before in my life, and glowing orbs aren¡¯t exactly my type.¡±This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    If Avelyn could blush, I swear it would have turned crimson on the spot. It froze mid-circle, its glow flickering erratically. ¡°Ah¡ªn-no! Not like thaaaaaat! It¡¯s nothing like that, I promise!¡±


    Its voice wavered with what I could only describe as embarrassment. If it had hands, I imagined they¡¯d be covering its face.


    ¡°Enough about this misunderstanding!¡± it yelped, cutting off any further teasing on my part. ¡°You¡¯re here because of the Soul Fragment. Yes, yes. That¡¯s the real reason.¡±


    I blinked. ¡°Soul Fragment? What the hell is a Soul Fragment?¡±


    Avelyn¡¯s glow dimmed, and I could swear I felt a weight settle in the air. ¡°The crystal. The one you touched,¡± it said carefully.


    That blue crystal. My stomach sank as I remembered the sharp pain in my hand, the way it pulsed like it was alive.


    ¡°Damn it,¡± I muttered, raking both hands through my hair. ¡°Damn it, damn it, damn it. I did die, didn¡¯t I?!¡±


    ¡°Wha¡ªno, you¡¯re not dead!¡± Avelyn stammered, its voice pitching higher.


    ¡°Then why am I here?!¡± I shot a sharp look back at the globe, my patience teetering on the edge.


    Avelyn stilled for a moment before its glow brightened, almost as if it was barely able to contain its excitement. ¡°I have to grant you a gift!¡± it said, its tone giddy, almost childlike. ¡°Ah¡ªI have been waiting for you for so long! Hehehe!¡±


    It floated closer, circling me once before stopping directly in front of my face.


    ¡°Ahem. Sorry about that,¡± Avelyn muttered, clearly trying to regain its composure. Its glow steadied, and the weight in the air seemed to shift again, heavier this time.


    ¡°This gift is no ordinary one. I bestow upon you Immaculate Dominion.¡±


    The way Avelyn said it made my skin prickle, the title carrying an almost reverent weight.


    ¡°What the hell is Immaculate Dominion supposed to mean?¡± I crossed my arms, more confused than ever.


    Avelyn¡¯s voice turned almost serene as it began its explanation. ¡°Immaculate Dominion is the power to stand untouched by the corruptions of the world. To you, all impurities of life¡ªlust, malice, envy, cruelty¡ªbecome nothing more than trivial burdens. With this blessing, such things cannot harm, influence, or stain you. They will falter and crumble before your presence. Use my strength and purify this corrupted world, Lumian Chen. I do hope to reunite with you.¡± Avelyn spoke her last words to me before the white expanse faded.


    .


    ..


    ¡­


    Agonizing.


    Uncomfortable.


    Hard.


    Those were the first words that came to mind as I stirred awake, lying on something familiar yet unrelentingly uncomfortable. My eyes fluttered open, squinting against the dim light filtering into the room. My glasses were still perched on my face¡ªsomehow¡ªand that was when I realized why this place felt so familiar.


    I was back in my makeshift bed, in the shared home me and the others had pieced together.


    Wait¡­ they got me out?


    ¡°Uuuuughhhhh¡ªAhh!¡± The thought crashed into my mind, prompting me to bolt upright in an instant. A strange sound escaped my lips as I sat up fully, rubbing my temples.


    I swung my legs over the edge of the bed, letting my heels dig into the worn floor as I tried to shake the lingering fog from my brain. My body felt heavier than usual, like I¡¯d been carrying invisible weights for hours. Looking down, I noticed the bandage wrapped tightly around my hand. It was stained with small red dots, like some twisted abstract painting.


    ¡°So¡­ all of that was real.¡± My voice came out quieter than I expected, more of a whisper to myself. My mind replayed everything in a blur: the crystal shard, the overwhelming light, Avelyn¡ªthe strange glowing orb¡ªand the cryptic words about Immaculate Dominion.


    ¡°What the hell was she even talking about?¡± I muttered, staring at my bandaged hand as if it held the answers.


    A thousand thoughts raced through my head, none of them making any sense. The shard that cut me, Avelyn claiming she¡¯d been waiting for me, her strange fascination with my existence¡ªall of it felt surreal, yet undeniably real. And then there was the supposed gift, this so-called Immaculate Dominion.


    I scanned my room, half-expecting something to jump out at me. Maybe a glowing emblem on the wall? A mystical scroll on my desk? A box tied with a neat little bow? No, of course not.


    Still, I searched¡ªunder my bed, in my dresser, beneath the pile of crumpled clothes in the corner. Nothing. No sign that anything had changed. My room was just as mundane and messy as it always had been.


    Leaning back against the wall, I let out a frustrated sigh. ¡°Figures. She spouts some grandiose nonsense about a gift, and I get nothing but a bandaged hand and a headache.¡± I looked down at my hand again, flexing my fingers. ¡°Immaculate Dominion¡­ whatever the hell that means.¡±


    The words lingered in my mind, heavy and unsettling, as I sat there staring at nothing. Something had changed. I just didn¡¯t know what.


    I pushed off the wall and turned the doorknob, stepping into the hallway. The faint sound of water running caught my attention, followed by the rustling of fabric. Moments later, Elias emerged from the bathroom, drying his hands on his shirt.


    ¡°Lumian¡­ you¡¯re awake.¡± His voice was calm, but his eyes remained fixed on his hands. ¡°Are you recovering? How¡¯s your¡ª¡±


    He looked up, and his words caught in his throat. His eyes went wide, the color draining from his face like he¡¯d seen a ghost.


    I blinked at him, confused. ¡°Yeah, I¡¯m fine? Thanks for getting me out of there. I know you guys would¡¯ve been devastated if I was gone.¡± I tried to lighten the mood, flashing him a quick smile.


    Elias didn¡¯t laugh. Instead, he took a step back, his gaze darting over me like I¡¯d grown a second head.


    Rude.


    ¡°Ah, the wound freaked you out, huh?¡± I raised my bandaged hand and gave it a little wave. ¡°Don¡¯t worry. It stings a bit, but I¡¯m fine.¡±


    He didn¡¯t reply, his expression still unnerving as I walked past him toward the kitchen.


    There, Dominic and Marcus sat at the table, sharing a drink of whatever cheap liquor they¡¯d managed to scrounge up. The sight was almost comforting¡ªnormal, even.


    ¡°Hey,¡± I called out, leaning casually against the counter. ¡°Sorry for all the trouble back in the cave. Glad I¡¯m well, though, right? I know you two would¡¯ve been absolutely crushed without me around.¡±


    I grinned, expecting Dominic to toss some snarky comeback my way or for Marcus to roll his eyes. Instead, both men froze.


    Their eyes widened in unison, and they leaned back instinctively, like I¡¯d suddenly become something to be afraid of.


    ¡°Seriously, what¡¯s with you guys?¡± I asked, crossing my arms. ¡°Did I get an ugly scar or something? A rock to the face? Is that it?¡±


    I reached up, running my hand over my cheek. No scar. No pain. No gaping hole where my face should¡¯ve been.


    ¡°W¡­ What is that?¡± Marcus stammered, his voice shaky and weak.


    He raised a trembling finger, pointing past me to something behind my back.


    I sighed. ¡°Oh, come on. Is this one of Dominic¡¯s stupid pranks? Really?¡± I turned around, already preparing to scold them for being so childish.


    But what I saw made the words die in my throat.


    Emerging from a glowing pentagram in the empty air next to me was a hand¡ªsmooth, pink, and eerily human-like. It reached forward with deliberate slowness, its fingers curling and uncurling as if testing the air.


    The room felt suffocatingly silent as I stared, unable to look away.

 Pure

    Marcus stared at the pink hand, his expression a mix of disbelief and unease. It hovered motionlessly next to me as I sat in the chair, its unnatural stillness doing little to ease the tension in the room. Two hours had passed since we first encountered it, and in all that time, it hadn¡¯t done anything. No sudden movements, no attacks¡ªnothing. Its passive nature was almost more unsettling than if it had been aggressive. Something about it felt wrong in a way I couldn¡¯t describe, and I was pretty sure I¡¯d passed out when I first saw it. That gap in my memory left me on edge, as if something important had happened while I was unconscious.


    ¡°So this is the effect of a Soul Fragment? Weird.¡± Dominic¡¯s voice cut through the silence. He stood nearby, arms crossed, staring intently at the hand. His expression was analytical, his tone calm, but there was an underlying tension in the way his eyes narrowed.


    Elias spoke next, his voice steady but serious. ¡°If a Soul Fragment was found there, then that means the cave we originally entered wasn¡¯t an average cavern. Instead, a Collapse Site.¡±


    Soul Fragments. Collapse Sites. The terms swirled in my mind, familiar but distant. Where had I heard them before? I closed my eyes and tried to focus, to pull the fragments of memory together. Soul Fragments¡­ Collapse Sites¡­ The words tugged at something buried deep in my thoughts.


    Then it hit me. Avelyn. She had mentioned Soul Fragments before, hadn¡¯t she? My eyes darted toward the hand, unease clawing at me. Could this be her doing? Was this hand her gift? Could this be¡­ Immaculate Dominion?


    ¡®Correct,¡¯ Avelyn whispered in my mind.


    Yes, of course, I was correct. Wait.


