Chapter 2: The Silent Boy

The weapon shop closed at sunset, as it always did.Mustak turned the wooden sign from OPEN to CLOSED without a word. The sound of metal brushing against metal echoed softly in the small space. Swords, spears, and broken blades lined the walls—tools meant for survival, not glory.He checked each rack carefully.Not because anyone told him to.Because silence demanded discipline.For years, this had been his routine. Work. Return home. Eat. Sleep. Wake. Repeat. He spoke only when necessary, and even then, only a few words. The villagers had stopped trying to understand him long ago.“Like always,” Rafiq muttered from the doorway, arms crossed. “He doesn’t say a thing.”Rafiq’s voice carried neither anger nor affection—only tired familiarity.“In the entire village,” he continued, “he talks to only two people.”Mustak paused for half a second, then resumed cleaning a blade.“Siddiq… and that other one,” Rafiq added. “I still don’t know if she even likes him. But he clearly likes her.”No reaction.Mustak slid the sword back into its place.For sixteen years, he had spoken the same sentence to those two people.“Become stronger.”Nothing more.Not about his thoughts.Not about his pain.Not about the world that had stolen childhood from everyone his age.Sixteen years of silence.But tonight was different.Rafiq stepped closer. His voice grew heavier.“Mustak… you’ve turned sixteen.”Mustak finally looked at him.There was no fear in his eyes. No excitement. Just still water.“It’s time,” Rafiq said quietly. “You’ll go to become a Destroyer.”The words did not shake him.“You know what that means,” Rafiq continued. “From now on… food for this family will come from you.”No protest.No hesitation.Mustak simply nodded once.That was his answer.Outside, the wind carried the dry scent of distant sand. Beyond the village border lay preserved lands—green forests breathing under a silent sky. And within those forests…Setam.The next morning, candidates gathered at the Destroyer training grounds.Boys and girls his age stood together, trying to hide trembling hands. Some looked determined. Some looked already defeated. All of them understood one truth:Few would return alive after two years.At the massive iron gate stood a guard. His voice was cold, rehearsed.“Welcome to Hell,” he said flatly. “May your death be quick.”The gates opened.Mustak walked forward.Inside the training hall, dozens of candidates assembled. The air was heavy—not with fear, but with inevitability.A man stepped forward. His presence alone quieted the room.Hanif.One of the strongest Destroyers alive.He scanned the candidates with indifferent eyes.“You’re here to live short lives,” Hanif said bluntly. “And to bring food to your families.”Silence.“If you are weak,” he continued, “leave now. The right to die belongs only to the strong.”No one moved.After a pause, Hanif added calmly, “Within two or three years, I will also die fighting Setam.”He said it as one might discuss the weather.“And I will finally be free.”Without another word, he turned and left.A different figure stepped forward.Samim.Unlike Hanif, her gaze was sharp—calculating.“To become a true Destroyer,” she began, “you must form a contract with a Dragon.”A ripple passed through the room.“Only after the contract,” she continued, “will real power awaken.”She lifted a hand slowly.“The Dragon will implant a seed of power into your spinal column. That seed will merge with your natural strength.”Someone swallowed audibly.“Seventy percent of all food you retrieve will belong to the government,” Samim added coldly. “They cannot use Dragon power themselves. So instead… they use us.”A few candidates stiffened.“There is one more rule,” she said. “Those who refuse the contract cannot be attacked by Destroyer power. But they can attack us.”Her eyes hardened.“And they have formed organizations to do exactly that.”The weight of the system settled over the room.This was not heroism.This was survival under chains.Samim’s voice softened slightly.“The Dragon will soon choose.”One by one, candidates would step forward.One by one, they would gamble their lives.Mustak stood still among them.Unmoving.Unshaken.Sixteen years of silence had not made him empty.It had made him unreadable.And somewhere deep within his spine… something ancient was already awake.