The Day There Was No Forgiveness
Daverion stood motionless at the center of the road.
It was not a defiant stance, nor a careless one. He was simply there, as if the space belonged to him by default. His mind was still revolving around the future he had observed, around the ramifications that were still settling within him, when voices began to rise around him.
At first, they were scattered comments. Then, a tide.
"Why is he standing in front of the general of our dynasty?"
"Only important people are allowed there."
"What is a young man doing in that place?"
The words quickly lost shape. They twisted into laughter, sarcasm, and open disdain.
"Throw him out!"
"Arrest him for his stupidity!"
Most of the crowd shared that sentiment. Not everyone said it aloud, but it hung thick in the air. Nearly seventy percent were convinced that this was an insolence that needed to be corrected immediately.
A few, however, remained silent.
Not because they were kinder, but because something felt wrong. No one in their right mind stood there. And if someone did, there were only two possibilities: they had the means… or they were completely insane.
The leader in charge of receiving the guests advanced through the crowd. Each step was measured, his back straight, his expression controlled. He was a man accustomed to imposing order.
Everyone expected the same outcome.
That he would remove him.
That he would humiliate him.
That he would correct the "mistake."
But it did not happen.
The leader stopped in front of Daverion… and knelt.
The noise died instantly.
The voices vanished as if the air itself had been ripped away. The crowd hung in an unreal pause, unable to process what they were seeing. They doubted their own eyes.
Dael and Mateo went rigid. The same happened to the couple who had been watching the scene moments earlier with their two children. Only a small fraction, barely twenty percent, still demanded an explanation. The rest had fallen silent.
"Forgive me… for my stupidity."
The leader's voice did not tremble, nor was it arrogant.
"You do not require any invitation, sir."
Unease seeped through the crowd like a shadow, especially among those who had demanded punishment only seconds earlier.
The leader rose and spoke loudly enough for everyone to hear.
"Kill anyone who continues to speak ill of our guest."
The impact was immediate.
Some dropped to their knees.
Others stepped back, searching for escape routes.
A few tensed their bodies, preparing to fight.
In all of them, there was the same thing: fear… and regret.
Two figures positioned beside the leader began to move. Their intentions were clear. But before they could take another step—
Daverion looked at them.
There was no anger on his face.
No irritation.
Only a dense, uncomfortable calm, as if everything happening carried no real weight.
The mockery directed at him, the laughter, the contemptuous gazes… to them, it had been pressure. To him, it was nothing more than noise.
Ants.
That was what they were.
Tiny creatures scurrying about, convinced their movement mattered. Not because they were brave or dangerous, but because they had never been crushed.
Daverion did not need to prove anything.
He did not need to respond.
He could erase them whenever he wished… or allow them to exist.
Both options were equally meaningless to him.
It was not their words that could reach him.
Not their gestures.
Not their contempt.
None of it held value on its own.
Only one thing could affect him: his own decision to give it meaning.
They were not the ones speaking.
He was the one choosing to listen.
Offense did not exist until he accepted it.
An insult had no weight until he decreed it so.
Respect was not demanded.
It was recognized… or corrected.
They decided nothing.
They were not the factor.
They were not the cause.
They were not even a relevant variable.
Everything passed through him.
Through what he thought.
Through what he allowed.
Through what he was willing to tolerate… or erase.
Whether they spoke or remained silent, the result would not change.
Because it was not the world judging him.
It was him who, in silence, decided the fate of the world before his eyes.
"Leave them. I'm not interested in all this."
The two figures stopped immediately. They looked to the leader. When he nodded, they lowered their guard.
The leader let out a slow breath, still uneasy. His fear was not superficial. He was desperately searching for a way to appease Daverion.
He had seen his own death.
And it terrified him.
The crowd exhaled as one. Some did not know how to react. The shift had been brutal, from the edge of hell to fragile calm in an instant. Emotions crashed over them like a wave.
The apologies came quickly.
"Thank you for your mercy."
"I… I'm sorry."
"Thank you, sir."
"Forgive us… we didn't know… we didn't know anything."
The voices overlapped.
"Dad, why is everyone scared of him now?"
The father lifted his child.
"Because he is powerful."
"More than a general?"
The man hesitated.
"I don't know… generals are very powerful."
As he said it, their gazes drifted toward the carriage behind Daverion.
A general was resting there.
From inside, a voice filled with submission and respect emerged.
"My son showed you disrespect earlier. I ask forgiveness for his actions."
