Chapter 4: The Training Begins
The days following my decision blur together in a whirlwind of uncertainty and new beginnings. I know this is a dangerous path I'm walking, but there's no turning back now. Something inside me tells me that if I want to truly change my fate, I have to embrace the unknown, even if it feels like stepping off a cliff without knowing if there's solid ground below.
The man—who I still don't know by name—keeps his word. He doesn't waste any time. Within days of agreeing to his offer, he starts the training.
He leads me to a hidden place, an old warehouse tucked away in the farthest corner of the slums. No one knows it exists, or if they do, they don't care. It's perfect for the kind of training I need. It's secluded, away from the prying eyes of those who might ask too many questions. There's nothing to distract me from the task at hand.
I step inside and immediately feel the weight of the air. It's thick with purpose, the atmosphere charged with something I can't quite place. There's an energy here—something older, more dangerous.
The man stands in the center of the room, a dark figure against the dim light filtering in from the cracks in the building's walls. He doesn't waste time with introductions or pleasantries. His eyes are sharp, his voice calm but firm as he speaks.
"We start now. Training is constant. It doesn't stop, not for a single moment. Every day, every hour, every second will be spent sharpening your mind, your body, and whatever skills you may have. You will become something that no one in the slums—or anywhere else—can ignore."
I stand there, still trying to wrap my mind around the gravity of what I've just walked into. The world outside this room is chaotic, unforgiving. I've lived through it by being sharp, by keeping my head down, by knowing when to fight and when to run. But what he's saying is different. It's not about surviving anymore. It's about something more.
"Are you ready for that?" he asks, his eyes piercing into mine as if searching for an answer I'm not sure I have.
I don't flinch, don't back down. "I don't have time for hesitation."
He nods slightly, as if he expected nothing less from me. "Good. The first thing we'll work on is your focus."
"Focus?" I repeat, skeptical. "What's that going to do?"
"It's everything," he says. "You can have all the power in the world, but if you can't control it, it will destroy you. And it's not just about controlling your skills—it's about controlling yourself. Your mind, your thoughts. You'll learn to block out everything else. Only then can you truly tap into your potential."
I don't say anything. I'm not sure what he means, but I'm willing to give it a shot.
For the next few days, the training is relentless. He pushes me harder than anyone ever has, forcing me to confront my limits over and over again. The physical training is grueling—endless exercises, conditioning, strength training, all designed to break me down and build me back up. My body aches constantly, but that's nothing new. The slums have already taught me what it means to keep going when every muscle screams at you to stop.
But the real challenge comes when we begin the mental exercises. He's right about one thing—my mind is a mess of thoughts, fears, distractions. Every time I close my eyes, every time I try to focus, the slums come rushing back. The violence, the poverty, the struggle. It's hard to shut out the noise.
"Focus," he repeats again and again. "Everything starts with focus."
We practice for hours, each session more grueling than the last. I meditate, forcing myself to push all the chaos out of my mind. I concentrate on the smallest things—my breath, the rhythm of my heartbeat, the feel of the air against my skin. Slowly, I start to notice a change. The noise fades, replaced by a sharp, intense clarity. My mind sharpens, and for the first time, I start to feel in control.
It's only then that he starts showing me the real power—the skills I came here to learn.
The first one is simple, but it feels like something pulled deep from within me. Lighting manipulation. I don't even know how I know how to do it, but as soon as he demonstrates the technique, I can feel the energy inside me, ready to surge. I extend my hand, and a bolt of electricity crackles from my palm, striking the wall. It's raw, uncontrolled, but it's there. I did it.
I can feel his eyes on me, studying me, but there's no satisfaction in his expression, just the quiet anticipation of someone who knows there's still so much more to learn.
"This is nothing," he says coldly. "This is just the beginning. You have power, but it's scattered. You need to focus it. Control it. Harness it."
I clench my fist, feeling the flicker of power inside me. It's an exciting feeling, knowing I have the potential to do something like this, but there's a long way to go.
"Next," he says, moving on without waiting for me to ask questions. "You will learn how to control your emotions. It's the key to every decision you make. If you let your emotions dictate your actions, you'll be dead in an instant. We'll work on suppressing them."
It's not easy. It's the hardest thing I've ever done. Letting go of everything—anger, fear, doubt—feels unnatural. But as the days stretch on, I begin to feel the weight of my emotions slipping away. Slowly, my mind clears even more. And with it, the power inside me begins to grow.
I'm starting to understand now. This isn't just about learning skills. This is about becoming something more. It's about becoming untouchable.
The man's words echo in my mind.
"You're becoming something more than you ever thought possible, Damian. This is just the beginning."
And for the first time in a long time, I start to believe it.