Ashes Of The First Tyrant
Chapter 32: The weight of silence

Chapter 32: The weight of silence

They walked in silence.

The battle against the Warden had left a mark not just on Thalen’s shoulder, which still throbbed from the deep cut, but on all three of them. Something about that encounter shifted the rhythm between them. The air was heavier, as though the world itself had acknowledged their presence now. Not as lost initiates stumbling into legacy, but as something becoming worthy of it.

The Wraithlands began to thin, the jagged cliffs giving way to a wide, open valley carpeted in ash and bone. Strange trees, leafless and petrified, lined the horizon like ancient guards. The sun, still veiled in permanent overcast, gave the valley an eerie, silver glow. There were no animals. No wind. Just the crunch of their boots across the desolate soil.

Selene broke the silence first. "Do you think that Warden was human?"

Corin, trudging ahead, grunted. "He bled like one."

"He didn’t speak a word," she continued. "Not even to taunt us. Just tested Thalen and vanished."

Thalen walked beside her, eyes forward. "He wasn’t meant to kill. Just to measure. Someone sent him."

Corin turned. "You think the SSS Heroes are behind this?"

"No," Thalen said. "But I think they’re watching. Maybe not directly, but through... something. Or someone."

Selene hesitated. "Then why test you alone?"

Thalen answered slowly, "Because I’m the one who awakened the Spirit."

There it was again the unspoken chasm between them. Even now, weeks after the exam, the truth remained: Thalen had awakened the Tyrant Spirit. Neither Corin nor Selene had. Not yet. They all trained, all fought, all risked but only one of them carried the legacy that had been silent for two decades.

And it showed. In the way they deferred during battle. In the glances. In the silence.

"I didn’t ask for it," Thalen said softly.

Selene didn’t reply. She didn’t have to.

That night, they camped beneath the skeletal branches of a dead tree. Corin gathered fallen limbs for a fire, and Selene brewed tea using dried herbs she kept in her pouch. Thalen sat with his back to the tree trunk, sword unsheathed beside him.

He stared at the blade’s edge, watching it catch the moonlight. His aura pulsed gently a calming rhythm, like breath.

The Blade Aura had always been considered ordinary. Simple. A stepping stone to mastery in another path. While his peers awakened rare elements, beasts, or energies, Thalen had been left with the blade a conduit for discipline, not brilliance.

But he had made it his own. Years of training, failure, blood. While others relied on natural gifts, he bled for every inch of progress.

Now, the blade sang with him. A harmony born not of power, but perseverance.

Selene approached quietly, sitting beside him.

"You keep staring at it," she said.

Thalen nodded. "It’s changed. Since the exam."

She leaned in, eyes narrowing. "How so?"

"It hums, sometimes. Like it’s waiting."

Selene reached forward and touched the hilt. A soft warmth pulsed beneath her fingertips.

"It feels... eager," she whispered.

"I think the Tyrant Spirit wants to be used," Thalen said. "But it’s not fully mine yet."

Selene frowned. "You mean it hasn’t accepted you?"

He shook his head. "No. I think it’s watching, just like the Warden was. Waiting for something. Maybe for me to prove I deserve it."

She studied him for a long moment. "Then make it yours."

He turned to her. "What about you? You haven’t awakened a second aura. Do you regret coming with me?"

Her eyes reflected the firelight steady, unwavering. "Regret? No. I may not have the Tyrant Spirit, but I have purpose. And right now, that purpose is walking beside you."

Thalen felt something settle in his chest. Not quite peace. But something close.

The next day, the valley gave way to a forgotten town.

Or what was left of it.

Stone buildings collapsed in on themselves. Market stalls, long rotted, stood like broken ribs. A fountain, dry and cracked, sat in the town’s center, a statue of a warrior looming above it sword raised, eyes eroded by time.

"What is this place?" Corin asked.

Thalen scanned the ruins. "Doesn’t appear on any map we were given."

Selene picked up a rusted sign, its paint faded. "’Gravesend.’ Sounds friendly."

Corin moved cautiously through the square. "Something happened here."

Thalen stepped into what looked like a temple. The walls bore carvings old, half-faded. But he could still make out the figures. Nine of them.

Each cloaked in flame, storm, shadow power incarnate.

The Nine Heroes.

But one stood apart.

No cloak. No symbols. Just a plain figure, hand raised, palm glowing with a brilliant white.

Beneath the carving, in ancient script, was one word:

First.

Thalen’s breath caught.

"Guys," he called. "I think this is where the First Tyrant awakened."

Selene and Corin entered behind him, gazing at the mural.

"This town’s a grave," Selene said. "For the memory of something the world tried to forget."

Corin stepped forward. "Then why is it calling to us now?"

Thalen looked at the plain figure on the wall no blade, no fire. Just light. Pure, blinding will.

"Because the world can’t bury truth forever."

A sudden gust of wind blew through the broken temple, extinguishing the torchlight.

And then a voice.

Low. Echoing. From nowhere and everywhere.

"You found the First Memory. Now prove you’re worthy of the Second."

The ground trembled.

Outside, the clouds darkened, swirling above the town like a vortex. Lightning cracked, but no thunder followed. Just silence, deep and suffocating.

Thalen stepped out, sword drawn. "Get ready."

Selene and Corin flanked him.

And then from the shadows rose a figure clad in armor black as night, visor glowing red.

No aura radiated from him.

But something about him felt wrong. Hollow.

"Who are you?" Thalen shouted.

The figure didn’t speak.

Instead, he lifted his hand.

And from the ground from the ash and bone rose others. Dozens. Hollow-eyed warriors, armed with jagged weapons, aura-less and silent.

Corin’s eyes widened. "Wraiths. Real ones."

Selene whispered, "They’re empty. Not undead forgotten."

Thalen raised his blade. "Then let’s remind them what the living can do."

The horde surged forward, silent and fast.

Thalen met them head-on.

Steel clashed. Sparks flew. And Thalen moved like water through the storm. His Blade Aura surged through him, sharpening his reactions, guiding his strikes with unnatural clarity.

Selene danced through them like flame, her Ember Aura slicing with searing precision. Corin crushed skulls and limbs with reinforced fists, his Earthbind Aura turning his body into a living fortress.

But for every one they felled, two more rose.

The red-eyed knight watched from afar, unmoving.

Thalen cut down three in a single motion and turned to Selene.

"We can’t hold them forever!"

"Then end it!" she shouted.

Thalen looked up at the knight. "I think I know how."

He broke through the ranks, aura blazing.

The knight raised his sword.

They met in a crash of metal and silence. But this time, Thalen’s blade didn’t vibrate with eagerness it sang.

The knight struck with inhuman speed, but Thalen countered each blow. The Blade Aura surged to its peak. And then just as their swords locked Thalen let the Tyrant Spirit flow.

For a second, the sky turned white.

The knight was flung back, armor shattered, aura unraveling into mist.

Thalen stood alone, panting, sword glowing with violet fire.

The horde vanished.

Corin limped toward him. "You... you did it."

Selene reached him next. "What was that light?"

Thalen looked down at his sword. The violet flame still flickered.

"A warning," he said softly.

And far above, watching through a mirror of crystal and stone, the SSS Heroes sat in silence.

One of them, a woman cloaked in shadow, whispered, "He’s awakening faster than we expected."

Another, older, muttered, "Then the real test begins now."