Roseiral walked briskly beside Giovane, her eyes scanning the streets as they made their way through the heart of the city. The morning was already beginning to warm up, and the usual sounds of chatter, footsteps, and distant merchants filled the air. She glanced over at Giovane, noting that he was unusually quiet for the moment, his usual cocky demeanor replaced with a focus on their path.
As they turned down another narrow street, Roseiral couldn't help but notice the familiar sights—the wooden stalls, the smell of brine in the air, and the distant hum of the eel fishing shop that always seemed to linger around this part of town. She furrowed her brow. It seemed as though they were heading in that direction.
"Are we going to the eel shop?" she asked, her voice tinged with curiosity, though a hint of skepticism lingered.
Giovane glanced over at her with a small, almost amused smile. "Did you think my house would be over there? I may work over there, but I don't live there." He gestured ahead with a flick of his wrist, a casual motion as if the thought had never occurred to him.
Roseiral stayed silent, but her mind was buzzing. She had expected him to take her to a place that looked more like a training ground or a secluded spot, not the middle of the bustling town. She was growing increasingly unsure about what to expect from this entire situation.
"You know what, beating this kid wouldn't be that bad," Roseiral muttered under her breath as Giovane gave her a smart-ass answer, his usual cocky grin in place. His words still echoed in her head, the nerve of him calling her out like that—like she was some sort of amateur.
As they walked on, the surroundings began to shift. The buildings grew larger, more ornate, their facades polished and gleaming in the morning sun. The streets, once lined with humble homes and merchants' stalls, now stretched with cobbled paths that led to towering estates surrounded by high, iron gates. The scent of fresh flowers replaced the salty brine of the eel shop, and the air seemed to carry an unspoken promise of wealth.
Roseiral took in the view, noticing the intricate details in the architecture and the polished stonework that adorned the walls of each mansion. They were deep in the heart of Viva di Oro, one of the richest provinces of the Heart Kingdom, renowned for its abundance and elite residents.
As they continued their walk, Roseiral's eyes lingered on a particularly grandiose mansion. It had a sprawling garden, statues of marble lining the pathways, and enormous windows that reflected the golden light of the day. The sign above the gate read "Casa di Luminare."
"That house," she pointed toward the mansion, her voice somewhat in awe, "that's the house of the Luminare family, right? They're the richest in the kingdom."
Giovane didn't even glance at the house. Instead, he kept walking, his pace unchanged, though the faintest trace of longing crept into his voice when he spoke. "Living in one of these houses would be a lifelong dream. But… that's not really my dream."
Roseiral raised an eyebrow at his tone, but she said nothing, sensing he wasn't in the mood to elaborate.
As they turned the corner, Giovane abruptly stopped and motioned ahead. "We're here."
Roseiral froze, looking around. "What? This is it?"
Giovane shrugged nonchalantly, his smirk returning. "What, you expected a grand training arena or something? It's just my place."
She narrowed her eyes. This wasn't what she'd expected at all. The building in front of them was a simple stone structure, nestled between two more elaborate homes. There was no sign of the grandeur of the elite. It seemed modest—perhaps too modest for someone who could afford the riches of Viva di Oro.
"Are you…" Roseiral hesitated, her thoughts racing. "Are you… part of the Luminare family?"
Giovane's face remained impassive, but there was a glint in his eyes, a subtle shift in his posture. "Yeah, no biggie." He shrugged, turning and walking toward the door of the stone house without waiting for her response.
Roseiral stood for a moment, her mind reeling. So much for keeping secrets.
As Roseiral followed Giovane into the house, she was immediately struck by the lavish interior. The foyer was expansive, with marble floors that gleamed beneath the light streaming in from high, arched windows. Grand chandeliers hung from the ceilings, their crystals shimmering like diamonds. The walls were adorned with rich tapestries depicting mythical creatures, legendary battles, and scenes of the Heart Kingdom's greatest victories, all framed in gold.
The air smelled faintly of fresh flowers and polished wood, the scent of expensive perfumes lingering in the atmosphere. Butlers in immaculate uniforms stood at attention, their faces composed and their movements fluid as they went about their duties, ensuring the household ran with silent precision. Antique furniture with intricate carvings lined the walls, and an array of delicate porcelain figurines rested on tables and shelves. The entire place radiated wealth, sophistication, and power.
Giovane, as casual as ever, waved his hand dismissively. "We'll be playing outside in the backyard," he told one of the butlers. The man nodded silently, offering no reaction to Giovane's informal tone.
Roseiral followed him down a long corridor, through several large rooms filled with more displays of wealth, until they reached the back door that led to the vast grounds. As she stepped outside, she was taken aback by the sheer size of the land that stretched out before her.
