CHAPTER 113 — THE FIRST LOSS
The city screamed.
Not with sound—but with movement. Lights flickered across Florida's skyline as if the city itself were shivering. Power grids failed in waves. Phones died mid-call. Traffic froze where engines stalled and drivers stepped out into the streets, confused, afraid.
Silva felt it before he saw it.
The Iron Fist—now bound, restrained, limited—trembled beneath his skin like a wounded star.
"It's starting," he whispered.
Beneath the city, the ancient chamber exhaled dust as cracks spread along the walls. Symbols burned faintly, reacting to something rising far above them.
Lyra grabbed Silva's arm. "You said limiting the Iron Fist would stop this."
Silva shook his head slowly. "No. I said it would stop me from becoming worse than it."
Eroth was already moving, his expression darker than Silva had ever seen it. "Jared has crossed the threshold. Whatever he has released… it was sealed for a reason."
The ground shuddered.
Then the screaming started.
Not human screaming.
Silva sprinted.
They burst from the underground into chaos. The streets twisted unnaturally, shadows stretching upward like claws reaching for the sky. People ran, stumbled, cried out names that would not answer.
Above them, something massive shifted between buildings—not solid, not smoke, but wrong. Its silhouette bent reality around it, bending light, warping sound.
Lyra gasped. "What… is that?"
Silva swallowed. "That's not a monster."
The Iron Fist pulsed weakly, as if afraid.
"That's a consequence."
The thing descended.
Where it touched the ground, silence followed. Not destruction—absence. People frozen mid-motion, their fear locked in place, eyes wide, mouths open, bodies intact but empty.
Silva's breath caught. "It's erasing them…"
Eroth's voice was grim. "No. It's removing them from the present. A temporal predator. Jared calls them Nullborn."
The Nullborn turned its attention toward Silva.
The Iron Fist flared instinctively—but the golden glow sputtered, unstable. Silva stumbled, pain flashing through his arm.
Lyra shouted, "Silva!"
He forced himself upright. "I did this," he said through clenched teeth. "By limiting the Iron Fist, I made myself visible to it."
The Nullborn lunged.
Silva moved.
He struck—not with brute force, but precision. The Iron Fist connected, releasing a controlled pulse of energy. The impact distorted the air, pushing the creature back without tearing reality apart.
But the cost hit instantly.
Silva staggered, blood trickling from his nose.
Lyra caught him. "You're bleeding."
Silva laughed bitterly. "Good. Means I'm still human."
The Nullborn recovered faster than expected.
A shadow moved behind Silva.
Too fast.
Eroth turned sharply. "LYRA—!"
It was Jared's trap.
A second Nullborn emerged from the dark, silent and patient, reaching toward Lyra.
Silva reacted on instinct.
He shoved Lyra aside and took the hit.
The world went cold.
Not darkness—nothingness. Silva felt himself slipping, memories peeling away like leaves in fire. His mother's voice. His father's steady presence. Mr. Chennai's lessons. The legend of Kalun.
The Iron Fist screamed.
Golden light exploded outward—not uncontrolled, not godlike—but desperate.
Silva roared as he pulled himself back into reality.
He collapsed to his knees, gasping.
The Nullborn recoiled, damaged—but not destroyed.
Lyra knelt beside him, shaking. "You almost—Silva, you almost disappeared."
"I know," he whispered.
Jared's voice echoed across the street.
"Beautiful restraint," he said, stepping into view atop a broken car. "You chose to bleed instead of dominate. Admirable."
Silva glared at him. "You released these things knowing I couldn't stop them fully."
Jared nodded. "Correct. Because this test isn't about winning."
He gestured to the city.
"It's about loss."
Another scream echoed nearby.
A building collapsed—not violently, but quietly, swallowed by the Nullborn's presence.
Silva forced himself up again. "You won't take this city."
Jared smiled softly. "I already have."
Then he vanished.
The Nullborn advanced.
Silva fought.
Not like before.
Each strike was measured. Each movement calculated. He saved people—not by overpowering the creatures, but by luring them away, redirecting their paths, forcing them to retreat inch by inch.
But exhaustion crept in.
The Iron Fist dimmed further.
And then—
A familiar voice cried out.
"Silva!"
He turned.
Mr. Chennai stood at the edge of the street, gripping a broken pipe, eyes fierce despite his age.
"Get back!" Silva shouted.
Too late.
The Nullborn shifted.
Silva ran—but he was too slow.
The creature touched Mr. Chennai.
No blood.
No violence.
Just stillness.
Mr. Chennai froze, eyes meeting Silva's one last time—calm, proud.
Then he was gone.
Erased from the present.
Silva screamed.
The Iron Fist erupted—brighter than it had since the limitation—but still controlled. The force slammed into the Nullborn, ripping it apart in a cascade of distorted light.
The second creature fled.
Silva dropped to his knees, shaking violently.
Lyra knelt beside him, tears streaming. "He… he trained you."
Silva couldn't speak.
The rain returned.
Soft. Heavy. Relentless.
Eroth stood silently behind them. "This is the price, Silva. Jared wanted you to understand it fully."
Silva clenched his fists, golden light flickering weakly. "Then he's succeeded."
He looked up at the city—broken, wounded, but alive.
"I won't become a god," he said quietly. "And I won't stop being human."
His eyes hardened.
"But I will end Jared."
High above, in the shadows of a shattered tower, Jared watched the rain fall.
He placed a hand over his chest.
"One loss," he murmured. "Many more to come."
The war had claimed its first true victim.
And Silva Iron Fist would never be the same again.