    ¡°AVELYN!!¡± I yelled, standing abruptly. The chair toppled to the floor behind me, but I didn¡¯t care. My mind raced as I tried to comprehend what was happening. She was in my head. Speaking. Why? How? I clenched my fists, my breathing uneven as I struggled to piece it all together.


    The sound of the chair hitting the floor must have startled the others because they all turned to look at me. Their expressions were tense, wary. I realized too late how unhinged I must have seemed¡ªshouting out of nowhere, panic written all over my face.


    ¡°Ah¡ªsorry.¡± I forced the words out, raising a hand in apology. ¡°Could you guys leave? I need some time to myself.¡±


    They exchanged glances but didn¡¯t argue. One by one, they filed out of the room, leaving me alone with the hand and my thoughts.


    ¡®P-Please don¡¯t shout again,¡¯ Avelyn¡¯s voice spoke again, quieter this time. ¡®I didn¡¯t want to startle you.¡¯


    ¡°Enough about that! W-What are you doing in my head? There¡¯s a lot wrong here! Explain this.¡± My voice was sharp, louder than I intended. To anyone still lingering outside, I probably sounded completely insane.


    ¡®You don¡¯t have to shout or speak aloud! I can hear your thoughts perfectly fine, so please!¡¯ Avelyn¡¯s voice chimed in, soft yet tinged with an almost pleading tone.


    I bristled. ¡°Then get the hell out of my thoughts! Who invited you?¡±


    ¡®I-I¡¯m in your mind, so I can¡¯t just not listen. That¡¯s like opening your eyes and not wanting to see,¡¯ she replied, her tone faltering for a moment before steadying with her explanation.


    I let out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through my hair. ¡°¡­Fine. Now answer my question. Why the hell are you in my thoughts? And what is this hand?¡± I motioned toward the pink, hovering appendage with a glare.


    ¡®I¡¯m in your head because you¡¯re using my direct power from my hand. That hand is Immaculate Dominion, the Soul Fragment ability. Please be nice to it.¡¯ Her voice carried a mix of sincerity and caution.


    Her hand? So this thing was actually hers? My eyes narrowed as I studied it more closely. Despite its quite dominating appearance, it hung silently in the air, almost harmless. Almost.


    ¡®Let me explain,¡¯ Avelyn continued, her voice now calmer. ¡®You will meet people like yourself¡ªchosen by¡­ Ahem.¡¯


    She trailed off abruptly. Huh? Was she just not going to tell me?


    ¡®But they won¡¯t have the influence I have over your ability,¡¯ she added quickly, glossing over the unfinished thought. ¡®Immaculate Dominion is basically¡­ well, me! But not exactly. Do you understand?¡¯


    I blinked, caught off guard by the complexity of her explanation. ¡°¡­What if I say yes?¡±


    ¡®I¡¯ll know you¡¯re lying. Shame on you.¡¯ There was a light, playful giggle in her tone, though it didn¡¯t entirely alleviate the tension in the air. ¡®Don¡¯t worry, you¡¯ll find out soon! I believe in you¡­ Go, Lumian.¡¯


    ¡°Stop that.¡± I spoke aloud, groaning as I rubbed my temple. My thoughts felt tangled, and her cheerful demeanor wasn¡¯t helping. ¡°Ughhh¡­ This is too much. I wanna sleep.¡±


    Without waiting for a response, I let my body fall back onto the bed, the mattress creaking softly under the sudden weight. My eyes fixated on the ceiling for a moment before growing heavy, exhaustion creeping in from the overwhelming events of the day.


    ¡°Avelyn?¡± I mumbled, my voice softer now, almost a whisper.


    ¡®Yes, Lumian?¡¯ Her reply came quickly, gentle and patient.


    ¡°Tomorrow¡­ Could you teach me better control of this? No¡­ over you?¡± My gaze flicked toward the hand one last time before my eyelids began to droop. If there were others like me out there, chosen by Soul Fragments, then I needed to be prepared. I needed to understand this power¡ªand her.


    Avelyn giggled again, the sound light and teasing. If I could see her face, I was sure she¡¯d be wearing the most smug grin imaginable. ¡®As you wish.¡¯This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    As the words echoed in my mind, the pink hand shimmered briefly before fading from view, its presence retreating into the corners of my consciousness. My body sank deeper into the bed, my breathing steadying as the weight of the day finally pulled me under.


    Her voice lingered in my thoughts as I drifted into sleep, a soft reassurance wrapped in mystery. For now, at least, I could rest.


    .


    ..


    ¡­


    Silas and the others watched in absolute awe as the hand seemingly materialized from thin air, its pink hue glowing faintly against the dull backdrop of their surroundings. Its presence was overwhelming, not in a way that struck fear, but with an almost comforting authority. Oddly enough, their unease dissipated the longer they gazed at it, replaced by a subtle warmth. ¡°Hehehe¡­ Awesome, aren¡¯t I!?¡± Lumian¡¯s voice broke the silence, his tone dripping with pride as he strutted in a small circle, clearly reveling in their reactions.


    ¡°This here,¡± he continued, his arm sweeping toward the hand that hovered beside him, motionless yet imposing, ¡°is Immaculate Dominion! My Soul Fragment ability!¡± His voice rose slightly, his declaration punctuated by his outstretched finger pointing dramatically at the floating appendage.


    Ronan raised his hand, his casual demeanor contrasting Lumian¡¯s theatrical energy. Lumian immediately pointed at him, a self-satisfied grin plastered on his face. ¡°Yes? Are you going to praise me? Save it for after the show.¡± He grinned wider, seemingly drunk on his own pride and ego, clearly assuming the response would only fuel his growing vanity.


    ¡°Uh¡­ not exactly.¡± Ronan¡¯s voice was calm, his body rocking back and forth lazily. ¡°What does it do? It¡¯s just kinda there¡­ how boring.¡±


    The grin on Lumian¡¯s face didn¡¯t falter, but the faint bulge of a vein on his forehead betrayed his irritation. ¡°Boring?¡± His voice sharpened as he repeated the word, his tone now dripping with indignation. ¡°Boring? Boring! I¡¯ll show you boring, brat!¡±


    Without warning, Lumian turned sharply and raised his hand toward the sky. Silas, Warren, and Ronan¡¯s eyes followed instinctively, tracking his gesture. Above them, the rocks and debris that had been launched into the air when Immaculate Dominion was summoned began to fall¡ªnot in a natural descent, but in a deliberate, threatening manner, aimed directly at Lumian.


    Yet Lumian didn¡¯t falter. He smiled as the rocks rained down, his hands calmly stretching toward them. Immaculate Dominion moved with blinding speed, shooting forward and swatting the projectiles away with incredible force. The rocks became nothing more than faint specks on the horizon as they were flung into the distance.


    As if the world itself was against him, branches and twigs from the forest floor began to rise, propelled by the gusts of wind that had suddenly picked up. They flew toward Lumian in a chaotic flurry. But he moved effortlessly, dodging some with precise steps and using Immaculate Dominion to crush others into harmless fragments.


    Silas, his eyes narrowed in concentration, studied the hand closely. A faint, almost imperceptible aura seemed to be pulled from each object Immaculate Dominion touched. Whenever the aura was drawn, the object would stop mid-motion, as if drained of some vital energy.


    ¡°You¡¯ve finally noticed, huh?¡± Lumian¡¯s voice broke Silas¡¯s concentration. He wore a dumb, self-satisfied smile, his confidence radiating as Immaculate Dominion hovered obediently at his side. ¡°In more detail, Immaculate Dominion purifies any impurities of this world! By simply having it activated, you feel better. Isn¡¯t that right?¡±


    The group exchanged glances, each silently acknowledging the subtle truth in his words. Their moods had noticeably improved since the hand had appeared. It wasn¡¯t overwhelming, but there was an undeniable clarity, a lightness in the air that hadn¡¯t been there before.


    ¡°I said that Immaculate Dominion negates most impurities, yes? But that comes with a massive flaw.¡± Lumian¡¯s tone shifted slightly, though the grin remained. ¡°My bad luck increases substantially. With this active, most impure things are naturally repelled or negated, but they¡¯re also pulled toward me. I¡¯m like a magnet for misfortune with this thing running.¡±


    As if to prove his point, Lumian began walking back toward the group, his hands casually shoved into his pockets. Before he made it two steps, his foot caught on an uneven patch of ground, and he fell forward, landing flat on his stomach with a dull thud.


    Immaculate Dominion moved swiftly, its smooth, precise motion almost unsettling, as it reached down to help him back to his feet. The others couldn¡¯t help but stare, both amused and slightly unnerved by how the hand seemed to act on its own, yet entirely in sync with Lumian.


    ¡°Now, Ronan,¡± Lumian said, brushing the dirt off his coat as he regained his composure. His pride was bruised but far from shattered. He pointed dramatically at the boy, his grin sharpening. ¡°How¡¯s that? Still boring?¡±


    Ronan, still rocking back and forth with the same nonchalant air, tilted his head. ¡°Hmm¡­ nah. But you do kinda sound like a corrupt leader when you explain it. ¡®Immaculate Dominion purifies any impurities of this world!¡¯¡± He mimicked Lumian¡¯s earlier tone, adding a slightly exaggerated edge to it. ¡°It¡¯s seriously creepy.¡±


    The vein in Lumian¡¯s forehead twitched again, but he kept his smile intact, though it looked far more strained now. The others exchanged subtle glances, stifling their laughter as Lumian¡¯s ego battled against Ronan¡¯s brutally honest critique.


