The next few days felt like a blur to Raden. The offer from Master Kamebrow hung over him like a dark cloud, always present, always watching. There was a part of him—small, almost buried—that longed for it. A part of him that craved the idea of something more, something powerful. But that part was drowned out by the gnawing fear and hesitation that kept him tethered to the streets he knew too well.
Raden wandered the ghetto, unsure of what he was supposed to do, unable to shake the feeling that his world was closing in. The usual hustle and bustle of the streets felt different now—distant, alien, as though he were no longer a part of it. The kids still played in the mud, the merchants still yelled about their wares, but it all felt like a hollow echo. And in the background, the factories churned relentlessly, just as they always had.
"You can't hide from this, Raden," he whispered to himself, kicking a stone across the street. It skittered along the cobblestones and came to a halt near a broken barrel. "You've always known there's no future here. No future for a kid like me."
His thoughts turned back to Kamebrow. The Mage Breaker had given him time to think, but now, as the days passed, the pull of his offer became harder to ignore. Power. Purpose. A way out of this suffocating place. But what would he become in the process? What kind of person would he have to be to accept the things Kamebrow wanted from him?
No one ever gets out clean, Raden. Not here. Not in this world.
The words his mother had once whispered to him as a child—before she disappeared—echoed in his mind. It felt like a warning. A warning that was just as real now as it had been then.
At the same time, Jay was discovering the reality of his new life in the castle. His training had begun almost immediately, and it was everything he had imagined—and nothing like he'd expected.
The first few days had been a whirlwind of lectures, sparring sessions, and magic exercises that were far more intense than anything Jay had ever experienced. It was clear now that the world of magic was nothing like the stories he'd heard in the ghetto. Magic wasn't just about power—it was about control, discipline, and sacrifice.
Shara, though still distant, had become his primary instructor. She taught him how to focus, to refine the raw power within him, and how to harness it without losing himself in the chaos. But even with Shara's guidance, something felt off. The more Jay learned, the more he realized that magic was not a gift—it was a tool. A weapon. And in the hands of the wrong person, it could destroy everything.
"Focus, Jay," Shara said one evening, her voice cool and even. "Your magic isn't just for destruction. It's about precision. Control."
Jay was sweating, his body aching from the grueling training session. He had just conjured a burst of energy, sending a wave of magic toward a training target, only to watch it shatter the wooden figure into splinters. It had been his best shot yet, but the damage was too much.
"I didn't mean to…" Jay said, breathing heavily.
Shara's gaze hardened. "You think this is a game? That your power is something to be wielded without thought?"
Jay bit his lip, feeling his stomach tighten. "No, but... this is how I've always done it. You're asking me to change everything."
"Change is inevitable, Jay," Shara replied, her tone flat but cutting. "You wanted power, and now you have it. But power without control is chaos. And chaos is something the empire does not tolerate."
Jay hesitated, his mind racing. His heart was still in the ghetto, still torn between the life he had left behind and the future being forged in the castle.
"I'll do better," he said finally, determination flickering in his eyes. "I'll learn."
Meanwhile, the weight of Kacmebrow's offer gnawed at Raden as he returned to his usual haunt—a small alleyway behind the merchant stalls. His thoughts were a whirlwind, but a voice in the back of his mind kept telling him there was no other choice. The gang life? The factories? The cruel hands of those in power? Those were just fates for the weak. He wasn't weak. He couldn't afford to be.
As he walked, his eyes caught the flicker of movement in the corner of his vision. A figure stepped into the alley—silent, precise, like a shadow that had slipped unnoticed into the daylight.
Raden's heart skipped a beat. He knew that face.
It was Jimmy the Butcher, his dark eyes gleaming like knives in the dim light.
"Raden Sora," Jimmy said, his voice low, almost casual, but laced with a dark undertone. "I heard you were getting an offer. A special one."
Raden didn't speak, but the tension in the air was palpable. Jimmy was a predator—he could smell weakness, and Raden had never been good at hiding his.
"I've been thinking about your future, kid," Jimmy continued, taking a step closer. "The Red Rabbits could always use someone like you. We've got the numbers, we've got the territory. If you join us, you'll never have to worry about survival again. You'll have power. Respect. We'll run this place together."
Raden's blood turned cold. The Red Rabbits. They were the gang that ruled the streets—violent, unpredictable, and willing to kill anyone who got in their way.
"And if I don't?" Raden asked quietly, his voice steady despite the fear bubbling up inside him.
Jimmy's grin widened. "Then you're just another orphan. Just another lost soul who didn't make it out. And trust me, kid, there's nothing worse than being forgotten."
Raden didn't move. He didn't let the fear show. The coldness in his chest was spreading, and for the first time, he felt something stir inside him. Maybe it wasn't magic, but it was something. Something dark. Something that could make him more than just a survivor.
"I'm not joining you," Raden said, his voice firm. He met Jimmy's gaze, holding it without flinching. "I've got a better offer."
Jimmy's eyes narrowed, but there was a flicker of amusement there. "A better offer? You're a smart kid. But you'll learn—you always have a choice. But in this world, the choices aren't always yours to make."
Raden turned to leave, the weight of the decision still heavy on his shoulders. The path ahead seemed less clear now, but it was his to choose. Whether he took the hand of Master Kamebrow or followed the dark promise of the Red Rabbits, the world was shifting under his feet.
Meanwhile, far from the ghetto, at the heart of the empire, Jay's training continued. But even in the heart of the castle, Jay felt something stirring—something he couldn't name. It was a feeling that he didn't belong in this world. Not yet, anyway. Not until he learned to control the power within him.
And perhaps, deep down, that was his greatest fear.