Time flew by as Cyr became absorbed in his training. It wasn't until Pampas's sudden appearance that Cyr realized how long he'd already been in Meteor City.
Cyr had always been an overachiever. Back in school, he'd lose track of time while working through problem sets, often studying from dawn until midnight, only stopping when his family forced him to put his pen down.
His biggest problem here? Everyone assumed he could already use Nen. No one bothered to teach him or even explain the basics.
Cyr couldn't exactly say, "I have no clue how to use Nen," without raising questions. After all, how would he explain blasting his way from District 13 to District 1 or his ability to teleport?
Learning Nen would have to be a self-study process. He'd heard about alternative training methods, like learning through taking hits.
Maybe, just maybe, he could pick it up during his training sessions. It was similar to Cursed Energy in principle. While Cursed Energy was born from negative emotions, Nen was life energy.
Pampas showed up just as Cyr had finished a particularly grueling training session and was taking a break.
It was afternoon, though you couldn't tell from the sky above Meteor City. There was no sunset, no warm hues of dusk—only a perpetual haze of black smoke.
Every day, tons of garbage were burned, filling the air with thick, inescapable smoke. The sky in the outer districts was always the same: bleak, oppressive, and impenetrable.
The blond man appeared in front of Cyr, who was sitting alone.
"It's been a while. What happened to you?" Pampas's eyes held a hint of surprise as they swept over Cyr.
I must look pretty rough right now, Cyr thought.
The bruises and wounds from his daily training always healed by the next day, which only encouraged Syd to push his methods further. The initial promise of monthly weight increases for his gravity rings had evolved into immediate increases whenever Cyr adapted to the current weight.
So far, Cyr had endured six increases. He didn't even know the exact weight anymore; all he knew was that every time Sap touched the rings, they got heavier.
Still, the satisfaction of feeling himself grow stronger was intoxicating. It reminded him of the thrill he felt during math competitions when he solved problem after problem, defeated opponent after opponent, and claimed the top prize.
Thinking of this, Cyr's face lit up with a faint, satisfied smile. His tone was relaxed as he replied, "Just my usual training."
Usual training? Pampas looked at Cyr's face and recalled their first meeting. Back then, Cyr's appearance had been flawless, striking enough to make anyone pause and admire.
Even with his arrogant and abrasive demeanor, Cyr's face had been undeniably captivating. But now? His current bedraggled appearance made it hard to recognize him.
What a waste of a perfectly good face, Pampas mused.
Cyr's looks were so exceptional that if he offered to sell himself for ten billion Jenny, Pampas wouldn't hesitate to buy him. He was confident he could sell that face for an even higher price.
Yet, seeing how Cyr threw himself into this grueling training, Pampas couldn't help but feel reassured.
I made the right choice.
This kid had the potential to become a formidable force. Pampas didn't regret going out of his way to shield Cyr from the Scavenger Gang, other families, and even some of the elders. He'd ensured Cyr ended up under his care in District 12.
"Where's Syd?" Pampas glanced around but didn't see him. He turned back to Cyr for an answer.
"He's…" Cyr smirked, his tone laced with a hint of mischief. "Probably changing clothes in the church."
"Changing clothes? In broad daylight?" Pampas raised an eyebrow and headed toward the church.
As he approached, the children playing near the church entrance spotted him.
"Lord Pampas! Are you here to visit Father Syd again?"
"Lord Pampas, I was the fastest today!"
"Lord Pampas…"
It seemed Pampas held a great deal of respect among the children in District 12. The moment they saw him, they swarmed around him, their voices overlapping in excitement.
Covered in dust and sweat, the children crowded around him, eager for his attention.
Pampas managed the situation effortlessly, responding to each child with a smile.
"Of course, Syd and I are good friends."
"First place? Maybe we should consider letting you join the church." His tone was warm, never overlooking a single child.
"Don't let this distract you from your training, or you might get scolded." He gestured toward the other priests watching over the training sessions, gently reminding the children.
Reluctantly, the kids dispersed and resumed their exercises. Once the path was clear, Pampas strolled into the church.
"What kind of trouble did you get into?" He knocked on one of the doors, his voice teasing.
"I don't have time for anything else," came Syd's low reply as he opened the door.
"That kid dirtied my clothes during training," Syd added, now wearing a sleeveless vest similar to the children's, only in his size. His muscular frame was on full display, showing off every defined curve.
"You're training him?" Pampas's voice rose in surprise, as if he'd heard something outrageous.
What's going on? Pampas thought. He'd assumed Cyr was training on his own. Why was Syd playing sparring partner?
"That kid's strength was pitiful at first," Syd grumbled. "Uvogin stood there and let him hit, but Cyr couldn't even leave a mark. I couldn't just stand by…"
Syd trailed off, his expression turning contemplative. Then, unable to hold back his curiosity, he shot Pampas a pointed look. "I still don't get it. Why did you let him join the church? Is he your kid or something?"
Pampas's confusion was palpable.
Cyr, weak? Weak enough for Syd to pity him?
Are we even talking about the same person?
Pampas recalled Cyr's sharp instincts—he'd noticed Pampas trailing him and even managed to wound his puppet from a distance.
What kind of "weak" kid could pull that off?
When did Syd's standards become so impossibly high?
"You think he's weak because he fought the Spiders?" Pampas asked, honing in on Syd's earlier remark.
"Yeah. It happened the day he arrived in District 12. Shalnark and Uvogin came by to drop off supplies, and Cyr asked to spar with Uvogin," Syd explained matter-of-factly.
"I see…" Pampas mused, his mind turning over the new information.
First, there was no way Cyr's strength was as low as Syd described. Second, it was odd that Cyr had voluntarily challenged Uvogin.
Could he know about the Phantom Troupe?
"Did it ever cross your mind that if Cyr had shown impressive strength or unique abilities—or even defeated Uvogin—things might have escalated?" Pampas asked, his tone patient, as he regarded his less strategically inclined friend.
The Troupe was not a group to be trifled with.
"You're suggesting he's hiding his true strength? Doesn't seem like it…" Syd muttered, still puzzled.
After all, Cyr hadn't shown any signs of holding back during their training sessions. If anything, he'd barely kept up.
"Trust me," Pampas said, clapping Syd on the shoulder. "He's not as weak as you think."
°°°
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