Rubble and debris was piled up a little further down the road as a roadblock, delineating exactly where the Residential District of the Lower City began. No longer row after row of townhouses and brick walls, the Lower City’s residents lived in standalone houses and villas. Grass, trees and flowers lined the edges of the road with small paths occasionally leading off to a house or two.

Population density here was much lower and the number of Empyreans was much higher. The number of human corpses is significantly lower here while Mutant corpses have been piled high at the side of the road. There were even people walking on the street, flowing in and out of the various villas whilst escorted by guardsmen- blood energy covering their skin..

Davids led them further down the road and past the many patrols. He quickly explained that many of the Market Districts artisans had escaped into the Lower City and within the immediate protection of the garrison, but it was too soon to know who exactly all survived.

Silas guessed it’s only been some seven hours since the Darktide, meaning many survivors were probably still out there. The Inspector mentioned some small groups of guardsmen being sent out to look for more, but only two came back.

“Why stop us though?” Silas tilted his head, looking back the way they came. “The Mutants, mostly, are slow and stupid, not to mention entirely grey. If they heard you, they wouldn’t even know to stop.”

“You said mostly?”

A brief explanation later, Davids knew all about the types of mutants that Silas deduced and named. The man’s expression shifted and Silas almost swore he felt hope leave the man entirely. Davids adjusted his glasses before he spoke. “We’ve seen intelligent ones already. They were equivalent to a Physique Establishment Empyrean.”

“The Voiceless had the speed of one but not the strength or durability, are you implying the intelligent ones are all-rounded?” The Director asked, tapping the top of his cane.

“Unfortunately, yes. Its skin remained grey at the extremities and its eyes were entirely green, almost like the leaves of a tree. It disguised itself as one of my men.”

“Sixty years of cultivation beaten by a mere few hours.” The old man groaned. Silas took note. Did that mean the Director was in Physique Establishment?

Sebastian had noted in his letters that he was still at the first realm, Gate Opening, and Silas didn’t really care to look into what came after that. As far as he knew, he’d live and die as an Artisan and Sebastian would be the one bringing honour to the family.

By the time he snapped out of his thoughts, the group had already reached the Mayor’s Estate. He had long stopped getting fear energy from the kids, who were too excited by the fancy environment, but suddenly received a surge of it as they approached the iron gate and its guards.

The Inspector stopped to speak a few words and they were let through. What greeted them was a grim sight- the estate consisted of three large buildings situated in a U shape, the courtyard in between filled with so much plant-life he could barely smell the sickly sweet smell of decay in the air.

Row after row of cots took up all the open space outside, people in plague masks weaving their way between the wounded and injured and doing their best to heal those they could and encourage those they couldn’t.

The fear energy was almost overwhelming, so much so that his enhanced senses grew dull as his mind focused entirely on drawing in and purifying it. The wounded all had similar injuries. Most had claw marks and some had mangled flesh reminiscent of stab wounds.

A rare few had bite marks, a scene that caused Silas to stop for a moment. The victim’s veins near the wound had turned a vicious black colour, squirming and shifting beneath the skin. Davids placed a hand on his shoulder and pulled him forward. “It’s Corruption. He’s in his own hands now.”

Silas shook before he kept moving, following Davids into the main building. He was surprised to see it too was filled with cots and injured people, albeit they seemed dressed in much nicer attire. Silas gathered these were probably the citizens native to the Lower City.

“The Mayor ordered all receive treatment. Empyreans can’t use their blood energy to heal others, but those using the nature affinity to establish their physique have been guiding the life energy from the plants to heal. Only the Corruption can’t be healed this way.”

A guard at the side explained the sight upon Silas’ confusion, though this only left more questions. Empyreans can’t heal people? What is Corruption? A blue light flashed through his eyes as his innate talent purified his mind once more. His talent had recharged another wave after 6 hours.

Davids glanced at Silas with a deep look before opening the doors to the Mayor’s Office. The air immediately felt stifling, pressed down against his shoulders like a heavy weight. Every step took considerable effort as Silas found himself suddenly in the middle of the room, face to face with the man seated behind the desk. Alone.

The Mayor appeared as a young man with short, curly brown hair. He wore a white silk long sleeve beneath a brown vest adorned with various green vine-like patterns. Silently twirling a revolver in his hand, the Mayor smiled gently at Silas. His emerald green eyes practically staring daggers.

You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

“You have energy fluctuations but they aren't an Empyrean’s. Explain.”

Energy fluctuations? Silas immediately ceased drawing in Fear Energy, instead using his mind to block it off entirely. The moment he did so the Mayor disappeared from his sight, a cold metallic sensation pressed against the back of his head. A revolver. He heard the Mayor speak again.

“Do anything but answer the question again and your head turns into my new wall painting. Understood?” Silas could almost hear a hint of a smile in the man’s voice when he spoke. This man was fucking crazy.

“I’m a Nightweaver, sir.”

“Heretic?”

“No, sir.”

“Wayfinder?”

