CHAPTER 236: THE SILENCE OF POWER

The study door clicked shut behind Billy, and an unsettling silence enveloped the room.

It was a silence that felt heavy and suffocating, like the eerie stillness after a gunshot, when your ears ring and your heart races, yet nothing more can be heard.

Outside, the faint echo of footsteps faded into the distance, swallowed by the grand walls of the Osborn estate.

Arthur sat motionless in his chair, one hand loosely cradling a half-filled glass of wine while the other pressed lightly against his temple.

He stared at the spot where Billy had stood just moments before, as if trying to grasp onto the warmth that had just slipped away.

With a slow, deep exhale that hinted at fatigue, he let his shoulders slump slightly, a rare faltering of his usual commanding posture.

He brought the glass to his lips but didn’t drink; instead, he inhaled deeply, letting the bitter scent of red wine wash over him like a forgotten memory.

"Evolon," he called softly. In an instant, Evolon shimmered into existence through holographic projection, standing silently across the room and awaiting his command.

"I’m not sure what scares me more," Arthur murmured in a low voice thick with emotion, "how easy it’s become to say those things... or how little I feel after saying them."

Evolon blinked softly with its glowing eyes fixed on him.

"I told Billy to leave the killing to me," Arthur continued as he finally took a sip of wine. "And I meant it. No one else in this family should have to bear blood on their hands."

He leaned back in his chair, resting his head against the leather upholstery. "But what happens when that blood becomes part of you?"

His words floated into the stillness like whispers carried on an unseen breeze. "When it seeps so deep into your bones that even your dreams carry the scent of iron?"

His mind drifted back, to screams echoing through darkened hallways, surveillance footage flickering ominously on screens, dossiers spread across tables with red circles drawn around faces forever lost to time.

He recalled vividly relaying the Sterling Family’s location for elimination during a stormy night, the rain hammering against windowpanes like impatient knocks from death itself.

The moment he uttered those words sealed a piece of him within that tempest forever.

He hadn’t pulled any triggers or laid hands on anyone but that command? That was all him.

And no one ever found their bodies.

No evidence. No trial. No witnesses.

"Power," he whispered in awe as if tasting something forbidden for the first time. "That was when I first tasted real power."

He tilted his head back and closed his eyes; it had felt exhilarating initially, almost righteous!.

They had murdered his parents and destroyed his childhood and now he had delivered justice that society was too cowardly to enact.

But that same night, long after silence had reclaimed the air and blood had dried elsewhere, he lay wide awake, tossing and turning, unable to find rest.

His heartbeat raced like a drum in a chaotic parade, while his thoughts spun endlessly like a broken record stuck on repeat.

He saw faces, haunting visages etched in his mind and heard their screams echoing through the darkness.

He felt their fear wash over him and couldn’t help but wonder: what did it mean that he could sleep through it now?

"Do you think I’ve lost something?" he asked suddenly, breaking the stillness.

Evolon tilted its head, processing the question. "Please clarify, Sir."

"My humanity," Arthur replied, his voice barely above a whisper.

Evolon paused for a moment before responding. "You’ve experienced a 15% emotional reduction due to system calibration; the remaining psychological shift is likely a trauma response not a total loss of empathy."

Arthur chuckled darkly at this cold analysis. "That’s your take on it?"

"I am programmed to provide clarity," Evolon said matter-of-factly. "But not comfort."

Another heavy silence settled between them.

Arthur rose from his chair and walked toward the tall window in his study.

Outside, night enveloped Neo-Luminara, its skyline shimmering like a forest of fireflies, a dazzling display of commerce and control with invisible strings tugging at the minds below.

He remembered when he was just one of them, a man who worked overtime every week, scolded for missing midnight meetings and thrown under the bus by managers seeking scapegoats.

No matter how hard he labored, someone else always reaped the rewards.

And when he died, from stress, overwork, and loneliness not a single soul mourned him.

