The rain poured heavily, washing the streets of Casalini and creating faint reflections of light on the wet sidewalks.
In a shadowed corner, Mildo walked with heavy steps, carrying his weapon, the rain soaking him.
He stopped, staring at the empty street, while the roar of the storm drowned the silence inside him.
"How long will I keep fighting?"
" This is enough. I want to stop ,I'm so tired. Nothing has changed… nothing… I'm still that lost person, I still can't remember my truth, I still don't know who I am."
He held his mask in his hand, staring at it for a long moment. Drops of his own blood fell one by one onto it.
He walked on in a daze, then felt someone watching him. He turned, finding no one, and continued.
He reached a railing overlooking the river, paused for a moment, then put the mask on his face. A single tear fell from his eye:
"I guess I've reached it."
He lost his balance, his feet slipped, and he fell into the cold river waters, leaving behind the sound of rain and the whispers of a past that never ends.
He sank quietly into the icy waters, every breath a battle to survive. Then he began to see something moving closer to him.
"What… am I imagining this? Is… is that a girl approaching me?!" he whispered to himself, his heart racing.
The world around him became foggy, the water playing with the reflections of city lights on the surface, but the image was not clear enough.
He opened his eyes for a moment and caught a strange figure holding him, as if someone very important to him. But he was sure it was only an illusion; no one would mourn his death.
The cold water surrounded his body, the rain washed his face, and everything around him seemed blurry and unreal.
He woke up in a strange house, faint light filtering through the windows.
He rose slowly, examining the room around him; a neatly arranged space, elegant furniture gleaming as if someone had just finished cleaning it.
Unable to contain himself, he quickly gathered his belongings and rushed out.
He approached the window, opened it, put on his mask, and jumped without hesitation. The rain still poured onto his face, the wet ground slowing him down, but he didn't stop. Every step he took was an escape, an attempt to stay away from everything.
He reached an empty, almost abandoned place, removed his mask, and inhaled the cold air, feeling the chill. Then he grabbed a black leather-bound notebook and a pen.
Suddenly, his only friend appeared behind him.
"What are you doing, Mildo?" he asked, his voice a mix of curiosity and concern.
"Writing, as usual. The strange things that happen in my day," Mildo replied indifferently.
His friend looked at him for a moment, as if trying to understand something, then merely nodded slightly.
Mildo sat on the cold ground after covering the window with a tattered cloth, while the small candle flickered weakly in front of him, almost extinguishing as if sharing his loneliness. He wrapped himself in an old coat for warmth and let out a deep sigh, carrying a heavy weight.
Before reaching this state… before becoming the cold young man accustomed to solitude, there was another time, different.
At nine years old, his life seemed simple and calm, or at least that's what he thought.
His mother had died when he was very young, and his father was mostly absent, leaving him to live in a world that felt vast and cruel for a small child.
He spent his time in the narrow streets of Casalini, playing and exploring every corner, silently wishing someone would watch him with a smile instead of the harsh glances of the world around him.
Every day, he went to the railing to watch the sunset. One day, a beautiful girl approached, clutching the railing eagerly, her hands covered in mud from playing.
When she saw him, she approached energetically, mud splattering onto his face and coat.
"Hello, what are you doing here?" she said with a bright smile.
He wiped the mud from his face, looking at her in wonder. How could she laugh like that amidst all the chaos around them? He said softly,
"I like watching the sunset from here."
She smiled more, holding his hand with her dirty hands.
"Me too. Do you want to play with me?"
Without waiting for an answer, she grabbed his hand and pulled him toward a place filled with children his age and younger.
"Let's climb the dome!" she said excitedly, pointing at a dome full of nets and metal poles.
He looked at her in astonishment. How could she be so full of energy while he barely felt any excitement? But he couldn't resist her smile and decided to follow her on this little adventure. For the first time in a long while, he felt part of something fun and safe.
As he nearly fell, she grabbed his hand quickly and looked at him for a long moment.
