Rowan, who was maintaining his distance from the battle due to his injuries, came running after the commotion died. He arrived just in time to see Silas questioning the nobles. He shook his head and said “It doesn’t matter, Silas. They’re not worth it—”
Silas cut him off with a sharp glare. “It does matter, Rowan.” He stepped closer to the nobles, his presence looming over them like a shadow of death. “They need to understand the consequences of their actions.”
The nobles, sensing the depth of Silas’s rage, clamped their mouths shut, their eyes darting between each other in silent terror. They knew that revealing the truth would likely seal their fate in the most gruesome way imaginable. The memory of what they had done to Rowan and the reasons behind it were better left unsaid, even if it meant enduring more pain.
Kael, who had been observing the exchange in silence, finally stepped forward. “Silas, if they won’t speak, I can use Memory Extraction to force out their memories. You’ll see everything they’ve tried to hide.”
Silas nodded, his face hardening as he gave his consent. “Do it.”
Kael approached one of the nobles, the boy who had been the ringleader of the attack on Rowan. He placed one hand on the noble’s skull and used Memory Extraction; the other hand was on Silas’s head. The noble tried to pull away, but the spike of earth pinning him in place made any movement agonising. With a deep breath, Kael channelled his power, his eyes glowing with a fierce light as he delved into the noble’s mind.
Unbeknownst to them, a pair of sharp eyes watched from the tree line, hidden by an invisibility amulet that shimmered in the light. Sullivan had been here ever since the battle began. He remained silent, observing the scene unfold, his mind calculating, weighing the value of what he saw.
The memories flowed into Silas like a torrent of darkness, each image searing into his consciousness with brutal clarity. He saw Rowan walking through the quiet district, the cruel words of the noble children cutting through the air like knives. He felt Rowan’s anger as the insults to his family grew more vile, and the moment when Rowan finally snapped, confronting the group with all the fury he could muster.
Silas’s rage deepened as he witnessed the ensuing fight. Rowan fought bravely but didn’t use his Soulweaver powers at the start of the battle. The odds were stacked against him, and without another chance to use his abilities, the nobles’ Soulweaver abilities overwhelmed him. Their collective power was too much for him to handle alone. Silas could feel Rowan’s pain as they beat him down, each blow resonating with the bitter taste of helplessness. The final moments, where they dragged Rowan into the forest and slashed his wrists, made Silas’s blood boil. The sight of Rowan lying in the dirt, bleeding and broken, was more than he could bear.
As the memories faded, Silas pulled back, his breath coming in ragged gasps, his eyes blazing with unbridled fury. The nobles who had remained silent now saw the full extent of what they had unleashed. Silas’s fists clenched, and with a command to Dust, he covered them in thick, jagged rocks, his knuckles transformed into deadly weapons.
“You dared to insult my family,” Silas growled, his voice trembling with barely restrained rage. “You dared to attack Rowan for defending my honour. Now, you’ll pay for every word, every blow.”
Silas moved in a blur, his rocky fist driving into the noble’s face with brutal force. The sickening crunch of shattering bone echoed through the clearing, followed by a spray of blood that stained the earth in dark red. The noble’s scream was cut short as Silas struck again, relentless, each blow more devastating than the last. His rage manifested in a frenzy of violence.
Rowan, watching the scene unfold, flinched at its sheer brutality. He had seen Silas angry before, but this was different—this was pure, unfiltered wrath. The sight of blood and gore, the sound of bones breaking under Silas’s relentless assault, made him want to look away. But Silas’s voice cut through the chaos when he tried, commanding his attention.
“Look at them, Rowan!” Silas shouted, his voice echoing with a terrifying intensity. “Don’t you dare look away! This is what happens when you hesitate! They nearly killed you because you held back!”
Rowan’s heart pounded in his chest, his mind racing as Silas’s words sank in. Rowan’s breath came in ragged gasps as he stared at the scene before him. His mind raced, replaying the moment he had hesitated—the split second when his will had faltered. He could still feel the pain of their blows, the helplessness of lying on the ground, bleeding and broken.
Things might have been different if he had used his Soulweaver power and fought without holding back. Perhaps he wouldn’t have ended up bleeding out in the dirt, abandoned and helpless. But now, watching Silas deliver justice with such brutal finality, a cold resolve began to settle in his chest. This world didn’t allow for weakness. Hesitation had nearly cost him his life, and he swore silently that it would never happen again.
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Silas continued his assault, his fists smashing into the nobles with unrelenting force. Each impact sent shockwaves through the ground, the force of his blows obliterating flesh and bone alike. The nobles’ screams turned into desperate, guttural pleas. Still, there was no mercy in Silas’s eyes—only the cold, implacable rage of a man wronged.
Finally, Silas stood over the noble who had slashed Rowan’s wrists, the boy’s face twisted in terror as he realised what was coming. Silas looked at Rowan, his eyes still burning with fury. “This one is yours, Rowan. He deserves everything you can give him.”