The garden was immaculate, with neat rows of hedges, carefully pruned trees, and vibrant flowers blooming in the sunlight. The path they walked along was paved with smooth stones, leading toward an expansive field that seemed to go on forever. But as they walked further, the ground started to shift, and the vast open space began to curve upward and inward, forming a circular shape.
At the center of the land, rising from the earth like some enormous structure out of a forgotten age, was a massive dome. The dome, built from dark, polished steel, reflected the sunlight with a cold, metallic sheen. It was clear now that this wasn't just a backyard—it was a purpose-built training arena, a place designed for intense combat, a space for warriors to hone their skills. The dome had no windows, only small vents and panels, and the walls seemed reinforced, made to withstand even the most brutal of clashes.
Roseiral could feel the weight of the place as they approached. The ground beneath her feet felt different here, solid and unyielding, as if the earth itself had been specially chosen to ensure the most difficult of training could take place. A faint hum vibrated in the air, and the metallic scent of the steel mingled with the fresh outdoors.
Giovane walked ahead, his eyes scanning the perimeter of the dome. "Here we are," he said, his voice still laced with the same nonchalance, though there was an edge to it now. "This is where you'll learn to use your hands." He gestured to the wide space inside, where the ground had been smoothed over, clearly ready for combat.
Roseiral glanced around, her heart racing. This was no ordinary backyard. This was a place where serious training would take place—where strength would be tested, and skills would be sharpened to perfection.
"Well," Giovane said, turning back toward her with that infuriating grin, "let's get started."
Giovane smirked, his body already a blur of motion. Before Roseiral could even brace herself, he was on her. His speed was unlike anything she'd seen before; it was as if he was more a shadow than a person. With a single swift push, he sent her flying back, the ground beneath her sliding away as her feet lost contact with the earth.
"Hey, you didn't—" Roseiral began, but the words barely left her mouth before she saw it.
Two bullets shot toward her with terrifying speed, cutting through the air with a high-pitched whistling sound. Her heart skipped a beat as she instinctively recognized the deadly trajectory. The bullets were aimed straight for her chest—one for her heart, the other to finish the job.
This motherfucker is going for the kill...
Her mind raced, but there was no time to think. The bullets were too fast. As if the world had slowed down around her, Roseiral threw herself into a roll, instinctively dodging to the side, but it wasn't enough.
Whoosh.
One of the bullets zipped by, grazing her ear. She felt a sharp sting as the edge of the bullet grazed her skin, the sound of it cutting through the air almost deafening in the stillness that followed. The bullet continued its trajectory, burying itself into the dirt behind her with a muffled thud.
Roseiral touched her ear, feeling the wetness of blood as she brought her hand away. Her heart was pounding in her chest, adrenaline rushing through her veins. The sheer closeness of death had sent a wave of heat through her body, but she couldn't afford to hesitate. Not now. Not when she was dealing with someone like Giovane.
Giovane stood a few feet away, his face showing no emotion. He didn't even seem to break a sweat. "You should have reacted faster," he said, his voice calm and measured, as if they weren't just moments away from having a life-and-death battle. "But I guess that's why we're here. To teach you."
Roseiral narrowed her eyes at him, teeth gritted. Blood was dripping from her ear, but the sting was nothing compared to the burning fury inside her. This wasn't a game—Giovane wasn't holding back. She wasn't going to either.
Taking a deep breath, she pulled herself to her feet, her body steadying despite the rush of adrenaline coursing through her. "You'll pay for that," she growled, her voice low but determined.
With a sudden movement, she lunged toward him, her body reacting faster than her mind could fully comprehend. Giovane raised an eyebrow, as if expecting this, and shifted his stance, ready to counter.
"That's the spirit," he said, a hint of amusement in his voice.
Before Roseiral could reply to him, Giovane was already beside her in an instant. Before she could even react, a sharp pain exploded in her side. His foot collided with her spleen, sending her hurtling across the arena. The force of the impact left her breathless, and she smashed into the far side of the dome with a bone-jarring thud.
The moment her body slammed into the wall, she heard the unmistakable snap of a gunshot. Her instincts kicked in, but the timing was brutal. Two bullets came at her in rapid succession. Without a moment's hesitation, Roseiral threw herself sideways, narrowly dodging the bullets—only to have her body crash into the stone wall, the impact rattling her bones.
"Damn it…" Roseiral grunted, pushing herself up as Giovane, unfazed, lined up his next move.
The air was thick with anticipation as Giovane shot again—six bullets this time, each one aimed at her with deadly precision. Her heart raced as she reacted, darting out of the way with barely a second to spare. Her eyes locked on him, never letting him out of her sight. She wasn't about to let him disappear again, not like before.
