The Watcher in the Snow

Chapter 7: The Watcher in the Snow

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The ruins were silent.

ghostly waves, settling over the cracked stone and shattered buildings of what had once been a city. Broken towers loomed in the distance, their skeletal remains half-buried beneath frost and time. The air was still, yet something unseen seemed to pulse beneath the surface—a whisper of something long forgotten.

Snow drifted lazily over the broken remains of the ancient city, settling in the cracks of collapsed buildings, burying streets that had long since been abandoned. Everything was still—a graveyard frozen in time.

At the center of the ruins, standing atop the crumbling remains of what might have once been a cathedral, was a woman.

she stood there.

Lis Avarado, A vampire. But not of the Bone Clan nor the Flesh Clan.

Something else entirely.

She stood atop the shattered remains of what had once been a cathedral dedicated to ancient god, her long silver-white hair cascading over her shoulders, her bangs partially covering one of her piercing red eyes. A faint smirk curled at her lips, though the amusement in her expression was subtle—calculated.

The wind curled around her like an obedient specter, her cloak barely shifting despite the frigid air.

She gazed across the snowy landscape, her eyes locking onto a place far beyond normal sight.

A place no human should have been able to see from here.

Yet, she did.

Her gaze fixed on a ruined battlefield, the distant remnants of a fight that had already ended. A battle where three warriors—**Lucian, Ronan, and Eris—**had faced a Bone Clan vampire.

Lis tilted her head slightly.

"A sane fragment?"

Her voice carried through the ruins, soft yet chilling. It was not a question, but an observation.

Her red eyes gleamed with unreadable curiosity.

And for a moment, the snow around her stopped falling.

She watched for a few more seconds, her red eyes gleaming in the pale dawnlight.

Then, with a final glance, she turned—disappearing into the snow, her form vanishing as if she had never been there.

---

Life in Alexandria

Lucian stretched his arms, leaning back against the edge of the second-floor balcony of his new home.

It had been four days since he had been left here. Four days with no interruptions, no summons, no unexpected visits.

For the first time in a while, he was left alone.

His house was a sturdy three-story structure, built from reinforced dark metal and stone, designed for practicality rather than beauty. The first floor housed a small kitchen and storage space, the second was his living quarters, and the third was what Mianro had called an "observation room"— though he had yet to explore it.

He spent most of his time on the second floor, which contained a modest bed, a simple desk, and a small bookshelf with a few texts about Alexandria's history. The silver runes engraved into the walls emitted a faint warmth, keeping the house pleasant despite the eternal cold outside.

And the food—

Lucian exhaled, shaking his head.

The food here is ridiculously good.

He had expected the rations to be bland, practical, just enough to sustain a warrior. But the meals provided by the Order were rich, carefully prepared, and full of flavor.

His breakfast that morning had been warm roasted meat, seasoned with a mix of herbs he didn't recognize, along with freshly baked bread that was surprisingly soft. It was far better than anything he had expected from a war-torn world.

Lucian had eaten every bite.

And then he had waited.

Waited for something—anything—to happen.

But nothing did.

No orders. No knocks on his door.

Just silence.

It left him unsettled.

He had spent so much time fighting, running, surviving that now, with no immediate danger, he felt... out of place.

Lucian was then lost in thoughts in the balcony of his temporary home, staring down at the streets of Alexandria.

It had been Four days of silence.

"After everything, after all that chaos, I'm just supposed to sit here and wait?"

The city outside still felt unreal. The fog-cloaked streets, the towering silver spires, the strange runes pulsing faintly in the walls. Alexandria wasn't just a stronghold—it was something more.

Something preserved.

And yet, Lucian still felt like an outsider.

Even when he wandered through the streets, no one approached him. People noticed him, their gazes lingering for a moment too long, but they never spoke. It wasn't hostility.

It was wariness.

"They don't trust me. Of course, they don't."

It was better that way.

Still, the isolation gnawed at him. He needed something to do.

And so, he had spent the past two days doing the only thing he could—learning.

---

Lucian leaned against his desk, flipping through the old tomes he had borrowed from his home's modest library.

The books were old but well-maintained, filled with information about Silverborn warriors—the ones who wielded silver energy, the foundation of Alexandria's power.

After several hours of reading, he had finally begun to understand.

The Silverborn hierarchy wasn't just about strength—it was about mastery.

First Level – Awakened:

At this stage, a Silverborn could absorb and manipulate the silver energy in the air, enhancing their physical abilities to inhuman levels of strength, speed, and stamina. This was the starting point—the moment a human became something more.

Second Level – True Awakened:

A step beyond the basic enhancement, this level allowed a Silverborn to form basic silver constructs—weapons, armor, barriers. They could shape silver energy into simple objects, making them more than just enhanced fighters.

Third Level – Silver Ruler:

This was where the true warriors of Alexandria stood. They could manipulate silver freely, store silver energy in their bodies through runes and tattoos, and craft complex constructs. Their physical enhancement was limitless, as long as their bodies could withstand the energy.

