In The Eye of The Beholder(chap 12)-Unwelcome Guest

Silas found himself treading through the hollow hallway of the castle, the life and character that the building might have once held being had seemed to be ripped out of it, the marks from wear and its inhabitants still fresh on its walls. of course, the people that served and lived in the structure had been corrupted, their souls being driven by the insanity of the loop. 

Silas had felt their warm blood, it mattered his body and decorated his blade, the feeling of their form being parted by his sword was still there, the memory of his muscles powering through there flesh.

This wasn't the first time Silas had killed, but the vicarial experience still seemed tantalising, the mindless stay ingrained in his head as gazed and observed every nook and darkness that could lie one of the beings, waiting to pounce out and tear him apart. 

As he walked, the silence of the castle pressed in on him, broken only by the faint echoes of his footsteps. His thoughts began to spiral, the warmth of the blood that soaked him vanishing, the cold air of the castle sinking through his skin, past the tattered remains of his shirt. the cold making Silas shiver in the dark. 

'I wish I had my aspect, the strings sure were comforting.'

For the few moments he did have [Beholder of Strings] it was fantastic, the ethereal threads were something that seemed so wonderous and breathtaking in the bland and miserable life he had experienced. 

He attempted to dig deep within his soul, bring out the golden strings of fate once again, but it felt empty, the spark that he had never noticed being doused. 

'What about my attributes? is [Touch of Divinity] Gone?' Silas pondered, The shimmering runes manifesting faintly Infront of his eyes. 

Name: Silas

True Name: ___

Rank: Aspirant

Soul Core: Dormant

Memories: [Mad Cows Canine] 

Echoes: ___

Attributes: [-----], [Soul's Sight], [Empowerment]

Aspect: [Withdrawn]

Aspect Description: The threads of the soul are removed, the identity stolen, only the remanets of the mundane in place, a hollow challenger, a husk of fate.

Silas stared deep into the new runes, the sense of hollowness he had felt was similar to what was described, but the feeling of the Beholder taking away his uniqueness that he had apparently blessed him with. 

It was insulting. 

But to his Suprise, it seemed the attribute descriptions had finally revealed themselves, as if the entity locking them away was no more, showing their elusive runes.

Attribute description:

[----]

Description: [----]

[Soul's Sight]

Description: The Aspirant has seen many things within their life, the bad, the good, the unthinkable, such an ability to see deeper within a person has manifested in its very soul, allowing them to view the purity and corruption in others.

[Empowerment]

Description: The Aspirant has never had any strength in their body, the only strength the pitiful child has was its mind, and more importantly its will, the once intangible force being able to be manifested if brought out, increasing the potency of their soul, and strength in their body. 

The new runes seemed to click in his mind, the events prior started to make more sense to him, for his sudden strength he thought it was mostly adrenaline, yet [empowerment] was the cause.

It seemed he still had something unique, something that would allow him to face the challenges soon coming.

Silas brought his sword to his eyes, the dull grey edge seemed still sharp after the fight, its body now splattered with the drying blood.

He stared at the blade, lost in the grim reflection of the grey eyed boy staring back through it, the thoughts of what he has done, and what he had to do weighing heavily in his mind, but at the same time, fuelled his every step. 

Silas broke contact with the reflection, and for a second craning his head back.

A small grey object appearing in the corner of his sight

In that moment, a sharp whizzing sound pierced the air.

A pebble, jagged and fast, flew past his head, barely missing him by an inch. It crashed into the wall with a resounding crack, sending a small shower of dust and debris to the ground. Silas instinctively flinched, his heart leaping into his throat.

immediately he gripped the handle of the [Mad Cows Canine] turning into the direction of the attacker, his muscles beginning to exert themselves much to their displeasure.

The sound of footsteps beginning to emanate, a voice echoed from the shadows.

"Looks like I'm a bit rusty" The familiar voice drawled, carrying a twisted mix of amusement and something far more sinister. as the gigantic form of the man showed himself, throwing a handful of rocks and pebbles up and down in rhythmically. 

His sturdy body was riddled with a myriad of recent bruises and cuts. It seemed the awakened giant had not escaped the savagery of the battle between the terror and noble unscathed. Yet the blood didn't make him seem any weaker—if anything, it made him more daunting.

The anger of betrayal and disgust rose within Silas as he stared into the eyes of his 'uncle', the bloody bastard still managed to sneak up on him once again.

"Well, hello, uncle. You look like shit," Silas growled, raising [Mad Cow's Canine] in front of him. The blade drew a diagonal line in the air as he assumed a ready stance, its sharp gleam catching the giant's attention. A spark of interest flickered in his brown irises.

He smirked, responding in kind.

"You don't look too good either, rat. In fact, the only thing that doesn't seem broken on you is that sword. Mind handing it over?" He gestured cheerfully, but the depths of his eyes grew darker as his voice turned rough. "It saves me the trouble of retrieving it from your corpse."

His towering body drew closer, his shadow swallowing Silas, the intention to kill written plainly on his face. He planned to take the sword and use it against the terror.

Silas felt the pressure; it gripped his heart and sent fear racing through his mind. Yet outwardly, he forced himself to remain defiant, his smirk staying strong. 

"Kindly fuck off, or do you want me to give the sword directly into your throat that badly, mongrel?"

His uncle frowned, then shrugged, taking a deep breath before erupting into a sudden assault. The behemoth of a man charged toward Silas, fist outstretched for his head, his once-mellow voice rapidly closing the distance.

"Have it your way, kid."