Chapter 8

Renn helped Nick over to the hospital. Dr. Kael, who hadn't been present to watch the match, rushed over to help the injured boy, immediately beginning to treat his wounds. Nick suffered from severe injuries to his stomach and skull. As he lay in the hospital bed, he glanced to the chair beside him and saw the girl he had wounded. She was in noticeably better condition, her arm in a cast. She gave him a small smile.

Nick managed a weak chuckle, wincing at the pain. "Didn't expect you to be here. Thought you'd want me dead."

She smirked. "I did. But now I just feel bad for you. You look like a corpse someone forgot to bury."

Nick exhaled sharply, something between a laugh and a groan. "Yeah, well… can't say I feel much different."

She tilted her head, studying him. "You know, for a guy who fights like a demon, you sure give up easy."

Nick opened his mouth to reply, but before he could respond, the door burst open as three medics rushed in, one of them shouting, "EMERGENCY! Abatus has been struck by something!"

Dr. Kael looked up in shock and saw Abatus being carried in. The entire left side of his body was missing, the wounds black and slowly expanding, the old flesh withering away into the air. Gasps filled the room, nurses stepping back in horror.

"Get him on the bed, now!" Kael barked.

The medics hurriedly placed Abatus down and tried every possible treatment, but in just over five minutes, his entire body vanished, leaving no trace behind. The only thing left was the outline of where he had been.

"What happened to him? Who did this?" Kael demanded, utterly bewildered. He had never seen anything like it before.

"We have no idea," one of the medics replied, breathless. "As he was walking away from the arena, a black explosion erupted, only affecting his body. At first, he looked unharmed, but then a black spot started spreading over him, consuming his flesh until nothing remained."

"This has to be an attack," another medic added grimly. "Maybe from another nation. The leader has already sent people to investigate."

Nick watched the entire ordeal in stunned silence, his mind struggling to process what he had just seen. The room buzzed with urgent whispers, but his head was pounding too hard to focus on any of them.

Moments later, the door opened again. The leader of the village entered the hospital, his presence instantly silencing the room. Many looked shocked, while Dr. Kael seemed nervous. The sleek, gun-like weapon at the leader's hip only added to the tension in the air. The doctors quickly explained Abatus's disappearance.

The leader's gaze was unreadable, but something in his eyes was calculating. "This isn't chaos," he murmured. "It's precision."

Then his eyes snapped to Nick. "I don't care about Abatus. I'm here to talk to Nick."

Without hesitation, he ordered everyone else to leave. The doctors, the girl, and Renn all complied without question. Once the door closed, the leader turned his gaze to Nick, who looked up at him, his nose still bleeding, his face smeared in red.

"Hey there, Nick," the leader said. "You did a really good job in the competition. I haven't seen anyone play chess that aggressively in a long time. I'm here to ask you a question."

Nick remained silent, his eyes locked onto the leader's.

"In the last round, you had the winning move. You could have taken the king and secured victory. So why didn't you?"

Nick didn't respond.

"Go on, answer."

Before Nick could say a word, the door swung open again. Dr. Kael's desperate voice rang out: "NO, don't do this!" He tried to hold someone back, but his grip was broken free.

A familiar voice spoke. "Because if he didn't, the consequences would've been much worse than just losing."

Nick turned toward the door and saw Silas standing there, arms crossed casually.

The leader turned, his eyes widening in disbelief. "Silas?" His voice was sharp, but laced with something else—shock. "That's not possible. You were locked up."

Silas grinned. "Yeah, well, your 'prisons' are about as sturdy as your morals. Didn't even have to try that hard."

The leader's eyes darkened as his grip tightened into fists. "And yet, here you are, standing in front of me, acting like you belong."

Silas tilted his head mockingly. "Oh, come on. I bet you missed me." He crossed his arms. "Anyway, Nick's my responsibility, whether you like it or not."

The leader inhaled slowly, composing himself. "You're awfully protective for someone who has no stake in this."

Silas shrugged. "Let's just say I don't like seeing people get crushed underfoot. And if Nick had won, that's exactly what would've happened."

Something flickered in the leader's gaze—realization, cold and creeping. He glanced at the empty space where Abatus had once been, then back to Silas. The pieces were falling into place, and Silas could see it. He just smiled.

The leader studied him for a moment.

"Since everyone was rooting against him," Silas continued, "winning would have only fueled the village's anger. If he won, they would have either imprisoned him or kicked him out. Losing made them happy. It let them forget their hatred."