    As the lighthearted banter between Lumian and Ronan continued, Silas found himself lost in thought. The presence of Immaculate Dominion stirred something deep within him¡ªa feeling of familiarity that he couldn¡¯t quite place. The way the hand moved, the subtle energy it exuded, and even the strange warmth it brought to the group¡­ it all felt too connected, too purposeful. Silas couldn¡¯t shake the thought that this was more than just an odd ability. It felt like a step¡ªperhaps the first¡ªtoward unraveling something far greater, something that tied them all together in ways they didn¡¯t yet understand.


    ¡°When are we leaving for Cinderhaven?¡± Warren¡¯s calm voice broke through Silas¡¯s musings and the ongoing banter between Lumian and Ronan. ¡°We should head there quickly and get back before it gets too cold.¡±


    Lumian turned to him, his grin still lingering. ¡°We leave in about an hour. I wanted to make sure everyone¡¯s rested and ready. It¡¯s only about another hour to get there anyway.¡±


    As Lumian spoke, the sound of footsteps came from the side of the lodge, drawing their attention. An average-height man with short, slightly disheveled hair emerged from the corner, his pace steady. He carried himself with the confidence of someone who was no stranger to the area. ¡°I heard from Marcus that you visited, planning on going to Cinderhaven. Didn¡¯t think it was true! It¡¯s been months since I last saw you.¡±


    Lumian¡¯s eyes lit up at the sight of him, his grin widening as he strode over to the man. ¡°Dominic!¡± Lumian called out, his voice filled with genuine enthusiasm. Without hesitation, the two clasped hands, their firm handshake echoing sharply in the still air.


    ¡°Man, I thought you kicked the bucket,¡± Lumian said with a smug grin.


    Dominic chuckled lightly, shaking his head. ¡°Not even close. Marcus, though¡­ he¡¯s definitely getting closer,¡± he muttered, attempting¡ªand failing¡ªto keep his voice down.


    The handshake ended, and Lumian gestured toward the group with a wide sweep of his arm. ¡°Let¡¯s see¡­ Silas is the guy with the long hair and green eyes, Warren is the guy with the brown skin and spongy hair, and Ronan is the pale kid with equally pale hair!¡± His voice was as casual as it was energetic, each introduction punctuated by a gesture toward the person in question.


    Dominic nodded in acknowledgment, offering them a friendly smile. ¡°Nice to meet you all. I¡¯m Dominic.¡± He shifted the bag he was carrying¡ªfilled with rice and fresh vegetables¡ªbefore speaking again. ¡°I actually just got back from Cinderhaven. Would you guys like a quick meal? Before you head out on your journey and all.¡±


    Ronan immediately perked up, practically hopping off the box he had been sitting on, his excitement evident. Silas and Warren followed behind, their movements more measured but no less appreciative. Together, they headed into the lodge, the prospect of a meal breaking through the weariness of the day.

 How Resilient

    Canned vegetables never sat right with Warren. The mere thought of food that could be grown naturally¡ªfresh and untainted¡ªbeing sealed in a can with artificial preservatives and chemicals made his stomach churn.


    Warren was a perfectionist to his core¡ªa self-proclaimed neat freak. His life operated on a precise schedule, every action meticulously planned and executed. He thrived on order and control, and he didn¡¯t appreciate deviations from his carefully constructed routine.


    This obsession extended to his meals. Strange additives, artificial flavors, preservatives¡ªany of it was enough to make him grimace.


    But when faced with a meal of boiled canned vegetables, plain rice, and grilled chicken, all of those convictions flew out the window.


    He ate eagerly, his earlier aversion forgotten as he savored the simplicity of the food. And he wasn¡¯t alone. The rest of the group shared his enthusiasm, their plates emptying fast as they dug in.


    ¡°Despite the hardships this world places upon humanity¡­ You guys really did stay resilient,¡± Warren said between mouthfuls, unable to help himself. The flavor reminded him of a time long gone, and he couldn¡¯t hide his surprise.


    ¡°I mean, I never would¡¯ve expected food to taste this close to how it did before everything happened.¡±


    His usual manners faltered, words muffled as he spoke with his mouth full. It wasn¡¯t elegant, but his appreciation was clear.


    ¡°You couldn¡¯t have said it better¡­ sniffle.¡±


    Lumian nodded, his shoulders slumping as tears began to pool in the corners of his eyes.


    Warren paused mid-bite, his brow furrowing in disbelief as he looked at Lumian.


    ¡°What¡­? You¡¯re seriously crying?¡±


    There was a twinge of discomfort in his voice, almost bordering on disgust. Warren wasn¡¯t one for emotional outbursts, especially not ones involving tears. He wasn¡¯t sure whether to comfort Lumian or just ignore him altogether.


    ¡°Shut up,¡± Lumian muttered through clenched teeth, refusing to look up as he continued shoveling spoonful after spoonful of food into his mouth.


    Marcus let out a hearty laugh, the sound deep and genuine.


    ¡°Aha! That¡¯s Lumian for you.¡±


    His laughter was followed by a firm pat on Lumian¡¯s back¡ªperhaps a little too firm.


    ¡°Gah! Hhagh! Blughh!¡± Lumian choked mid-bite, coughing as he tried to swat Marcus¡¯s hand away.


    ¡°Get off!¡± he wheezed, his voice hoarse but full of irritation.


    The table erupted into laughter at the display, the sound cutting through the somber weight of the world outside.


    Marcus¡¯s grin widened as he leaned back, clearly unbothered by Lumian¡¯s complaints.


    ¡°So¡ª¡± Wiping his mouth with the back of his sleeve, Dominic tapped a finger rhythmically against the table, his voice breaking the comfortable lull that had settled over the room. ¡°You guys plan on going to Cinderhaven, correct? It¡¯s truly beautiful. You¡¯d be surprised how far civilization and humanity have rebuilt themselves after something so¡­ dehumanizing.¡±


    His words carried a weight of both admiration and disbelief, his tone reflective as if remembering the stark contrast between the present and the ruins they¡¯d all come from.


    Silas straightened slightly, nodding his head. His lips curved into a small but grateful grin, his expression alight with cautious excitement. The thought of Cinderhaven¡ªof some semblance of normality and structure¡ªbrought him a rare sense of hope.


    ¡°Correct,¡± Silas replied, his tone measured but eager. ¡°Do you have any¡­ er¡­¡± He paused, searching for the right word. ¡°Tips? No, tips isn¡¯t the right word. How should we go about this? It¡¯s our first time going, and we don¡¯t want to make any mistakes. Especially since we¡¯ve heard some interesting things about the person who rules it.¡±


    Dominic nodded, leaning back slightly in his chair. ¡°No worries, I totally get ya!¡± he said, his voice carrying an easy confidence. ¡°When you get there, you¡¯ll feel like you¡¯ve been transported into a fantasy movie.¡±


    He smiled, his enthusiasm infectious.


    ¡°The community is welcoming,¡± he continued, gesturing with his hand as if painting a picture. ¡°There¡¯s a ton of people¡ªmore than you¡¯d think. It¡¯s busy, lively, full of energy. You¡¯ll find stores, venues, even entertainment. It¡¯s¡­ well, it¡¯s not perfect, but it¡¯s better than most places left in the world.¡±Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    Silas listened intently, his head tilting slightly as he absorbed Dominic¡¯s words. The idea of a place so lively was almost hard to imagine after all they¡¯d been through.


    ¡°There¡¯s¡­ uh¡­ I guess you could say some sort of authority,¡± Dominic added, his tone shifting as he leaned forward slightly, tapping the table again. ¡°The ruler of Cinderhaven has some guards. You know how the Royal Family is protected in the United Kingdom? It¡¯s something like that.¡±


    Silas¡¯s brow furrowed slightly, curiosity piqued.


    ¡°The ruler lives in a sort of watchtower,¡± Dominic said, his voice quieter now, almost conspiratorial. ¡°It looms over most of Cinderhaven. You¡¯ll see it as soon as you arrive. Hard to miss.¡±


    He hesitated for a moment, his expression thoughtful before he added, ¡°Rumor has it, no one knows what the ruler looks like¡­ not even their gender.¡±


    The words hung in the air, leaving a strange tension in their wake. Silas exchanged a brief glance with the others, their silent curiosity mirroring his own.


    Cinderhaven was sounding more mysterious by the second.


    Silas placed a hand on his chin, tilting his head slightly as he fell deep into thought. His expression, oddly enough, resembled that of a confused dog¡ªeyes distant, brow furrowed, and lips slightly parted. The things he¡¯d heard from Dominic created a storm of conflicting emotions in his mind. Concern tangled with confusion, racing through his thoughts at a speed he couldn¡¯t keep up with.


    The idea of Cinderhaven seemed almost too good to be true. A place of normality and structure? It felt like something out of a story, not the harsh reality they lived in. He wanted to believe they could walk in, get what they needed, and leave without a hitch. But deep down, he knew better. Life wasn¡¯t that kind to him, and he wasn¡¯t exactly favored by the gods.


    ¡°What¡¯s up?¡±


    Warren¡¯s voice cut through the chaos in Silas¡¯s mind, snapping him out of his thoughts. Silas blinked, making eye contact with him, startled by the sudden question.