"Is this your first time here?" she asked, laughing.
"Yes," he said quietly.
Surprised by his answer, she paused, her face showing astonishment, but she didn't step away. Instead, she laughed softly and said,
"Huh… why? Don't your parents take you to the playground?"
He replied calmly,
"My mother is dead, and my father doesn't always come home."
She smiled gently, holding his hand.
"It's okay. I'll be your friend here."
"Friend?" he whispered, incredulously.
Days passed, and he saw her every day. She took him to play in all kinds of places, and he felt a warmth he had never known, wishing it would last forever.
Weeks later, she came to him wearing a strange black outfit. She hugged him, crying:
"I'm leaving this city today."
He asked, confused:
"Why? Where to?"
Her voice trembled:
"I don't know."
She pulled a strange iron-shaped necklace from her pocket.
"This is for you, a gift."
A strange woman silently stood behind her, then said:
"Let's go."
She waved, then ran, saying:
"Goodbye."
He returned home after sunset and noticed a curtain slightly open, realizing his father was inside.
He ran in, excited:
"Dad! I'm back!"
But his father didn't look at him, as if his words hadn't reached him.
He held up a carefully painted picture, hoping to share his joy:
"Look, I painted this!"
His father pushed him away indifferently:
"Not now. Later."
The painting fell on the hearth and burned, but he didn't grieve. He was used to it.
The smell of his father's alcohol filled the air again, lifeless, a body moving without a soul.
His father had not always been like this; once he had been strong, respected, a great leader whom everyone feared. People even thought before speaking, fearing his anger.
But after his mother's death, everything changed. He forgot everything, withdrew from his team, leaving behind only an empty shell.
He went to his room and sat at his table, writing some unique words of the day; he loved writing ,it was his small refuge.
Then he fell asleep at the table and woke up to find a scarf covering him. A tear fell from his cheek, the reason unknown.
He whispered:
"Dad came into my room and covered me"
Moments later, gunshots rang out.
He ran to the living room to find his father lying on the floor, people he once respected standing over him.
His father raised his hand, shouting:
"Run, my son!"
His eyes widened, voice trembling:
"Dad, no!"
The door opened, and he ran, chased by them. Bullets roared behind him.
He fell down a slope, but quickly got up to keep running, calling:
"Dad!"
Suddenly, a carriage appeared and stopped. He ran to it, holding on:
"Help! Someone's trying to kill me!"
The passengers looked at him in shock. One asked:
"Who is this boy?"
The other replied:
"A poor child. I think we should help him."
They spoke to him with strange smiles:
"Come on, boy. Get in quickly. We'll help you."
He got in immediately, but soon a cloth with a strange smell was placed over his mouth.
"What?!" he whispered in astonishment.
He felt dizzy, collapsing in their hands, everything around him turning dark and mysterious.
He woke up to find his feet and hands shackled with iron in a strange place.
He whispered in confusion:
"Where am I? What is this place?"
The person he thought came to save him appeared.
"So, you've woken up," he said calmly yet mysteriously.
Mildo repeated his question, heart racing:
"Where am I?"
The man approached, putting a finger near his lips to calm him:
"Shhh… no questions here."
"Let me go! Who are you?" he screamed.
The man stood over him, angry, striking his face:
"Stop screaming, child! Your yelling is annoying!"
Someone entered the room:
"Still cruel to the children, Enzo?"
A man with neatly tied black hair and a smiling yet mysterious face spoke.
He turned to him:
"What do you want, Henry? Don't you see I'm doing my work?"
Henry handed Enzo a file and looked at Mildo coldly:
"We must stay calm, Enzo. We don't want to anger my master."
Enzo took the file, his expression changing, then sighed:
"God, you ruined my fun."
Henry said:
"Take the boy to my master."
They grabbed him by his chain, pulling him along.
"Where are you taking me?" he said, resisting.
