The Extra Wants Control

The air crackled with a tension thicker than shadow in the dimly lit chamber. "Master," a voice rasped, barely a whisper in the oppressive silence. "The boy… he is gone."

A figure shrouded in darkness knelt at the man's feet, his form trembling. The man remained impassive, his back turned towards the moonlit window. "One job," he finally spoke, his voice a low growl. "Keep tabs on the boy..."

"He… he was last seen entering the forest," the subordinate stammered. "After purchasing a defective weapon and some scrap food… that's when we lost him."

Another figure, clad in gleaming light armor, stepped forward. "The curse placed upon him," he said, his voice clipped and professional. "It's gone. Erased, not broken."

A flicker of surprise crossed the man's shadowed form. "Erased? He seems to have found… external help." A humorless chuckle escaped his lips. "Doesn't matter. The curse was a slow poison. It should have eaten away at his memories, his potential, his very soul.

He wouldn't have been a threat."

"Leave him for now, we have bigger concens" he dismissed the kneeling figure, who vanished into the shadows with a silent bow.

Alone with his knight, the man turned towards the moonlit window. "That woman," he inquired, his voice heavy with a different kind of darkness. "How is she doing?"

"No news from the house, Master," the knight replied. "After the… banishment of her son, she isolated herself with her daughter. No servants, just them."

"Then so be it." The man nodded curtly. The knight bowed. "You may leave."

As the door shut behind him, a chilling smile twisted the man's face. "She must be broken, first the husband then the son…" he murmured to himself. "A shame I couldn't get my hands on the daughter. Brute force won't work against her. No, I need to break her spirit first. When she's at her weakest… vulnerable… then I strike."

A cruel laugh filled the room. "With the woman out of the way, and that… outsider's support, the path to becoming Patriarch is clear. No one will stop me. No one."

But a flicker of doubt, a wrinkle in his meticulously crafted plan, marred his triumphant smirk. "The boy…" he muttered, his voice losing its former certainty. "Eradicated by a curse or whisked away by an unknown power… could he truly be dead? Still my cold sister birthed him… I wonder how she'll react."

The man's grin returned, this one laced with morbid curiosity. The game had just taken an unexpected turn.

**********

The oak door creaked open, framing a young woman with fiery red hair and eyes that mirrored the fury of a summer sunset. She burst into the dimly lit chamber, her steps echoing on the cool stone floor.

"Mother," she called out, her voice tight with apprehension.

A figure cloaked in shadow slowly emerged from the corner. As the woman stepped into the moonlight.Before her stood a woman, older but undeniably her mother, with the same fiery mane and piercing gaze. Only time had etched lines on the older woman's face, lines that spoke of battles fought and burdens endured.

"I know," the elder woman said, her voice as steady as a mountain stream.

A long, heavy silence stretched between them, thick with unspoken emotions. Finally, the young woman broke it, her voice barely a whisper. "He's gone."

"He is."

"What should we do?" the young woman asked, her voice hardened with the resolve of steel.

"For now," the elder woman began, her gaze unwavering, "we strengthen ourselves. A storm is brewing, Eliana. A civil war approaches."

"That man," the young woman spat the name like a bitter pill. "He's gathered his rats, waiting for an opening."

"Let him gather them," the elder woman scoffed. "They can be dealt with. It's the bird circling above them I worry about. The one who whispers delusions of power into his ears."

Silence descended again,heavier this time.

"Go," the elder woman finally said, her voice firm. "Prepare yourself. I will teach you the sword art."

The young woman nodded, a steely glint returning to her eyes. And she left.

Now standing alone in silence the mature woman muttered "Raven" her thoughts remained unknown.

********

A bone-chilling cold seeped into Raven's bones, pulling him from the oblivion of unconsciousness. He cracked open an eye, then the other, his vision blurring and refocusing on a sight ripped straight from a fever dream.

A woman. Breathtakingly beautiful in a way that sent shivers down my spine, not just from the cold. Her black hair cascaded down her shoulders like a midnight curtain, framing eyes the color of smoldering embers. Crimson lips, painted in a stark contrast, seemed poised to deliver a cruel pronouncement.

The rest of her was opulence personified: a black dress that shimmered like a captured night sky whispered secrets of wealth and power, and red cross earrings with golden markings glittered in the spectral light emanating from her throne – an entire tableau carved from ice.

But it was her voice, husky and low, that truly anchored me to the cold stone floor. "Ancient lore spoke of a hero," she spoke, her gaze intensifying until it felt like he was being branded. "A human hero summoned from another world, a savior Summoned by unknown means, the human child grew at an impossible rate, exceeding the very limits of the species.

By the age of fifty, he had formed a deity domain,a feat not accomplished even by the most ancient and formidable races.

This anomaly, this beacon of hope, became humanity's champion. Alongside a handful of brilliant individuals, each a genius in their own right, but limited to the level of nine stars, they pushed back the tide of annihilation. They fought with the ferocity of a cornered beast, their combined might protecting the fragile human race from the threat of extinction.

From the ashes of war, a new dawn emerged. The human empire rose ruling the entire race. The savior, the one who defied the odds, ascended the throne as the first emperor. His companions, the elite few who stood beside him, were immortalized as the Six Grand Generals... so it says."

"You see," she continued, her voice taking on a dangerous edge, a predatory glint entering her crimson eyes. "My ancestor and I have one thing in common – we are blessed by death. The soul is our domain. I can see souls and interact with them."

Raven's breath caught in his throat. This wasn't mythology; she wasn't just powerful. This woman could peer into the very essence of a person, dissect his very being with a mere glance. A cold dread snaked its way through his gut – he was naked before her, his secrets laid bare.

"My ancestor also wrote of the summoned human hero."

"He said the hero's soul was dry, almost as if it grew without nourishment. But after time, as he interacted with mana and grew stronger, his soul nourished and became healthy."

She paused, the air crackling with anticipation. The silence stretched, heavy and oppressive. Then, her voice dropped to a chilling whisper that sent a shiver down Raven's spine.

"And you, child, have a weird soul.One half normal the other 'dried'. It's as if you are part of this world and at the same time you are not. So tell me, boy, what are you…?"

The final word hung in the air, a threat wrapped in a promise. The temperature plummeted further, the room becoming a tomb of ice. Raven's heart hammered against his ribs – a frantic drumbeat echoing in the oppressive silence. Lie or tell the truth? The answer, he knew, held the key to his survival.

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