    ¡°I feel you,¡± Warren continued, his tone steady, as if trying to ground Silas¡¯s worries. ¡°All of this sounds really¡­ creepy. So I suggest we don¡¯t do anything out of the ordinary. Just go in, and leave without doing any extra.¡±


    It sounded so simple. Because it was. If they could stick to the plan¡ªmind their business and focus on their goal¡ªthere wouldn¡¯t be any room for complications, right?


    ¡°That would be our best bet,¡± Ronan chimed in, his voice muffled as he spoke with a full mouth of food. He gulped it down quickly, reaching for his glass of water to wash it all down. Without hesitation, he pushed his plate forward for seconds, his excitement shining in his eyes.


    Marcus chuckled, nodding as he added more food to Ronan¡¯s plate. It seemed he¡¯d taken a liking to the boy, though whether it was Ronan¡¯s charm or his impressive appetite that won him over was unclear.


    Lumian, ever the optimist, clapped a hand on Silas¡¯s back. ¡°Don¡¯t look so down! Me and Ronan are pretty reliable!¡± His grin was wide, his tone filled with confidence that bordered on arrogance.


    Silas glanced at Lumian, doubt flickering across his face. Reliable? That wasn¡¯t exactly the first word that came to mind when he thought of Lumian.


    ¡°Besides,¡± Lumian continued, his grin widening, ¡°with you as leader, we¡¯ll do more than good. We¡¯ll be amazing!¡±


    Silas froze. His head tilted slightly as he tried to process the words. ¡°W-Wait¡­ leader? Seriously? I¡¯m not a great leader! You should pick someone else!¡± He waved his hands frantically, his voice rising in desperation. ¡°I never even got picked during group projects!¡±


    But his protests fell on deaf ears. Lumian had already turned to the others, riling them up with an infectious energy.


    ¡°Leader! Leader! Leader!¡±


    The chant grew louder as the room joined in, their voices echoing against the wooden walls of the lodge.


    Silas¡¯s eyebrows twitched in exasperation, his lips pressing into a thin line. He looked around at the grinning faces, his expression slowly softening into one of reluctant amusement. His lips curled upward slightly, almost a chuckle, as he let out a quiet sigh.


    He couldn¡¯t believe he¡¯d let himself get dragged into this situation. But here he was.


    .


    ..


    ¡­


    The meal they shared earlier lingered in their minds, making the journey to Cinderhaven far more bearable. With their bodies energized and their spirits lifted, the group found themselves in an unusually cheerful mood despite the rocky start to their expedition.


    ¡°I wonder what it¡¯s like¡­ maybe it¡¯s like a really big city,¡± Ronan said, practically bouncing with excitement. His eyes lit up at the thought, his words spilling out in a rapid stream. ¡°Different people, different things to do¡­ I can¡¯t wait!¡±


    His voice carried a youthful enthusiasm that was contagious, though Lumian only chuckled, adjusting the strap of his bag with a smirk.


    ¡°Patience, Ronan. We¡¯ll see soon enough.¡±


    Warren, walking slightly ahead, slowed his pace. His ears caught a faint sound carried on the breeze¡ªdistant but unmistakable. Music. Cheering. He frowned slightly, trying to pinpoint the noise.


    ¡°You won¡¯t have to wait much longer,¡± Warren said, his voice cutting through Ronan¡¯s chatter. He pointed down at the ground, drawing their attention to the path beneath their feet.


    It wasn¡¯t a dirt trail shaped by the wilderness¡ªit was far too clean, far too intentional. A path made to guide travelers, to be followed.


    The group moved forward, the faint noises growing louder with each step. The music became clearer, accompanied by lively cheers and the distant hum of voices. The sound of life.


    Their pace quickened as anticipation bubbled within them. The path led them past the final line of trees, and as they stepped beyond the edge of the forest, their breath caught.


    Lamps. Lights. People.


    The flicker of lamplight illuminated the scene before them, casting a warm glow across the bustling town. People mingled, their voices merging into a symphony of joy and excitement. Children laughed and danced, their carefree energy weaving through the crowd.


    Stores stood lined up neatly, their vibrant signs promising goods and services that felt like luxuries in this new world. The hum of music carried on the air, its rhythm lively and unrestrained. Animals wandered through the streets, their presence adding to the atmosphere of organized chaos.


    It was civilization.


    The group stood frozen, their awe unspoken but mutual as they took in the scene. Even in a world torn apart by despair, this place was alive. Thriving.


    Silas¡¯s lips curved upward into a smile as his gaze swept across the town. The sight before him was a stark contrast to the ruin and destruction they had come to know. It was beautiful in its defiance of the storm that was The Collapse.


    His voice was quiet, almost a whisper, but it carried the weight of his emotions.


    ¡°Even when faced with despair¡­ humanity is resilient.¡±


    The words hung in the air as the group stepped forward, drawn into the vibrant life of Cinderhaven.

 Split Up

    ¡°Fried food over here! Nice and hot¡ªcome with something of equal value!¡±


    ¡°Selling clothes and blankets for the winter! Hurry before the cold bites through your bones!¡±


    ¡°Mommy, can I get a guitar? Look at how he plays!¡±


    ¡°Shit¡­ I¡¯m running low. I¡¯m gonna have to work like a damn slave this weekend.¡±


    Cinderhaven was alive. The air thrummed with voices, conversations overlapping like an unscripted symphony. Street vendors called out, each one eager to make a trade.


    The scent of sizzling meat and fresh bread intertwined with the sharp chill of the air, making the already crowded streets feel even more suffocating.


    People danced to the rhythm of a lone musician strumming his guitar on the corner, his notes clear and vibrant against the murmur of bartering and casual chatter.


    Men and women, dressed in patchwork clothing of various makes, moved fluidly through the crowds, their arms laden with goods. Some wore the expressions of hardened survivalists, others beamed with the simple joy of a temporary reprieve from struggle.


    This was life in a dystopia¡ªwhere desperation and celebration coexisted like reluctant siblings.


    ¡°Good thing we ate before we got here.¡± Warren¡¯s voice cut through the din, his arms crossed as he took in the scenery with a mixture of wariness and intrigue.


    Not that eating beforehand did much to stop Ronan from staring at the food stalls with wide, desperate eyes. His gaze flickered from vendor to vendor, his expression shifting between admiration and barely contained hunger.


    ¡°Everything smells so good¡­¡± His voice was practically a whimper.


    Lumian walked ahead, taking the lead despite knowing just as little about Cinderhaven as the rest of them. He scanned the streets, taking in the sheer scale of the place, the towering structures, the winding alleys, the seemingly endless flow of people.


    ¡°When I heard about Cinderhaven, I didn¡¯t expect it to be¡­ this big.¡± His words carried a note of disbelief, his eyes darting from one bustling section of the city to the next.


    It was overwhelming. It wasn¡¯t just a settlement¡ªit was a metropolis by post-Collapse standards. If they weren¡¯t careful, they could waste hours just trying to navigate the place, let alone find what they needed.


    Which brought Lumian to a very unfortunate realization.


    His face flushed a soft shade of pink, and for once, his usual bravado faltered.


    ¡°Uh¡­¡± He rubbed his left cheek, his eyes pointedly avoiding the others. ¡°¡­So, um¡­ What¡ªer¡ªwhat did we exactly need again?¡±


    The sight of Lumian looking genuinely bashful was such an unexpected twist that for a moment, the group just stared at him in stunned silence.


    Silas blinked. Warren sighed. Ronan, ever opportunistic, used the moment of distraction to inch closer to a vendor selling skewered meat.


    For all his confidence, all his grandstanding, all his flamboyance¡ªLumian had completely forgotten their objective.


    ¡°Er¡­ I actually do remember a bit.¡± Warren pressed his fingers against his temple, his brows furrowing as he sifted through his thoughts. ¡°She wanted more food. Fruits and vegetables, I think. Maybe bread, too? But honestly¡­ I¡¯m not sure what even lasts long anymore.¡± He let out a small sigh, crossing his arms. ¡°Pillows and blankets¡ªfor the cold. That¡¯s to be expected. And¡­¡± He trailed off, his expression tightening as he tried to recall the last item. There was one more. One more thing.


    ¡°Tea.¡± Silas spoke with certainty, his voice cutting through the noise of the marketplace. ¡°Charlotte told me that I¡¯d meet a woman impossible to miss. If I mention her name, she¡¯ll know.¡± There was an odd sense of pride in his tone, as if he had just solved a puzzle no one else could. If this were some weekend cartoon, a bright lightbulb would¡¯ve flickered to life over his head.


    ¡°Oh! Oh! She also said we could get one thing for ourselves since we¡¯re the ones headed on this journey!¡± Ronan practically vibrated with excitement, his entire demeanor shifting at the mere mention of a personal reward. His eyes glimmered like a child hearing the words all-you-can-eat buffet for the first time.


    Warren, watching this display of pure joy, slowly turned his head with an expression that could only be described as sheer, unfiltered judgment.Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.


    ¡°¡­Don¡¯t you think it¡¯s a little selfish,¡± he began, his voice as even and measured as ever, ¡°to remember something so worthless like that¡­ but also forget the necessities?¡± He tilted his head slightly, genuinely curious as to how Ronan¡¯s brain functioned on a fundamental level.