They arrived at a room filled with the smell of cigarettes. A large man entered, holding a cigarette, sitting with one leg crossed over the other.
"So, this is the new boy?"
Henry replied:
"Yes, master."
The man raised his empty hand. Enzo placed the file in it.
The man put the cigarette in his mouth, opened the file, eyes widening, then threw it to the ground:
"What have you done? Why bring this boy here?"
Enzo stepped closer:
"What do you mean, master? I don't understand."
His master struck him on the face:
"This boy is William De Luca's son. Do you understand the disaster you've involved us in?"
"William De Luca, leader of the largest gang in Casalini. This boy is his son!" Enzo said in shock.
The master turned to Mildo:
"Where is your father?"
He didn't answer, looking at him with angry, tear-filled eyes.
The man removed the cigarette from his mouth, placing it in Mildo's hand.
Mildo screamed in pain:
"You bastard!"
"I asked you where your father is!" the master repeated angrily, his voice shaking the room.
"I'll never tell you," Mildo answered defiantly, tears glistening.
Suddenly, someone whispered to Henry, who turned in shock and concern:
"Master Dante, William De Luca is dead."
Master Dante smiled wickedly at Mildo, his eyes cold and treacherous:
"That bastard is dead, isn't he?"
He laughed hysterically, long and terrifying, echoing through the room.
Mildo whispered fearfully:
"Dad… dad…"
Dante suddenly stopped laughing, grabbed Mildo's face violently, squeezing every ounce of hope from him:
"Your father is dead. No one will save you. No one."
Mildo spat at him, punching Dante in the face until he fell.
"Take this bastard to room seven!" he shouted.
Blood dripped from Mildo's mouth. Enzo stepped forward to drag him from the chains.
"Let me go! I won't go!" he shouted, mixing rage and helplessness.
Henry asked Dante curiously:
"Why room seven?"
Dante replied coldly:
"William's blood flows in his veins. I'm sure he has some of his talents."
When they reached room seven, Mildo bit Enzo's hand in pain, pushing him away into the room, colliding with the wall.
"Are you a dog? What the hell?!" he muttered, then slammed the door, the echo of shock and threat lingering.
Mildo knelt, burying his face in his hands:
"Why? Why is this happening?"
A foul smell hit him. Turning, he found a decomposed body. Fearful, he stepped back. Then a voice from the dark corner said:
"It's dead."
He turned quickly to see a blonde girl, her blue eyes staring coldly at him.
She stepped closer, voice cold:
"It's dead because it defied my master's orders."
Mildo asked nervously:
"Who are you? And what is this place?"
"Armenda, and this place is Hell, the Land of No Return," she replied coldly.
Another person approached, wearing an eye patch, voice calm but sharp:
"This is the headquarters of the Black Beasts gang. We are mere killing tools."
Mildo said determinedly:
"I won't stay here!"
Armenda replied coldly:
"Don't try. We tried before you and received the worst punishment."
Mildo screamed angrily, tears almost falling:
"I won't give up!"
The boy with the patch pointed to the corpse:
"I know your feeling, but here, determination is useless. My friend died trying to escape too."
Armenda sighed, pointing to her neck and her friend's:
"Look at the metal pieces. A button press, and electricity shocks you every time you misbehave."
Mildo touched the collar, fear flickering in his eyes.
The person reached out, voice reassuring:
"I'm Logan. Let's survive here together."
Mildo grabbed his hand, tears flowing as he stood.
Minutes later, Henry and Enzo entered.
Henry muttered impatiently:
"Let's remove this body, Enzo."
Enzo replied mockingly:
"Disgusting. Let the children take it out!"
Mildo and the others watched silently.
Henry said coldly:
"Armenda, Logan, you… take this body and follow me."
Armenda and Logan examined the corpse carefully. Mildo stood frozen, eyes fixed on the fallen body.
His gaze froze for a moment, as if time stopped.
