Silence.Complete and overwhelming.
The kind that pressed against eardrums and made the world feel empty.
Elya stood in the canyon he'd created.
His Spada dissolved, returning to his soul.
His arms fell to his sides.
Heavy.Numb.
Behind him, footsteps.
Hesitant.Afraid.
The church doors opened.Creaking.
Slow.
Villagers emerged.
One by one.From safety.From hiding.
From the sanctuary that had protected them while he fought.
They saw the destruction.
The town split in half.
Buildings reduced to rubble.
The festival square—gone.
The canyon—twenty feet wide, stretching into the forest like a scar carved by an angry god.
Ash.Blood.Silence.
And they saw HIM.
White hair stained with blood and dust.
Golden eyes dimmed with exhaustion.
Standing in the center of it all.
Alone.
For three heartbeats, no one moved.
Then someone whispered.
"Witch."
The word spread like fire in dry grass.
"Witch."
"Witch-born."
"He brought them here—"
"—had to be him, they never come this far south—"
"—cursed, he's cursed—"
"—probably summoned them, that's what they do—"
Elya didn't react.
Just stood there.
Exhausted.
Bleeding.Listening.
A woman stepped forward.
Middle-aged.
Her dress torn.Face streaked with tears.
"My husband is DEAD!" Her voice cracked. "The market—it's GONE! Our home—destroyed!"
She pointed at Elya.
Shaking.
"You did this! You brought those THINGS here!"
Murmurs of agreement.
Growing louder.
"He's right—"
"—must have followed him—"
"—witches bring death—"
"—should have left when we had the chance—"
Elya said nothing.
A merchant—the same one who'd sold him clothes yesterday—stepped forward.
"I saw him! At the gate! RIGHT before they attacked!" He pointed. "He brought them! He led them here!"
More voices.
Angrier now.
"Monster!"
"Demon!"
"Cursed!"
Elya's expression didn't change.
He just stared.
Golden eyes empty.Cold.
Nana pushed through the crowd.
"STOP!" Her voice cut through the noise. "He saved you! All of you! That thing was going to kill everyone and he—"
"He brought it here!"
"He stopped it—"
"After he summoned it!"
"He didn't summon anything!" Nana's hands were shaking. "I was there! I saw—"
"You're with him!" The woman spat. "Of course you'd defend him! You're probably cursed too!"
The crowd shifted.
Moving closer.
Not threatening yet.But close.
Someone threw the first one.
A rock.Fist-sized.
It hit Elya's shoulder.He didn't flinch.
Another stone.
This one struck his chest.Still nothing.
A third.Fourth.Fifth.
They came faster now.
The crowd emboldened by his silence.
A stone hit his face.
Cut his cheek.Blood ran.
Elya didn't raise his hand to defend himself.
Didn't step back.Didn't speak.
Just stood there.
Taking it.
"STOP!" Nana tried to step between him and the crowd—
A stone flew past her head.
Close enough to feel the wind.
She froze.
"Get away from him, girl!" An old man shouted. "He'll curse you too!"
More stones.
One struck Elya's already-broken ribs.
He exhaled sharply—the only sign of pain.
Nana's eyes went wide.This was wrong.
All of it.
He'd saved them.
Fought a monster.
Nearly died.
And they were throwing stones.
An old man pushed through the crowd.
Weathered face.
Calloused hands.
Eyes filled with fear and hatred in equal measure.He saw it.
A rifle.
Lying in the rubble.Dropped by a guard during the evacuation.
He moved toward it.
Nana saw.
"NO—"Too late.
The old man grabbed the rifle.Lifted it.
Hands shaking but grip firm.
Pointed it directly at Elya.
"You've destroyed enough!" His voice trembled. "My grandchildren—they're terrified! The town—ruined! Because of you!"
The crowd went silent.
Watching.Waiting.
Elya looked at the rifle.
Then at the old man.His expression didn't change.
"Do it," he said quietly.
The old man's finger tightened on the trigger.
CRACK.
Not a gunshot.
Something faster.Elya's Spada manifested.
Black steel flashing in morning light.
One movement.
Precise.
Clinical.
The blade passed through the old man's wrists.
Both of them.
The hands—still gripping the rifle—fell to the ground.
The old man stared.Mouth open.
No sound.
Then—screamed.
Blood sprayed.
He collapsed to his knees.
Stumps raised.
Howling.
The crowd recoiled.
Horror.Shock.Terror.
Elya stood there.
Spada still drawn.Blood dripping from the blade.
His expression was calm.
Almost pleasant.
He looked at the severed hands on the ground.
Then at the screaming old man.
And smiled.Small.Cold.Chilling.
"Sorry about that."
His voice was soft.Conversational.
Like apologizing for bumping into someone.
"It looked like you didn't like your hands."
He tilted his head slightly.
"So I helped you."
Silence.
The old man's screaming faded to whimpers.
Someone was trying to stop the bleeding.
Failing.
The crowd stared at Elya.
Not with anger anymore.
With fear.Pure.Primal.Absolute.
This wasn't the exhausted warrior who'd saved them.
This was something else.
Something that smiled while severing limbs.
Something that apologized with blood on its blade.
Monster.
Elya's Spada dissolved.He turned.Slowly.
Looked at the crowd.
No one met his eyes.
"Anyone else?"