Fourth Level – Ascended Silverborn:

Here, a Silverborn reached true mastery. At this stage, they could create a **unique construct—**an object embedded with a fragment of their will. It was not just a weapon, not just an ability—it was a part of them.

The unique construct was one of a kind, something that could not be replicated by any other being in the world. It only existed for its creator.

"That explains Eris' strength… she's at this level."

And then, the final stage.

Fifth Level – Silver Heart:

Almost nothing was known about this stage.

Those who reached it were gods among mortals.

A Silver Heart was exactly what it sounded like—a heart made entirely of silver, replacing the human heart completely.

Only three known individuals in the entire world had achieved this stage.

One of them was the leader of the High Council of Sanctorum.

Lucian leaned back, exhaling slowly.

"This isnt the type of world i would have imagined to be reborn into."

' when i was in middle-school, at least my fantasies were better than this dead world'

Lucian thought as he looked down his balcony.

---

After hours of studying, Lucian needed fresh air.

He needed a Walk Through the City.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair.

Enough was enough.

He needed to get out.

-----

He stepped out onto the streets, the cool mist wrapping around him.

Lucian pulled his cloak tighter around himself as he stepped onto the winding stone pathways of Alexandria. The streets were not crowded, but not empty either—warriors, merchants, and scholars moved through the fog-covered city, their conversations hushed but purposeful.

It was still surreal.

Even after two days, Lucian wasn't used to the way the mist curled unnaturally around certain buildings, how the sky remained frozen in an eternal dawn, how the air carried a weight that had nothing to do with the cold.

The city was quieter today. Fewer people walked the streets, and those who did moved with purpose, their cloaks drifting through the fog. The scent of burning silver filled the air—a familiar presence by now.

He walked without a destination, letting his feet take him wherever.

Then, he saw it.

A small shop, nestled between two larger buildings, its entrance marked by a faintly glowing silver lantern. Unlike the other establishments he had passed, this one didn't have any elaborate carvings or banners—just a simple wooden sign with an unfamiliar symbol.

Curious, Lucian stepped inside.

---

The shop was small but well-organized. Shelves lined the walls, stacked with silver trinkets, weapons, and odd artifacts that seemed far older than the city itself. The air smelled faintly of metal and aged parchment.

Behind the counter stood a lean, sharp-eyed man, his sleeves rolled up, revealing forearms laced with silver-threaded tattoos. His dark, graying hair was tied back, and despite his relaxed posture, his gaze was piercing.

He looked up as Lucian entered.

"Ah." His voice was calm, measured. "New face."

Lucian hesitated, then nodded. "Something like that."

The man studied him for a moment before returning to polishing a small silver pendant.

"You don't belong to the Order," he remarked. "And yet, here you are. Must mean you're interesting."

Lucian smirked slightly. "Or problematic."

The shopkeeper chuckled. "They're often the same thing."

Lucian took a slow step forward, glancing at the artifacts on display. Some were clearly weapons—silver-coated daggers, intricate gauntlets—but others were stranger.

One item, in particular, caught his eye.

A small glass vial, filled with liquid silver.

Lucian frowned. "What is this?"

The shopkeeper glanced at the vial. "Condensed Silver Essence. It amplifies a Silverborn's unique construct for a short time."

Lucian's grip on the vial tightened. Something about it felt… familiar.

The shopkeeper raised an eyebrow. "You interested?"

Lucian shook his head, placing it back down. "Just curious."

The man smirked. "Curiosity is dangerous in this city."

Lucian held his gaze.

"So is ignorance."

For a moment, the shopkeeper just watched him.

Then, with a quiet chuckle, he leaned back against the counter. "You'll do fine here."

Lucian wasn't sure if that was a warning or reassurance.

But something told him—his time in Alexandria was just beginning.

----

Lucian exhaled, his gaze drifting toward the rows of strange artifacts. His mind flickered back to the unique constructs of the Ascended Silverborn.

Weapons born from will.

Singular. Unmatched.

He reached for a small silver pendant sitting on one of the shelves, running his fingers over the smooth surface.

"Unique constructs," he muttered. "They say every one of them is different. That no two are the same."

The shopkeeper watched him closely.

"Correct," he said. "Because they are not just forged from power. They are forged from the soul."

Lucian's fingers tightened around the pendant.

"Then what would mine be?"

He didn't know.

Not yet.

But something in his chest—**deep, buried—**told him that whatever it was...

It had already begun to take shape.

-----------

---

A Week in Alexandria

Lucian had spent a full week alone, exploring Alexandria as much as he could.

At first, the silence had been unnerving. He had expected someone from the Order to come knocking, to call him in for questioning, for testing—something.

But no one came.

He was left to his own devices, free to wander the streets, observe, and—when possible—speak with the people.

Some were polite but distant, their conversations short and carefully measured. Others barely acknowledged him, offering only a brief nod before moving along.

But a handful—**a rare few—**actually engaged.

A merchant had once stopped him, explaining the way Alexandria's market system functioned, how trade within the city relied entirely on silver essence instead of currency. A blacksmith had let him watch as she worked, her hammer shaping silver-infused steel into blades that hummed with power.

