"…So you mean someone had set a trap there?"
Ashir's voice came out calm, almost emotionless.
The person jacob with him nodded quickly.
"Yes… that's what it looks like. I didn't know anything about it at first, but later i found out there was a boy involved too—someone who helped him. And from what we heard… Silas was badly injured by those people."
The moment those words reached Ashir's ears—
He stopped.
Mid-step.
The automatic doors of the hospital were just ahead of him, but his body froze as if the air itself had turned heavier.
Outside, the sun was already sinking.
The sky had shifted into a dull golden-orange shade, slowly fading into evening. Thin clouds stretched across it like scattered smoke, soft but heavy. Birds were flying back in groups, returning to their nests—restless silhouettes cutting across the fading light.
The streets around the hospital were alive with noise.
Cars passing.
People talking.
Distant sounds of the city slowly preparing for night.
But Ashir didn't move.
His gaze darkened slightly as he processed the information.
Then his voice dropped—colder now, controlled but firm.
"Jacob."
The man beside him straightened immediately.
"Yes?"
Ashir didn't look at him when he spoke again.
"Go. Find out who those bastards were. And who is behind all of this. I want every single detail."
There was no hesitation in his tone.
Only command.
Jacob nodded quickly.
"Understood. I'm leaving now."
A brief pause.
Ashir added, without even turning fully:
"And Is the path clear."
Jacob understood instantly.
"Yes. It's clear. Silas won't regain consciousness for hour. His friends left the hospital some time ago, and there's no sign of them returning. Even if they do come back, our people here will inform you immediately."
A short silence followed.
Ashir finally gave a slight nod.
"Good. Go."
"Alright."
Jacob turned around and walked away, his footsteps fading into the evening noise.
For a moment, Ashir stood still outside the hospital entrance.
Then, slowly, he stepped forward.
And walked inside.
Yes—without a doubt, Asher had designed this entire thing as a game.
A cruel, calculated game.
One where his only intention was to make Silas suffer… to watch him struggle, to see him fight against the odds, to taste every ounce of that desperation. There was no grand purpose beyond that. No mercy. No fairness. Just slow, deliberate torment.
And as for the so-called "truth" he had threatened to reveal to the entire school—
That was nothing but an illusion.
A carefully staged lie.
The message, the countdown, the looming promise that everything would be exposed once the timer hit zero… it was all a performance. A deception crafted to keep Silas on edge, to suffocate him under pressure, to force him into panic.
Even if the countdown had reached its end—nothing would have happened.
No truth. No revelation.
Because Asher was not the kind of person who ended stories quickly.
No… he was the kind who let them burn.
Slowly. Painfully. Endlessly.
And those men—the ones who had blocked Silas on the staircase?
They were Asher's.
Placed there with precision, their role simple: don't let Silas go up. After all, what's a game without obstacles? Without resistance? Without a little bloodshed?
Asher had introduced them into the game as living barriers, human challenges meant to test Silas.
In his mind, a few injuries… a few bruises… even a beating—
That was all just part of the rules.
Necessary.
Expected.
But what happened in the building…
That wasn't part of the game.
That wasn't his move.
That… was someone else.
Someone unknown.
Someone who knew about the game.
Someone who had stepped into Asher's carefully constructed world—and twisted it.
Because this time, it wasn't about making Silas suffer.
Someone had tried to end him.
To erase him completely.
And at the same time… to trap Asheer within his own game.
It was a move of frightening intelligence—
One arrow.
Two targets.
Silas… eliminated.
And Asher… framed.
Somewhere, buried deep… far beneath layers of pride, cruelty, and control… there was something else.
A small fragment.
Barely there.
But still… connected to Silas.
Ashir refused to look at it.
Refused to understand it.
Refused to acknowledge it.
No.
He didn't want to know.
Not now.
Not ever.
With sudden resolve, he stepped forward—closing the distance in an instant—
And pushed the door open.
The room was steeped in darkness.
Not the kind that frightened—but the kind that lingered. A living silence had settled over everything, so heavy it felt almost tangible, as if it could be touched, breathed in.
The only sound that broke through it… was the faint rhythm of breathing.
Ashir's gaze locked onto the bed.
There—
a still figure lay, motionless, almost unnaturally calm.
As he stepped closer, his movements quiet, controlled, he stopped beside the bed.
Silas lay there, deeply asleep—so still that for a fleeting, unsettling moment, he seemed lifeless.
Strands of his two-toned hair—brown intertwined with streaks of red—fell loosely across his forehead, thin and soft like fragile threads. They framed a face that no longer held its usual presence.
Ashir didn't move.
He simply stared.
Silas's face was badly bruised. The corners of his lips were stained with dried blood, darkened against his skin. Faint swelling, discoloration, the marks of struggle—each bruise, each cut told a silent story of resistance, of pain endured. His hands, his body… carried the evidence of a fight that had not been gentle.
And still—
he slept.
"Ah…"
A faint sound slipped from Silas's lips, barely audible.
Even in sleep, it seemed he was not at peace.
His brows twitched. His closed eyes trembled beneath their lids, as if trapped in the grip of some unseen nightmare. His head moved slightly—slow, restrained, yet tense—as though he were trying to escape something he could not fully wake from.
Ashir stood there, watching.
Just watching.
For a few moments, nothing else existed for him.
No thoughts.
No words.
Only that fragile, broken figure before him.
Then—
he turned away.
Without a word, without a sound, he shifted his gaze and stepped toward the window.
