As Kaelen held the old man at knife point, the seller's face shifted from wary suspicion to sheer terror. He stammered, his voice shaking as he attempted to protest, but Kaelen's steely gaze cut him off before he could say a word.
He didn't expect these turn of events right after selling his plane to this kid.
"I need you to fly," Kaelen said, his voice as cold as steel. There was no room for negotiation, no flicker of mercy in his eyes.
The old man gulped, his hands trembling as he took the controls, guiding the plane off the runway and into the air. They soared higher, cutting through clouds as the city slowly disappeared behind them, giving way to endless stretches of water and the occasional glimmer of distant landmasses. Kaelen sat in the co-pilot's seat, his eyes never leaving the man, his posture rigid and unyielding. For hours, they flew in tense silence, the hum of the plane's engines the only sound filling the cockpit. Every so often, Kaelen would glance out the window, scanning the horizon as if searching for something familiar—something he couldn't yet name.
And through it all, the Voice remained silent. Normally, it would've been chattering, making snide remarks, offering cryptic advice or sardonic warnings. But now, it was eerily quiet, an absence that gnawed at Kaelen's subconscious, making the entire journey feel heavier, more ominous.
After what felt like an eternity, the island finally came into view, emerging like a dark, jagged stain against the shimmering blue of the ocean. The land was lush and overgrown, dense with thick jungle foliage and towering trees, framed by rugged cliffs and the shadow of a mountain looming in the distance. The airstrip below was little more than a cracked, uneven stretch of concrete, worn by time and nature's relentless grip. It looked abandoned, like it hadn't seen a plane in decades.
The old man's hands shook even more as he maneuvered the plane for a landing, the wheels touching down roughly, bouncing along the broken airstrip until they came to a shuddering stop. As the engines sputtered to a halt, he dared a glance at Kaelen, eyes wide with fear and desperation.
"I… I did what you asked," he stammered, voice barely more than a whisper. "Just… just let me go."
Kaelen's face was expressionless as he stood up, motioning for the man to get out of the cockpit. They walked out onto the cracked tarmac together, the jungle air thick and humid, the sounds of distant birds and insects buzzing in the background. The old man cast a hopeful glance toward the treeline, as if contemplating an escape.
But before he could make a move, Kaelen struck with ruthless efficiency, a flash of silver in his hand as he drove the knife deep into the man's side. The seller gasped, his eyes wide with shock, a gurgling sound escaping his lips as he staggered back, clutching at the wound. Kaelen twisted the blade, his gaze cold and unfeeling, before yanking it free. The old man collapsed to the ground, his body going still as the life drained from his eyes.
Kaelen wiped the blood from his knife, his expression unreadable as he looked down at the man's body, then turned his gaze toward the dense jungle ahead. Despite the brutality of the act, he felt nothing—no remorse, no hesitation. This was just another step in his journey, another obstacle removed.
Yet, as he took his first steps toward the tree line, a faint sense of unease crept into his mind. The Voice had remained silent throughout it all, watching from the shadows but offering no commentary, no twisted guidance. It was strange, unsettling even. Kaelen had grown used to its constant presence, its unsettling familiarity. But now, its silence felt like an omen, a warning he couldn't fully understand.
The jungle loomed before him, thick with vines and ancient trees that seemed to stretch endlessly toward the sky. Kaelen adjusted the straps of his backpack, the weight of his gear pressing down on his shoulders as he ventured into the wilderness. His steps were careful, deliberate, each one breaking through the dense undergrowth as he made his way toward the mountain he'd glimpsed from the air.
Every now and then, he'd pause, listening to the sounds around him, his senses alert for any sign of danger. The island was eerily quiet, save for the distant rustling of leaves and the occasional call of some unseen animal. The air was thick and heavy, the scent of earth and decay filling his nostrils as he pushed deeper into the jungle.
As he trudged forward, his mind drifted to memories of the facility, the harsh training, the brutal punishments meted out to anyone who showed the slightest hint of weakness. He remembered standing in formation, watching as a fellow trainee was dragged out, screaming, only to be silenced by the harsh crack of a baton. It was a place where survival came at the cost of humanity, where strength was valued above all else. Kaelen had learned to bury his emotions, to become a weapon forged from steel and ruthlessness.
The jungle path was winding, filled with obstacles that forced him to climb over fallen logs, duck under low-hanging branches, and wade through shallow streams. The heat was oppressive, beads of sweat gathering on his brow as he pressed on, his focus unwavering. But with each step, the silence from the Voice became more pronounced, as if the very island itself was swallowing any sound, any sense of normalcy.
Finally, after what felt like hours, he reached the base of the mountain. The dense trees gave way to a rocky incline, and in the shadows cast by the cliffs, he could see the faint outline of a cave entrance, partially obscured by vines and overgrown foliage. This was it—the place the Voice had mentioned, the place where his mother's secret supposedly lay hidden.
But still, the Voice remained silent. Kaelen hesitated at the mouth of the cave, a strange feeling gnawing at him. For once, he felt… alone.
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A/N: For those who stuck around till Now and thinking this Mc isn't evil Enough or Bad, Calm down, this is just the beginning, the Mc is already morally corrupt and he's about to go through the Final stage towards True Evil
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