Silence filled the heart of the Museum of Tyrants.
Lucas remained standing before the ancient portrait, his eyes shifting between the painted figure and the man standing several meters away. Moonlight filtered through cracks in the domed ceiling, casting pale silver across the chamber and illuminating both faces at once. The resemblance was impossible to ignore. The man within the painting and the man before him were one and the same.
For a long moment, neither of them spoke.
Lucas was still trying to process what he had discovered.
Thousands of statues.
Thousands of rulers.
Thousands of faces.
Yet behind every face lingered the same presence.
The same gaze.
The same will.
Finally, Lucas broke the silence.
"What are you?"
The question escaped before he could stop it.
Not who.
What.
Even Lucas realized the difference.
After everything he had seen inside the museum, identity no longer seemed like the right question.
Gatto did not answer immediately.
His eyes drifted back toward the portrait hanging on the wall.
For the first time since their meeting, he appeared genuinely old.
Not old in appearance.
Old in a way that transcended age itself.
As if thousands of years were finally showing through the cracks of an otherwise ageless face.
"I was human once."
The answer made Lucas frown.
"Once?"
A faint smile crossed Gatto's lips.
"I believe that is the most honest answer I can give."
Lucas disliked the response, but before he could press further, Gatto continued.
"You came here seeking answers about me."
Lucas remained silent.
"When in truth," Gatto said softly, "I am not the one you should fear."
His gaze slowly shifted toward the distant mountains beyond the museum.
"You should fear Samir."
The name instantly sharpened Lucas's attention.
"What do you know about him?"
"Enough."
"Then tell me."
But Gatto simply shook his head.
"I have lived long enough to learn something important."
"And what is that?"
"People learn faster through fear than they do through explanations."
Lucas clenched his jaw.
The answer was frustrating.
Yet deep down, he knew Gatto was not avoiding the question.
He was warning him.
And somehow that felt far more unsettling.
The ancient tyrant continued staring toward the horizon.
Then, for the briefest moment, Lucas saw something he never expected to find in Gatto's expression.
Concern.
It was subtle.
Almost invisible.
Yet it was undeniably there.
And that single emotion chilled him more than the cold mountain air.
"I am the past that refused to die," Gatto said quietly.
A long silence followed.
Then he added:
"Samir is the future that refuses to be born."
Lucas frowned.
"What does that even mean?"
No answer came.
When he looked back, Gatto had already turned away.
His figure disappeared into one of the museum's shadowed corridors, slowly swallowed by darkness until nothing remained.
Lucas stood alone among thousands of silent stone faces.
For the first time since entering the museum, he felt truly isolated.
Morning arrived as Lucas descended from the mountains.
Thin clouds drifted across a pale sky while cold winds swept through the valleys below. Throughout the journey, Gatto's final words continued to echo inside his mind.
Samir is the future that refuses to be born.
The more he thought about it, the less sense it made.
Yet somehow he could not let it go.
Ever since their first encounter, Samir had felt different.
Different from ordinary people.
Different from other Vessels.
Different from anyone Lucas had ever met.
Samir never spoke with hatred.
Never acted out of anger.
Never sought power for its own sake.
That was precisely what made him dangerous.
He was not trying to change the world because he despised it.
He was trying to change it because he genuinely believed he was saving it.
And that frightened Lucas more than any tyrant ever could.
By late afternoon, he reached one of the major trade routes connecting the western territories. Merchants, travelers, and caravans moved along the road, carrying goods between distant cities.
That was where he first heard the name.
Velmora.
A prosperous trade city known for its markets and open plazas.
Ordinarily Lucas would have ignored the conversation.
Until an elderly merchant sitting beside the road said something strange.
"The city feels different these days."
Lucas stopped.
"Different how?"
The merchant scratched his beard.
"Hard to explain."
"Safer?"
"I suppose."
"More peaceful?"
The old man nodded.
"Yes."
