Chapter 267: They should’ve follow the advice

"I know you’re both devastated. But please, try eating something..."

Only two days had passed since the murders of Sylvan Nada and Alfred Hicth, and the entire world had been shaken to its core.

News of their deaths had spread like wildfire, leaving people everywhere in a state of disbelief. Authorities had launched investigations, soldiers had been dispatched, and countless questions had been raised. Yet, despite all their efforts, there was still no trace of the perpetrators.

They sat together in their shared bedroom, surrounded by untouched food.

Neither had the energy to leave, and neither had any desire to speak to anyone else. The outside world could continue searching for answers, demanding explanations, and discussing the tragedy as though it were another headline.

They had seen what happened. They had witnessed something that neither could comprehend, let alone forget.

And every time Asher closed his eyes, he found himself returning to that day.

***

"Uncle..."

His voice was barely audible.

He crawled to Sylvan, reaching out with trembling hands to shake him gently.

"Uncle, please. Wake up."

Asher shook him again, a little harder this time.

"Please, wake up!"

His voice cracked at the end.

He leaned closer, searching for any sign that Sylvan might respond. He waited for a movement, a word, anything that could prove that this was all some terrible misunderstanding.

But the silence remained.

"No... no, no, no..."

His eyes filled with tears, and before he could stop himself, he began sobbing uncontrollably again. His chest tightened, and his breathing became so erratic that he could barely draw in enough air.

Sylvan had been there for him through so much. He had been someone Asher could rely on, someone whose presence had always made the world feel a little less frightening. And now, without warning, he had been taken away from him.

Just like his parents did.

Asher lowered his head, his hands clutching at his uncle’s clothes

His mind kept replaying the moments leading up to the attack, desperately searching for something he could have done differently. If only he had reacted sooner. If only he had been stronger. If only he had somehow managed to stop those monsters before they could hurt anyone.

He squeezed his eyes shut.

Then, amid the chaos of his thoughts, he remembered someone.

The person who had convinced him to come here in the first place.

Anthony.

Asher’s sobs abruptly faltered.

He lifted his head, looking around with wide, frightened eyes. His gaze darted between the fallen soldiers, the damaged surroundings, and the bodies scattered across the area.

"Anthony...?"

His voice trembled. He scrambled to his feet, nearly stumbling as he hurried away from Sylvan.

"Anthony!"

He called out louder this time.

His heart sank the moment he heard no reply.

He searched the surrounding area, desperately hoping to catch sight of him.

"Anthony, where are you?!"

His voice echoed through the devastated area.

The soldiers were still scattered across the ground, all of them unconscious.

He ran past one of the nearest buildings, his eyes frantically scanning every corner.

Then he heard something.

Tap.

Tap.

Tap.

Asher stopped abruptly.

For a moment, he barely dared to breathe.

The sound was faint, but distinct enough to catch his attention.

What was that?

He forced himself to stand still, trying to calm his breathing so he could listen more carefully. His hearing had never been particularly remarkable, at least not to this extent.

Perhaps he was simply imagining things. Perhaps his mind, overwhelmed by everything that had happened, was playing tricks on him.

Tap.

Tap.

Tap.

Asher hurried inside.

The building was eerily quiet. Dust drifted through the faint light filtering in from the windows, and overturned furniture lay scattered across the floor. Asher glanced around, listening carefully for another sound.

There.

He turned towards a narrow corridor, at the end of which stood a small lumber-room.

The tapping was coming from inside.

Asher swung the door open. And there, in the dimness of the room, he found him.

Anthony was laying on the floor, tightly restrained. His hands were bound, and the restraints around his body prevented him from moving properly.

"A-Ash—Trail-X! Why are you here?!"

A fresh wave of emotion surged through Asher so suddenly that his knees nearly gave way. He hurried forward and knelt beside him, his hands shaking as he tried to undo the restraints.

"Hold on. Just hold on..."

His fingers fumbled with the bindings. He was so distressed that he could barely coordinate his movements, but he eventually managed to loosen them enough for Anthony to pull his arms free.

Anthony shifted painfully, rolling his shoulders as he tried to regain some movement.

"What happened?" Asher asked, his voice trembling. "Are you hurt? Did they do anything to you?"

Anthony barely seemed to hear the questions.

Instead, he immediately grabbed Asher by the shoulders.

"Did they escape? Did yoh defeat them?"

Asher went completely still, his gaze dropping to the floor. The tears that had momentarily stopped began gathering in his eyes again.

Anthony waited for an answer, his grip gradually loosening as he noticed the change in Asher’s demeanour.

"Asher?"

Asher shook his head.

He couldn’t bring himself to say it.

Anthony looked at him more closely. Unfortunately, with the mechanical suit covering his face, he couldn’t see Asher’s expression directly.

Then he noticed the damage.

Asher’s equipment was battered, with several sections visibly cracked and scratched.

"Tell me what happened."

Asher shook his head again.

"Are they still out there? Did they get away?"

Another shake of the head.