His voice was still soft.Still pleasant.
Silence.He nodded.
As if that settled something.
Then he walked.Past them.
They parted like water.Scrambling.
Desperate to get OUT of his way.
He walked through the canyon he'd created.
Through the destruction.
Through the ash.
Heading for the edge of town.
Leaving.
Nana stood frozen.Staring at Elya's back.
At the blood on the ground.
At the old man being carried away, still whimpering.
Her mind was racing.
He'd just—
He'd maimed someone—
After saving everyone—
They threw stones and he—
She looked at the crowd.
Terrified faces.Backing away.
No one moving to stop him.No one daring to.
She looked at Elya.
Walking away.
Alone.
Bleeding.
Leaving.
He hadn't looked back.
Hadn't checked if she was following.
Hadn't said a word to her.
She had a choice.
Stay.Safe.
With people who would fear her for defending him or follow.Into uncertainty.
With someone who'd just smiled while cutting off a man's hands.
Her feet moved.
Before her brain caught up.
She ran.After him.
The crowd watched her go.
No one stopped her.No one said anything.
She caught up to him at the edge of the canyon.
He didn't stop.Didn't acknowledge her.
Just kept walking.
She fell into step beside him.
Wanted to say something.Ask why.
Ask what happens now.
Ask if he was okay after what they'd done to him.
But the words caught in her throat.
Because she'd seen his face.
When he smiled.When he apologized.
And she understood.
Questions weren't welcome right now.
Maybe not ever.So she walked.
In silence.
Beside the boy who'd saved a town.
And terrified it.
They walked for hours.
Neither speaking.
Elya's pace was steady despite his injuries.
Mechanical.
Like he was running on something other than strength.
Nana kept glancing at him.Waiting for him to collapse.
Waiting for the adrenaline to wear off.
It didn't.
He just walked.
By midday, they'd reached the border checkpoint.A wooden gate.
Two guards.
Marking the edge of Ashveil's territory.
The guards looked at them.
At Elya's bloodstained clothes.
At Nana's torn dress.
"Where you headed?"Elya didn't stop walking.
"Nai."
The guard's eyes widened.
"That's... that's across the sea. You'd need—"
"I know."
Elya walked past them.Through the gate.
Out of Ashveil.
Nana followed.The guards didn't stop them.
Just watched.
As they disappeared down the road.
Three days later.
Five figures appeared in Miravel.
Black combat gear.
Glowing visors.
Weapons humming with trapped Arcanum.
The Black Pursuers.
They surveyed the destruction.
The canyon.
The ruined buildings.
The ash.
One of them—a woman, judging by her build—removed her helmet.
Long dark hair fell free.
Sharp features.
Cold eyes.
"Late," she said. Voice smooth. Almost musical. "We're late."
Another Pursuer approached.
Male.
Larger.
"The target?"
"Gone." She looked at the canyon. "But he was definitely here."
Footsteps.
A villager—brave or foolish—approached.
The merchant from before.
"Are you... are you here about the witch-born?"
The woman turned.
Smiled.
Sweet.
Pleasant.
Wrong.
"Tell me everything."
PART 10: THE TESTIMONY
The merchant spoke quickly.
Nervously.
Described the Tenebris.
The fight.
The destruction.
The canyon.
"—and then he just... cut off Old Man Garrett's hands! Both of them! Just because he pointed a gun—"
"Show me."
They led her to the medical tent.
Old Man Garrett lay on a cot.
Stumps bandaged.
Face pale.
Eyes hollow.
The woman examined the wounds.
Clean cuts.
Surgical precision.
No hesitation.
She straightened.
"These are very good cuts." Her voice was still sweet. Pleasant. "He even cauterized them with his blade. Very thoughtful."
The merchant blinked.
"Thoughtful? He maimed him—"
"Because this fool—" she gestured at Garrett without looking "—pointed a weapon at someone who'd just saved your pathetic lives."
She turned.
Smiled.
"You threw stones at him, didn't you?"
The merchant swallowed.
"He... he brought the Tenebris—"
CRACK.
Faster than eyes could follow.
The woman's hand was around the merchant's throat.
Lifting him off the ground.
Her smile never wavered.
"Wrong answer."
Her other hand moved.Lightning fast.
A blade materialized.
Dark steel.Glowing with red rune energy.
She drove it through his chest.
The merchant's eyes went wide.
Mouth opening.No sound.
She withdrew the blade.Let him drop.
Dead before he hit the ground.
The other villagers screamed.
Scrambled backward.
The woman cleaned her blade with a cloth.
Methodical.
Calm.
Then turned to face them.Still smiling.
"He should have killed you."
Her voice was sweet.
Like honey.Like poison.
"All of you."
She sheathed her blade.
"That boy fought a Tenebris to save your lives. And you repaid him by throwing stones and pointing weapons."
She tilted her head.
"How very human of you."
She turned to her squad.
"We're done here. The target's heading for Nai. We move out."
One of the other Pursuers spoke.
"And them?" Gesturing to the villagers.
The woman glanced back.
Her smile widened.
"Leave them. They're useless."
She replaced her helmet.
"Let them live with what they've done."
The Black Pursuers vanished.
As quickly as they'd arrived.
Leaving the villagers standing in the ruins.
Staring at the merchant's corpse.
Realizing.
Too late.What they'd thrown away.