Silas, on the other side, was climbing the wall.
Suddenly, he slipped.
"Shit! Gonna roll up my sleeves… just don't forget to roll them back down."
He pulled up his sleeves, took a deep breath, and tried again. This time, he made it to the top.
"What's that noise?"
Curious, he followed the sound to a group of students forming a circle.
"Shit… don't tell me that's Conor!"
On the other side, Conor thought:
My body's still wrecked from training… I'm not in any shape to fight. But these bastards… how dare they talk to me like that?!
As the tension grew, the circle of students widened, everyone frozen, waiting.
Then a shout cut through the silence:
"OOOHH!"
A man stepped calmly into the center.
"A teacher?"
"Who's that? A hall monitor?"
Conor's eyes widened — it was Silas.
"Silas!!!" he yelled.
The student holding Conor by the collar turned to him:
"Who the hell are you? Never seen you around here!"
Silas stared, cold and :
"Let him go."
The other let go instinctively, shivering.
Huh? Why did I let go?! This guy… who the hell is he?! He's terrifying!
"GET HIM!" the student yelled to his two friends.
They charged at Silas. He took one step forward, calm…
On blink of eyes… was enough ! a strike to the temple, one to the jaw. Both dropped, unconscious.
Silas slowly lifted his gaze. Conor, seeing an opening, thought:
He's focused on Silas, this is my chance!
Summoning his last strength, he delivered a brutal uppercut to the guy holding his collar.
Silas flinched, slightly surprised.
The three students began to rise, but at the sight of Silas approaching slowly, they stepped back, terrified. Their leader screamed:
"WE'LL GET YOU BACK! I SWEAR YOU'LL PAY!"
"Conor, let's go," Silas said.
On the way back, a heavy silence fell. Silas seemed to boil from the inside.
Maybe he's mad because we left without explanation… Conor thought, nervous.
Once at the apartment, Silas sat down and finally broke the silence:
"Are you stupid?"
Conor, confused:
"Huh?"
Silas exploded:
"Are you completely stupid or what?! Why did you hit him?! What the hell were you thinking, you brainless idiot?! You just ruined your only chance to go back to class once this is over!"
Conor froze.
Silas continued, full of rage:
"Why the hell did you do that?! Now that you hit a student in the school, you can be sure you're getting expelled… And I don't want a useless asshole without any certificate as Marta's husband."
Conor lowered his head.
Shit… he's right. I completely lost it.
He muttered aloud:
"You're right… I messed up."
Then, suddenly, he shouted:
But those bastards treated me like trash! What else was I supposed to do, huh? Let them walk all over me? Let them spit on me?!
Silas threw a punch at unbelievable speed… stopping just a centimeter from Conor's face.
A cold wind brushed Conor's neck.
Calmly, Silas said:
"If you can't control your emotions, don't you Will have a happy future"
He stood, inhaled deeply.
"Get ready. We're training."
Conor, still trembling, thought:
If he'd hit me, he'd have broken my jaw… that's terrifying.
During training, Conor couldn't keep up.
What the hell is this? Too fast, too precise, too sharp… his reflexes are inhuman.
Silas threw him to the ground, then stretched casually:
"We're done for today. Sit down, we need to talk."
He continued:
"You've got basics: pivot, weight transfer, footwork isn't bad. But you're weak on dodges. You try to counterattack too quickly. Watch first. Understand what I do after each strike. See how I reposition myself. And—stop with your overheads. That's the most predictable counter. Oh, and your kicks… they´re suck. We'll work on that."
Conor listened intently, awestruck.
He was analyzing my flaws and strengths during the fight… He wasn't even going all out. There's no other way.
Later, at dinner, Conor asked:
"Where'd you learn to fight?"
Silas, without looking up:
"My grandfather. He trained me from six to fifteen. He died that year. I was already a good fighter, but I was still learning from him."
"You seem to admire him," Conor said.
Silas finished his plate, stood up.
"Everyone admires according to their nature. A woman admires a model for her beauty. A young boy admires a soccer player for his talent. I admired my grandfather for his strength. I think strength is the only way to be happy."
"Are you happy?" Conor asked.
Silas thought for a second.
"I don't know. I've never lost a fight, so… I guess, yeah."
Conor smiled softly.
"Your happiness is being unbeaten? I'd say for me it's being with Marta."
Silas turned his head "didn't ask you…"
Then he looked at conor slightly
"Then get strong. Strong for her. To protect her. Now… sleep daron."
Conor watched his back as he walked away.
How can he say he's happy? His face shows nothing… no joy, no sadness. The only emotion I've ever seen on him is anger. Normally, I'd say his gaze reflects nothing…
An immense, endless void.