Chapter 3 - Noviosk, le Truand
I watch Danayat sleeping in my bed, her fur still damp from our time together. I’ve been dreaming of this moment for cycles. She’s softness wrapped in steel. She seduced me without even trying—and I chased her with relentless focus. Tonight, I finally succeeded.
I feel strong. Invincible. Maybe it’s the surge of pleasure still coursing through my body. Maybe it’s just knowing she chose me.
We’re young. Too young to live on our own. But I’ll be patient. Her family lives in another sector of Srebat, but that’s not a problem. After tonight, her parents will expect our bond to grow.
Sleep won’t come. My mind spins with what-ifs and plans. I step outside to breathe in the quiet before dawn.
Paviok is already there, arms folded, perched on a crate like he’s been waiting for me.
“It’s done, then?” he snaps. “You finally got it out of your system?”
“Master?”
“For cycles, you’ve been thinking with your dick instead of your brain. I let it slide—youth and all that. But now that it’s over, it’s time to get back to what matters. Kick her out. Training resumes immediately.”
“You want me to wake her? Escort her home?”
I shouldn’t be surprised. Paviok was never one for tenderness. He’s the hard hand that keeps the southern sectors of Srebat under control. Always firm. Always brutal. That’s the price of order, he says. Without it, there’s only chaos.
He’s cruel—but never dishonest. Never once lied to me. And as a Srebat, I’d know if he had.
We’re built to detect falsehoods. A lie triggers a different part of the brain—it’s imaginative, ungrounded. The truth echoes in memory and experience. Srebats feel that difference. We sense the tremor in the voice, the bitter tinge in the breath.
And Paviok? Never once lied. Twisted truths, sure. But never fabricated.
“I don’t want you to walk her home,” he continues. “I want her gone. Out of our sector. She doesn’t come back. Ever.”
“But, Master—”
“Noviosk.” His voice sharpens. “What have I taught you? This world is cruel. Only the strong survive. I raised you to replace me—to lead. And now you’re letting a girl soften you?”
He says it like it’s a disease. Like love is rot. And maybe, in our world, it is.
“She’s your test,” he growls. “Pass it.”
I say nothing. There’s no argument to win here.
I return to the room. Danayat still sleeps, curled in warmth, skin glowing in the dim light. My chest tightens.
“Danayat,” I whisper. “You need to get up. You have to leave. Now.”
She groans. “Nov… let me rest a little. My legs barely work. You were… intense.”
Her words should fill me with pride—but dread creeps in. Paviok won’t wait long.
Right on cue, he barges in.
Danayat bolts upright, clutching the sheet. Her golden eyes wide, confused.
Then a thin crimson line blooms across her throat.
She doesn’t understand. Neither do I.
Paviok stands beside me, holding a bloodstained blade.
“There,” he says. “No more distractions. She’d have weakened you, son. You’ll thank me someday.”
No hesitation. No regret.
And as the light fades from her eyes, a locked door deep inside me cracks open.
Flashback – Thirteen Cycles Ago
Screams wake me. My father bursts into our room.
“Bartiosk! Take your siblings. Paviok’s attacking with his men. I’ll try to talk him down!”
“Are you mad?” my mother pleads. “We should run!”
“Run where? We have a duty to our people!”
He vanishes into the smoke.
My baby sister wails. My brother is frozen.
“Take her!” he snaps at me. “Get her quiet!”
I cradle her. I can’t stop her screaming.
Moments later, my mother runs outside to find Father.
“I think the house is on fire!” Bartiosk yells.
We flee. Flames dance across the ceiling. Smoke claws at our lungs.
At the front door, Bartiosk kicks it open. We stumble into the night. The air is a relief, though still thick with ash.
My sister’s cries have stopped. Maybe she’s asleep?
The village burns around us. Shadows flee, screams echo. It’s hell.
“Noviosk—there!” Bartiosk shouts.
In the clearing, our mother kneels beside a body—my father. His head lies apart from his body.
“Mama!” I shout.
She rises, shakily.
“Run! Go! Don’t look back!”
“No!” Bartiosk screams. “We won’t leave you!”
He runs to her. So do I. I’m barely present. The world feels unreal.
Then a deep voice.
“Well, well. The children of Pominsk.”
Paviok steps from the smoke, blade glowing.
“Didn’t think I’d have to finish the job myself. But here you are.”
“Paviok!” my mother sobs. “Please—”
“Nothing personal. Only the strong survive. Pominsk spread weakness. I ended it.”
“We were happy,” she says, broken.
“Happiness is a liability. And look—his blood stains the ground, not mine.”
“Damn you,” she spits. “He was a good leader. A good man.”
“And weak,” Paviok replies. “You, with your three children? We’ll fix that.”
“Give me the baby,” Bartiosk whispers.
He takes her, cradling her tight.
“I’ll take care of them,” he says to Paviok. “Please… let us go.”
“You’re no threat,” Paviok replies. “You’re not Srebats. You’re burdens.”
“We’ll stay out of your way. I swear it.”
“What’s your age, boy?”
“Twelve. Noviosk is seven. The baby—barely one.”
Paviok studies us. Then he sighs.
“Shame. A true Srebat never begs.”
Bartiosk lifts the baby.
Paviok strikes.
Bartiosk falls.
The baby tumbles from his arms.
“She was already dead,” Paviok says. “And the boy? I’d be a fool to let him grow up.”
I lunge at him.
He knocks me out with a single blow.
Through the haze, I see my mother’s throat open, her life pouring out.
A soldier approaches.
“What about the survivors?”
“Kill them all,” Paviok says. “Except this one. I’ll raise him right. He’s young. He’ll forget.”
Return to Present.
But I didn’t forget. Not anymore.
The moment Danayat died like my mother did—I remembered everything.
Paviok said he saved me. He said my family died.
He never lied. But he twisted the truth into a prison I couldn’t see. He built me in his image. Cold. Detached. Efficient. But he underestimated the one rule he taught me:
Attachment is weakness.
And he… got attached.
I look at him now—my mentor, my killer, the man who called me son.
“You trained me well, Master,” I say. “I’m everything you hoped for.”
He stands taller, proud. He doesn’t see the blade. He opens his arms—an embrace, for once in his life.
I step into it.
I strike.
Steel slides beneath his arm, straight into his heart.
His breath catches. He stares, betrayed and silent.
“I’ll never forget,” I whisper. “You taught me everything. But you forgot your own lesson.”
He crumples.
I kneel beside his dying body.
“Don’t worry about your empire. I’ll expand it. Refine it. Perfect it. But your name? That dies with you.”
I rise.
No tears. No doubts.
Just resolve.
“In this universe, only the strong survive,” I say.
“And I’m no longer just strong. I am inevitable.”