Each step carried him away from the bed, from Silas… yet something about his pace felt reluctant, almost unwilling to fully detach.
Reaching the window, he pushed it open.
Cool night air slipped into the room, brushing softly against the stillness.
Outside—
the sky stretched endlessly, dark and vast. Clouds drifted lazily, partially veiling the stars, while the moon cast a quiet, silvery glow over everything below.
From this height, the world seemed distant.
Lights flickered across the city like scattered embers, illuminating the roads where life still pulsed—cars moving endlessly, people weaving through the night, a constant hum of motion and noise rising faintly upward.
It was alive.
And yet here—
it felt far away.
Ashir stood there, his eyes fixed on the view, unmoving.
But something about him had changed.
That sharp edge—the arrogance, the wildness, the untamed cruelty that usually defined him—
it wasn't there.
Not in this moment.
Instead, a strange calm had settled over his face.
Quiet.
Unreadable.
Almost… unfamiliar.
As if the person standing by the window was not the same one who had created the game, who had thrived on chaos and control.
This version of him was still.
And for once—
impossible to understand.
....
"You're awake."
Ashir's voice broke the silence, low and controlled.
His footsteps echoed softly through the darkened room as he moved toward Silas. Moonlight spilled in from the open window, cutting through the shadows and casting a pale glow across the space. Everything else remained still—quiet—except for the steady sound of Ashir's approaching steps.
"Seems like you were having quite a nightmare."
Silas had barely opened his eyes when the first thing he saw… was Ashir.
For a moment, nothing made sense.
Why was he here?
How did he even get here?
What had happened—what exactly had led to this moment?
Questions rushed through his mind all at once, colliding into confusion that showed clearly on his face. But beneath that confusion, one thing stood firm—
Ashir.
That was what mattered right now.
And one thing was certain—
Ashir wasn't the kind of person who would come just to check on someone's well-being.
"Why are you here?" Silas asked, his voice rough but steady.
"Me?"
Ashir had reached the side of the bed now. His eyes moved over Silas's injured state, observing every bruise, every mark, as if silently assessing something only he understood.
"Doesn't it look obvious… why I'm here?"
The tone—calm, almost indifferent—tightened something inside Silas. His expression hardened instantly, his jaw clenching as realization—or perhaps assumption—took hold.
"Right… how could I forget," Silas muttered bitterly. "You're trying to get me killed."
Those words—
They struck something.
A spark ignited inside Ashir.
It wasn't just a feeling—it was visible. A flicker in his eyes, a tightening in his expression. Because the truth was—this wasn't something he had done. Not something he had planned. Not even something he had wanted.
And yet…
Someone else had done it.
And in doing so, they had dragged Ashir into it—forced his shadow over something darker than even he had intended.
Now Silas believed it.
Believed that Ashir had crossed that line.
"Ah—"
Ashir exhaled faintly, cutting through the tension.
"I heard you were badly injured."
"What—" Silas shot back immediately, his voice sharp despite his condition. "Didn't expect to see me alive?"
That was it.
The spark turned into flame.
In an instant, Ashir moved.
His arm shot forward, gripping Silas harshly by the jaw, forcing his face upward. The sudden force made the bed shift slightly beneath them, the metal frame giving a faint jolt.
"Watch your mouth," Ashir said, his voice dropping—cold, dangerous.
His fingers tightened against Silas's already bruised face, pressing into the injuries without hesitation, without mercy.
Then, leaning closer, his eyes locked onto Silas's—deep, intense, unyielding.
"Don't forget…"
His voice lowered further, almost a whisper—but sharper than any shout.
"—it's not your body I intend to break."
A pause.
A breath.
Something darker settled into his gaze.
"It's your soul."
Silas stayed silent.
He didn't interrupt.
Didn't react immediately.
He just watched Ashir—his words, his movements, the way he carried himself as if everything, everyone, was beneath him.
And somewhere in that silence… thoughts began to spiral.
It had only been the first few days of school—
just the beginning—
And already, this was what Ashir had reduced him to. Bruised. Broken. Pushed to the edge.
So what would come next?
What would the days ahead look like?
More tests?
More torment?
More of this endless game where Silas was nothing but a piece to be moved, hurt, controlled?
Would he just keep enduring it?
How long could he endure it?
How long could he stay quiet… stay calm… keep swallowing everything Ashir threw at him?
Because patience—no matter how strong—
breaks.
It always does.
So then—
Why not now?
"Don't you remember…"
Silas finally spoke.
His voice was quiet—calm even—
but beneath it lay something cold… something dark… something that didn't belong to the boy lying injured on that bed.
"…you'll start longing to see that day."
The moment the words left his lips, something shifted.
Ashir—who had been watching him with that same controlled intensity—suddenly smiled.
Not loudly.
Not mockingly.
But a sharp, amused smile—like he had just heard something interesting.
Silas didn't react.
His eyes remained fixed on Ashir, sharp and unreadable, as if measuring him… weighing him.
And then—
It happened.
Without warning.
Without buildup.
A sudden, violent force surged through the air—
And Ashir was gone from where he stood.
In the very next instant—
He slammed hard against the wall.
The impact echoed through the room, sharp and jarring, the force strong enough to pin him there.
It all happened so fast—
Too fast.
Ashir hadn't even been given the chance to react.
For a brief moment, even the air seemed to still.
"What are you doing—"
But before the question could fully settle, the realization followed.
Silas.
"…So now—" Ashir let out a low chuckle despite being pinned, his voice laced with amusement rather than fear, "—you're going to use your power on me?"
To Be Continued.....