Chapter 9: The Grinding Silence
The slam of the front door didn't just shake the house; it shattered the world we knew. The silence that followed was a physical presence, thick and suffocating. My father stood in the doorway of my room, his face a canvas of conflicting emotions—confusion, fear, and a deep, wounded hurt.
"Aiden," he began, his voice barely a whisper. "Son… your legs…"
I looked down. In the chaos, I had forgotten. I was standing. The ruse was over in every conceivable way. "The World Tree's Blessing," I explained, my own voice hollow. "It's been healing me. Slowly."
He didn't ask what that was. He just stared, his mind struggling to reconcile the image of his crippled youngest son with the reality of the young man standing before him, crackling with latent power. "All this time?" was all he could manage.
"To protect you," I said, the words feeling useless and thin. "To protect Kaelen."
"By lying to us?" The pain in his voice was sharper than any Umbral Blade. "By letting him tear himself apart with guilt and drive? He broke his arm for you, Aiden. He's been risking his life in every dungeon, all for a cure you didn't need." He ran a hand over his face, looking suddenly old and tired. "I need… I need to process this."
He turned and walked away, leaving me alone in the ruins of my secret.
The next 48 hours were a study in isolation. The house was a tomb. Kaelen didn't return. My father moved through the rooms like a ghost, speaking to me only when necessary, his words clipped and distant. The weight of my deception was a millstone around my neck. I had protected them from external threats, but I had poisoned our home from the inside.
There was only one outlet, one purpose that remained untainted: the grind.
That night, I appeared in the Howling Caves with a fury I'd never known. I didn't stalk; I annihilated. I became a vortex of shadow and steel, carving through packs of Gnawlers and Frost Gnawlers with reckless, precise abandon. I didn't care about stealth or finesse. I cared about the catharsis of combat, the pure, mathematical progression of power.
A Cave Gnawler, Level 32, lunged. My dagger found its throat before it could complete the motion.
[ Defeated Cave Gnawler (Lv. 32). Experience Gained. ]
**[ Apocalypse's Greed Activated. +0.01 to Strength. ]]
A Frost Gnawler, Level 38, exhaled its cone of chill. I didn't dodge. I took the hit, feeling the numbing cold sear my skin, and ran it through while it was overconfident.
[ Defeated Frost Gnawler (Lv. 38). Experience Gained. ]
**[ Apocalypse's Greed Activated. +0.01 to Stamina. ]]
The experience flooded into me, a relentless tide. After clearing a major nest, a warm, familiar energy surged through my veins, washing away the fatigue and the emotional numbness, replacing it with pure, potential power.
[ Level Up! You are now Level 29. ]
[ +3 Free Stat Points. ]
Without a second of hesitation, I allocated all three points to Agility. The world sharpened. The shadows seemed to slow down, their movements easier to track and merge with. My fingers tightened around my blades. More. I need more.
I pushed deeper, finding a section of the cave system I'd avoided, teeming with Level 40-42 Deep Crawlers, monstrous arachnids that spat corrosive webbing. It was a dangerous, brutal fight. I used Shadow Stride to skate across their webs, my blades a whirlwind as I severed legs and pierced chitinous bodies. One caught me with a glancing blow, its mandible slicing my arm. I gritted my teeth, feeling the World Tree's Blessing instantly knit the flesh back together.
When the last Crawler dissolved, another wave of power hit me, stronger this time.
[ Level Up! You are now Level 30. ]
[ +3 Free Stat Points. ]
[ New Skill Unlocked at Level 30. ]
[ Analyzing compatible skills... ]
**[ Skill Generated: Shadow Bind (C+) - Create restraints of solidified shadow to immobilize a target. Cost: 40 MP. Duration scales with Intellect. ]]
A new skill. A utility skill. It wasn't the explosive power I craved, but it was a tool. A way to control the battlefield beyond pure killing. I allocated the new points—two to Agility, one to Intellect to bolster the new skill's effectiveness. The strategic part of my mind, buried under grief and rage, recognized the value. I couldn't just be a dagger; I had to be a warden.
—
Across the city, Kaelen was grinding too.
He'd stormed into the Ironheart Guild barracks, ignoring the concerned looks, and signed up for the most brutal, back-to-back dungeon patrols on the board. He didn't sleep. He fought. He took point against packs of Stonehides in the Quarry, his Flame Whip searing the rock, his Lightning Rush a frantic, angry blur. He wasn't fighting for a cure anymore. He was fighting to outrun the betrayal, to burn it out of his system with pure, physical exertion.
In the aftermath of a messy skirmish with a pack of mutated Quarry-Whelps, a surge of energy coursed through him, a familiar and welcome sensation amidst the emotional turmoil.
[ Level Up! You are now Level 22. ]
**[ +3 Free Stat Points. ]]
Panting, covered in dust and minor cuts, he leaned against his greatsword. He visualized his status screen. Before, he would have carefully balanced the points, perhaps adding to Stamina for survivability. Now, his decision was driven by a cold, singular focus. He allocated all three points to Strength. He felt the muscle fibers in his arms and shoulders tighten, a new, raw power humming just beneath the skin. He wanted to hit harder. He wanted to be strong enough that he would never need to be saved again. Especially not by him.
—
I returned home as the sun was beginning to tinge the sky. The house was still silent. I slipped into my bed, the familiar act feeling like a grotesque parody. I pulled up my status, the numbers a cold comfort.
[ Aiden Vance - Level 30 ]
[ HP: 100% | MP: 1280/1350 (Regenerating) ]
[ Strength: 15.11 ]
[ Agility: 25.13 (+65.41 from Apocalypse's Greed) ]
[ Stamina: 14.89 ]
[ Intellect: 12.02 ]
[ Spirit: 13.70 ]
[ Free Points: 0 ]
My real Agility was now over 90. I was a tempest contained in a seemingly frail body. But the power felt meaningless. I had leveled up, I had gained a new skill, but I had lost my brother.
The following evening, my father finally broke the silence. He came into my room and sat on the edge of my bed, his shoulders slumped.
"He's at the Guild barracks," he said, not looking at me. "He won't answer my calls. He… he submitted a formal report." My blood ran cold. "He recounted the events in the Screaming Maw. He stated he saw a masked individual, highly powerful, who neutralized the threat and vanished. He made no mention of… you."
I stared at him, stunned. He'd lied for me. Or perhaps, he'd lied for himself. To admit it was me would be to admit a truth the world—and he—wasn't ready to accept.
"The Guild is calling it a confirmed sighting of the 'Phantom Helper,'" my father continued, his voice flat. "They're escalating their investigation. They want to find it… him… you… for 'debriefing and potential recruitment.' They see it as a strategic asset."
The irony was a knife to the gut. The Guild my brother belonged to was now officially hunting me, with my brother protecting my secret even as he hunted me in his heart.
My father stood to leave, pausing at the door. "He protected you, Aiden. Even now. What are you going to do?"
When he was gone, I looked out the window at the city lights, the dungeons glowing ominously on the horizon. The fracture was complete. Kaelen was grinding out in the open, fueled by anger. I was grinding in the shadows, burdened by guilt. We were both leveling up, growing stronger, faster than ever before.
But we were moving on parallel paths that no longer seemed destined to meet. The war against the external threats was escalating. And the first, brutal battle in the civil war of our family was over. A devastating, silent defeat.