"Then why do you look like someone who has lost something?"
The merchant opened his mouth.
Then hesitated.
Several seconds passed.
Finally, he shook his head.
"That's exactly the problem."
Lucas felt a quiet unease settle in his chest.
That evening he increased his pace.
The next morning, Velmora appeared on the horizon.
At first glance, it looked perfect.
The city walls stood intact.
No smoke rose into the sky.
No signs of battle marked the streets.
The gates were open.
Merchants entered and exited freely.
Everything appeared normal.
Yet the moment Lucas stepped through the gates, something felt wrong.
Not visibly wrong.
Emotionally wrong.
The city was too quiet.
Not quiet because there were no sounds.
Quiet because there were no feelings.
Merchants sold their goods.
Customers bargained for prices.
Workers carried supplies.
Children played in the streets.
Life continued exactly as it should.
And yet something essential was missing.
No one laughed.
No one argued.
No one celebrated.
No one complained.
The city moved like a machine.
Perfectly functional.
Completely hollow.
Lucas continued walking.
The discomfort grew stronger with every street he crossed.
Two men collided while turning a corner.
Normally one of them would curse.
Or apologize.
Or react somehow.
Instead, they simply stared at one another for several seconds before continuing on their way.
A child stumbled and fell from a short flight of stone steps.
His mother helped him stand.
Yet her face remained utterly calm.
No fear.
No relief.
No concern.
Only action without emotion.
Lucas quickened his pace.
The more he observed, the worse the feeling became.
Near the marketplace, he noticed an old man sitting alone on a bench, clutching a faded photograph.
Lucas approached.
"Who is that?"
The old man lowered his gaze toward the picture.
"I don't remember."
Lucas blinked.
"Then why keep it?"
The old man studied the photograph for several moments.
Then slowly shook his head.
"I don't know."
Lucas left without another word.
Now he understood.
This was not merely the absence of negative emotions.
Something much deeper was disappearing.
Attachment.
Memory.
Meaning.
The invisible bonds that connected people to one another.
The very things that made them human.
His footsteps eventually carried him toward the city center.
A vast plaza opened before him.
Hundreds of citizens stood gathered around a stone monument.
Yet the square was silent.
No conversations.
No laughter.
No curiosity.
Only stillness.
Lucas immediately sensed it.
A faint trail of white energy lingered in the air.
Barely visible.
Yet unmistakable.
Samir had been here.
Recently.
The residue of his presence remained woven throughout the city like threads drifting on the wind.
Lucas slowly clenched his fist.
Anger stirred within him.
And suddenly he realized something horrifying.
He was the only person in the entire plaza still capable of feeling it.
The only one.
Among hundreds of living people.
A small voice interrupted his thoughts.
Lucas turned.
A young boy stood nearby.
No older than ten.
The child was staring at a dead bird lying beside the road.
Lucas waited.
Most children would feel something.
Sadness.
Fear.
Curiosity.
Anything.
But the boy's face remained empty.
Then he spoke.
"The man in white said there's no reason to cry."
Lucas felt his chest tighten.
"The man in white?"
The boy nodded.
"He said pain only causes people to hurt each other."
Lucas looked at the dead bird.
Then back at the child.
"What do you think?"
The boy considered the question.
For a very long time.
As though searching for something buried deep inside himself.
Something that should have been there.
Something that was gone.
Finally, he lowered his head.
"I don't know."
The answer struck Lucas harder than any blow.
Because for the first time, he truly saw the result of Samir's actions.
Not a city in ruins.
Not a battlefield covered in corpses.
Not destruction.
Something far worse.
A world slowly losing its ability to feel.
As Lucas looked across Velmora, he finally understood the horror hidden behind Samir's vision of salvation.
Samir was not saving humanity.
He was erasing it.
One emotion at a time.
And if no one stopped him...
one day the entire world would become like this city.
Silent.
Peaceful.
Empty.