The general stepped down from the carriage and bowed.
All the arrogance he had shown in the future Daverion had observed had completely vanished.
The crowd stirred uneasily.
The couple who had previously compared Daverion to a general were stunned.
"It seems… his friend is stronger than a general."
The children stared with wide eyes, their admiration bordering on fanaticism.
Yu Wei did not understand why his father did not seize the opportunity to press the advantage.
Yu Tian, noticing that Daverion neither demanded explanations nor asked to see his son, understood something clearly.
They had escaped disaster.
From time to time, his gaze drifted toward his own shadow, recalling what he had seen.
"I will take my leave without causing further disturbance."
He boarded the carriage, which lifted into the air and flew away.
The people did not understand why the general left in such haste. He seemed to avoid even being near Daverion.
The leader watched… and hesitated.
He was not a clever man, but he knew the unwritten rules of power.
One who flees decides.
One who decides without permission transgresses.
Inside the carriage, Yu Wei was furious.
"Why are we leaving? We could have used the disrespect he showed to get revenge."
"He is not someone we can afford to provoke," Yu Tian replied, looking at him sternly. "But if I ever get the chance to destroy"
Before Yu Tian could finish the sentence, something changed.
It was not visible at first.
It was internal.
The air inside the carriage grew heavy, motionless, as if it had forgotten how to move. Yu Tian felt a sudden pressure in his chest, not pain, but a force pushing outward from within, compressing everything. Sound vanished instantly. There was no silence… there was absence.
Yu Wei's eyes widened in terror.
At the center of the carriage, before them, space itself warped. It did not burn. It did not shine yet. First appeared an impossible figure: a flower made of pure geometry, perfect and motionless. At its core, a tiny sun rotated slowly. Around it, small stars orbited with unnatural calm.
Yu Tian still had words trapped in his throat.
They never left his lips.
The pressure intensified.
The walls of the carriage began to crack without sound, thin lines spreading like ruptured veins. Everything near that flower began to disintegrate, not burn, not shatter, but vanish, as if matter had lost its right to exist there.
Yu Wei's vision drained into black and white.
His ears began to ring… and then felt nothing at all.
The carriage opened.
It did not explode.
It opened like a violent flower.
Petals of metal and fire were expelled outward in a single, absolute impulse. In that same instant, the carriage ceased to exist entirely, erased before sound could reach it.
In the sky, those watching saw the carriage advance… and then halt unnaturally.
From its center, the figure was born.
A colossal flower, a sun at its core and stars orbiting it, unfolding in the air. Petals of metal and flame burst outward as an invisible ring of pressure expanded, bending the air and sweeping everything in its path.
Then the sound arrived.
A delayed, brutal roar that shook the sky and left ears ringing. The shockwave struck the crowd like a violent gale. Some crouched by instinct, others were thrown backward, others barely managed to stay on their feet.
The boom left the air trembling.
For a moment, no one spoke.
Dael was on his knees without remembering when he had fallen. His hands pressed into the ground, fingers digging into the dirt as if he needed to confirm he still existed. His breathing was shallow, uneven. He slowly lifted his gaze, searching for Daverion… and when he found him unharmed, a chill ran down his spine.
Mateo had not moved. He remained standing, rigid, eyes too wide. The ringing still echoed in his ears, but that was not what paralyzed him.
It was certainty.
Not fear.
Not surprise.
Absolute certainty that if Daverion had wanted to, none of them would still be there.
He swallowed.
Nearby, the vendor who had offered Daverion food while they waited was sitting on the ground, his back against a post. His cart had overturned, but he did not care. His eyes were fixed on the sky, on the flower-shaped cloud that had yet to disperse.
His lips trembled.
"I… I sold him food…"
There was uncertainty in all three of them, but something told them this had everything to do with Daverion.
When the wind finally settled, only an immense cloud remained suspended in the sky.
It was shaped like a flower.
Fear spread instantly. Screams. Chaos. The entire palace went on alert.
The wind was not violent toward Daverion. Only strong enough to stir his clothing, to make his hair ripple slowly, as if even the shockwave knew how far it was allowed to go.
Daverion turned.
His eyes rose toward the sky, where the cloud still hung, open and vast, bearing the perfect shape of a flower.
"Truly… you never had a second chance."
He recalled his own words.
He had said he would allow it only this once.
That there would be no other opportunity.
A soft laugh escaped his lips, brief, almost imperceptible.
"But I lied."
The wind dissipated.