Shadow slave: In The Eye of The Beholder

The hum of the police car's engine filled the silence as Silas stared out the window, watching the cityscape shift from the grim outskirts to the more structured streets of the inner city. The world outside blurred into a stream of colours, a stark contrast to the rigid thoughts swirling in his mind.

The station had felt like a threshold, a final remnant of the life he was leaving behind. Now, as the car cruised through the urban maze, he was heading toward something new—something unknown.

As the car neared the inner city's walls, the towering structures that had overshadowed his life dominated the horizon. Unlike the skeletal, half-built frames of the outskirts, these walls were pristine and well-kept, silently filtering the polluted air of the outskirts and pumping it clean into the inner city.

Silas's gaze traced the walls, noting the clear divide they represented. To the people of the outskirts, those walls were a symbol of hope, a reminder that if they worked hard and followed orders, they might one day cross into a better life. But to Silas, the walls were just another lie, part of a system built to maintain control and keep the truth hidden.

His thoughts drifted back to the orphanage, to the day he was taken by the legacy clans. The façade of a better life had shattered the moment they pried into his soul. He was just a scared kid back then, thrust into a world of horrific experiments and cage matches, all in the name of some twisted pursuit of power.

The tests must have had some effect on the waking world, though buried beneath the rubble and structure of a manufactured society. They were just one piece of the horrible puzzle that built the very world he stood on.

Silas clenched his fist at the thought, grounding himself in the present. The interior of the PTV was stark, less luxurious than Winter's matte-black ride but still holding its value. At least this one's speed was sane, not life-threatening like Winter's idea of fun. It gave him time to think, yet he was stuck in the back instead of in the passenger seat.

Though given the luxury of the ride, the officer had confined him to the rear, leaving his presence as empty space. Perhaps the officer hoped to avoid seeing Silas's displeasure at the songs currently playing on the speakers—an assault of electronic screeching and off-beat drums. What time he thought he had to reflect was interrupted by the cacophony.

Is this really music? Silas's thoughts drifted back to simpler days with his parents. The only proper music he ever heard was from his dad, a gruff worker who always wore a smile despite the toughest times. His father eagerly shared many interests with him, one of them being music.

His father had somehow managed to pick up a used guitar from the inner city, cleaned it up, and practiced under the rusted roofs of their streets. There was a certain talent in his playing, a roughness polished by perseverance. He would show Silas how to play, letting his son fiddle with his prized possession.

He always said he was going to be good enough to escape the outskirts, to head into the inner city and play for the citizens who had it all. He'd take his wife and child away from the rotting structures and roads.

Despite the somber memories, Silas kept a smirk.

'Well, Dad, I made it anyway'. He glanced out the window, the city looming closer. To the city you always dreamt of. Hope you're happy up there.'

The walls eventually grew larger in the window, looming until the PTV went under them. The warmth of the sun vanished for a moment, replaced by the brief shadow of the gate before the car emerged on the other side.

The officer, noticing the change, inputted a command on the wheel. The thick windows of the PTV rolled down, and a fresh breeze immediately hit Silas's face, blowing his grey hair back. As he took in the sight before him, Silas witnessed the inner city in all its glory.

The buildings were conformed, not left to decay but instead polished, maintained to such a degree that Silas thought it was impossible. The streets were organized and empty of trash, and the people walking them looked put together.

They didn't carry the stress and burden of hard labour on their backs; each of their steps seemed surprisingly light to him.

But most striking was the air. It didn't smell, it didn't feel like it was scratching against his throat. It was clean, almost too clean—like the air from his first nightmare in the fields. The memory made Silas tense for a moment, but there was no whispering wheat, only the small talk of the citizens and the bustle of the city.

Silas could only watch as the order of their lives flew by—the images of smiles and mundane worries appearing one after another before vanishing—while he was stuck in the PTV, dealt the cards of chaos in his hand.

What point was there for him to admire them? He had too much aspiration, defiance, and unrest to enjoy any semblance of peace. He had bet his life many times, living for revenge, determined to be a force against those who had wronged him.

But at the same time…

Silas wouldn't have it any other way.

After all, he was named [Weaver of Rebellion] by the Spell.

He hadn't come this far to get distracted by other pieces. He had his own web of destiny and fate to weave.

But as the city continued to glide past the window, Silas couldn't shake the weight that settled in his chest, it was an unusual feeling that he had never really experienced before, it was minor, but ever present, when he reached into the feeling, bright runes emerged in front of his eyes.

It was his flaw

[Flaw: oathbound conscientious].

Flaw Description: In defying your fate, you have accumulated debts that demand repayment. you are tied to the people who have enabled you to live your pitiful defiance, compelling you to repay their favours The more significant the debt, the stronger the compulsion.

[Debts]

[Azell - ██████░░░░] - 60% [Beholder - ███░░░░░░] - 30% [Winter-█░░░░░░░░░]-3%

Silas glared at his debts, the feeling that had been weighing him down was them, now gone from two to three, it seemed as if winter did something that was considered of being needed to be paid back.

'What would it be, was it the car ride? No probably not, it would be a bit absurd if I could rack up debt to astronomical heights by someone just driving me around for a month, so was it her advice? did the spell put that value on it.' 

He was only left to ponder its effects, he had not been exposed to its consequences yet, but surely, he would have to prepare in the future. 

what worried him more was the person he owed the most.

[Azell - ██████░░░░] - 60%

Well he could see why the spell had valued her actions so much, he was only alive today because of here, she had been one of his peers in the experimentation of the clans, she had devised a plan that let him escape its horrors and back onto the streets of the outskirts. 

Although she had saves Silas, he couldn't come back and try to rescue her, one he was out of the labs he simply couldn't find in himself to return. it had weighed down on him for the rest of his life, his mind subconsciously trying to say that she had simply sacrificed herself, instead of his own cowardice to not attempt to do the same. 

Of course she was somehow alive, with his flaw bursting at the seams to repay his debts, though it did not reveal anymore, for all he knew she could simply be in a coma, or locked away in a cage, as the clans scientists move on to the next project, but hesitant to end the life of their previous work, as to not see it go to waste. 

And as for the other recipient of Silas' Debt 

[Beholder - ███░░░░░░] - 30%

'what do I even owe that bloody eyeball to begin with? how would I even repay it.' Silas questioned, he had not seen the eye since the nightmare, no talk or speech about how Silas managed to defy him, but simply leaving existence and leaving him with the aspect that he had taken away. 

He continued to be stuck in his mind as the ptv drove. 

Being finally brought out from his head by the officer calling out to him.

'Hey sleeper, were at the Acadamy, so... can you go now? I don't have all day.' the man complained, it seemed he didn't take him on his own volition, maybe forced by the chief to be Silas's Chaffer. 

Silas let his ashen eyes lock with the officer for a second before opening the PTV's door, being fully embraced by suns warmth, the wind picking up once again as Silas looked forward. 

seemingly indestructible red gates of the Awakened Academy planted out, as if trying to replicate the magnificent walls that encompassed the inner city, in fact it seemed to portray its act even further, as it seemed there was an ever-smaller city found in its walls numerous large-calibre turrets placed in certain possessions to create a deadly air-suppression dome.

Silas took in the sight of the impenetrable fortress. 

And took his first step, to the Acadamy.