Chapter 685 (2/2)

For all that his images were unreliable, Silo knew that it wasn’t doing much to really weaken him. Where his old habits were being broken and lost, new images were growing within him. Images of darkness and violence, of pride and blood. There, Silo was without peer. He was a man with enough strength to silence entire worlds.

In those images, his body had been torn and broken so many times his original form was lost. He became a twisted monster of violence. But in that image, his strength far exceeded that of everyone Silo had met.

Well, aside from his elders.

That thought focused his mind because it brought back the reminder of the previous few days. While his hands tightened to fists, Silo did his best not to bare his teeth. He failed.

Although it was difficult, Silo had achieved a balance with the strange energy in his body. He had grown far beyond his previous Level with it, to the point that he had true power. All the slights he had endured in the past, all the innocents that he had seen suffer… no longer was Silo powerless to help them. He had struggled behind enemy lines and obtained an impressive amount of accomplishments. So much that he was sure to finally achieve the recognition he deserved.

Remembering, Silo’s eyes turned red. Yet… his strength was equal to that of his inane squadmates who fled from the horde of Wights? While he remained and struggled so valiantly?

The only option was that he hadn’t struggled nearly as much as he thought. Silo needed more. A hero was not one half of a team…

...a hero was an existence to which there was no answer.

Silo hadn’t reached that height. So he was forced by circumstances to draw more deeply than he ever had before from his precious treasure. So deeply had he drew that he had briefly lost himself in a feeling of strangeness. His body no longer appeared to be his own. But that feeling quickly passed.

When Silo returned to himself, he noticed two things. The first was that he had reached Level 50. The second was that he was missing one of his fingers and his left eye was a different color. Naturally, the excitement of accomplishing the former overrode any small worries that Silo might have about discovering the latter things.

He was also delighted to see the two new Skills that he gained from the treasure his elders had given to him: Heinous Decapitation and Violent Impulse. Both gained Skill Levels easily in the following hours. Although Silo was largely overwhelmed by feelings, he had enough presence of mind to stumble back through the slums of Hastam to the place where he had been blessed with this treasure. No doubt the elders could give him guidance.

But they were gone.

The houses where they lived, eeking out humble lives… abandoned. Silo felt lost.

Then he heard a teenager bullying an older woman, and all of Silo’s confusion fell away. What replaced it was a dull headache and the irresistible impulse to punish the fool who would hurt an honored elder.

Needless to say, Silo had followed the young man out of Hastam, several kilometers across the countryside, and waited outside a tavern while the kid drank. Honestly, the whole experience was good for Silo. Breathing the chilly night air did a lot to numb his headache.

After he returned to this abandoned farmhouse with his friends, Silo could wait no longer. He struck and taught these youths a lesson in respect that they would never forget. It could be considered something of a generosity that Silo magnanimously taught them all the same lesson. The final lesson.

...ches….

Silo frowned and tilted his head to the side. Then he carefully looked around him. For a split second, it had sounded like someone was speaking. Yet that was impossible. Silo had made sure that none of the people here had tongues with which to speak.

....teaches…

“What? Who is there?” Silo bellowed. The words were harsh in the creaky farmhouse, and in their wake, there was only the sound of the wind. His heart was pounding in his ears as he spun where he stood, sending small waves through the pool of blood on the ground.

….answering your question. A hero is one who teaches…

Silo blinked. The voice was within his head! How strange. Perhaps that was the source of the headache…?

But for all that the voice had dubious origins, it surely had some wise things to say. Silo smiled widely. “Yes… That’s right, isn’t it? A hero is an existence that can mold the rest. Only… I think that these sort of people will only learn in one way: through discipline.”

The voice in Silo’s head chuckled.