Silo was on the first floor of the castle, fighting alongside other soldiers against numerous enemies backed by an entropy mage and a healer. The soldiers and Silo himself were exhausted from the battle, but they didn't give an inch; they fought desperately and without any order. Silo was the only one who could continue fighting directly without completely risking himself, thanks to his ability. He swung his sword from side to side, and with each slash, a soldier fell.
Silo attacked, always aiming to pierce a vital point because if he didn't fatally wound them, the healer would instantly cure them. The soldiers accompanying him tried to help in any way they could but ended up getting in the way. 'Useless, they're all useless,' Silo thought, noticing how his arms became increasingly numb, his legs no longer responding as usual, his sword weighing him down, and breathing becoming difficult. It was only a matter of time before they managed to overpower him. Behind him were castle servants and the girl who always greeted him; she only murmured to herself:
"Sir."
'I am the best warrior,' he decapitated another soldier with a single slash. 'This is nothing.' With a sweeping motion, he sent a soldier's leg flying and pierced his neck. 'I am the only one who... who could.' He missed a blow; entropy magic was starting to affect him, making him feel disoriented, not knowing where he was attacking. 'I can't, I'm going to die...' A vision of Lodtrack defeating him flashed through his mind. 'Could that idiot, do it?' His attack missed, and he received a thrust in the abdomen as a result. 'I guess he could.' He struck and sliced off the soldier's arm. 'I am... nothing more than a prototype.' He gritted his teeth and kicked down another soldier.
"KATAL!!" he cursed in Elvish. "I don't care Skalta if I'm a subject of experiments; I'll kill them all, Thilitos."
Then, a wave of magic swept through the area, interrupting the fight. The soldiers stopped advancing, and the mages ceased casting spells. Silo stepped back, noticing how the soldiers were uneasy and even disturbed. He lowered his sword and tried to wipe the sweat from his forehead, but his vision blurred, and he fell to his knees.
Only then did he realize how incredibly tired he was; his limbs simply did not respond. He felt the blood from his abdomen coursing through his body. The dizziness caused by entropy magic had diminished, but he couldn't move; his intestines had been pierced, and he was bleeding out. The soldiers behind him tried to approach, but they were petrified upon hearing a melody.
A sweet voice hummed an ancient Elvish song. Silo looked up because he knew that song very well, and he couldn't help but let memories of his family invade his mind, memories of when he lived in the Teros forest.
"Gliyá Nickto," he murmured to himself. Then he saw the woman humming the tune.
The soldiers gave her space, trembling. Removing her hood, she revealed a beautiful face that showed only one noticeable imperfection: her skin seemed to crack from her eyes, and her expression indicated extreme fatigue.
"Who are you? How do you know that song?" Silo asked in a faint voice. Veronica looked down at him condescendingly and approached until she was in front of him, kneeling to speak to him.
"I'm just a simple witch," 'lie,' Silo thought; she was too powerful to be just a witch, but his body no longer responded, not even to speak, "and I know many things about the Xodrycos. I'm fascinated by their race and culture, especially the purebloods like you."
Silo opened his eyes wide "How is that possible...?" the words stopped coming out, but his expression betrayed his perplexity. Until that moment, only Draco was supposed to know his origin.
The witch raised her hand, murmuring a spell in Elvish, "Apoka a elathi Krymén," and touched Silo's forehead. At that moment, a shiver ran through the apprentice, revealing his true appearance; his eyes took on a brighter and more vivid color, his ears grew almost twice as large and became as pointed as a blade, his whole body became slightly smaller, and the mark of pureblood elves, resembling roots of a tree, sprouted all over his skin. Veronica smiled even more, and her eyes took on a wicked gleam.
"Much better," she said. "Elves like you can't hide your true nature, at least not from eyes like mine. Although I don't know why you would conceal such a beautiful appearance. But it surely has to do with that feeling gnawing at you inside, an agonizing and delicious helplessness." Silo raised his gaze, disturbed. Veronica took something from her pocket and continued speaking. "Tell me, wouldn't you like to have more power? The power to defeat anyone stronger than you. You just need to take this."
She opened her hand, revealing a strange object, a kind of purple stone that shone with a unique glow.
"Just swallow it, and your wounds will heal; you'll be able to finish off everyone you want, even these useless ones behind me." The knights retreated upon hearing her, raising their weapons.
"Even to surpass Draco and Lodtrack?" Silo asked. The witch smiled pleased and nodded.
Silo hesitated. Power, he wanted to be stronger, prove everyone wrong about him. He wanted recognition, wanted to defeat Lodtrack, but above all, he wanted to smash Draco's face, who had underestimated him. In the end, he made up his mind to take the stone and swallow it.
"That's it, now show me what you're capable of and give me a good show with their heads," she said, pointing at her men, who were terrified. One of them lunged at the witch, but a simple gesture with her hand was enough for the knight's head to explode.
Silo let out a roar that didn't seem human. He writhed on the floor; his eyes were bloodshot and shone like amethysts. The roots covering his face seemed to have turned violet. He appeared to be in pain, but quite the opposite; he was ecstatic. His wounds had healed, and he felt more vigorous than ever.
He rose with his sword in hand and lunged at the first person he saw, piercing their throat. He dodged a blow to the side and beheaded another man with an ease that seemed ridiculous.
Man after man fell. He didn't even have time to look at their faces. He was so fast that they could barely react, and it even seemed like he could foresee their attacks. It reached the point where he only saw silhouettes against a red background; many screamed, others called for help, several seemed not to have weapons at all, but he didn't plan on showing mercy.
One seemed too small. 'Must be a dwarf,' he thought. Another person seemed too hunched to even be able to fight. 'Who cares,' he thought. They all fell. He didn't stop his killing spree until he pierced the heart of the second-to-last person in the room, and in his ecstasy, he could only hear one word: "Sir?"
Silo hesitated for a moment, but immediately launched his attack at the last person in the place, who raised her hand, and his sword seemed to collide with something around her. She touched his forehead with her hand.
Suddenly, he came to his senses and only saw the image of the witch smiling amusedly. The guard tried to orient himself but fell to the ground abruptly.
He looked around and couldn't believe what he saw. The floor was covered with dozens of bloodied and mutilated bodies. No one was alive: elders, children, and women dead beside him, he saw the body of a girl holding a teddy bear that he remembered well.
Silo couldn't hold back and vomited. He couldn't stop trembling, and his body ached. He tried to calm down, but tears flowed from his eyes like a torrent, letting out a muffled cry of pure suffering. Veronica licked her lips as if relishing his cries.
"You did this, Skitá," he accused amidst sobs, "you..." His voice broke.
"Oh, little one, you're mistaken," she replied, with an expression that mixed a playful sensation with severity, "you did it. Now you're a murderer, a dirty and ruthless monster. And my servant, condemned Alvo."
Veronica took him by the chin and whispered something in his ear. Silo's expression changed to a grimace of pain, and his eyes turned white. He stood up, and, dragging Silo with a spell, they headed to the throne room; then all the pieces fell into place on the chessboard.