He slowly opened his eyes, starring at the ceiling. He didn't know where he was. He found himself lying on a clean, soft bed.
The blankets were thick and warm, and the pillows were soft like clouds. The wooden bed frame had some sort of swirly design carved into it, twisting.
He rose up and lay against the bed frame and looked around. The room was huge. It was bigger than the wooden house he used to live in.
The room wasn't too bright. A golden chandelier hung right in the center of the room above a small coffee table. It sparkled with different colored gems and crystals, casting soft, colorful lights across the smooth, shiny, clean floor.
In the corner across from the bed were two massive windows. They were covered by beautiful black curtains with gold stitching along the edges, giving that expensive look.
On the opposite side of the room was a door with a gold knob. He was still wearing his messy clothes.
Then he heard a knock on the door.
"Come in."
The door slightly cracked open. Through it, a girl peeked her head through to see if anyone else was in the room, before stepping into the room.
She was a petite girl. About the same age as him, maybe a year younger. She had long orange hair, brown eyes, and fair skin.
She slowly walked toward him. She had her head down, as if she was afraid to make eye contact. She was carrying a set of neatly folded clothing.
She approached Sylas, her posture uneven, her shoulder was tensed. She put the set of clothing at the edge of his bed.
Still without looking up, without saying anything, she turned and walked toward the door.
"Where am I?" he asked.
That startled her. She turned, stumbling in her words, and replied, "You're in the Great House."
"What?" he snapped as he got out of the bed and attempted to leave, but she blocked his path.
"You can't go. I was asked to keep you here."
Her voice was shaky, uneven, seemed as if every word struggled to come out. He loomed above her, his eyes sharp.
"Move, stupid girl."
Her eyes became watery. She started shaking as if the temperature in the room went down. She slowly started backing away as Sylas moved forward—until she stumbled and fell on her back.
He ran out of the room barefoot.
As he ran through the massive hallway, there were guards guarding him. He dashed toward them. Using his mobility and reflex, he was able to slide under one of them, sidestepped, jumped, leaped off one of them toward the stairs.
The hallway felt like it ran on forever. Paintings of all the great warrior Virelia family lined the walls.
His heart was pounding. He didn't care. All he wanted to do was to leave this damn place.
He ran down the stairs toward the main door. He pushed the door open. The sunlight hit him in the face, almost blinding him. When his vision slowly came back, he found himself in a different world.
A massive garden, filled with rows of different colored flowers. On the far left was a huge training ground. On the right were many small houses where the maids stayed. And in front of him was an enormous gold metal gate.
He ran toward it. He wanted to get out of this place.
The maids and guards stared at him in confusion. But he ran. He was exhausted from all the running, but he was happy. He smiled as he ran toward the door. He clutched his chest, trying to catch his breath.
Then that smile suddenly disappeared. He suddenly stopped a few feet away from the gate.
He realized something was missing. His necklace.
He started panicking. He checked his pockets. Looked around the floor. But it was not there.
He rushed back into the house, thinking he might have left it in the room. He ran back and opened the door.
And when he was about to run up the stairs—he saw a boy standing on the top of the staircase.
He was about the same age as him. Red hair. Brown eyes. Had the look of a brat. And he was holding his necklace.
He looked at him, calm and confused.
"Who are you? And hand it over right now."
The boy smiled. His posture showed pride and cockiness.
"I'm the 13th son of the Virelia Kingdom—Luis."
"I don't care. Now hand over my necklace," he asked, while extending his hand.
He smirked as he extended his arm, the necklace hanging from his clutch.
"Come and get it."
He slowly walked up the stairs, his hand trying to reach for it. At that moment, nothing mattered. He only saw the necklace. Step by step, he walked toward Luis. His hand reaching out for the necklace. His eyes filled with relief.
Right before he was about to reach out and grab it—Luis kicked him in the chest and threw him off the stairs.
Everything slowed down at that moment. As he fell backward, the only thing he saw was Luis grinning. He didn't know why he did that. He continued to fall—until his reflex kicked in.
He flipped and landed on his feet.
"What the hell did you do that for?"
His heart pounding. His voice filled with anger as words came through his clenched teeth.
"I don't know why they even brought you here. It's pointless. Not like you will live the trial."
Sylas didn't move. He stood there still, confused. Then he looked at him, his gaze sharp. He reached out his hand again.
"I don't care about any of that. Now hand it over."
But he didn't. Luis continued to blabber.
"It's pathetic. It's just a bronze key necklace. We all have gold, platinum." He paused for a moment and he smiled. "Maybe I should destroy this useless thing."
He raised his hand. He lowered his head. He didn't understand why.
"Why are you doing this? We have never met or even seen each other in my life, so why?" he asked.
A disgusted look formed onto Luis's face as he proceeded to speak.
"Son of a slave has no right to be part of the Virelia family," he laughed.
He didn't want to be part of this family. He was brought here by force. His head down, gritted his teeth, his mind and body filled with anger. His hands were shaking.
To make it stop, he clenched his fist. His uneven nails dug into his palm. Blood poured on the floor.
Luis continued as he laughed harder.
"She thought she could get out of her class. She was nothing but street trash. She was a w—"
Snap.
He didn't give him the chance to finish his sentence. He ran toward him.
He leaped. Kicked off the rail. Pushed himself off the wall in a zigzag motion—left, right, left, right.
Before Luis knew it, he was above him. His knee ready to strike. His red eyes were locked on him. His face became expressionless. His eyes filled with anger.
Then in an instant—Sylas's knee connected with his face, sending him flying down the hallway.
He didn't give him the opportunity to get up. Or a chance to fight back.
He ran to him. Grabbed his necklace in his left hand. Got on top of him.
He didn't say anything. He just stared. His face still expressionless. He stared him down. His eyes cold.
"Everything that's about to happen now, it's on you."
Bam. First punch.
"I'm sorry," Luis muttered.
He looked at him. Without any word, he punched him again. This time on the nose.
Then Sylas started punching him in the face nonstop.
One of the times Luis moved his head—Sylas ended up hitting the solid ground.
He looked at him again.
"Did I say you could dodge?"
But that didn't stop him. He kept going. Now more aggressively.
Blood stained Luis's face. He screamed for help. He begged Sylas to stop. But he kept going.
His hand was bruised. Covered in both his and Luis's blood. But he couldn't feel anything.
His breathing was heavy. His mind went blank—as if something inside him had snapped.
Hearing him scream for help, the guards showed up. The scene shocked them. One of the hired guards called out to him to stop—but instantly froze when Sylas turned and glared at them.
His eyes were wide. And red.
"Back off."
Then he turned back. And continued to beat Luis down.
Seeing the situation would get worse, one guard forced himself to move. He locked his arms around Sylas's waist, pulling him off Luis.
"Young master, stop. You're going to kill him," the guard shouted as he pulled him away.
The other two ran to help Luis.
He wasn't done.
He struggled uncontrollably. Then he elbowed the guard that was holding him. Grabbed his sword. And charged toward Luis.
He was about to strike him—when something zoomed past him. A blur.
And in the blink of an eye—he was unarmed.
"That's enough, Sylas," a familiar female voice said.