But then Giovane made a hand sign, and Roseiral's eyes widened as the bullets she'd dodged began to veer toward her—shifting course mid-air, as if they were alive, tracking her every movement.
What the hell? Roseiral's mind screamed as she backpedaled, narrowly avoiding a collision with the deadly projectiles.
Without thinking, she drew her own gun. If he can track me with his bullets, then I can shoot back.
She began firing at the oncoming bullets, each shot ringing out with purpose, trying to break their lock on her. She focused on the ones closest to her, but the chase was relentless. As the bullets continued to seek her out, she threw an expendable PCC 565 in Giovane's direction, hoping to catch him off guard and make his movements falter, even for a second.
Giovane's expression remained unfazed, his eyes scanning her every move. With a casual flick of his wrist, he fired ten bullets in rapid succession, each one tearing through the air toward her with pinpoint accuracy. But this time, the bullets weren't just coming after her—they began to circle around Giovane, forming a tight barrier, as if they had a mind of their own.
The moment the PCC 565 neared him, the bullets surged, creating sharp winds that deflected the gas with ease, the force of the wind whipping the air violently around him. The gas couldn't get near him at all; the sharp winds sliced through the air, forming an impenetrable barrier of offense and defense all at once.
Roseiral's eyes widened as she saw the effect of the barrier. The bullets moved in perfect synchrony, a swirling vortex of danger that protected him like a shield.
"Damn…" she muttered under her breath. She had underestimated him.
She hadn't expected the bullets to act like this—following her, defending him, and acting as his very own army.
Giovane's lips curled into a grin. "You're going to need more than that if you want to get past me."
Roseiral's chest heaved as she recalculated. There was no way she was going to let him get the upper hand so easily.
Roseiral's mind raced as she observed the pattern of the bullets circling Giovane. The chaotic dance of death had a rhythm to it, an almost hypnotic cycle. She had seen it—the bullets didn't just follow him randomly, they moved in a pattern. A calculated sequence of movements, predictable if one paid close enough attention.
Can he only control 10 bullets freely? she thought to herself, noting how the bullets swirled around him like a protective cocoon. This had to be his limit—he couldn't control any more than this. If she could break that rhythm, she might just get through to him.
She took a deep breath, quickly recalculating her strategy. It wasn't enough to just shoot at him; she had to be precise, deliberate. If she was going to get through, it had to be a calculated move. She rushed forward, closing the distance between them, and with lightning speed, fired three bullets at him: one aimed at his left arm, another at his heart, and the last at his right leg.
Giovane didn't flinch. His barrier of rotating bullets deflected each shot with ease, as though they were nothing more than an afterthought. He stood still, watching her, counting.
5 more left, he thought to himself, a smirk tugging at his lips. I wonder what she's trying to do.
Roseiral knew he was counting. She could feel his confidence. But she wasn't backing down. She kept shooting, relentless. More bullets flew, striking the air in rapid succession, only to be deflected by the rotating shields. Giovane didn't move, his smirk growing with each unsuccessful shot.
But then, Roseiral did something different. She stopped firing one bullet at a time and, instead, aimed all five remaining rounds at once. She pulled the trigger in a split-second decision, sending the bullets flying in perfect synchrony toward Giovane.
Giovane smirked, watching the trajectory of the five bullets. None of them came close to hitting him. They were all missing.
"Really?" he muttered, a hint of amusement in his voice as he watched the bullets swerve around him. But then, his eyes widened, and he froze. His expression shifted from smugness to realization.
Roseiral hadn't been aiming directly for him. The bullets weren't meant for him at all.
She had been aiming at the ten rotating bullets.
With perfect timing, Roseiral had shot the five bullets in such a way that they ricocheted off the rotating bullets—each one striking at the exact moment needed to redirect them. The five bullets collided in a rapid chain of movements, altering their course, and one of them was now heading straight for Giovane.
His eyes widened in shock as the ricocheted bullet sped toward him, aiming directly at his head.
But just as it was about to hit, the bullet stopped in mid-air. It hovered there for a brief second, before vanishing into nothingness.
Giovane burst out laughing, his voice rich with amusement. "Nice job," he said, still chuckling. "You actually managed to think your way through it."
Roseiral's heart pounded in her chest. She had come so close, but Giovane's quick reaction had prevented her from landing the hit.
"I have to admit," he said, his grin widening, "you're smarter than I gave you credit for. But it's going to take more than that to beat me."
"No more games," Giovane said, his voice now cold and commanding. He clenched his fists, the faint crackle of energy rippling through his fingers. "No more guns. From now on, we fight with our bare hands."