"Yo!"
The sound sent shivers down my spine. I turned quickly, my gaze rising to the treetop above. There he stood, poised on a sturdy branch, his presence demanding attention.
His tall, lean figure appeared chiseled from the darkness itself, his midnight-blue attire blending seamlessly with the shadows. The white mask glinted like polished ivory in the faint moonlight, obscuring his features. Yet, an unmistakable aura of calm confidence radiated from him.
"Hey! Give me back all my books."
"I didn't think you'd chase me this far, Young Creed."
He leaned back, his fingers steepled against his chin, a hint of amusement flickering in his voice. But I wasn't about to let him stroll off with my precious books. My ancestral tome, a cherished family heirloom passed down through generations, was at stake. Its loss would be an irreparable blow to our family's legacy. Additionally, the other volumes were borrowed from the library, and losing them would lead to hefty fines or, worse, severe disciplinary action.
I couldn't afford to let him vanish with those books.
"What do you mean? Wait—"
I paused as I realized something. How did he know me?
"How do you know me?" I asked, my eyes narrowing as I scrutinized his enigmatic figure. The mask concealing his face only deepened the mystery, making it impossible to identify him. His low, smooth voice, both unfamiliar and intriguing, sent a shiver down my spine.
I racked my brain, trying to remember if we had ever crossed paths before, but my memory drew a blank. The silence between us thickened with tension as I awaited his response.
"I can't recall ever meeting a weird and ugly mask guy," I mumbled, still keeping my gaze locked on him.
"Ouch!" he exclaimed sarcastically, touching his heart. "You hurt my feelings, Young Lord."
"If we're done talking, I want my books back."
"I'll get straight to the point. I heard you've been searching for a trainer."
I sighed. "So the word has spread through the neighborhood."
So, the gossip had already made its rounds. No, wait—this shouldn't matter right now. The least of my concerns should be what others think.
"I guess it has," he shrugged off.
"I suppose it can't be helped," I said, glancing toward the ground. "I'm going back. Hand me my books, please."
I was already tired of chasing him; the last thing I wanted right now was a friendly chat.
"Not so fast, Young Lord," he shook his head. "I didn't summon you here for nothing."
Now, what did he want? Me to beg? Or have tea with him?
"I'll strike a deal with you."
He settled onto the branch, his gaze locking onto mine with an unnerving intensity. Though his mask concealed his eyes, I could sense their piercing scrutiny, boring into me like cold, calculating daggers. The air thickened, heavy with an unspoken challenge, as his masked face radiated a quiet, confident power.
"I'll teach you everything you need; in short, I'll be your trainer. However..."
He paused, his silence hanging in the air like a challenge. Then, with deliberate calm, he presented the deal he had been building up to, his words dripping with calculated persuasion.
As he finished speaking, a whirlwind of questions swirled in my mind, each one clamoring for attention. My thoughts raced with skepticism and curiosity, wondering what lay behind his enigmatic offer.
"Do we have a deal?" he asked.
I stood there, enveloped in silence, lost in contemplation. Time seemed to suspend as I weighed the pros and cons. But then, like a lightning bolt, my brother's face flashed in my mind—his bright smile, his unwavering optimism.
In this bleak landscape, I had no luxury of doubt or deliberation. Any deal, no matter its terms or conditions, was a risk worth taking. I would seize it with both hands, driven by the raw instinct to persevere.
In an instant, my doubts vanished. With resolute conviction, I spoke the words: "We have a deal."