    Ronan, undeterred, merely grinned. ¡°I¡¯d call it prioritizing, actually.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re doing the exact opposite, though. You forgot the priorities,¡± Warren said, his voice dripping with disbelief as he shot Ronan a sideways glance. ¡°How did you even make it this far? No, seriously. How?¡±


    Ronan, unfazed, tilted his head. ¡°Sheer luck?¡±


    Warren¡¯s eye twitched. ¡°You say that like it¡¯s a good thing.¡±


    ¡°Well, I am still alive, aren¡¯t I?¡± Ronan grinned, hands in his pockets as he strolled along, utterly unbothered by Warren¡¯s scrutiny. ¡°That¡¯s gotta count for something.¡±


    Warren exhaled sharply through his nose, clearly restraining himself from escalating things further.


    While the two of them continued their back-and-forth, Lumian nudged Silas with his elbow, leaning in slightly. There was a glint in his eye, the kind that usually meant trouble¡ªor, at the very least, something troublesome.


    ¡°Hey,¡± Lumian murmured, voice just low enough for only Silas to hear. ¡°I¡¯ve got an idea.¡±


    Silas flicked his gaze toward him, silently urging him to continue.


    ¡°This place is huge,¡± Lumian said, sweeping a glance over the lively, bustling marketplace. ¡°If we stick together as a group of four, we¡¯ll just slow ourselves down. But if we split up? We¡¯ll cover more ground.¡±


    Silas hummed, mulling over the suggestion.


    It was a logical conclusion. Cinderhaven was far more expansive than any of them had anticipated. The sheer density of the marketplace alone was enough to make their search a tedious endeavor. Sticking together would only limit their efficiency.


    And while Silas wasn¡¯t particularly eager to separate, he had to admit¡ªit was the best course of action.


    Sensing his agreement, Lumian clapped his hands together loudly, causing both Warren and Ronan to jolt in surprise. Their argument immediately came to a halt as they turned to face him, mildly startled.


    ¡°Alright! Here¡¯s the plan.¡± Lumian grinned, hands resting on his hips. ¡°We¡¯re splitting up. Two groups of two. It¡¯ll be faster, and hopefully easier.¡± His gaze flicked to Warren and Ronan. ¡°That is¡­ if you two don¡¯t get distracted.¡±


    ¡°You two?¡± Warren blinked, as if only just realizing what that entailed. His expression immediately twisted in horror. ¡°Wait. Wait. You¡¯re pairing me up with Ronan? Out of all the possible options, Ronan?¡±


    Ronan, for his part, seemed entirely unaffected. In fact, he smiled. ¡°Aw, Warren, you sound so heartbroken. I didn¡¯t know you cared.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t. That¡¯s the problem.¡±


    Lumian chuckled, completely ignoring Warren¡¯s growing protests. ¡°No buts. The decision¡¯s made.¡± He lifted a finger and pointed at them. ¡°You two are in charge of gathering food and blankets. Meanwhile, me and Silas will be looking for the tea Charlotte wanted.¡±


    Warren groaned, running a hand down his face. ¡°This is the worst possible outcome.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ll survive.¡± Lumian waved him off dismissively before continuing. ¡°We¡¯ll meet back here before sundown. It¡¯s three o¡¯clock now, and it usually gets dark around ten. That gives us seven whole hours. Plenty of time.¡±


    Before Warren could voice another word of complaint, Lumian casually draped an arm over Silas¡¯s shoulders and began leading him away. ¡°Don¡¯t get yourselves into troubleee~!¡± He called back in a sing-song tone, his grin utterly smug.


    Warren¡¯s protests went entirely ignored as he begrudgingly turned in the opposite direction. Ronan merely grinned, falling into step beside him with an ease that only annoyed Warren further.


    And just like that, the squad split into two groups.


    .


    ..


    ¡­


    Perfection¡ªan unattainable pinnacle, where every flaw is sculpted into divinity and every imperfection erased by an ideal beyond mortal comprehension. It is flawless symmetry, the universe itself bending in reverence to its presence. To witness it is to stand before something so immaculate that reality itself seems like a dull, uninspired imitation.


    Beauty¡ªa force beyond reason, so breathtaking it defies logic, overwhelming the senses with its sheer existence. It is not simply seen¡ªit is felt, a presence that seizes the heart and holds the mind captive in stunned reverence. True beauty does not seek admiration¡ªit commands it, enthralling all who dare to gaze upon its splendor.


    Yet even these words failed to encapsulate her.


    A goddess, if such a thing could exist in mortal form. The ruler of a world long lost to her grasp.


    ¡°The ground is littered.¡±


    Her voice, dripping with disdain, slithered through the dimly lit chamber. Beyond the vast, tinted windows of the tower, Cinderhaven sprawled out before her, alive with movement. Filth. Insects, scurrying about in the shape of men, women and children.


    ¡°Vermin walking freely like this¡­ it makes my skin crawl.¡± Her expression twisted, disgust curling at her lips. ¡°It makes me want to rip out my own bowels and vomit them at the sight.¡±


    Laughter and music drifted up from the streets below. The joyous atmosphere only deepened the malice in her gaze.


    ¡°Man-things and whores grinning like fools,¡± she sneered. ¡°How utterly shameful. If I ruled this pathetic world, I¡¯d have my underlings carve frowns into each of their cheeks.¡±


    She clapped her hands.


    A sound as sharp as a blade slicing through the air.


    In an instant, a figure appeared at her side.


    He stood tall, his long black dreadlocks twisted into a bun, his striking blue-and-white martial robes hanging loosely over his lean frame. His arrival was silent, disciplined¡ªhis very presence one of unwavering obedience.


    ¡°Yes, ma¡ª¡±


    A fierce elbow connected with his nose before the word could fully leave his lips. A sickening crack echoed through the room as blood spurted from his nostrils, staining the pristine floor.


    A truly wretched sight.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t ask you to speak,¡± she said, lowering her arm as if the strike had required no effort at all. ¡°I merely called you to suffer my wrath.¡±


    Calmly, she reached for the glass of liquor resting beside her, her fingers tracing its rim before setting it down with deliberate ease.


    Her gaze returned to the window.


    ¡°Looks like he was right.¡± A smirk curled at the edge of her lips. ¡°Even though I despise relying on a man, he kept his word¡­ and he¡¯s kept me entertained.¡±


    Her right eye ignited, a bright orange glow searing through the darkness.


    And below, in the lively streets of Cinderhaven, not a single soul was aware of the monster that ruled over such a beautiful place.

 Wandering

    The force of the blow sent Radimir stumbling backward, his vision briefly shaking as he barely managed to steady himself against a nearby table.


    ¡°Ooorgh¡­¡± He groaned, his fingers gingerly pressing against his throbbing nose. Blood spilled freely, dripping down his lips, staining his chin. With an annoyed huff, he used the long sleeve of his martial robe to wipe it away, though the crimson streaks stubbornly clung to the fabric.


    His sharp blue eyes narrowed as he glared at the woman before him.


    ¡°Ya seriously need therapy or sumthin¡¯!¡± He spat, voice thick with pain. ¡°Ya can¡¯t just call upon little ol¡¯ me whenever ya got pent-up rage or whatever dumb shit crawls into that twisted head of yours!¡±


    His words barely had time to settle before she moved.


    The moment her name left his mouth, the atmosphere shifted.


    Fire.


    Not literal flames, but something equally searing, a suffocating presence that felt as though the air itself had been set ablaze.


    Anastasia Imperius turned, her fiery orange hair whipping behind her, and in an instant¡ª


    Her fist crashed into Radimir¡¯s jaw.


    The impact sent him reeling, but she didn¡¯t stop.


    Fist after fist, each blow landed with relentless precision, his head snapping back, teeth rattling, skin splitting beneath the sheer force of her assault. He didn¡¯t even have the chance to let out a cry of pain before a particularly vicious strike sent several of his teeth flying, blood splattering against the lavish floor of the tower.


    The world spun. His body slammed against the cold, unyielding wall.


    And then¡ª


    A sharp, precise stomp landed dangerously close to his groin.


    The heel of her boot barely missed its mark, but the silent threat was deafening.


    ¡°Not only did you talk back¡ª¡± her voice dripped with venom, ¡°¡ªbut you dared to speak my name as if you were equal to me.¡±


    A sharp inhale.


    Radimir forced himself to swallow down the pain, his body still trembling from the brutal onslaught. He knew better than to move.


    Anastasia towered over him, her silhouette framed by the dim light of the chamber. If her beauty had been divine, her wrath was godly¡ªa force of nature that cared not for reason, only for dominance.


    She turned with an air of finality, heels clicking against the marble as she strode toward the door.


    ¡°Get yourself cleaned up, pawn.¡±


    The words cut deeper than any wound.


    ¡°I have a task for you, and I need it done as fast as you can possibly work.¡±


    With that, she vanished beyond the door, leaving only the echoes of her steps behind.


    Silence settled.


    Then¡ª


    Radimir let out a deep, exasperated sigh.


    Slowly, he pushed himself up, leaning against the bloodstained wall as he rolled his shoulders.


    ¡°Tch¡­ Fifty-third,¡± he muttered, lifting a hand before him. A soft, ethereal glow of blue flickered to life at his fingertips. ¡°That was my fifty-third time coming close to death with that corrupt goddess.¡±


    The warmth of the glow spread across his skin as he pressed his palm to his battered face.


    A faint shimmer.


    And just like that¡ª


    The damage was undone.


    When he pulled his hand away, his nose was unbroken, his bruises gone, his teeth perfectly intact.


    With a light shake of his head, Radimir turned, making his way toward the window. His eyes narrowed as they focused on the streets below.