Lucian listened. He learned. He observed.

And slowly, the city became more familiar.

---

After a week

That morning, Lucian did not want to wake up.

The fog outside his window was denser than usual, a thick, rolling mist that clung to the streets like a living thing. The usual golden hue of the perpetual dawn barely filtered through, leaving the world outside a dull, gray blur.

It made him drowsy.

He shifted in his bed, pulling the blanket higher, trying to push away the nagging sensation that he should be awake.

Then—a knock on the door.

Lucian groaned. 'Did I imagine that?'

Silence.

Maybe he had.

He sank deeper into the sheets.

Knock. Knock.

Lucian's eyes snapped open.

This time, he was sure he had heard it.

Grumbling, he rolled out of bed, stretching his arms before moving toward the small washroom on the second floor. He splashed cold water onto his face, his reflection staring back at him from the polished silver mirror.

Dark hair, tired silver-eyes, but no longer as lost as before.

He quickly brushed his teeth, then grabbed **some simple clothing from the wardrobe—**black pants, a fitted tunic, and a thick cloak lined with silver thread. All provided by the Order.

Within a minute, he was downstairs.

When he opened the door, he found himself staring at a familiar face.

Ronan.

Lucian blinked. "You're alive."

Ronan smirked. "Disappointed?"

Lucian stepped aside, motioning him in. "Not yet."

Ronan chuckled as he stepped through, shaking off some of the fog that clung to his coat. "Still sharp. Good."

Lucian shut the door behind him, crossing his arms. "Didn't expect to see you again."

Ronan shrugged. "Didn't expect to be sent to babysit you, yet here I am."

Lucian raised an eyebrow. "Babysit?"

Ronan grinned. "Alright, more like dragging you to where you're supposed to be."

Lucian sighed, moving toward the small kitchen. "Want something to drink?"

"Nah," Ronan said, waving him off. "Not staying long."

Still, Lucian poured himself a cup of warm herbal tea before leaning against the counter. "So, what's this about?"

---

Ronan's grin faded slightly, his expression turning more serious.

"You've been left alone for a week now," he said. "That was intentional."

Lucian frowned. "Intentional?"

Ronan nodded. "The High Council wanted to see what you'd do with your time here. If you'd cause trouble. If you'd try to leave. If you'd start asking too many questions."

Lucian scoffed. "And?"

Ronan smirked. "You passed."

Lucian exhaled. 'So they really have been watching me.'

Ronan leaned against the doorframe. "Now that you're settled, it's time to start learning how to actually use silver."

Lucian raised an eyebrow. "I thought that would come sooner."

"Normally, it does," Ronan admitted. "But Alexandria isn't just a fortress—it's massive. There are multiple outposts, and you'll be training at one of them."

Lucian tilted his head. "Outposts?"

"Places where the Order operates from," Ronan explained. "Training halls, research stations, even command centers. Alexandria may look like one giant city, but it's actually a collection of interconnected sectors, each with its own purpose."

Lucian took a slow sip of his tea, processing the information.

"So, what am I expected to do?"

Ronan pushed off the wall. "Learn the basics. After that, if you want, you can work there temporarily."

Lucian narrowed his eyes. "Work?"

Ronan shrugged. "The High Council isn't going to keep feeding you for free forever. Eventually, they'll want you to earn your place."

Lucian sighed, setting his cup down. "Figures."

Ronan clapped a hand on his shoulder. "Come on, new guy. Time to get you started."

---

After walking through the mist for a while, Lucian and ronan finally arrived.

The Silver Order Outpost

The outpost was larger than Lucian expected.

It stood two stories tall, built from reinforced stone and silver-infused metal, its engraved walls pulsing faintly with protective runes. Unlike the grand structures of Alexandria's central district, this building was built for function, not appearance.

Warriors moved in and out of the entrance, some in full silver armor, others in lighter combat gear. The air was filled with the clash of weapons and the hum of energy.

Ronan led him through the entrance, where a small reception area awaited them.

Behind a sturdy wooden desk sat a young woman with short black hair, golden eyes, and a bored expression.

She looked up as they approached, raising an eyebrow. "You're late."

Ronan smirked. "Good to see you too, Reze."

Lucian glanced between them.

Reze looked past Ronan, eyeing Lucian with mild curiosity. "So, this is the guy?"

Ronan gestured toward him. "Lucian. The new one."

Lucian gave a small nod. "Nice to meet you."

Reze studied him for a moment before giving a small nod back. "Welcome to the outpost. I'll handle the introductions."

Ronan clapped Lucian's shoulder again. "Good. That means I can leave him to you."

Lucian shot him a glare. "That easy, huh?"

Ronan grinned. "You'll be fine."

And with that, he turned and walked further into the outpost, leaving Lucian and Reze alone.

Reze exhaled. "So, you have any idea what you're doing?"

Lucian smirked. "Not at all."

She chuckled. "Great. You'll fit right in."

Lucian wasn't sure if that was a good thing.

But at least things were finally starting to move.

---

End of Chapter 7