The Tides Turn

The sudden jolt disrupted his concentration, causing his focus to splinter. His cursed energy, which had been maintaining control over the men in the room, faltered.

He quickly scanned the area, his heightened reflexes allowing him to detect a figure trying to conceal itself behind a stack of crates. But as the pain intensified, his control over the cursed energy shattered. The men he had paralyzed began to stir, their movements becoming increasingly erratic.

The grim realization hit him hard. He understood now that if his concentration broke, the passive supply of cursed energy that kept his control active would cease. This meant that his previous advantage was slipping away, leaving him exposed.

His heart pounded as he realized the gravity of the situation. The room, once under his control, was now turning into a chaotic battleground. Silence saw the guards he had previously subdued beginning to regain their mobility, their confusion giving way to renewed hostility.

He tried to compensate by refocusing his efforts, but the pain in his arm made it nearly impossible to concentrate. He could hear the distant sounds of more men outside, the situation quickly escalating beyond his control.

As the fifteen men finished entering the room, their weapons were drawn and trained on Silence. The air crackled with tension, the guards poised to open fire at any moment. Just as they were about to pull the triggers, Liam O'Connor raised a hand, signaling them to hold their fire.

The room fell into a tense silence. Silence's eyes darted around, trying to make sense of the situation as Liam motioned for one of the men to step forward. The shooter, a grizzled figure with a weathered face and a grim expression, approached Liam with an air of casual confidence.

"So, Liam," the shooter said, his tone relaxed despite the tension. "This makes it the third one caught so far. Things are almost wrapped up now."

Liam nodded, his face impassive. "Yeah, didn't expect one of those mutant freaks to come sniffing around for the bounty."

The shooter's gaze shifted to Silence, a faint smirk playing on his lips. "Looks like we've got quite the handful here. Didn't think someone like you would be the type to go through all this trouble."

Silence, despite the pain and chaos surrounding him, managed a wry smile. He kept his focus sharp, watching every movement and trying to gauge his next move. The guards were still ready to fire, their weapons an ever-present threat.

"Mutant freak, huh?" Silence's voice was steady, though strained. "I guess it takes one to know one."

Liam's expression remained calm, but there was a hint of curiosity in his eyes. "You've got guts, I'll give you that. But guts alone aren't going to get you out of this mess. So, what's your plan now? Or are you just here to make things more interesting?"

Silence shifted slightly, trying to alleviate the pressure on his injured arm while keeping his gaze locked on Liam and the shooter. "I didn't come here to chat. I came to finish a job. And judging by the way things are going, I'm not quite done yet."

Liam's eyes narrowed, but he gave a nod. "Well, I'm afraid your timing's just about up. And as for making things interesting, I think we're well past that point."

The shooter chuckled, clearly entertained by the exchange. "Seems like you've got quite the situation on your hands. But don't worry, we'll make sure it's a memorable one."

The room was charged with a palpable sense of foreboding, each moment stretching thin as Silence and Liam exchanged tense words. Silence knew that every second counted, and the stakes were higher than ever. The guards around him remained poised, the situation hanging in a precarious balance as Silence prepared for whatever came next.

Silence stood amidst the chaos, the fifteen armed men surrounding him, their weapons aimed and ready. As he took in the dire situation, a storm of thoughts and emotions raged inside him.

'It always ends like this, huh? Always struggling… always fighting… always terrified of what comes next. Even with this new chance, this new power—am I really going to let it end like this?'

His frustration and anger surged, the weight of his past failures pressing heavily on him. His eyes narrowed with determination, a fierce glint burning through the haze of pain. His teeth gritted, the muscles in his jaw tightening as he tried to control the rising storm within him. His fists clenched so tightly that his knuckles turned white, his whole body tensing as if preparing for a final, desperate stand.

The image of his previous struggles and the constant battle for survival seemed to replay in his mind, fueling the dark resolve that had begun to define him. He could feel the negative emotions boiling up, ready to burst forth with renewed intensity.

