Silas moved cautiously, his knife at the ready as he followed the faint pull of his glowing ring of holding. He came upon a clearing where the earth had been unnaturally disturbed. In the middle of the churned soil, a single flower stood, cocooned in layers of delicate crystalline petals, faintly glowing with an otherworldly light. Surrounding it were corpses—human and beast alike, the bodies twisted and broken as if a violent battle had taken place.
Among the carnage, a man stood barely upright, blood trickling down his face as he swayed unsteadily on his feet. Silas squinted, recognizing someone else standing across from him.
Traci.
She was unmistakable, her blonde hair wild and streaked with dirt, but her expression was eerily calm, almost smug. Silas's stomach churned. The one who had betrayed that guy near the estate, the one who bled out at the tree.
The man coughed, his voice raw but filled with venom. "Stupid… bitch. Never should've trusted you."
Traci tilted her head, a faint smile curling on her lips. "You're right," she said sweetly.
Before Silas could process what was happening, she stepped forward and kissed the man deeply.
The effect was immediate and horrifying. The man's body stiffened, his skin rapidly paling and sinking inward as though the life were being sucked out of him. Within seconds, he was nothing more than a husk, his flesh dry and brittle as he collapsed to the ground.
Silas's blood ran cold. What the hell?
Traci wiped her mouth casually, her eyes glowing faintly as she turned to survey the clearing.
"Was she cultivating?" Silas muttered under his breath, trying to make sense of what he'd just seen.
Suddenly, the system's voice chimed in, its tone as neutral and detached as always.
"Devil cultivation path. The system is not biased. It chooses the path most suitable for the host."
Silas blinked, startled. "What the hell—you're talking now?"
No response.
He grimaced, whispering under his breath, "What, not going to charge me for that tidbit?"
The system remained silent.
Silas's eyes flicked back to Traci, his heart pounding. The glow of the ring of holding tugged him toward the flower in the clearing, but the situation was spiraling into something far more dangerous than he'd expected.
Silas hummed softly, his eyes fixed on Traci as he stepped forward. Be careful with these people, he thought, gripping his bo staff tightly. His mind flicked back to what he'd witnessed earlier—her kiss draining that man's life in an instant, leaving his body a brittle husk. The memory gnawed at him.
She drained him too fast, Silas realized. The energy had burst into the air instead of being absorbed fully. It was sloppy, inefficient. She's bad at this. People are her resource, but she wastes most of what she takes.
He stepped into view, the staff steady in his hands. It felt strangely natural, an extension of himself, and far more comfortable than the knife he'd stored away in his ring of holding.
Traci turned toward him, her sharp eyes narrowing before recognition dawned. A smug smirk spread across her lips.
"Oh, it's you," she drawled, her voice dripping with mockery. "Going to try and fake me out with that rifle of yours again?"
Silas shook his head, his tone calm and unbothered. "No, I'm not. Though, funny thing… people seem to have the same opinion about you. You're kind of a bitch, right?"
Her smirk faltered briefly before she scoffed, brushing his comment aside with a disdainful hmph. "Care for a kiss?" she asked sweetly, taking a step toward him.
Silas's stomach churned at the thought. The image of her last victim flashed through his mind—the man's body crumbling, lifeless, to the ground. Still, his intuition whispered something odd: She's dangerous, but she's not as much of a threat as she wants me to think.
Then she lunged. Her fist flew toward him with surprising speed, a blur of motion that caught Silas off guard. He tried to twist away, but the punch slammed into his chest like a battering ram, lifting him off his feet. Silas flew backward, hitting the ground with a hard thud. Pain blossomed through his ribs as the air rushed from his lungs in a ragged gasp.
So much for not a threat, he thought grimly, coughing as he struggled to his feet. His chest throbbed, but he forced himself upright, his eyes fixed on Traci. She's stronger than she looks, he admitted silently, but there was something off about her movements. The punch, while powerful, had been wild—unrefined, almost clumsy.
Traci wasn't waiting. She charged at him again, her steps erratic, her stance full of glaring openings. Silas gritted his teeth and shifted his weight, his fingers tightening around the bo staff. The lessons Axle had drilled into him flashed in his mind—control, timing, precision. Axle had always preferred staff weapons, their reach and versatility a perfect match for his style. Now, those same lessons were coming back to Silas like instinct.
As she closed in, Silas stepped forward and swept the staff low, catching her ankle in a clean, practiced motion. Traci let out a surprised growl as her feet flew out from under her, sending her sprawling onto the ground. She scrambled to push herself up, dirt clinging to her hands as her face twisted in frustration.
Silas didn't let his guard drop, his grip tightening on the staff. He could feel a faint vibration in the wood, something stirring deep within him as he focused. An idea struck him, unbidden but clear: What if I channel energy into it?
Testing the thought, he pushed his spiritual energy into the staff. The effect was immediate—the weapon seemed to come alive in his hands, its weight feeling lighter, its balance sharper. Silas swung it experimentally, striking the ground. The impact sent a faint crack through the surface, enough to make his eyes widen.
That worked, he thought. But the exhilaration was short-lived. He could feel the drain on his energy, far more than the result warranted. Inefficient, he noted with a frown. I've got to figure out how to control this better.
A flicker of motion pulled his focus back to Traci. She was on her feet again, a knife glinting in her hand as she advanced. Her eyes gleamed with a mix of fury and something darker—a predator's instinct.