“Yes, sir-” Wait, what? Silas stiffened in place, his eyes wide. Did he know? Was he a Wayfinder too? How? How could this man possibly meet the criteria? “Are you also..”

“No, but my son is.” Silas felt the gun barrel lift from the back of his head and finally breathed out, his hands shaking as he brought one to his chest and slowly turned around. He found another Wayfinder already? How is that possible?

[You are not the only talented person]

.. Right

“Mayor Edwards, your son..?”

“Arthur, come in here!”

A young man stepped through the doors, looking nearly identical to the Mayor with the same clothes. His hair was instead left rather long, and his features were more rounded than his father’s. A strange air entered the room with him, albeit faint. “Arthur Edwards, Prophet. At your service.”

“Prophet?”

“My Pathway, so to speak. I ‘weave’ fate. It’s an alternative form to magic, which means I can still fulfil my father’s wish of becoming an Empyrean, too.” The young man grinned, extending a hand. “From one Wayfinder to another.”

Silas reached forward and tentatively shook his hand. He didn’t ask what a prophet did, mostly because they didn’t ask what Nightweavers do. Adjusting his glasses, he did his best to calmly introduce himself. “Silvanus Albrecht, call me Silas. I control Nightmares.”

“Oh? Is it a mental pathway? Soul-based, maybe?”

“I.. don’t know.”

“You don’t? Hm. Peculiar. What do you know?”

“I use ‘fear’ energy, Empyreans use blood energy.”

Arthur patted Silas’ on the shoulders and looked him up and down. Silas could almost feel something close to disdain from him. His clothes had long been torn and stained with blood on the journey here, only his glasses kept spotless. Arthur sighed with a shake of his head. “Let’s go get you cleaned up and taken to your assigned Villa. I’ll explain on the way.”

Silas looked at Mayor Edwards for approval and sighed with relief when the man just nodded his head lightly. Arthur beamed and quickly grabbed Silas by the shoulders before guiding him out of the room. Glass, The Director, Caisus and the kids were nowhere to be seen.

“Relax, Glass went back to the barracks and the civilians were already sent back to the Villa. You’ll see them soon.” Arthur gave him a hefty pat on the back to which Silas didn’t respond. “Sorry about my father, he’s a hardcore imperial man. He disagrees with any pathway that isn’t Empyrean.”

That was clear. Silas didn’t quite get it himself. Vraelyn to the west had Mages and yet the Emperor hadn’t led a crusade, so why was everyone so skeptical of his legacy? Why was its difference assumed to be heretical?

He was pulled from his thoughts as they left the Estate and back into the streets. Arthur seemed happy to have someone to talk to, even if Silas mostly wasn’t listening. Mostly. Silas did pick up on a few pieces he thought useful.

Every person had what was called the Three Sources. Soul, Vital, and Magic. Every pathway generally improves upon one Source. Empyreans improved the Vital Source and Mages improved the Magic Source. If you found another Pathway for the Vital Source, you cannot also follow the Empyrean Pathway, they’d conflict.

Nightweavers improved upon the Soul Source, meaning Silas could still become an Empyrean as well. The issue, then, would be dividing time between the two. He didn’t feel that was right either, though. His Nightmare Seed had pretty much been refining itself..

“And which does your Prophet Pathway follow, magic?” Silas tilted his head and looked at Arthur, watching the man’s eyes light up when Silas finally involved himself in the ‘conversation’.

“Yes! A Prophet has a unique Mana Core known as a Fate Core. It is weaved almost entirely out of ‘threads’ that we can use and manipulate. I’m just.. Not quite sure what they do.” Arthur grinned, chuckling a little bit at himself. “But don’t fret! I’ll figure it out in time. One day, you’ll be able to brag about talking to the great Weaver of Fate himself when he was young!”

Silas gave him a wry smile and resisted the urge to ignore him. They spent the rest of the walk in a back and forth, Silas asking questions about these ‘threads’ and Fate Core while Arthur answered. Silas didn’t mean to pry, but often felt he was at his creative best when his brother asked him how things worked in the gunsmith. If he could satisfy his curiosity whilst also helping Arthur think, well, why not?

“Say, what did you mean by hardcore imperial?”

Arhur took the comment in stride, yet Silas saw his gaze waver briefly. His shoulders shook, however slightly, and Silas realised he touched upon a sore spot.

“They believe Empyreans are the only true human pathway. Only Empyreans improve upon their human identity rather than looking for external power. They think everything else is a shortcut.” Arthur sighed and stopped in front of a Villa path. A smile quickly returned to his face as he gave a slight bow. “Thank you for the chance to be your guide!”

Watching as Arthur walked away, it was safe to say confusion was what Silas felt. The young man had a strange rhythm to his step. With a shake of his head, he walked down the path to the Villa assigned to them. A giant metal pole had been stuck into the dirt in the yard, easily twenty feet tall.

Before he could even knock on the door it opened wide and a stream of small children immediately washed over him, practically dragging him to the ground with hugs as he stumbled back. Caisus practically leaped onto his chest, the last push he needed to fall flat on his back.