    Through the bustling crowd, two figures stood out.This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    A brown skin male with long dreaded hair and a pale male with equally white hair.


    Radimir¡¯s lips curled into a grin.


    ¡°Alrighty¡­¡± He murmured, tilting his head as his intrigue sharpened.


    ¡°New playthings, eh?¡±


    .


    ..


    ¡­


    The streets of Cinderhaven were alive with sound¡ªlaughter, shouts, the occasional melody from a street musician weaving through the air. Vendors called out to passersby, the scent of sizzling meat and freshly baked bread mixing with the faint smokiness that lingered in the air.


    Despite the liveliness of the place, Warren walked with a sharp, focused gaze, scanning each stand they passed. Twenty minutes had passed since they split up, and still, nothing. No food, no blankets, nothing that fit what they were looking for.


    Figures.


    ¡°You two!¡±


    A voice boomed from the side, cutting through the chatter.


    Warren and Ronan turned to see a middle-aged man leaning over his stand, grinning wide enough to show the gaps between his teeth. His stall was cluttered with odd trinkets¡ªsmall statues, rusted tools, playing cards worn from use. Nothing immediately useful.


    ¡°Don¡¯t ya wanna win something?¡± The man gestured grandly at his collection. ¡°Boy, do I have the opportunity for you! All ya gotta do is trade me something and¡ª¡±


    ¡°No thanks.¡±


    Warren didn¡¯t even let him finish.


    The man blinked, looking genuinely surprised at how fast he was shut down. Warren simply kept walking, his expression unreadable.


    Ronan hesitated, his steps slowing as he glanced back at the stall. ¡°Seriously?¡± he muttered, reluctant to walk away. ¡°You¡¯re just gonna turn it down like that? What if it¡¯s an opportunity to win something big? Maybe even better than what we need?¡±


    Warren sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose.


    ¡°Do you seriously believe that?¡± he shot back, side-eyeing Ronan. ¡°What if we trade him something valuable, and he just takes it? No prize, no nothing.¡± His eyes flickered back to the man, who had already started calling out to other potential victims. ¡°It¡¯s probably a scam. Reminds me of carnival games. All rigged.¡±


    ¡°Right, right¡­¡± Ronan muttered, clearly unconvinced. His shoulders slumped as he let out an exaggerated sigh, but ultimately, he picked up his pace to match Warren¡¯s.


    Turning the corner, Warren and Ronan continued their search, though it felt less like a mission and more like a journey through something out of a dream. Every step revealed something new¡ªrows of stands filled with handwoven fabrics, the scent of grilled meat drifting from an open-flame cookfire, children laughing as they ran through the streets. It was easy to forget the world outside this place was anything but kind.


    ¡°The hell is that?¡±


    Ronan¡¯s voice broke through the moment as he pointed toward a gathering crowd. The air buzzed with energy¡ªcheers, shouts, the kind of roaring excitement that made it sound like a stadium just before the final moments of a game. The source of all the commotion was hidden within the swarm of people, but whatever it was, it had their full attention.


    ¡°I¡¯m gonna check it out¡­ ¡¯kay?¡± Ronan barely waited for a response before stepping toward the noise. ¡°You don¡¯t mind, right?¡±


    Warren exhaled sharply, watching as his companion practically vibrated with curiosity. He should have told Ronan to focus, to stick to what they were here for¡ªbut part of him was curious, too. He almost followed. Almost.


    Then something else caught his eye.


    Away from the spectacle, just slightly off the main path, an old man sat behind a weathered stand, humming an unfamiliar tune. His stall was different from the others. No food, no blankets, no jewelry or useless trinkets. Instead, laid out in front of him were weapons¡ªdaggers with worn hilts, bows that had seen years of use, swords sharpened to a fine edge.


    A weapons dealer.


    Not uncommon in a world like this, but it wasn¡¯t the weapons that made Warren stop¡ªit was the way the old man, without even looking up, seemed to sense him.


    Slowly, the elder lifted his gaze, locking eyes with Warren before gesturing him over. The movement was casual, almost indifferent, yet Warren felt an odd weight behind it.


    He hesitated.


    He didn¡¯t have money. He didn¡¯t have anything to trade. Walking over was pointless, yet his feet moved anyway, carrying him toward the stand before he even fully processed why.


    ¡®That ability of yours¡­ Echo Rebound. It¡¯s a gamble. For now, until you learn how to properly control something as dangerous as that, stick to staying out of trouble.¡¯


    Silas¡¯s words echoed in his mind.


    Warren clenched his fists.


    ¡°I¡¯ll still need something to protect myself with¡­¡± he murmured, standing before the weapons dealer with a look of quiet determination.


    Even if he had nothing to offer, he wasn¡¯t leaving empty-handed.


    Meanwhile, Ronan slipped through the packed crowd with ease, his short and wiry frame making it effortless to weave between people without drawing much attention. The further he pushed forward, the louder the commotion became¡ªcheers, laughter, the occasional groan of disappointment. It was electric, the kind of excitement that made his heart race even before he could see what was happening.


    Then, at last, he broke through to the front.


    A makeshift stage stood before him. On it, three figures:


    A man in a suit and top hat, megaphone in hand, standing with the exaggerated confidence of a showman.


    Another man¡ªexhausted, shoulders slumped, stepping down from the stage with a look of quiet defeat.


    And finally¡­ him.


    A brown-skinned man dressed in a loose martial robe, something straight out of an old-world wuxia tale. His long black dreadlocks, tied into a bun, swayed slightly as the wind brushed past. Yet despite his seemingly relaxed posture, there was something about him that sent a chill through Ronan¡¯s body¡ªlike staring at the surface of a still lake, knowing something monstrous lurked beneath.


    ¡°And that¡¯s another win for¡ª!¡± The top-hat man hesitated, glancing at the martial artist. ¡°Erm¡­ what was your name again?¡±


    The defeated man had already disappeared into the crowd, lost among the sea of spectators, but the energy of the match still lingered in the air.


    The martial artist let out a low chuckle, his expression unreadable. ¡°Haha, no worries¡­ I¡¯m Radimir. Radimir Vostok.¡±


    His voice was light, almost casual. Yet something about it sent an involuntary shiver down Ronan¡¯s spine.


    Then, Radimir¡¯s eyes met his.


    A slow, deliberate gaze¡ªone that felt far too knowing for someone he had never met before.


    Ronan stiffened.


    It wasn¡¯t fear. It wasn¡¯t even intimidation. It was something else, something wrong.


    Before he could process it, Radimir casually reached over and plucked the megaphone from the announcer¡¯s hands. He lifted it to his lips, his tone as smooth as silk.


    ¡°Nice to meet you all.¡±


    The words were meant for the crowd, but to Ronan, it felt like they were meant for him alone.


    And for some reason, they made his blood run cold.

 Earl Grey

    ¡°Where are we headed first?¡± Lumian asked, walking alongside Silas. His hand instinctively ruffled through his own hair as he tried to recall what Charlotte had requested.


    ¡°If I remember correctly, she had a specific tea blend she liked¡­ so that¡¯s first on my list.¡± Silas sighed, already anticipating the hassle. ¡°Which probably means it¡¯s going to be the hardest thing to find.¡±


    Lumian gave a simple nod. ¡°So I just gotta keep my eyes open. Easy enough.¡±


    With that, they continued down the crowded streets of Cinderhaven. The air was thick with the scent of grilled meat, spiced vegetables, and the occasional sharp tang of something fermented. Vendors called out their deals, their voices overlapping into an overwhelming chorus, while street performers played lively tunes in an attempt to earn a few coins.


    For a city that had survived the Collapse, Cinderhaven had an impressive pulse. But it also had an impressive number of merchants eager to squeeze money from unsuspecting travelers.


    Silas and Lumian had been walking for about forty minutes, and they¡¯d already been stopped eight times. Which, if Silas did the math, meant they were being interrupted roughly every five minutes.


    Annoying.


    Lumian, on the other hand, didn¡¯t seem to mind in the slightest. In fact, six out of those eight interactions had ended with him somehow walking away with something useful. Silas wasn¡¯t sure if it was luck, skill, or just some cosmic joke at his expense.


    ¡°Pretty privilege¡­ that¡¯s what it¡¯s called, right?¡± Silas muttered, side-eyeing Lumian.


    Lumian chuckled, rolling his shoulders back in amusement. ¡°I¡¯d call it ¡®being a smooth talker¡¯ more than pretty privilege.¡± Then, with a teasing smirk, he added, ¡°Also, not entirely sure how I feel about being considered ¡®pretty¡¯ by another guy.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t flatter yourself.¡± Silas scoffed, shaking his head before coming to a halt. A realization hit him like a brick to the face.


    He turned to Lumian, eyes narrowing with a mix of irritation and betrayal.


    ¡°Wait a damn minute.¡±


    Lumian blinked. ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°If you¡¯re such a self-proclaimed smooth talker, why didn¡¯t you just ask someone for directions?¡± Silas threw his hands up in exasperation. ¡°We¡¯ve been wandering around like headless chickens! If you¡¯ve got such a useful social skill, use it! Damn it, I¡¯m getting envious!¡±


    Lumian let out an amused breath, lifting his hands in mock surrender as if he were dealing with an overly agitated professor¡ªan expression he¡¯d probably mastered over years of pissing off authority figures.


