It had been a month since Al moved into the Virellano family estate. Time passed like a calm stream, yet beneath its surface, unseen whirlpools stirred.
During the first week, Al tried to report a few things he thought needed to be addressed—like his school schedule. But it was nearly impossible to meet his parents. He was still restricted to the main residence, not yet allowed to join the dining table or even gather with the family. With his parents' irregular comings and goings, seeing them had become a challenge.
But as the days went by, he slowly adapted, changing his routines. He began waking up early, something he never thought he'd do regularly. What once seemed like a pressing issue now felt insignificant. He no longer felt the urge to complain—even growing used to the cold stares.
The looks from his older sisters, the servants, and the security staff—though not as sharp as when he first arrived—still carried snide remarks or, more commonly, passive-aggressive smiles and piercing words. Sometimes he responded with a few harmless tricks, but most of the time, he ignored them.
Every day, Al woke up at dawn—something that once felt unimaginable. Not out of love for mornings, but because this house had rules. Unspoken rules that felt oppressive. Like the air around his elegant, well-kept, and... cold family. And the consequences were real—his father's slap could pierce even his magical defenses.
Another change from his past lifestyle was that he resumed light training, mostly in his room. It was to improve his magical control and self-discipline—especially after that incident when his killing intent slipped out. That experience had made him realize how dangerous he could be if left unchecked.
He had breakfast alone in his room. The ban on joining the main dining table was still in place. After eating, he'd change into his school uniform and head out early. Though technically a student of the afternoon class, his schedule had changed. Still, he used his mornings to visit Indra's house and enjoy Indra's mom cooking, which he found delicious.
Al had started ignoring things he deemed unimportant.
The afternoons passed in school with a rhythm that bordered on boring. He kept many things hidden, living as if he were just an ordinary student. Whether by choice, apathy, or necessity, he hid who he truly was. Friends? Probably none. Enemies? Probably more. But Al stayed quiet, letting life flow just the way he wanted.
By late afternoon, he'd return home—usually greeted by a snide remark from Sarah or a sarcastic jab from a servant. But lately, the house felt... calmer. Or perhaps they were just getting bored? Hard to tell. One thing hadn't changed: the shadow of David's bodyguards still followed him. Sometimes from a black car in the distance, sometimes from a rooftop, or behind a mirrored window across the street. They thought Al didn't notice.
But he knew. He always knew.
Because the night—that was Al's real world.
After all the lights went out and the world slipped into sleep, Al would rise. Donning his signature black outfit—no insignia, no identity—he'd sneak out. The city was vast, but at night, it seemed small in Al's eyes. He moved swiftly through back alleys, across shop rooftops, and into the depths of the black market, seeking whispers no ordinary person could hear.
There was intel to collect. Movements to monitor. And by the time he returned at dawn, when the cold wind kissed his skin and his black clothes were drenched in sweat and dust, Al would look up at the paling sky.
A new day was about to begin. He'd return unseen, wipe his face clean, and wear the mask of a quiet, lazy, ordinary boy.
A month had passed. And everything was still under control. For now.
---
Meanwhile, in a completely different world from Al's quiet night...
A thunderous roar shattered the air, bursting with unstoppable energy.
Spotlights flashed from every direction, flooding a modern combat arena packed with thousands of spectators. The air vibrated with cheers and raw energy—a world brimming with passion, power, and tension.
This arena wasn't just a battleground. Designed like a futuristic stadium, its glass walls projected interactive holograms, and its floor could shift texture and color in sync with the fight's rhythm. Embedded surround sound systems boomed from all sides, creating an atmosphere akin to a digital battlefield.
The crowd erupted with excitement. Loud voices shouted support, as if fueling the fire of the warriors on stage.
"YOU GOT THIS!"
"GO SIS!"
"BOOOOM!!"
The loudest cheers came from the VIP stands. There stood a sporty young girl in a black-and-maroon outfit. Her long, glossy black hair was partially braided, giving off an energetic yet feminine vibe. A small cap added a touch of charm to her look.
Beside her, a striking woman with a curvaceous figure stood confidently. Wearing a sleeveless top that exposed her shoulders and cleavage, paired with high-waisted pants, she radiated a bold presence. Her light brown hair was tied in a high ponytail, revealing a sharp jawline and elegant neck. Her piercing eyes remained focused on the screen in her hand, scrolling through photos of a man with a gentle smile—whether a celebrity, a lover, or just a fantasy was unclear. Her confidence wasn't just in her clothes, but in the way she carried herself.
Both were there to support the woman currently fighting in the arena.
Inside the ring, two fighters faced off.
One was a young woman in a yellow-and-black athletic outfit. She moved swiftly, supported by strong legs. Her tight top covered her chest and waist without restricting movement, paired with flexible pants that followed her every step. Her opponent, a burly man, stood shirtless in combat shorts, muscles rippling with every strike.
Their match was fierce. Punches and kicks exchanged rapidly. Attacks met counters, strength clashed with technique. They moved like warriors dancing on the battlefield, searching for openings. But in the end, the woman broke through the man's guard and finished the fight with a rising sidekick to his chin—a clean, decisive win.
"YAY! BIG SIS VIANNA WOOOON!!"
the young girl shouted, waving her arms high with joy.
The victorious fighter—Vianna Virellano—hoisted the championship belt over her shoulder. She smiled and waved to the crowd. The arena erupted in cheers as she walked proudly across the ring. Though sweat dripped from her body, her smile remained radiant. Her eyes shone not just with victory, but with an unshaken determination.
But the cheers wouldn't last forever.
Behind that smile, fate had already shifted course.
And that night, their path was heading toward something far greater.
---
Not long after, behind the arena, in an exclusive lounge for fighters...
Three women stood in a small circle, deep in conversation despite their occasional laughter.
Vianna, the fighter, was still in her combat gear, now layered with a light jacket. Beside her, the long-haired girl—Lysha Virellano—clung proudly to her sister's arm. The third was the woman with the ponytail and poised elegance, her eyes glancing anxiously at a holographic watch—Nayala Valendra.
The three of them were clearly in high spirits, but a hint of tension lingered in their eyes.
"Let's head to the airport now," said Nayala, her tone betraying the urgency beneath her composed expression.
The other two giggled, teasing her for always being overly serious. Still, they moved with purpose—light steps, but firm direction.
Where they were headed, not many knew.
But time would soon bring them to a crossroads.
And standing at one of those crossroads was someone they hadn't yet accounted for: Al.
Whatever lay ahead, one thing was certain—
These three would soon cross paths with him.