Liam's voice cut through the turmoil. "Do you have any last wishes before we wrap this up?"

Silence's gaze remained unyielding, his eyes reflecting a steely resolve. His voice, though calm, was laced with defiance and a glimmer of something fiercer. "I have one wish: to be free. But it's not my last."

As Silence finished speaking, his hand moved toward the zipper of his mask. Sensing danger, Liam's eyes widened, and he barked an urgent command, "Fire!"

But Aaron was ready. Anticipating the attack, he crouched down just as the bullets whizzed past, narrowly missing him. In one swift motion, he unzipped his mask, revealing a dark, creepy smile that sent chills through the room. His grin widened, exuding a sinister energy that filled the air.

Aaron began to circle his cursed energy, the atmosphere growing thick with tension as he channeled more power than ever before. His emotions surged, pushing him to his limits. He opened his mouth, revealing his tongue, now marked by a dark, ominous line—a manifestation of the overwhelming amount of cursed energy he had never dared to use until now.

With a fierce determination in his eyes, Aaron extended his tongue, the black line pulsating with raw power. He shouted with all his might, "Shatter!"

The word echoed through the room like a command from the abyss. The men holding their guns suddenly froze in place, their eyes widening in horror. In an instant, their gun-holding arms burst apart, the flesh and bone splintering violently as if an invisible force had torn them apart from within.

Blood splattered across the walls and floor as the men screamed in agony, their cries of pain filling the room. The air was thick with the sound of shattered bones and the guttural, desperate wails of those who had been caught in the blast. Some collapsed to their knees, clutching at the ruins of their limbs, while others staggered back, too shocked to even comprehend what had just happened.

Silence stood amidst the chaos, his eyes burning with a cold, dark satisfaction as the cursed energy crackled around him, the room filled with the sound of shattered lives and the echoes of torment.

Silence wasn't finished. Not by a long shot. But just as he was about to unleash another command, a sudden, sharp pain shot through his throat. His vocal cords felt like they were on fire, a brutal reminder that he had crossed the limits of what he could handle. The backlash hit him hard, but he pushed the pain aside, knowing he didn't have much time.

Ignoring the searing agony in his throat, Aaron forced himself to speak again. "Paralyze," he ordered, his voice strained and raspy. The burning sensation intensified, as if his vocal cords were tearing apart with each word. But he pressed on, determined to finish what he had started.

The effect was immediate. The men, the shooter, and even Liam—all of them collapsed to the ground, their bodies rigid and unresponsive. Liam lay motionless, his eyes wide with shock as he watched his men writhing in pain. Though he wasn't physically harmed, the terror of being rendered helpless sent a wave of panic through him. The other two men who had witnessed the carnage stood frozen in place, their faces pale with terror as they watched their comrades suffer.

The room was filled with the sounds of agony, the once-proud men reduced to quivering, helpless figures, their minds and bodies trapped in a prison of torment. The air was thick with the stench of fear and the palpable weight of negative emotions. It was exactly what Aaron had hoped for.

A twisted smile spread across his face, revealing his bloodied teeth, a sight that would put a devil to shame. The satisfaction of their suffering coursed through him, fueling the darkness that had taken hold. He stood over them, his presence a haunting reminder of the power he wielded, even as the pain in his own body continued to mount.

With the room silent, Aaron took a deep breath, ignoring the pain in his throat. He lowered himself into a meditative pose amidst the chaos, focusing on drawing in the cursed energy that filled the air, thick with fear and despair.

The men who were still conscious watched in horrified silence. A single thought echoed in their minds: psychopath.

For half an hour, Aaron concentrated, pulling in the negative emotions around him, slowly healing his strained vocal cords and easing his pain. When he finally opened his eyes, they were filled with malice. His unzipped mask revealed dried blood on his mouth and teeth, and his smile was dark and twisted.

His thoughts, now clear and cold, focused on what he would do next. The very idea made his blood-stained smile widen.

Next ch-echoes of malice