    ¡°Sorry, sorry, cut me some slack,¡± he laughed. Then, with a knowing grin, he added, ¡°But if you¡¯re that envious, why not try it yourself? You can¡¯t just learn from never trying, y¡¯know.¡±


    Silas exhaled sharply, gaze flicking back to the chaotic streets ahead.


    Silas had never been good at talking to others. The fact that he had made it this far¡ªwith people he could genuinely call friends¡ªwould probably shock a younger version of himself.


    And yet, here he was, about to attempt something completely outside his comfort zone.


    ¡°First off,¡± Lumian began, his voice carrying the tone of a seasoned instructor, ¡°you should probably change your appearance.¡±


    Silas arched a brow. ¡°What¡¯s that supposed to mean?¡±


    ¡°Well,¡± Lumian continued, completely unfazed, ¡°your eyes are scary, your posture isn¡¯t the best, and overall¡­ you don¡¯t exactly look approachable.¡±


    Each observation hit Silas like a stab to the heart. He visibly flinched. ¡°Couldn¡¯t you sugarcoat that even a little?¡±


    ¡°Not at all,¡± Lumian replied flatly. ¡°You can¡¯t improve if I go easy on you.¡±


    Before Silas could even process that, Lumian suddenly clapped a hand on his shoulder. The unexpected weight made Silas instinctively straighten his back, almost like a reflex.


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    ¡°See? You¡¯re getting better already.¡± Lumian grinned.


    Silas barely registered the words¡ªhis mind had latched onto something else entirely.


    He believes I can improve.


    It was such a simple thing, yet it struck him deeper than he wanted to admit. Silas had always felt prone to disappointing people, always falling short when expectations were placed on him. It was why he was hesitant to try in the first place. Why bother, if failure was the most likely outcome?


    And yet Lumian spoke as if Silas was capable. As if there was no doubt he could be better.


    Silas swallowed, shifting his gaze away as he muttered, ¡°Alright¡­ I¡¯ll trust your judgment.¡±


    Taking a breath, he adjusted his posture and forced himself to meet Lumian¡¯s eyes, offering a small¡ªif not slightly awkward¡ªsmile.


    With their goal in mind, the two continued their search, their pace steady as they kept their eyes open for any sign of a tea merchant.


    It was harder than expected.


    Silas took the initiative, stopping various people as they passed and asking for directions. It was far from smooth¡ªhis words stumbled at times, and his usual hesitations crept in¡ªbut he did it.


    The responses they received were vague at best. Some pointed down different streets, others mumbled half-hearted suggestions, and a few just shrugged entirely.


    Whoever this tea merchant was, they seemed to be somewhat of an enigma. A ghost among the locals.


    .


    ..


    ¡­


    After what felt like an eternity, the scattered hints and half-hearted directions finally led them to a narrow, dimly lit road in Cinderhaven. This was it¡ªthe place where the elusive tea merchant supposedly resided.


    The only problem was¡­


    ¡°What an eerie-looking place,¡± Lumian muttered, wrinkling his nose. His usual carefree demeanor was laced with mild disgust as he surveyed the street. The buildings were worn down, their facades cracked and weathered by time. The stench of cigarettes, booze, and other unidentifiable foul odors clung to the air like a thick fog, making it almost unbearable to breathe.


    It was clear¡ªthis part of Cinderhaven was far removed from the bustling market streets they had been wandering earlier. A place like this would¡¯ve probably been referred to as ¡°the ghetto¡± before the Collapse.


    Silas exhaled through his nose, steeling himself. ¡°No good will come from us just standing here. Let¡¯s get this over with, yeah?¡±


    Lumian huffed a laugh. ¡°Right. I¡¯d rather not marinate in whatever the hell this smell is any longer than necessary.¡±


    The two pressed forward, winding their way through the dim streets.


    Fifteen minutes passed when¡ª


    ¡°Mm?¡± Lumian¡¯s gaze flicked toward a nearby building.


    Just outside its entrance stood three women, lounging against the doorframe. Their attire¡ªif it could even be called that¡ªleft very little to the imagination, sheer fabrics clinging to their forms. When they noticed the two men approaching, slow, sultry smiles spread across their lips. Their hips swayed with deliberate exaggeration as they sauntered forward, their gazes locked onto their prey.


    ¡°Well, well~¡± One of the women practically purred, her voice dripping with honey. ¡°Aren¡¯t you two just the cutest things?¡±


    Before Silas could react, delicate fingers trailed up his forearm. His entire body tensed. ¡°W-We, uh¡ª¡±


    ¡°For the low, low price,¡± another woman added, her nails teasing along Lumian¡¯s wrist, ¡°we can be all yours.¡±


    Heat instantly rushed to Silas¡¯ face. He took a hurried step back, nearly tripping over himself in his panic. ¡°I¡ªI¡¯m sorry! But no thanks! I mean¡ªw-we didn¡¯t come here for that! Wait, no, I mean¡ª!¡±


    Lumian, on the other hand, smoothly extracted himself from their grasp, far less flustered than his companion. ¡°Gotta agree with him,¡± he said with an easygoing grin. ¡°Trust me, we¡¯d love to take you up on the offer, but now really isn¡¯t the right time.¡±


    The women pouted, their plump lips pushing forward in mock disappointment. One of them, in particular, pressed her arms together, emphasizing her ample chest as she turned her attention solely onto Lumian.


    ¡°Well, in that case¡­¡± She batted her lashes, voice dripping with playful seduction. ¡°The pale one can go.¡± She waved Silas off dismissively before her fingers curled around Lumian¡¯s collar, tugging him slightly toward the building. ¡°But you? We¡¯d love to keep you all to ourselves.¡±


    Silas could only stare in mild disbelief as Lumian, with his ever-so-reliable moral compass, did absolutely nothing to resist. In fact, he had the biggest, dopiest smile on his face.


    ¡°Oh well~¡± Lumian sang, waving lazily. ¡°Silas, I¡¯ll return¡ªI swear! I¡¯ll, uh¡­ I¡¯ll try to get information! Don¡¯t look at me like that¡ªit¡¯s not like I want to be in this situation!¡±


    Every word was an obvious lie.


    Silas sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose. As much as he was exasperated, he knew Lumian wouldn¡¯t be too reckless. He¡¯d probably actually try to fish for information¡­ probably.


    With that in mind, Silas turned away, pressing forward down the road.


    At the very end of the street, a heavily decorated building stood in stark contrast to its surroundings. Unlike the rest of the decayed structures, this place felt different. From the doorframe hung strings of beads, swaying ever so slightly with the breeze. The scent of herbs and sage filled the air, rich and heady, beckoning him closer.


    Just as he stepped toward the entrance¡ª


    ¡°Do I know ya?¡±


    The voice was feminine, yet strong.


    From within the building, a woman emerged.


    Her deep brown skin was adorned with intricate accessories¡ªgolden waist beads, dangling earrings, and a collection of piercings. Long braids, decorated with gold beads, were tied into a high ponytail, and her face bore striking skeletal makeup, reminiscent of D¨ªa de los Muertos celebrations. She was nothing short of striking, a presence that demanded attention.


    And amidst the many overwhelming scents surrounding her, one stood out.


    Earl Grey.


    Silas¡¯ breath hitched for half a second. His personal favorite.


    ¡°You¡¯re her,¡± he murmured under his breath, almost as if he was confirming it for himself.


    The woman raised a brow, arms crossed.


    Steeling himself, Silas met her gaze. ¡°Excuse me¡­ but do you know a woman by the name of Charlotte Greene?¡±

 Strength

    Warren stroked his chin as he gazed at the dazzling array of weapons before him. Rows of swords, axes, spears, and other fantastical arms reflected the dim light of the shop, their polished surfaces gleaming.


    Growing up in the 21st century, weapons had never been a necessity for him¡ªat least, not beyond what was legal for self-defense. Guns, maybe, but nothing like these. These looked like they belonged in a fantasy novel, wielded by warriors with years of battle experience.


    That was the problem.


    Warren had zero experience with anything remotely close to this. Picking a weapon without knowing its strengths, weaknesses, or how to wield it properly would be like choosing a car without knowing how to drive. It would only slow him down¡ªor worse, get him killed.


    Still, if he had to choose something, he needed a starting point.


    His gaze eventually landed on a long pole weapon with a curved blade at the end. It looked like a spear¡ªat least, that¡¯s what he assumed.


    Pointing at it, he asked, ¡°What about this? Would you say this would be good for someone with no background knowledge?¡±


    The weaponsmith followed his gesture and chuckled. ¡°Ah, the glaive. What an interesting choice¡ªand certainly my favorite.¡±


    ¡°Glaive?¡± Warren raised a brow. ¡°That¡¯s a spear, no?¡±


    ¡°No, it¡¯s a glaive.¡± The man gestured toward the weapon, tapping its long pole and then motioning to the broad, single-edged blade at the top. ¡°The main difference is its intended use. A spear is designed for thrusting, keeping enemies at bay with quick, precise jabs.¡± He then pointed to another weapon¡ªsimilar in build, but this time with a pointed tip rather than an edged blade. ¡°Meanwhile, a glaive is meant for slashing, delivering powerful sweeping attacks.¡±


    Warren frowned slightly. ¡°So, would either of them be a good pick for someone like me?¡±


    The weaponsmith let out a short laugh. ¡°No. Neither would be good for someone of your skillset.¡±


    ¡°This is seriously getting annoying¡­ I need to catch up with Ronan soon, anyway. I don¡¯t trust him by himself.¡±


    Warren let out a quiet sigh, rubbing the back of his neck in frustration. Spending this much time just picking out a weapon felt like a waste. He wasn¡¯t looking for something flashy¡ªjust something that worked.