Rowan hesitated for a moment, the weight of the situation pressing down on him. But then he remembered the pain, the humiliation, the helplessness of that day. His resolve hardened. He approached the noble, his hands trembling slightly as he drew his sword. The boy whimpered, trying to crawl away, but the spike of earth through his leg held him fast.
With a cold, determined expression, Rowan slashed at the boy, the blade biting into flesh with a sickening ease. Blood splattered across Rowan’s face, but he didn’t stop. Each strike was an outlet for all the anger, all the pain that had built up inside him. He thought of Silas’s honour, of the cruelty he had endured, and with a final, decisive blow, he ended the boy’s life.
Rowan stood over the lifeless body, his chest heaving, his heart pounding with a mix of rage and a strange sense of satisfaction. The noble’s blood dripped from his sword, pooling on the ground beneath him. He turned to Silas, who nodded in approval, his expression fierce.
Silas then turned his gaze to the tall boy who had led the attack on Rowan. The boy’s face drained of all colour as he realised he would not be spared the horrors that awaited him. With a gesture to Spark, Silas summoned flames that danced hungrily around his hands. He ignited the tall boy’s clothing, the fire spreading quickly as the boy screamed in agony. The flames consumed him, his skin blistering and blackening as Silas watched with a cold, merciless gaze. The boy’s screams echoed across the landscape, blending with the crackle of fire until they finally fell silent, leaving only the charred remains where he had once stood.
The remaining nobles, their bodies broken and bloodied, were dispatched with the same brutal efficiency. Silas’s power tore through them, their screams silenced as the ground itself seemed to devour them, leaving only the blood-soaked earth as a testament to the carnage.
The once-clear waters of Bitter Creek ran red with blood, the crimson tide flowing downstream, a macabre reminder of the slaughter that had just taken place. The creek, which had once been a lifeline for the region, now mirrored the darkness that had been unleashed upon the nobles.
When it was over, the air was thick with the smell of blood and death. The scene was a gruesome display of violence and retribution. Rowan, his sword still slick with blood, stood beside Silas, his resolve strengthened by the brutal lesson he had learned.
Silas looked out over the carnage, his chest heaving with the exertion of battle. His fists, still covered in Dust’s rocky armour, dripped with blood, but his expression was one of grim satisfaction. The nobles had paid for their crimes, and their lives ended in the most brutal fashion imaginable.
Rowan wiped the blood from his sword, his gaze fixed on the ground where the noble had fallen. “Next time,” he said, his voice barely more than a whisper, “I won’t hold back.”
Silas nodded, his voice calm but firm. “Good. Never forget this day, Rowan. It’s a reminder that only strength and resolve matter in this world. If you’re not willing to fight with everything you have, then you’re as good as dead. I’ve already learnt my lesson. and now you’ve learnt yours.”
The two stood in silence for a moment, the blood-soaked ground beneath them a testament to the violence that had just unfolded. The lesson had been taught in the harshest way possible, and the cost had been paid in blood.
Silas wiped the blood from his knuckles, turning to Uncle Chen and Kael, who watched him closely. “Don’t go into too many details when you tell my father about this,” Silas instructed, his voice firm but low. “He doesn’t need to know everything that happened here. He might grow concerned.”
Kael nodded, his face showing understanding and relief. “Of course, Silas. We’ll keep it brief.”
Uncle Chen’s eyes narrowed slightly as he watched Silas. “We won’t say anything that would trouble the War Master. But young master, you mustn’t forget, while strength is important, one should never lose sight of what’s right. There’s a line, and once you cross it, there’s no going back.”
Silas’s expression remained hard. “I know where that line is, Uncle Chen. And I crossed it for a reason.”
Hidden in the shadows, Sullivan’s eyes tracked every movement, his face unreadable. As the last noble fell, a slow smile curled on his lips—not of joy, but of approval. Silas had changed. He had become precisely what Sullivan needed. Power, raw and unchecked, coursed through the boy now. And with it, Sullivan saw the future he had always envisioned—one shaped by strength and merciless resolve.
He grinned as he thought about Silas’s power. ‘Nexus Ambrosia truly lives up to its legendary name. It’s more than just power—it’s reshaped him entirely.’ He watched as Silas and group turned away from the gruesome scene, leaving behind the shattered remains of the nobles and their guards.
Sullivan nodded slowly, still processing what he had seen. ‘I knew the elemental ceremony would make him stronger, but I never expected this level of transformation. Silas has grown into something… exceptional.’ Sullivan’s eyes flickered as he considered the power Silas had unleashed. ‘Yes, he’s powerful now; with each battle, he will grow even stronger. Soon, he’ll be able to make my wish a reality.’
As Silas and Rowan moved further away, Sullivan remained hidden, his thoughts heavy with anticipation.
The realm of Solarisynth had just become a little darker, and the two boys would carry the scars of this day with them forever. Their innocence was a relic of the past. For Rowan, the events had strengthened his resolve, determination, and willingness to do what he must. But for Silas, the experience had stripped away any semblance of innocence from his soul. It was utterly devoured by the sliver of a soul of depravity and hunger inside his heart. This emotion was irrevocably lost to him, and this fact would affect his future actions, all while he was completely unaware.