Nick's lips curled into a weary, defiant smile—more grit than joy—before the weight of exhaustion pulled him under, and he slipped into unconsciousness.

The leader scoffed, but there was an edge of something else in his voice—uncertainty. "You sure talk a lot for someone who just barged in uninvited."

Silas smirked. "Yeah, well, I figured I'd save you the trouble of overthinking this."

The leader's gaze darkened. "How did you escape?" His voice was sharp now, laced with suspicion.

Silas grinned wider. "Oh, you'll love this—it was Nick. He helped me."

The leader stiffened slightly, his expression unreadable. Then, his eyes flickered with realization, and his voice dropped to a cold murmur. "And you killed Abatus."

Silas simply tilted his head, the smirk never leaving his face. He didn't confirm it. He didn't have to.

The leader's eyes stayed locked on him, his voice quiet but heavy. "You really don't deny it."

Silas chuckled. "Why would I? You've already made up your mind."

The leader exhaled sharply, shaking his head. "You're reckless, Silas. You always have been. But this? Killing Abatus? That was a mistake."

Silas smirked, shaking his head. "You still don't get it, do you? This was never about what you think. You've already lost. You just don't know it yet."

The leader's jaw tightened. "You think this is some kind of game?"

Silas exhaled, his amusement fading. "If it was, I wouldn't be playing." He took a step closer. "I'm done with this place. Nick's coming with me, whether you like it or not. I thought maybe, just maybe, he could've used your help if he won—but we both know that was never going to happen, was it?"

"Indeed. Not that it would have mattered. Nick could've been an asset, but it seems you got to him first."

Silas barely spared him a glance as he stepped toward the bed. He crouched, carefully lifting Nick onto his back. The boy barely stirred, his body limp from exhaustion. Silas adjusted his grip, turned toward the door—

"Silas."

The leader's voice cut through the air like a blade, steady and lethal. "I warned you. Escape has consequences."

Silas barely had time to turn before the leader moved. A flick of his wrist, and something glinted in the dim light—a gun-like weapon, humming with dormant power. Old-world tech. A remnant of something long lost. Something that should not exist here.

The gunshot ripped through the air, a merciless crack that shattered the fragile moment.

Silas flinched, instinctively bracing for the impact—but the bullet wasn't meant for him.

It hissed past his ear, a phantom whisper of death, before finding its true target.

Dr. Kael.

The doctor's head jerked back as the bullet tore through his skull. For a heartbeat, he remained standing, eyes wide in shock. Then, as if his strings had been cut, he collapsed, hitting the floor with a sickening finality. Blood pooled, dark and unforgiving, seeping into the cracks of the cold ground.

Silas froze, his breath stolen. The world blurred. The sound of his own heartbeat thundered in his ears. Then it hit him—Kael was gone.

A strangled noise tore from Silas's throat, something between a sob and a roar. He dropped Nick without thinking, falling to his knees beside the doctor's body. His hands trembled as they grasped Kael's unmoving shoulders, shaking them as if he could will the life back into him. "No… no, no, NO!" His voice broke, raw and unhinged, echoing through the sterile air.

The leader exhaled, lowering his gun with a casual ease that made Silas's stomach churn. "Traitors don't get second chances."

Silas's hands curled into fists, his nails biting into his palms. His entire body trembled with rage, every muscle screaming for vengeance. He wanted to lunge, to rip the smug satisfaction from the leader's face, to make him bleed for this.

Silas turned back, stepping forward until he stood inches from the leader, their faces nearly touching. His breath was hot, laced with barely restrained fury.

"You'll pay for this," Silas growled, his voice low and venomous. "I swear it."

The leader met his gaze evenly, but there was something there—a flicker of hesitation, the recognition that this was a fight he wouldn't win. Not against Silas.

"Run while you can," the leader murmured, voice steady but laced with warning. "The council won't let this slide. You'll be hunted."

Silas's lips curled into a humorless smile. "Let them come."

For a long moment, they stood there, locked in a silent war. Then, with a final, searing glare, Silas turned, hoisting Nick over one shoulder and Kael over the other, his body screaming under their combined weight. For the first time in a long while, he felt it—defeat. The leader's cruel laughter echoed behind him, sharp and biting, laced with triumph.

"Hope you die in hell with him, devil."

Silas gritted his teeth but didn't look back. There was no time. The air was thick with the scent of blood and smoke as he staggered toward the exit, his breath ragged. Outside, the cold night hit him like a slap, stealing what little warmth remained in his aching limbs. The doctors, the girl, and Renn were waiting, their faces pale with concern and barely concealed fear.

