The sunset painted warm hues across Novara's skyline, the last rays of the sun slowly slipping behind the aged buildings, leaving long shadows that filled the streets with an eerie silence.
In the very same narrow alley Milo had passed through just moments ago while chasing Mira, a man with striking green hair moved forward with calm, measured steps. The air around him was cold, yet carried an invisible tension.
Milo stood firm in the narrow alley of Novara, his sharp features and calm deep brown eyes reflecting a focused resolve. His slightly tousled brown hair fell just above his shoulders, gently moving with the evening breeze.
He wore a dark robe that flowed around his feet, brushing the ground softly with each movement. The robe was sturdy yet simple, reflecting a practical style free from any ornamentation or complexity
Before him lay Lucas, unconscious on the cracked pavement. Milo's gaze never left Lucas's face. His silence was heavy no words were needed when eyes spoke so much. In that quiet moment, Milo seemed to weigh everything inside him, steady and composed, fully prepared for whatever might come next.
The boys stood facing Milo, some gripping sticks, others clutching handfuls of gravel, their faces etched with fear and defiance.
One of them stepped forward, voice trembling but firm:
"Stay away from our brother, intruder."
Milo glanced at them for a moment.
All of them trembled and took a step back.
He breathed out slowly and lowered his head
a long, heavy sigh as if releasing a weight from his body.
Milo lifted Lucas onto his shoulder steadily, the weight clearly noticeable.
The boys shouted, their voices mixed with fear and anger,
"Hey! Where are you taking our brother?"
Milo paused for a moment, then gently set Lucas against the wall, supporting him.
Slowly, Milo slapped Lucas's face lightly, trying to wake him.
"Hey, you... wake up."
Lucas slowly opened his eyes, his face pale and marked with faint bruises from the fight. His messy dark hair clung to his forehead, and his gray eyes blinked uncertainly as they adjusted to the dim light.
He looked upward and immediately noticed Milo standing over him.
"It's you!" Lucas tried to push himself up, but Milo gently shoved him back down.
"Damn it, can you stop acting like this and just let me talk for once? I'm not here to hurt any of you. And I'm not an intruder we live in the same city!"
A flicker of irritation crossed Milo's face.
Lucas sneered, "As if you didn't just hurt me moments ago, you damn"
He caught the serious look in Milo's eyes and fell silent.
"Alright, speak. I'm listening."
"My name is Milo. I'm from the middle class here in Novara, so I live in the city center.
Anyway, that girl with you stole my necklace yesterday the one I was wearing. When I found her, I chased after her to get it back. But then you appeared out of nowhere, and you thought I was trying to hurt her, so you didn't even want to listen to me."
Lucas responded,
"The necklace? So she lied to me and stole it.
She told me she found it.
But what does that necklace mean to you that you're so determined to get it back?"
Milo smiled, a hint of longing showing on his face.
"It's a gift.
A gift from my mother she gave it to me when I was a child."
The boys watched them, surprised to see them talking instead of fighting.
This time, Mira ran towards them, her breath coming in quick, uneven gasps.
Fear was etched clearly across her face wide eyes darting nervously as she hurried forward.
Milo noticed her immediately, his eyes narrowing with sharp focus as he prepared for whatever was coming.
She stopped in front of Milo and held out her hands, in them was the necklace.
"Here. This is your necklace... I know you came to take it back.
I'm sorry for stealing it."
Milo smiled gently and placed his hand on her head.
"It's alright. But promise me this time don't steal again, okay? You could get hurt because of it."
Lucas spoke up,
"You're right after all you weren't lying about your necklace being stolen."
He stood up, brushing off his clothes with a sharp, irritated movement. His gray eyes darkened with anger as he turned toward Mira.
Without warning, he gave her a hard knock on the head.
"You stupid girl, didn't I tell you not to steal from people?
Why don't you listen? Look at the mess you've caused us."
Mira held her head carefully, wincing slightly from the blow.
Her short blonde hair swayed gently with her movements, and her wide eyes reflected a mixture of fear and regret. Her simple clothes were a bit dirty from running, but they didn't hide her innocence despite everything.
Milo smiled gently and said to Lucas,
"Don't worry, she's still young."
He touched the necklace hanging around his neck, feeling a pang of nostalgia surge through him.
His face showed a blend of determination and tenderness, and his deep brown eyes carried a long story of memories and emotions that words could hardly express.
After the tension had begun to settle, Lucas turned to Mira, then to the boys standing behind her their small faces still marked with worry and fear.
He let out a long sigh, his voice softening, though it still carried the weight of responsibility:
"That's enough. It's getting late."
He looked at all of them.
"You should head back to the orphanage… Lisa's probably really worried by now."
The boys shifted uncomfortably, exchanging glances as if reluctant to leave after everything that had just happened.
But when they heard Lisa's name, their expressions softened, and their heads lowered slightly as if they all understood exactly what her worry meant.
Mira looked down, guilt washing over her face.
"I'm sorry, Lucas…" she murmured.
He replied, still visibly irritated, but with the tone of an older brother:
"We'll talk later. Just… go back now."