    That¡¯s when an idea struck him. The weapon that Silas had been using for a while.


    The guy had zero physical strength and wasn¡¯t exactly combat-ready when they first met. Hell, even now, Warren was pretty sure he¡¯d snap like a twig in a direct fight. But despite that, Silas had managed to get comfortable using a dagger.


    If he could do it, then Warren sure as hell could too.


    ¡°If a dagger is really that easy for Silas to pick up¡­ I¡¯m sure it¡¯ll be the same for me,¡± Warren muttered under his breath.


    Hearing this, the weaponsmith smirked, as if he had been expecting this realization all along. Without hesitation, he reached behind the counter, retrieving a polished steel dagger with a black handle. The blade gleamed under the dim lighting of the shop, sharp and clean.


    ¡°Dagger. What an excellent choice,¡± the man said, presenting the weapon. ¡°A small but fierce companion¡ªbuilt for quickness, precision, and close-quarters combat. Unlike a sword, it¡¯s easier to conceal and even easier to release when the moment calls for it. I¡¯d say it¡¯s a good fit for someone of your skillset.¡±


    He chuckled, leaning against the counter before adding, ¡°But you know¡­ most people don¡¯t go for daggers. Too obsessed with the idea that ¡®swords are cooler.¡¯¡± He scoffed. ¡°And you know what happened to most of those idiots? They aren¡¯t here anymore.¡±


    Warren snorted at that, watching as the man rubbed his chin in thought before suddenly grinning.


    ¡°How about this?¡± The weaponsmith gestured toward Warren¡¯s neck. ¡°For this dagger, I only want your scarf. My daughter¡¯s been getting sick lately, and I want to keep her warm.¡±


    Warren blinked, caught off guard. His scarf? That¡¯s it?


    His eyes softened slightly as he quickly yanked it off, folding it neatly before placing it on the stand. It was worn out and a little tattered, but if it could help keep some kid warm, he wasn¡¯t about to complain.


    With a pleased nod, the man handed over the dagger, and Warren took it carefully, admiring the craftsmanship. It was solid¡ªjust the right weight in his hand. He wasn¡¯t exactly a weapons guy, but if he could afford this as a hobby, he might¡¯ve actually kept up with it.


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    ¡°Thanks, sir! I¡¯ll take good care of it,¡± Warren said with a satisfied grin.


    The weaponsmith waved him off with a chuckle, and with that, Warren turned on his heel, slipping into the bustling crowd.


    .


    ..


    ¡­


    Ronan sat across from the man who had introduced himself as Radimir. The table between them was sturdy, the kind built to endure countless matches of brute strength. The competitor before Ronan had left his seat with his arm trembling, rubbing at his wrist with a look of sheer exhaustion. The crowd murmured in approval, some chuckling at the poor guy¡¯s loss.


    Ronan exhaled through his nose.


    ¡°So that¡¯s it? Just an arm wrestling competition?¡±


    His gaze drifted to the stacked boxes sitting beside the table¡ªprizes, no doubt. From his position, he couldn¡¯t see what was inside them, but that only made him more curious.


    ¡°Seems like this guy¡¯s beaten everyone so far¡­ soooooo if I somehow beat him, I could win whatever¡¯s in those boxes.¡±


    He liked the sound of that.


    Only one problem.


    He glanced down at his arms, frowning.


    ¡°I don¡¯t have a pound of muscle on me. In fact, I¡¯m pretty damn skinny.¡±


    Radimir, on the other hand, looked like he could snap a person in half if he really wanted to.


    Before Ronan could second-guess himself, the showman clapped his hands together, drawing the attention of the crowd.


    ¡°Now! Are you gentlemen ready? It¡¯s the final showdown between Ronan Reed and Radimir Vostok!¡±


    The audience cheered as both competitors clasped hands.


    Immediately, Ronan flinched.


    Radimir¡¯s grip was strong. His palm was calloused, his fingers pressing firmly against Ronan¡¯s skin. There was an ease in his hold, as if he wasn¡¯t even trying yet.


    ¡°Okay¡­ definitely strong. No surprise there.¡±


    The match began.


    For the first few seconds, Ronan felt resistance¡ªbut strangely, Radimir was losing.


    His arm trembled slightly, his hand shifting downward toward the table.


    ¡°No way.¡±


    Even with the obvious strength difference, Radimir wasn¡¯t pushing back. If anything, it almost seemed like he was holding back.


    ¡°I¡¯ll probably feel like an asshole for using such a cheap method, but¡­ I have no choice.¡±


    Ronan activated Endless Legion¡ªhis Soul Fragment ability.


    His strength amplified sixfold.


    He felt it immediately¡ªthe surge of power, the weight in his muscles increasing. His grip tightened, and the tide of the match shifted.


    ¡°No way I¡¯m losing. Not to this guy.¡±


    And then¡ª


    Clap.


    The sound of Ronan¡¯s arm slamming against the table echoed through the space.


    For a moment, everything blurred. His mind went blank.


    He had lost.


    Not just lost.


    It happened so fast.


    His arm¡ªit was like it had teleported into a losing position.


    His breath hitched.


    The crowd erupted into cheers.


    Radimir exhaled softly, standing from his seat with an easy smile. There was no trace of exertion, no sign that he had even tried. He bowed slightly, chuckling as he addressed the audience.


    ¡°Thank you, thank you¡­ Don¡¯t praise me so much. This gentleman was quite the opponent.¡±


    Ronan didn¡¯t move.


    His pulse pounded in his ears.


    His ability had been active. Sixfold amplification. And yet, Radimir had wiped him out instantly.


    This wasn¡¯t normal.


    Then, before he could react, Radimir reached down, gripping his arm and pulling him upright.


    The gesture was friendly¡ªalmost too friendly¡ªbut then Radimir slung an arm over his shoulders, leaning in close.


    His breath was warm against Ronan¡¯s ear as he spoke in a hushed whisper.


    ¡°Using your Fragment ability? I mean, I don¡¯t really blame ya.¡±


    Ronan¡¯s stomach dropped.


    ¡°Ya would¡¯ve lost either way.¡±


    His entire body stiffened.


    He knows.


    Radimir knows.


    That wasn¡¯t possible. No one should be able to see Endless Legion. His ability didn¡¯t leave visible traces. It wasn¡¯t something physical¡ªit worked conceptually, a manipulation of strength through unseen forces.


    And yet, Radimir had not only sensed it but had also acknowledged it outright.


    Ronan forced himself to stay still, to keep his breathing even, but his thoughts were racing.


    Radimir patted his shoulder lightly before pulling away, his expression as composed as ever. The smile remained.


    .


    ..


    ¡­


    Ronan and Warren sat on the rough, uneven ground, the lingering tension from the earlier match hanging over them like a storm cloud.


    For once, Warren wasn¡¯t cracking jokes or making snide remarks. Instead, he was watching Ronan carefully, his brows furrowed in concern.


    ¡°Hey,¡± Warren finally broke the silence, his voice quieter than usual. ¡°Are you okay? I¡¯ve seriously never seen you this¡­ serious.¡± He tilted his head, still searching Ronan¡¯s face for any sign of his usual sarcasm. ¡°Was losing that humiliating?¡±


    Ronan didn¡¯t immediately respond. His arms rested on his knees, fingers idly picking at the fabric of his pants as he watched the people passing by, their laughter and chatter feeling strangely distant.


    Warren waited, expecting some sort of snarky retort¡ªsomething to reassure him that Ronan was fine, that he wasn¡¯t actually shaken. But when Ronan finally spoke, his voice carried an unusual weight.


    ¡°I-I¡¯m fine,¡± he muttered, forcing himself to sit up. He stretched his arms over his head, rolling his shoulders before rubbing the back of his neck. ¡°Don¡¯t stress about me, ¡®kay?¡±


    That was the Ronan Warren knew¡ªalways brushing things off like they didn¡¯t bother him. But something about the way he said it felt off.


    Then, after a moment, Ronan exhaled, shaking his head. ¡°It¡¯s just¡­ something in my gut tells me that guy¡ªRadimir Vostok¡ªhe¡¯s not gonna be the last person we meet like him.¡± His voice dropped slightly, almost as if he didn¡¯t want anyone else to hear. ¡°I don¡¯t know what it is, but I¡¯ve got a bad feeling. Like I just stepped into something way bigger than I understand.¡±


    Warren crossed his arms, nodding slowly. ¡°That guy did give me the creeps. You¡¯re saying there are more people out there like him?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± Ronan admitted, rubbing his temple. ¡°But if there are, we need to proceed with caution. I seriously don¡¯t wanna make any mistakes while we¡¯re here.¡±


    There was something about the way he said it that made Warren pause.


    Ronan wasn¡¯t just talking about avoiding trouble. He was talking about regret.


    Warren scratched the back of his head before letting out a sigh. ¡°Alright,¡± he said, standing up and brushing off his pants. ¡°If your gut¡¯s telling you something¡¯s off, I believe you. Let¡¯s not do anything dumb or make ourselves into targets, yeah?¡±


    With that, the two of them dusted themselves off and continued their walk, but the tension never fully left Ronan¡¯s shoulders.


    And deep down, Warren couldn¡¯t shake the feeling that Ronan was right.