Silas stepped back, watching her carefully. She lunged, slashing at him with the blade in a clumsy but forceful arc. Silas sidestepped, deflecting her strike with the staff and pivoting smoothly to her side. She spun to face him, but her movements were off-balance, telegraphing her next attack.
As she lunged again, Silas countered. He brought the staff around in a sweeping motion, aiming for her ribs. The impact connected with a solid crack, making her stagger. But Traci recovered faster than he expected, lunging forward with a wild swipe of her knife. Silas twisted out of the way, the blade grazing his jacket but not breaking through.
She came at him again, her attacks frenzied now, but the openings in her movements widened with each failed strike. Silas stepped back, letting her momentum work against her, and then struck. His staff lashed out, catching her in the wrist and sending the knife clattering to the ground.
Traci stumbled, momentarily disarmed, but she rushed him once more, her hands clawing at the air. Silas moved with purpose now, his grip firm as he poured just enough energy into the staff to enhance his swing. He stepped to the side, bringing the staff in a controlled arc toward her temple.
The strike landed with a sickening thud, her head snapping violently to the side. Her neck twisted at an unnatural angle, and the area around the impact caved slightly. Her body crumpled to the ground, motionless, the fight drained from her in an instant. The knife lay forgotten in the dirt beside her.
Silas stood still, his chest rising and falling heavily as he watched her for any sign of movement. She didn't stir.
Dead.
Silas lowered the staff slightly, his arms trembling from the effort of the fight. He glanced at the faint crack in the ground from his earlier strike and the body sprawled before him. His ribs ached, and the throbbing in his chest reminded him how close she'd come to doing serious damage.
That was sloppy, he thought, grimacing. I got lucky. If she'd been better trained…
He shook the thought away, adjusting his grip on the staff. It still hummed faintly in his hands, the energy lingering. I need to figure out how to use this properly.
Silas stood his breath catching as his eyes locked onto the peculiar flower at its center. Encased in crystalline petals that shimmered faintly in the sunlight, it looked like a delicate jewel rising from the earth—a thing of fragile beauty surrounded by death. Above the flower, faint numbers glowed in the air: 14 days.
"Fourteen days until it's ripe?" Silas muttered under his breath. The word ripe carried a strange weight, as if the flower held some immense significance. If it worked like the system's rewards, it would be ready for something in exactly two weeks.
He ran a hand through his hair, his fingers brushing against dirt-caked strands as he took in the scene. Corpses—both human and beast—lay scattered across the clearing, their bodies twisted and broken. Each one was a grim reminder of what happened to those who underestimated this new, chaotic world.
Suddenly, Silas felt a tremor beneath his feet. At first, he thought it was another aftershock, but the vibrations grew stronger, more rhythmic. His head snapped up just in time to see a shadow barreling toward him, emerging from the treeline with terrifying speed.
The boar.
"Shit!" Silas shouted, his body reacting before his mind could fully process the danger.
The massive beast charged straight at him, its tusks glinting like deadly scythes. He barely managed to dive to the side as the boar thundered past, the ground trembling under its massive weight. The air whooshed around him, the force of the charge grazing him as he hit the dirt hard, rolling awkwardly to his feet.
His chest heaved as he turned to look. The boar had stopped in the center of the field, its massive form looming over the flower. Its coarse, bristled hide gleamed with sweat and streaks of dried blood, and its snout twitched as it sniffed the air.
The beast's small, dark eyes fixed on the crystalline flower, its jaws parting slightly as thick strings of saliva dripped from its maw. Food, its instincts seemed to scream, but something held it back.
The boar sniffed again, stepping cautiously toward the flower before halting. It tilted its head, almost as if reasoning. Not ready, its movements seemed to say. Slowly, the boar began circling the flower, its bulk radiating a mix of hunger and protectiveness.
Protect. Eat. Wait.
With a grunt, the boar's focus shifted. Its attention fell to Traci's lifeless corpse, lying sprawled on the bloodied ground. Silas grimaced as the beast lumbered over, lowering its head to tear into her remains. The sounds of ripping flesh and snapping bone filled the air, sickeningly vivid.
Once satisfied, the boar circled back to the flower. It lowered itself heavily onto the ground, curling protectively around its future meal. Its heavy, labored breathing filled the clearing as it settled into a watchful vigil.
Silas stayed crouched near the edge of the field, his knuckles white against the shaft of his bo staff. His heart pounded in his chest as the reality of the situation sank in.
I can't take that thing. Not even close.
Frustration simmered beneath his skin, but he knew better than to let it take control. He needed to be smarter, stronger. His fingers tightened around the staff as his resolve hardened.
I need strength. I need to cultivate.
Turning away, Silas began to retreat into the forest. Staying here was pointless—for now. But he didn't go far. His eyes lingered on the bodies scattered around the field, and an idea took root in his mind.
The flower will attract more people. And beasts.
If he couldn't claim the flower yet, he could at least claim the resources it drew. His jaw tightened as he thought of the world he now lived in—a world where patience and kindness meant nothing. Only strength mattered.
The world will be determined by the strength of your fist.
Without another glance at the flower or the monstrous boar, Silas disappeared into the shadows of the forest, his figure swallowed by the mist as the beast settled deeper into its watchful rest.