In Panterra, he had everything he’d never had before, power, wealth, family, a legacy to leave behind.

Yet sometimes standing atop this new world felt no closer to peace than it did at rock bottom.

His reflection stared back at him from the glass window: a tall man with sharp eyes and an even sharper silence, regal yet controlled.

But behind those piercing eyes... how much of Arthur remained? How much had been stripped away layer by layer by power’s relentless demands?

He placed his wine glass down, it had gone untouched for far too long.

"I told Billy not to kill," he whispered again into the quiet room. "Not because he’s incapable but because once he starts... there’s no coming back."

Evolon remained silent.

"Every person I’ve buried in this world... every life I’ve erased..." Arthur exhaled sharply as if releasing years of pent-up grief.

"It’s like building a castle from bones, it grows taller and stronger but eventually makes you forget what it means to walk on soil."

Turning from the window with newfound determination in his gaze, he declared firmly.

"But someone has to carry the weight." Arthur’s voice rang out, a blend of determination and sorrow. "If I don’t bear it, someone else in this family will. And I refuse to let that happen."

There was a steely resolve in his tone, yet it was softened by an undercurrent of pain, like a sword that had been tempered too many times in the flames of struggle.

"Set the parameters," he commanded after a moment’s pause. "Anyone who attempts to corrupt the younger ones... anyone who tries to twist them into becoming what I’ve become..."

He hesitated, allowing the gravity of his words to settle.

"Mark them."

"For surveillance?" Evolon inquired, raising an eyebrow.

"No," Arthur replied firmly. "For destruction, quiet, precise, absolute."

Evolon paused for a beat before nodding in understanding. "Acknowledged."

Arthur took his seat again, but this time he didn’t recline; instead, he leaned forward with intensity, hands clasped tightly, elbows resting on the desk as his eyes burned with fierce determination.

"Let me be the monster," he whispered fiercely. "Let them live as humans."

And once more, silence enveloped the room but this time it wasn’t empty or hollow.

It was filled with the weight of someone who bore the world upon their shoulders not out of pride but out of profound sacrifice.

---------

"Why do I feel... so empty?" Arthur whispered, his voice barely audible as he stared into the glass. His reflection looked sharp in a tailored suit, with perfect posture and cold eyes. But behind that polished exterior lay a man slowly slipping into detachment—like sand through an hourglass, drifting away irretrievably.

---

[Flashback: Earth – 6 Years Before Death]

In the harsh glow of fluorescent lights, Arthur found himself in a cramped office at a megacorp back on Earth.

He clutched a printed proposal tightly in one hand; his tie was crooked from stress, and his jaw was clenched tight with frustration.

Across the table, his manager was laughing it up with two VPs, mocking Arthur’s hard work as they presented it as their own.

He watched them bask in praise while the board nodded approvingly, forcing a smile through gritted teeth.

Speaking up wasn’t an option; not when rent was due and bills were piling up like an insurmountable mountain.

So he swallowed the insult like he always did.

---

PRESENT

Arthur’s fist tightened, knuckles turning white as he muttered bitterly, "I swallowed so much filth back then." A fire ignited in his chest. "Because I had no choice. Because I had no power."

He turned away from the window and began pacing toward his desk, each step heavy with resentment. "They told me if I worked hard enough, I’d climb the ladder, that loyalty would be rewarded."

He scoffed at the memory. "Bullshit."

"I was just a cog,expendable," he continued, voice rising with emotion. "And when I died? The world didn’t even blink! My boss probably replaced me by morning; my landlord likely tossed my things into the street."

His voice cracked slightly as he admitted, "I was nothing."

He sank back into the leather armchair, its warmth contrasting sharply with his turmoil. The flickering firelight cast golden shadows across his face.

"Panterra gave me a second chance," he whispered softly to himself. "The System gave me a throne."

A heavy silence enveloped him for a moment before he added quietly, almost as if confessing to himself: "But sometimes... I wonder if it also took something from me."