Anthony slowly released him and began pushing himself upright. His body ached from being restrained for so long, but he ignored the discomfort. Whatever had happened outside, he needed to see it for himself.

"Fine, then let’s go and see."

He took a step towards the doorway. Immediately, Asher grabbed his arm.

"Don’t go out there."

His voice was so faint that Anthony almost failed to hear it.

He turned around.

Asher’s hands were trembling, and his entire posture seemed to shrink beneath the weight of whatever he was trying to hold back.

Anthony felt something cold settle in his chest.

If Asher was this distraught, then what on earth had happened outside?

He tried to reason with himself. Perhaps the soldiers had been badly injured. Perhaps the buildings had been damaged. Perhaps the attackers had caused a great deal of destruction before escaping.

Those possibilities were terrible enough.

But they didn’t explain why Asher seemed so utterly broken.

"Stay here," Anthony said gently. "I’ll go and look. I can handle it."

Asher tightened his grip.

"Anthony, please..."

The plea stopped him for a moment.

He looked down at Asher’s hands, then carefully pried them away from his arm.

"I’ll be fine."

He didn’t know whether that was true, but he needed to find out what had happened. Whatever waited outside, he couldn’t keep hiding from it.

With that, Anthony stepped out of the building.

At first, everything looked much as he had expected. The soldiers were still lying across the area, their equipment scattered around them. The surroundings had been damaged, and the atmosphere was unnaturally still.

He took another step.

Then he looked properly at the ground ahead.

And stopped. There was blood, far more than he had expected.

His gaze followed the trail until it reached the figure lying at its centre.

For several seconds, Anthony couldn’t move.

His mind seemed to reject what he was seeing, desperately searching for some other explanation. Perhaps he was mistaken. Perhaps the person on the ground wasn’t who he thought it was.

But he knew.

He knew exactly who it was.

His lips began to tremble.

Anthony stared at the man, unable to comprehend how something like this could have happened.

Only moments ago, he had been trapped in a cramped room, desperately trying to figure out what was happening outside. He had imagined countless possibilities, but not this.

He slowly turned towards Asher.

Asher was standing near the entrance, his head bowed. He hadn’t followed Anthony outside, he couldn’t even bring himself to look in that direction.

He approached him without saying a word.

Asher’s shoulders began shaking again as Anthony drew nearer. The moment Anthony wrapped his arms around him, whatever remained of Asher’s composure crumbled.

He clutched at Anthony, sobbing into his shoulder.

"I-I don’t know..." he stammered. "One of them... he told me to look at the containers. I don’t know why. I don’t know..."

His words dissolved into broken breaths.

Anthony held him tightly, his own eyes beginning to water.

Eventually, he loosened his embrace and turned towards the containers in the distance.

His throat tightened.

***

Neither had spoken much since returning home.

They had barely slept, and the meals placed before them had remained almost entirely untouched.

Anthony glanced at the food on the table, them at his mother.

"I know you’re both devastated. But please, try eating something..."

He understood the concern. He knew that they couldn’t keep neglecting themselves indefinitely. But the thought of eating while his head was such a mess...

Asher sat beside him, staring blankly at the floor.

Anthony looked at him for a while before lowering his gaze.

He didn’t know what to say.

He was also shaken, but Asher had lost his only family, his own uncle in front of him. Anthony could only imagine how unbearable that experience must have been, and he felt helpless whenever he thought about it.

Yet there was something else troubling him, the containers.

He could still remember the moment he had looked inside them. At first, he hadn’t understood what he was seeing. His mind had struggled to make sense of the contents, desperately trying to find an explanation that didn’t involve the possibility he feared.

But there had been no mistaking it, inside those containers were human bodies.

The discovery had been so horrifying that, for a moment, Anthony had struggled to process anything beyond the immediate shock.

He had known that terrible things happened in the world. He had heard stories about cruelty, exploitation, and the lengths people would go to for their own gain.

But human trafficking was something he never dated to associate with Alfred Hicth, and even Asher’s uncle.

He had tried to imagine possible explanations, but none of them made the reality any less dreadful.

If someone he personally knew had treated these people’s lives as though they meant nothing, he wouldn’t just stay still.

Anthony clenched his hands. Perhaps he could find out more. He turned towards Asher.

"Your helmet and recorder are still intact, aren’t they?"

Asher slowly lifted his head. For a moment, he seemed confused by the question. Then he nodded faintly.

"Yes."

Anthony took a breath.

"And you said that man didn’t have a completely distorted voice."

"That’s right."

Anthony looked down, thinking carefully.

The memory of that day was still fresh in his mind, and he knew how easily they could overlook something important while overwhelmed by grief.

They couldn’t afford to make assumptions. If they wanted to find the people behind all of this assassination, they needed to work with whatever evidence they had.

They needed to uncover the truth about all of this.

The recording might contain a clue.

A word, a particular way of speaking, or some detail that could help them identify the stranger.

Anthony looked back at Asher, his expression growing more determined.

"Then, we’re going to find out who this person could be, through the recording."