Then he cast one last glance at Milo his features still tense, but no longer hostile
Lucas glanced at Milo, his pale face still marked with faint bruises that hadn't fully healed. His black hair, slightly tousled, caught the evening breeze in soft strands. His usually defiant gray eyes now softened, flickering with hints of regret and newfound respect.
He hesitated for a moment, then slowly extended his hand toward Milo, scratching the back of his head awkwardly as if trying to ease the tension. His voice, usually cold and sharp, shifted to a more sincere and gentle tone as he said,
"I... I'm sorry for what happened."
Milo looked at Lucas for a moment, then reached out and shook his hand firmly. A gentle smile softened his sharp features.
"No worries," Milo said calmly.
"It was just a misunderstanding."
Lucas blinked in surprise at Milo's acceptance of his apology. A small, genuine laugh escaped him.
"It's rare to meet someone like you, especially here in the city center."
Milo raised an eyebrow, his tone calm and curious.
"Hmmm… why is that?"
Lucas shrugged lightly, a faint smirk playing on his lips.
"I work as a waiter in the city. People there can be real jerks, but I deal with them anyway."
Milo's expression softened slightly as he replied thoughtfully,
"That's really strange. Very strange."
For a brief moment, silence settled between them, the bustling city sounds fading into the background.
Lucas broke the silence with a soft chuckle.
"I'm Lucas. By the way, you never told me your name."
Milo met his gaze calmly.
"I'm Milo."
Lucas smiled faintly.
"So, Milo, what do you think about visiting the orphanage? Everyone there would welcome you, especially Lisa. It could be a way to make up for what happened. What's your answer?"
Milo felt a slight flush of embarrassment but hid it well.
"That's... that's very kind of you."
Suddenly, Milo noticed Lucas stepping back a little, his eyes scanning the surroundings nervously.
"Come on, Milo. What's holding you back? Let's go."
At the orphanage, the atmosphere was simple yet filled with quiet warmth. The children gathered around wooden tables, eating their modest meals with eager appetites, as if making up for times of scarcity. The sounds of chewing and the clatter of dishes echoed softly through the room, but despite the humble food, none lacked a smile or a spark of joy.
Lisa, a woman in her forties, moved among the children like a caring mother with endless compassion. She watched over them with loving eyes, giving each child her full attention as if they were her own. When Milo entered, she greeted him with a warm smile and a genuine embrace, as though she had been waiting for his return all along.
The orphanage was more than just a shelter it was a true family. Despite the hardships, there was a strong sense of belonging and mutual support. Laughter and soft conversations filled the walls, and the lively voices of the children wove a feeling of hope and renewal around everyone present.
The night had fallen over Novara, casting deep shadows across the city streets. Milo walked steadily through the poorer districts, where narrow alleys were lined with crumbling buildings. Some people lay sleeping on the cold ground, wrapped in tattered blankets, seeking rest wherever they could find it.
Nearby, a few taverns still glowed warmly, their doors open to late patrons, voices and laughter spilling into the cool night air. Above, the steady chirping of crickets filled the silence, a natural melody blending with the distant hum of the city.
Suddenly, Milo's phone rang, breaking through the quiet with a sharp, unexpected sound.
Milo answered the phone, a smile touching his lips.
"Hey, sis."
His sister, Melina, replied quickly, a hint of worry in her voice.
"What's taking you so long? I thought something happened to you."
Milo chuckled softly.
"It's a funny story, Melina."
As he spoke, Milo's eyes caught sight of a figure standing a short distance ahead, barely visible in the dim light.
"I'll talk to you when I get back," Milo said, a bit tense.
He ended the call and turned off his phone.
At home, Milina sat on the couch, her long brown hair slightly messy after running her hand through it in frustration. The soft yellow light of the living room cast a warm glow over the quiet space.
She stared at her phone screen after the sudden end of the call. Her brows furrowed, and her lips tightened in annoyance.
"What an idiot..." she muttered under her breath, letting out a sigh.
The scene returned to Milo, who stood frozen in place, staring at the mysterious figure before him.
Suddenly, the figure reached up and pulled back his hood, revealing his face.
Long green hair flowed down past his chin, with two long strands framing the sides of his face. His sharp green eyes gleamed with a mysterious intensity, accompanied by a sly, unsettling smile.
He was about the same height as Milo, standing tall and confident.
The air seemed to grow heavier as Milo took in the stranger's striking appearance, realizing this was no ordinary man.
The figure stepped forward calmly, then moved his left hand to the side.
A strange, large scythe began to form in his grip, as if it materialized from pure energy.
He held it firmly, the blade glowing faintly, radiating both power and mystery.
As the scythe fully formed in his hand, a terrifying green aura erupted around the figure, swirling violently like a storm of energy.
Milo's eyes widened in shock.
"This is definitely...
I'm sure it's a legendary weapon!"
The figure took a step forward toward Milo, his grip firm on the glowing scythe.
Milo stood his ground, muscles tense, ready for whatever was coming next.
The cold night wind gently swept through the corners of the alleys, carrying with it a deep silence that settled over the city. Everything seemed still, as if the world itself was holding its breath, waiting for the coming storm.