Chapter 2: Awakening in the Favela

  Five years ago, in the heart of Rocinha, Rio de Janeiro.

  The sun bled over the labyrinth of narrow alleys, casting jagged shadows across cracked pavement. The air buzzed with the symphony of a restless city—distant chatter, the occasional gunshot, the sizzle of grilled meat mingling with the stench of sewage. Here, survival wasn’t just instinct; it was an art.

  Alex curled up against a rough brick wall, pain knifing through his ribs. A pair of women rained down kicks with practiced fury, their stilettos punctuating his misery.

  “Você n?o vai me comer por 15 reais, gringo de merda!” one of them spat.

  Fuck. Why do I keep listening to that old fart? Alex groaned internally, twisting to shield his vitals and his pride.

  “I’m sorry, ladies!” he wheezed. “I know you’re worth much more than these pennies! I was just so stricken by your beauty and grace that I had to try my luck!”

  A final stomp from a scarlet 2-inch heel crumpled him.

  “Fala português, caralho!”

  The evening sun bore down, burning him into the pavement. I should learn Portuguese, dude. Gritting his teeth, Alex rolled onto his knees, spat out a bit of blood, and limped toward the winding corridors of the favela.

  “I’m going to kill him this time,” he muttered. “For sure.”

  The locals barely spared him a glance. Residents, dealers, and gangsters all understood the unspoken rule—gringos who knew how to navigate Rocinha were either crazy, broke, or both. Alex fell into the latter.

  By the time he reached his latest excuse for a home, a rusted metal door hanging onto dear life, his anger had boiled over. He shoved it open, only to find his master, Philip Laurent, lounging at a rickety table, playing cards with a local.

  Alex’s blood reignited. “YOU KNEW THIS WOULD HAPPEN, DIDN’T YOU, YOU DAMNED OLD FUCK!?”

  Without looking up, the silver-haired man ducked just in time. Alex, mid-charge, tumbled forward and collapsed onto the table. No matter how much time passes, I can never believe this guy. He’s too damn agile for a relic.

  Philip smirked, lazily reshuffling his deck. “How dare you doubt your master? You’d still be bouncing around foster homes if I hadn’t saved you from the Stevens.”

  I barely managed to dodge. Philip’s eyes gleamed. The little shit is progressing quickly.

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  Alex groaned. “How the hell is getting stomped by hookers a ‘learning experience’?”

  Philip cracked his back and gestured to the man across from him. “Matheus, do me a favor and educate this idiot.”

  Matheus, an unshakable presence in the room, finally looked up from his cards. His gaze pinned Alex in place.

  “The prostitutes in Rocinha account for half of its economy,” he said evenly. “Learning to respect them will keep you alive longer than you should be.”

  Alex clenched his fists. “You know I wouldn’t disrespect them. You’re the one who taught me to make friends in new places.”

  Philip chuckled, slicing the deck and flicking each half. The cards launched into the air and landed perfectly aligned.

  Alex forgot his pain for a second. This old man is something else.

  Philip grinned. “I know you’re a sensible kid. That’s why I picked you. But we’re the only two Americans here.”

  Alex narrowed his eyes. “What does that have to do with anything?”

  Philip sighed. “Well... I had a similar problem last night, and let’s just say the girls weren’t thrilled with the ‘respectable’ rate I offered. But now that you’ve done the same thing, it looks more like a cultural misunderstanding instead of me being cheap. Don’t you think?”

  Silence.

  Alex stared at him. “...I will cut your dick off, old man. I swear to God. This is like the tenth time you’ve gotten me into trouble. Shouldn’t you have calmed down at your age?!”

  Matheus choked back a laugh as Philip smirked.

  “Training your spirit strengthens both mind and body in profound ways, my dear student. You’ll understand when you reach the first stage.”

  Alex tugged at his hair. “You keep saying that, but it’s been almost a year, and I haven’t improved at all! How am I supposed to get stronger when you keep sending me on these ridiculous ‘missions’?”

  Philip shook his head. “You’re brimming with spirit, son. You’re just a late bloomer. It’s only a matter of awakening it.”

  Alex exhaled sharply. One day, I will kill this horny geezer. But not yet.

  “Whatever. I’ll be training in my room. Don’t call me for dinner.” He turned to leave. “Goodbye, Sir Matheus.”

  As soon as Alex disappeared, Matheus scowled. “I’m all for tough love, but I don’t tolerate liars, Philip.”

  Philip feigned innocence. “Me? A liar? I truly thought the girls would be more accommodating to tourists.”

  “Tsk, you know what I mean. ‘Late bloomer’? That kid is an outlier even in a superior world. His wounds were healing before our eyes.”

  Philip set his cards down, meeting Matheus’ gaze. “I know exactly what that kid’s capable of. But I also know what we’re up against.” He exhaled, thoughtful. “Talent won’t be enough. I need him at the third stage before sending him there.”

  Matheus’ mouth fell open. “Third stage? That’s my level! You can’t be serious.”

  Philip propped his feet on the table. “Five years. Tops.”

  Matheus scoffed. “Five YEARS?! That would be unprecedented in a superior world, let alone this mana-starved rock.”

  “BAAM!”

  A wooden door rocketed through the room, splintering into Philip’s neck. Matheus barely had time to raise a protective barrier.

  Philip, still rocking his chair, smirked.

  “PLACK!” The door struck him, but he barely flinched.

  Alex stood at the threshold, his body radiating a faint crimson aura. His fists trembled, his breath heavy, his rage distilled into raw energy.

  “Ha! That’s what you get, you decrepit old molester!”

  Matheus froze. That aura...

  First stage. In ten months.

  “Monster...”

  Alex saw Philip casually let the door fall, completely unfazed. Damn. I thought that was a sure-kill.

  “I didn’t mean to do that, Master,” Alex said quickly, stepping back toward his now doorless room. “I’ll be training diligently.”

  Philip only chuckled. “Still think I’m crazy, Matheus?”