"What happened? I heard a loud noise—" Renn's words trailed off as his gaze landed on Kael's lifeless form. His face darkened, his fists clenching at his sides so tightly his knuckles turned white. His breath quickened. "Who did this?" His voice was raw, edged with a fury that threatened to spill over.

Silas barely had the energy to respond. His body swayed under the weight of Nick and the unbearable reality pressing down on him. "I'll explain later. We need to get far away." His voice was hollow, stripped of emotion, as if something vital had been scraped from his soul.

Renn hesitated, his eyes flicking between Silas and Kael's still form, then gave a sharp nod. "Right. Let's move."

He fell in step behind Silas, but then—

"Wait!" A voice rang out behind them. Silas turned sharply, every muscle tensing, expecting an attack.

Instead, the girl stepped forward, her shoulders squared, her expression resolute. "I'm coming with you."

Her determination was almost jarring. Silas studied her, searching for hesitation, for fear, but found none. She met his gaze head-on, unwavering.

Renn, meanwhile, let out a breath and grinned. "That's awesome. We could use another pair of hands."

Silas exhaled slowly, exhaustion creeping in like a slow tide. He didn't have the energy to argue, and truth be told, they needed all the help they could get. "Uhh… sure. Just keep up."

The girl's lips curled into a small smile, as if she had been waiting for this moment. She adjusted the bag slung across her shoulder, careful not to jostle the cast on her right hand, and fell in step beside Renn.

"So, what's your name?" Renn asked, glancing at her curiously.

"Elira," she replied, shifting the weight of her bag. "And you?"

"Renn," he said with a grin. "So, Elira, what made you decide to tag along? You don't seem like the reckless type."

She hesitated, then shrugged. "I just… I couldn't stay back there. I want to do something that matters. Something real."

Renn nodded as they walked. "Well, you picked a hell of a time to start. Stick close, and don't be afraid to ask questions."

Elira smirked. "I'll keep that in mind."

Silas remained silent, his mind clouded with everything that had happened, everything still to come. The night stretched on around them, the only sound their footsteps against the dirt and the whisper of wind through the trees.

Eventually, they crested a small hill. The moon cast pale light over the landscape, illuminating an open clearing surrounded by skeletal trees.

"What is this place?" Elira asked, her voice quieter now, as if the air here demanded reverence.

Silas didn't answer. He knelt, gently laying Nick and Kael on the ground before standing and, without a word, clawing at the earth with his bare hands. The dirt was cold and unyielding, but he kept digging, his fingers tearing through roots and stones. Each pull of the earth sent pain lancing up his arms, but he didn't stop. His breathing became ragged, sweat dripping down his forehead despite the cold.

Elira glanced at Renn, uncertainty flickering in her expression. "Should we help him?"

Renn shook his head. "Let him do it."

Silas continued, blood smearing the soil, mixing with sweat and dirt. Every scrape, every torn nail, every aching joint was ignored—grief and determination driving him deeper into the earth. The night stretched endlessly around him, silent and vast, pressing down with an unbearable weight. Time lost meaning, marked only by the steady rhythm of his hands clawing through the frozen ground.

Minutes passed. Then an hour. His fingers trembled, raw and bloodied, but still, he kept going. When the hole was finally deep enough, he stopped, chest heaving. Carefully, he lowered Kael's body into the earth, his motions slow, reverent, as though afraid the weight of the world might crush him if he moved too fast. He covered him with soil, pressing it down gently before finding a thick branch and driving it into the ground as a marker.

He stared at the grave for a long time. The world felt hollow, the quiet stretching unbearably between them. His throat tightened, and when he finally spoke, his voice was barely above a whisper. "Rest in peace, Kael. You deserved better."

The wind stirred, rustling the skeletal branches of the trees, carrying his words into the darkness. No one spoke. Even the forest seemed to hold its breath.

After a long moment, Silas pushed himself to his feet, legs weak beneath him. He turned and, without a word, lifted Nick again, forcing his battered body forward. The pain barely registered. There was still so much left to do.

Renn frowned, glancing around before squinting at Silas. "Uh… you know the kingdom is that way, right?"

Silas stopped mid-step, glancing in the opposite direction. He blinked, then exhaled sharply. "Oh. Yeah. Of course. I was just… looking around."

Renn snorted. "Right."

Elira shook her head, smiling faintly. "Sure you were."

For the first time that night, something close to warmth flickered in the cold emptiness pressing against Silas's chest. It wasn't much. But it was something.

With that, they adjusted course, their footsteps blending into the whispering wind.