Chapter 18: Confidence
Mark leaned back in his chair, his expression grim yet resolute. Sylas sat across from him, confused by the sudden tension in the air.
"Why can't you come with me?" Sylas asked, his voice tinged with worry. "You've always been there to guide me. I've never done anything like this alone."
Mark sighed deeply, his gaze distant. "Sylas, my presence would only put you in greater danger now. My identity has been compromised. Someone—perhaps from the Duchy of Silva—has sent assassins after me. They'll stop at nothing to see me dead, and if I go with you, they might target you too."
Sylas frowned. "The Duchy of Silva? Why would they care about us? We're just merchants!"
Mark's eyes darkened, his jaw tightening. "It's more complicated than that. Our family history is tangled in politics, betrayals, and secrets that go back further than you can imagine. The less you know right now, the safer you'll be. But understand this—if I'm exposed, it's not just my life at stake. It's yours, your mother's, everyone's."
The weight of his father's words settled heavily on Sylas. He clenched his fists. "Then teach me. Train me so I can protect myself. I'll stay hidden. I'll be careful."
Mark gave a bitter smile. "That's exactly why I'm telling you this now. You need to be prepared. The exploration you're about to undertake will be dangerous, and you won't have me there to watch your back. You need to learn how to use your Ring, how to defend yourself, and how to survive. If you can't do that, you won't last long out there."
Sylas hesitated before asking, "Who will train me? I don't even know where to start."
Mark's expression shifted, a faint smile appearing on his lips. "I know someone. An old friend who owes me a few favors. He'll train you, though I can't promise it'll be easy."
Sylas leaned forward eagerly. "Who is he? What's he like?"
Mark chuckled. "You'll meet him tomorrow. Trust me, it's too late to go now. Besides,"—he glanced out the window at the fading sunlight—"you'll need all the rest you can get. Once you start training with him, you won't have time to breathe, let alone sleep."
Sylas frowned at his father's cryptic tone but didn't push further. He trusted Mark, even if the man had a habit of being annoyingly vague.
"Alright," Sylas said at last, determination hardening his voice. "I'll be ready."
Mark nodded approvingly. "Good. Tomorrow, we'll begin."
The conversation left Sylas restless that night. As he lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, he couldn't shake the feeling that his life was about to change in ways he couldn't yet comprehend.
The next day, Mark led him to the impoverished section of Florence village.
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This part of the town was notorious for its lawlessness—thugs prowled the streets, and daylight robberies were common. It was a stark contrast to the otherwise peaceful Florence village, a dark stain on its reputation.
Sylas stayed close to his father, his eyes darting around at the unfamiliar surroundings. To his surprise, Mark seemed to know many of the people here. Hardened men with rough appearances greeted Mark respectfully, and he returned their pleasantries with ease.
Finally, they stopped in front of a half-broken house. Despite its current state of decay, it was evident that the building had once been an impressive piece of architecture. The walls were cracked, moss and algae clung to the surfaces, and the faint smell of rot lingered in the air.
Mark pushed open the creaky wooden door, and they stepped inside. The interior was worse than Sylas had imagined. Dust coated every surface, and the stench of cigarettes and stale liquor was overpowering. The living room was dimly lit, and the furniture looked like it hadn't been used properly in years.
Sylas heard a snoring sound coming from behind a counter.
Mark approached the counter, leaned over, and shouted, "Wake up, Diamante!" His voice echoed in the otherwise silent house.
A groaning sound followed. Sylas watched as a figure slowly rose from behind the counter. The man was enormous, well over six feet tall, with an unkempt appearance. His hair was long and greasy, his face covered in a scruffy beard. He was bare-chested, revealing a slightly paunchy stomach, and his eyes were half-lidded as if he hadn't slept properly in days.
Rubbing his eyes lazily, the man squinted at Mark before breaking into loud, raucous laughter. "Mark! My old friend, it's been ages since I've seen you! What brings you to my luxurious mansion?" He spread his arms dramatically, gesturing to the decrepit surroundings.
Mark crossed his arms and replied dryly, "I'd love to lecture you on your lifestyle choices, but I have more pressing matters. Long story short, I want you to train my son."
Mark stepped aside, revealing Sylas. The boy stood straight, his determined gaze fixed on Diamante.
Diamante squinted at Sylas, his expression turning skeptical. "This kid? Why should I?"
Mark opened his mouth to respond, but Sylas stepped forward, interrupting. "Because I want to protect the people close to me," he said, his voice steady and clear.
For a moment, Diamante stared at him. Then, he threw his head back and laughed. "Oh, we've got another principled brat on our hands! Listen, brat, you're what—fifteen? Sixteen? A Violet Ring user, I'm guessing." He leaned closer, his tone suddenly serious. "And you think you can protect anyone?"
Sylas held his ground, but Diamante's voice grew deeper, more commanding. "Do you even know what it means to protect someone? Do you have the determination to face what it takes? Let me tell you something, boy—many of the world's strongest have failed to protect the people they loved. So, tell me—what makes you think you can do it? Where does your confidence lie?"
Diamante's words hung in the air like a challenge, and Sylas felt his pulse quicken. He clenched his fists, his eyes blazing with resolve.
Sylas took a deep breath, the weight of Diamante's words pressing down on him like a crushing tide. His father's presence behind him offered silent support, but he knew this moment was his alone.
"My confidence," Sylas began, his voice clear despite the storm raging inside him, "doesn't come from arrogance or from thinking I'm better than anyone. It comes from knowing what it feels like to lose, to be powerless when it matters the most."
Diamante tilted his head, his eyes narrowing. "And you think that's enough? That your failures will magically transform into strength?"
"No," Sylas replied firmly. "But I believe they can drive me forward. I've seen people I care about get hurt because I couldn't do anything. That's why I want to change, why I need to change. I don't want to just watch anymore."
The room fell silent for a moment. Diamante leaned back against the counter, crossing his arms. A sly smirk crept onto his face. "So, you've got a bleeding heart and some guts. Not bad. But guts won't get you far, kid. Strength, skill, and discipline will."
He walked over to Sylas, his towering frame casting a shadow over the boy. "You want me to train you? Fine. But understand this—you'll hate me by the end of it. I'll break you down, push you past every limit you think you have. If you're not ready to bleed, sweat, and crawl through hell, leave now."
Sylas met Diamante's gaze, unwavering. "I'm not leaving. Do whatever it takes."
Diamante stared at him for a long moment before finally letting out a low chuckle. "Alright then, brat. You've got my attention. Training starts tomorrow. Be here at dawn. And don't bother showing up if you don't mean it."
Mark, who had been silent the whole time, finally spoke. "Thank you, Diamante. I knew I could count on you."
"Don't thank me yet," Diamante said, waving him off. "This kid might not last a week."
Mark turned to Sylas and placed a hand on his shoulder. "I believe in you, son. You've got more strength than you know."
Sylas nodded, determination etched into his face. As they left the crumbling house, the sun was beginning to set, casting long shadows over the impoverished streets of Florence. But inside Sylas's heart, a fire burned brighter than ever.
This was the beginning of something new—a journey that would test every fiber of his being. And Sylas was ready to face it.
End of Chapter