Getting A System In A Modern World

After six months of fighting the Black Hand, the world's governments and isolating himself in the underground facility, Silas finally went home to his family.

As he walked through the door, everyone looked at him with strange and complicated expressions on their faces.

His father seated on the sofa, looked at him and sighed. He didn't know what to say or do.

Kim just sat in her position, with a wry smile on her face as she looked between Silas and Alex.

As for Alex, he slowly walked towards Silas and hugged him tight, before breaking down in tears.

"Silas…" Alex whispered, his voice cracking as he rushed toward his older brother. The small frame collided into Silas's torso, arms clutching him tightly, as though he might vanish again if he let go.

Silas felt the familiar tug of pain in his chest—the kind no battlefield, no enemy, no weapon could ever cause. It was the pain of guilt, of absence, of knowing he had hurt the people he loved most. He could feel Alex's tears soaking into his shirt as the boy's quiet sobs turned into loud, uncontrollable cries.

Silas instinctively began caressing Alex's hair, his voice low and soothing. "Hey, champ. It's fine. I'm here now."

That only made Alex cry harder. His shoulders shook as he tried to speak, but no words came out—only the gasping breaths and choked sobs of a child who had spent six months not knowing if his brother was alive or dead.

Silas didn't say anything else. He simply scooped Alex into his arms as though he were still small enough to carry. He walked to the sofa, lowered himself onto it, and let Alex curl up on his lap. Silas began patting his back slowly, rhythmically, in the same way he had done when Alex was little and scared of the dark.

For the next several minutes, nothing was said. The only sound in the room was the clock ticking on the wall and Alex's soft cries gradually subsiding.

Kim watched quietly, wiping away a tear that had escaped her eye, while Chris looked away, his expression torn between pride and sadness.

It wasn't until Alex's breathing finally evened out, and he had drifted off to sleep against Silas's chest, that Silas stood up. Carefully, he carried Alex to his room, placing him on the bed and tucking him in. The boy's face, even in sleep, was streaked with dried tears.

Silas lingered for a moment, brushing Alex's hair back. "I'm sorry, buddy," he whispered softly. "I didn't mean for it to be like this."

---

When Silas returned to the living room, the silence hadn't changed. His father gestured for him to take a seat, his expression unreadable. Silas obeyed, sinking into the chair across from Chris and Kim.

Chris leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his hands clasped tightly together. For a moment, he didn't say anything, and Silas felt the weight of his father's gaze pinning him down.

"Son," Chris began, his voice steady but heavy, "we understand that some of the things you do… you're doing them to protect us and those close to you. And we know you have secrets—secrets you have to keep for your safety and ours. But there's something I need to ask you."

Silas felt his chest tighten as Chris's gaze became sharper, more intense. The atmosphere in the room shifted, the quiet becoming suffocating.

"Son, what do you aim to achieve with all this? What are your goals? Your ambitions?" Chris paused for a moment, as if choosing his next words carefully.

"Are you doing all of this because you can? Because you want to? Or because you have to?"

Chris's voice dropped lower, the next question carrying the weight of all the confusion and fear Silas' family had endured. "Do you plan to rule the world?"

The barrage of questions left Silas stunned. For the first time in a long while, he didn't have an answer. His mouth opened, but no words came out.

"I… I…" Silas stuttered, his gaze locked with his father's. He had fought wars, taken down organizations, and stood against the most powerful people in the world, yet here he was, unable to speak under the weight of his father's simple question.

What did he aim to achieve? Had he ever thought about it? He had been so focused on revenge, so consumed by dismantling the Black Hand and stopping the chaos they created, that he hadn't looked beyond it.

His actions had been mostly reactive, driven by anger and the need to protect those around him. But now, sitting here, he realized he had no clear answer.

"No," Silas said finally, his voice soft but firm. "I don't want to rule the world."

Chris raised a brow, waiting for him to continue.

Silas ran a hand through his hair, sighing. "Managing Venezuela alone is hard enough. Why the hell would I want to add the entire world to my list of problems?"

Kim snorted at that, unable to hide her smile. "Fair point."

"But seriously," Silas continued, his voice growing more reflective, "I never planned for things to escalate the way they did. I didn't think too deeply about the bigger picture—I just knew I had to stop them. I didn't have a choice.

The Black Hand went after us, after people I care about. They wanted to control everything, they planned to start a war and if I hadn't stepped in, they might have succeeded."

"And now?" Chris pressed. "The Black Hand is gone. You've won. But what happens next? You've put yourself at the center of the world, Silas. People look at you and don't see a person—they see a force of nature. What do you plan to do with that power?"

Silas leaned back in his chair, rubbing his temples as he thought about it. "I don't know," he admitted. "I don't want to be a ruler, and I definitely don't want to be worshiped.

But I do want to protect what matters. If someone else rises up to threaten the world, I won't stand by and do nothing."

Chris studied his son carefully. "And what happens when people decide you're the threat?"

Silas smiled faintly, but there was no humor in it. "Then they'll learn how wrong they are."

---

The weight of the conversation seemed to lift slightly. Chris leaned back in his seat, exhaling slowly.

He wasn't entirely satisfied with Silas's answers, but he understood one thing: Silas hadn't been consumed by power. Whatever his son was now, he was still trying to do the right thing in a complicated world.

Kim spoke up next, her voice gentler. "Silas, just promise us one thing."

"What's that?" he asked.

"Whatever you decide to do, don't shut us out again. You don't have to face the whole world alone. We're your family. We're here for you."

Silas looked at her and nodded, a small, genuine smile appearing on his face. "I promise."
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Chris stood, walking over to Silas and placing a hand on his shoulder. "We may not understand everything you're doing, son, but we'll stand by you—just don't lose yourself in all of this."

Silas met his father's gaze, the unspoken bond between them solidifying. "I won't."

---

Later that night, Silas sat on the edge of Alex's bed, watching his little brother sleep peacefully. The tears were gone, replaced by the steady rhythm of his breathing. Silas reached out and brushed a hand through Alex's hair, guilt still gnawing at him.

"I'll protect you," Silas whispered softly. "No matter what."

As he stood up to leave, Luna's voice echoed softly in his head.

{Master, reports are coming in. Hidden movements across Europe and Asia suggest the families are stirring.}

Silas paused, glancing back at his sleeping brother. His expression hardened slightly. "Let them stir. I'm ready."

For now, though, he would let himself breathe. For tonight, Silas Kurt was just a son and a brother.

Tomorrow, the world could have him again.