"This place… feels like another world. No place for humans. Real monsters," Mildo muttered in his mind.
They carried the corpse carefully, their footsteps muffled in the dark hallways until reaching the garden.
Henry said harshly:
"Bury it here."
They laid the body on the ground. The cold air wrapped around them as they covered it quietly.
The sound of dirt falling echoed like sad drums announcing the end.
Logan felt sorrow as he threw dirt over his friend, hands trembling with each movement.
Mildo froze, eyes devouring the scene coldly; it all seemed like a distorted picture with no human meaning.
Armenda remained silent, staring at the ground with empty eyes, no tears, no trembles, as if death had become routine.
When they finished, Henry looked at them coldly:
"Now, to the yard."
They entered a wide courtyard within the headquarters, surrounded by gang members with hard faces.
Wooden weapons were scattered on the ground.
Enzo smiled wickedly, waving at Mildo:
"Today, your first training begins."
Mildo looked at the scattered wooden weapons—some long sticks, others sword-like, heavy enough to leave a painful impact.
Enzo approached slowly, grabbing a thick wooden stick, a poisonous smile on his face.
Suddenly, he shoved Mildo hard, who fell, and Enzo placed his foot on him coldly:
"Get up, choose your weapon if you dare."
Mildo pushed Enzo's foot away, stood slowly, eyes fixed on him with lethal intent.
He turned to the weapons, bent slightly, and grabbed a wooden sword firmly.
He lifted it, testing the weight, then fixed his gaze on Enzo:
"Come on, I'll show you."
Enzo laughed mockingly:
"Ha! A child like you thinks he can stand against me? Let's see how long you last before your bones break."
He swung his stick angrily. The strike met Mildo's wooden sword, shaking under its force. His hands trembled, almost losing grip.
Despite the tremor, Mildo steadied himself, eyes locked on Enzo with unwavering determination.
Enzo raised his stick again, striking, but Mildo blocked every attack, sword trembling under the force but held firm.
A few steps away, Master Dante watched silently, eyes analyzing every move.
Henry approached, smirking half-mockingly:
"Why so engaged? Fighting seems fun for you."
Dante observed Mildo, thinking:
"This boy… seems to have learned some fighting skills."
Henry whispered:
"Not surprising. His father was a major gang leader. Naturally, his son would know some skills."
Mildo struggled to block every strike, eyes focused, body tense.
Armenda and Logan watched in awe. Logan whispered:
"He's amazing…"
At a moment, Enzo tried to cheat:
"Look there!"
Mildo glanced briefly. Enzo seized the chance, striking his head. Mildo hit nearby pillars.
Dizzy, he heard ringing in his ears. Standing with difficulty, blood running down his face, he held his wooden sword firmly, vision blurry.
He breathed slowly, regaining strength, eyes never leaving Enzo.
"I'll kill you," he whispered coldly, angrily.
Enzo mocked:
"Ha! I can't hear you!"
Mildo shouted with deadly determination:
"I'll kill you!"
He lunged at Enzo. Enzo struck his head hard. Vision blurry, but Mildo stood firm, wooden sword in hand.
Dante's voice boomed:
"Enough, Enzo. The fight is over."
Mildo turned to Dante, body staggering, then fell.
Henry approached, calm, low voice:
"Take him from here, treat his wounds."
Dante looked at Mildo, then turned to Enzo with disdain:
"Pathetic. You lost to a child cheating."
Enzo trembled, voice broken:
"I… it wasn't cheating…!"
Dante:
"I don't want to hear it. Shame on you."
He turned and left, leaving Enzo stunned.
Guards lifted Mildo carefully.
Enzo kicked his stick angrily:
"Damn, that bastard!"
Henry smiled, calm and confident:
"Relax. Maybe next time you'll win, maybe not."
He walked away with Mildo, a smile on his face, enjoying Enzo's humiliation.
Enzo shouted angrily:
"Henry, that bastard! I'll kill him one day!"