NOVEL WEB Chapter 5: Step Five: Master Power, Control, and Precision
Because strength without focus is wasted energy.
Asher walked back towards the vast and dimly lit room, the only illumination coming from the lamp and faint glow of ethereal runes inscribed on the walls.
They were ancient symbols that hummed softly, resonating with the strange energy he'd just tapped into.
The cool air kissed his damp skin.
Every muscle in his lean, toned body tightened, the familiar ache from exertion mingling with the electric thrill of power.
He unwrapped the towel from around his hips, steam still rising faintly from his damp skin, muscles flexing as he reached for the clothes Silvia had laid out with care.
The training set wasn't ordinary by any standard: it gleamed with a faint, liquid-metal sheen, catching the low ambient light and reflecting it back like a dark mirror fractured by stars.
The fabric was a hybrid blend of adaptive nano material and memory-thread mesh, whisper-light yet reinforced with micro-armor scales beneath, like a second skin forged from shadow and steel.
The outer layer was jet-black with subtle violet undertones that shimmered when he moved, and etched along the seams were lines of indigo energy-conducting thread—thin, almost invisible veins that would sync with his lightning core to regulate heat and disperse excess voltage.
The high collar framed his throat with a regal stiffness, and the long sleeves ended in reinforced cuffs, subtly embossed with claw-like ridges designed for close-range defense.
Straps crisscrossed the torso like harnesses: sleek, adjustable, made from obsidian-dyed synth-leather. They weren't decorative. Each strap could be locked into modular armor components or concealed blade sheaths.
Around the waist, a magnetic belt allowed weapon attachment, and twin loops sat low on the hips, designed for fast-access holsters or energy capsule storage.
The pants tapered into fitted combat boots, form-fitted and durable, molded to respond to sudden bursts of power without tearing.
Every inch of the outfit exuded precision, like it had been tailored for a war-born prince: something elegant, deadly, and entirely his.
Asher slid the gear on, piece by piece, and the moment the fabric kissed his skin, it adjusted to his frame with a quiet, intimate hum, syncing with his pulse.
It felt like armor, but also like a promise.
The fabric clung perfectly to his frame, emphasizing the lean strength of his sculpted arms and chest, his defined abs outlined beneath the tight yet fitted clothes.
Asher felt a surge of confidence, pride, and the faintest echo of hope.
The world outside would soon be broken and cruel but here, in this quiet sanctuary, he was reclaiming himself.
Not the fragile pawn, the family's discarded son or the experiment waiting to be dissected.
His fingers lingered on the intricate embroidery of the sleeves, threads of silver woven through midnight blue, symbols of space and darkness intertwined in elegant patterns.
The outfit wasn't just clothing. It was a statement, a promise. To himself, and to whoever was watching from the shadows.
As the last strap snapped into place, Silvia padded into the master bed room with her graceful, predatory poise.
The celestial wolf beast's coat was an iridescent cascade of silver and sapphire, the fur rippling like liquid starlight under the artificial lights.
Her eyes, ancient and wise, locked onto Asher with an intensity that sent a shiver of anticipation down his spine.
"In the human world, you may not see me as I truly am," Silvia began, her voice low and steady, reverberating softly in the enclosed space.
"But I have lived through epochs beyond your reckoning. I have witnessed the rise and fall of civilizations and the birth of power from chaos. Your darkness and space abilities... They are not mere gifts. They are ancient forces intertwined with the celestial realms."
Asher's gaze sharpened. "Then tell me: how do I master them? How do I wield them without losing myself?"
Silvia stepped closer, the scent of wild earth and frost in her breath. "Darkness is not simply absence. It is a primordial energy, a shadow of creation itself. To wield it, you must embrace your fear, your pain, your anger—and let it fuel you, not consume you. It feeds on your emotions, yes, but only the controlled fire will burn bright without turning to ash."
She circled him slowly, claws tapping softly against the polished floor. "Space, however, is a different matter. Space is the fabric upon which all existence is painted. To manipulate it, you must see beyond the visible: sense the folds and creases in time and dimension. It requires discipline, patience, and trust in yourself. Space bends only when your will bends it, not the other way around."
Asher absorbed her words, the weight of them settling like a mantle over his shoulders. "Why are you telling me this? Why help me?"
Silvia's eyes gleamed with a hint of sadness. "Because you are a bridge, Master. Born between worlds, marked by power that many fear and few understand. I was once like you—an outcast, burdened with gifts no one wished to see. I learned to survive by becoming more than a mere beast, I know what you fears you face."
She stepped back, and with a fluid motion, produced a weapon from the shadows.
It was a sleek, elegant blade unlike any Asher had ever seen.
The hilt was forged from an unknown black alloy, woven with circuits that pulsed faintly with electric blue light.
The blade itself seemed almost liquid, a shimmering wave of darkness contained in razor-sharp form.
"This," Silvia said, placing the weapon in his hands, "is the Aether Fang. It resonates with your lightning, space and darkness. It can channel all three. It is not just a sword but it is an extension of your soul. Learn to wield it, and you will find your powers multiplied, your sword's edge sharpened beyond mortal limits."
Asher's eyes darkened as he reached out, fingers closing around the cool hilt.
The weapon felt like an extension of himself—alive, hungry, waiting.
Asher flexed his fingers around the hilt, the weight perfect, heavy but balanced, cold but alive.
"It's perfect," he whispered, voice rough with emotion.
It hummed faintly as if in response, the humming syncing up with his own heartbeat.
He could feel the raw potential coursing through the blade, a promise of devastating power tempered by his own will.
Silvia's tail flicked, a glint of approval in her sapphire eyes. "You are more ready than you realize. But the path ahead will test you like never before. Your enemies are not just those who hunt in the shadows, they are those who walk among the light, wearing masks of loyalty."
Asher's mind flashed to James and Kieran.
His two older brothers whom he trusted.
Was it truly them who betrayed him?
Or was it all another layer of Rene's deception?
He clenched his jaw.
He had to find out the truth.
"I will use this," Asher said quietly, "to take back what's mine. To uncover the truth. And to make sure no one betrays me again."
Silvia's tail flicked once, almost approving. "Good. But remember, power without control is destruction. Harness your darkness and space, learn to wield them as one. That is the key to survival... and revenge."
Asher sheathed the Aether Fang across his back, the blade melding seamlessly with his gear.