Silence hung between them like an unseen weight, the room dimly lit by the flickering lantern. Zehron sat motionless, his hands clasped together, elbows resting on his knees, gaze fixed on the wooden floor beneath them. Sylus mirrored his stance, staring ahead, lips pressed into a firm line, mind heavy with the tale he had just heard.
Minutes passed. Neither spoke. The night outside whispered with the wind, but inside, there was only the sound of their breathing. Then, at last, Sylus exhaled deeply and broke the silence.
"So what now?" his voice was quiet, but steady.
Zehron lifted his head slightly, his eyes looked determined. "I must move up the ranks. Whatever it takes. If rank is the problem, then I'll rid myself of it. If it's power he respects, then I'll earn it. If wealth can change his mind, then I'll claim it." His fists clenched. "One way or another, I will stand before him as a man he cannot refuse."
Sylus scoffed, shaking his head. "You're a fool if you believe that's all it will take. Naïve, even. You think a title or a bag of gold will change that man's mind?" He turned his gaze to Zehron, studying him carefully. "You don't understand men like him. I do. I've seen it, lived it."
Zehron furrowed his brows, but said nothing, so Sylus continued, voice low and edged with knowing. "Elvienne's father—he's a man of pride, not reason. I've seen the way he looks at me, and I'm Coreborn—just a rank below his own. He tolerated me, but only because Elvienne chose to spend time in my company...well...That's atleast what I would like to think. Even then, he made it clear, in ways subtle and not, that I was beneath her." He sighed. "You think it's just about status? No. It's about blood. The idea of a lowborn mixing into his lineage must have enraged him to his very bones."
Zehron stayed silent, lost in thought. His mind churned with possibilities, but none led to a path without consequences. Could he really go against a man like Elvienne's father? A man who had the power to have him dragged, beaten, humiliated—without a second thought?
His fingers unconsciously brushed over the faint bruises still lingering on his body. The memory of that night burned in his mind. The guards restraining him, striking him. The cold fury in her father's eyes. And then—Elvienne. The way she had cried, begging, pleading for mercy.
His chest ached at the thought. He clenched his fists. He couldn't afford a reckless move. If he acted without thinking, his family would suffer too. His parents—who had already endured so much—would be the first to bear the consequences.
He took a deep breath, steadying himself. When he finally looked up at Sylus, his green eyes were calm, almost too calm for the turmoil inside him. "Teach me how to fight," he said.
Sylus blinked, caught off guard. "What?"
"I need to learn," Zehron repeated, his voice measured.
Sylus narrowed his eyes. "You planning to take her father head-on?"
Zehron let out a quiet chuckle, shaking his head. "No, you silly." A ghost of a smile touched his lips. "I need to fight in the underground ring."
Sylus stared at him, stunned. Then, slowly, his lips curled into a smirk. "You've lost your damn mind, haven't you?"
Zehron's gaze remained steady. "Perhaps."
Sylus let out a short, disbelieving laugh. "You're serious about this?" He shook his head. "Look, my hand-to-hand combat isn't the best, but my swordsmanship is. I've been training since I was a kid—I can teach you that."
Zehron listened in silence.
"But if you're set on learning how to fight without weapons," Sylus continued, rubbing his chin, "there's a book in my father's library. I read parts of it when I was younger—learned a few moves—but my training focused more on the sword, so I didn't go far with it." He smirked. "It's thick, though. Full of detailed instructions and techniques. Might take you a while to get through."
Zehron gave a small nod. "That will do."
Sylus studied him for a moment, his usual playful demeanor fading. "You're really going through with this, aren't you?"
Zehron exhaled, his expression calm but resolved. "There is no other choice."
Sylus leaned back, rubbing the back of his neck. "You do realize how risky this is, right? I mean, yeah, there's a no-kill rule, but people still die in those fights. And sure, the killer might get jailed for a while, but with the right connections, they're bailed out before the blood even dries." He scoffed. "The underground fights might be legal on paper, but in reality, they're as dirty as they come."
Zehron listened in silence, his gaze unwavering.
Sylus sighed. "The nobles bet on these fights. Some even sponsor the fighters, treating them like pets for their amusement. The ones with backing don't have to hold back. If they kill, they know their noble patrons will clean up the mess." He looked Zehron straight in the eye. "You'll be going in alone, with no money, no sponsors, and no one watching your back. That's not just dangerous—it's near suicide."
Zehron's fingers curled slightly, but his face remained impassive. "Then I will simply have to make them notice me."
Sylus stared at him for a long moment before sighing again. "You really are stubborn." He shook his head. "Fine. I'll help. But if you die in there, don't come haunting me."
Zehron gave a faint smirk, his green eyes calm. "You don't have to worry about that."
Sylus scoffed. "Right. Because you're immortal now?"
Zehron didn't answer, only looking at him with that same composed expression. It wasn't arrogance, nor recklessness—it was sheer, unwavering resolve.
Sylus sighed, shaking his head. "Fine. If you're this determined, I'll do what I can."
---
The warm glow of lanterns flickered in their small home, casting a golden hue over the wooden dining table, now filled with a feast unlike any other night. The air was rich with the scent of roasted meat, spiced stew, and freshly baked bread. Laughter echoed softly, blending with the crackling of the fireplace.
"Happy birthday, Kaelen!" their mother cheered, ruffling the ten-year-old's messy hair.
Kaelen, beaming with a wide, tooth-missing grin, puffed his chest proudly. "I'm ten now!" he declared, glancing at Zehron for approval.
Zehron gave a small nod. "So you are."
Their father chuckled, raising his wooden cup. "A decade old already. Soon, you'll be out hunting beasts instead of playing in the fields."
Kaelen gasped dramatically. "Really? Can I?"
His mother shot their father a glare. "Absolutely not."
Zehron shook his head at the exchange, but a rare softness lingered in his gaze. The sight of his family, the warmth, the togetherness—it was a feeling he wanted to hold onto. A feeling he longed for in the future.
As the meal continued, Zehron reached into his coat and pulled out a small, wrapped box, sliding it toward Kaelen. "Here. A gift."
Kaelen's eyes widened as he tore the wrapping open. The moment he saw what lay inside, he froze, mouth slightly parted in disbelief. A Lunareth Crystal—a rare, shimmering stone, its surface swirling with faint magical light.
"You got me a Lunareth Crystal?" Kaelen's voice trembled with excitement. "This—this is real?!
Excited he says, "Now my teacher won't have a reason to scold me."
Their parents exchanged a knowing glance, understanding how much effort it must have taken Zehron to afford something so precious.
Kaelen clutched the crystal tightly, his small hands shaking. Then, in a burst of emotion, he threw his arms around Zehron's waist. "Thank you! I love you, big brother!"
Zehron blinked, momentarily still, before resting a hand on Kaelen's back. A quiet, rare chuckle escaped him.
"I love you too."