A few hours later, Evan returned and found Travis lounging on the couch, staring blankly at the ceiling, clearly lost in thought. The faint hum of activity outside filled the silence as Evan set his bag down and greeted him. Without waiting for a response, he headed to the shower, the sound of water soon echoing through the small house.

When Evan came back, his hair damp and a towel slung over his shoulders, he sat beside Travis.

"So, how was your day?" Evan asked, his tone casual but curious.

"It was alright, bro," Travis replied, shifting slightly to face him. "Got my Adventurer card and some equipment for my journey. I plan on leaving tomorrow if that's not a problem with you?"

Evan blinked, surprised by the abrupt announcement. "Oh, leaving so soon? Well, no, I don’t mind. No use wasting your time here. I should pack you some things for your journey," he offered, standing up with a hint of reluctance.

"No, there's no need, but thank you, Evan." Travis hesitated for a moment, then added, "I'd like to ask something, though. What happened to your little brother, Evan?"

The question hung heavy in the air, catching Evan off guard. His expression tightened for a moment, and he let out a deep breath.

"Oh, so you saw my book, didn’t you?" he asked, his voice quiet.

Travis nodded, recalling the moment he stumbled upon the worn journal while tidying up. It had been a curious find, and being who he was, Travis couldn’t resist flipping through its pages. It turned out to be Evan’s personal diary—a window into his private pain.

Evan sat back down, his face shadowed with a mixture of grief and anger. "Well, it’s not really much of a story," he began, his voice tinged with bitterness. "He went to the Coliseum, hoping to grow stronger and become an adventurer. At first, things went well. He won every fight, became the crowd favorite. They even offered him a room at the VIP room inside, claiming they wanted to keep him safe since he’d made enemies through all the betting fights."

He paused, his hands clenching into fists. "In a way, they weren’t lying. But what he didn’t know was that those accommodations came with a price. After ten straight losses, he was in debt—so much so that he became the Coliseum’s property.

"I don’t blame the Coliseum entirely. He was naive, thinking his talent alone could pay his way in a world where nothing is free. Fight after fight, he tried to win back his freedom. Five months later, I decided to go watch one of his matches, clueless about what he’d been enduring. I thought I was going to cheer him on, but instead…" Evan’s voice cracked.

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He looked down, unable to meet Travis’s gaze. "He died. Right there, in front of me. They killed him, and the crowd cheered. Everyone thought it was just another spectacle. Just entertainment. No one cared—except me."

Travis felt a chill run down his spine, the weight of Evan’s words sinking in. This world was brutal, far crueler than he’d anticipated, though he knew it wasn’t entirely foreign.

"’But I guess we’re not much better with MMA fights and the like,’" he thought. "’The rules make it seem civilized, but the cruelty is still there.’"

The silence between them grew heavy. Unable to find the right words, Evan abruptly stood and walked to his room. Travis watched him leave, his heart heavy with sympathy and anger.

A muffled sound broke the quiet. Evan was crying. Alone in his room, he fell to his knees, clutching at the memories that haunted him, his tears falling freely.

Feeling the weight of it all, Travis decided to step outside for some air. The chill of the evening hit him as he opened the door. His eyes instinctively lifted, and there it stood—the Coliseum, a dark, looming silhouette against the night sky.

"If only I had the power," Travis thought, his fists tightening, "I’d destroy this whole place in the blink of an eye."

....

The very next morning, Travis woke up before the first rays of sunlight kissed the horizon. He dressed in his armor, the leather creaking softly as he buckled the straps. Slinging his bag over his shoulder, he paused only to place a small pouch of coins on the table—payment for the kindness he hadn’t asked for but deeply appreciated.

The house was silent, the world outside still wrapped in the tranquility of dawn. He glanced back once before stepping outside, shutting the door behind him with a quiet finality.

The streets were empty, save for a few early risers tending to chores or opening shops. Travis made his way toward the town’s gates, his boots crunching against the cobblestone. As he approached the exit, the towering silhouette of the Coliseum caught his eye, its dark presence a stain against the soft glow of the rising sun.

He stopped, turning to face it fully, and a faint, determined smile curved his lips.

"I’ll burn that place down one day. That’s a promise, Evan," he thought before turning back and stepping out of the town, leaving it behind but carrying its scars with him.

A few hours later, Evan woke to the morning light streaming through the window. He rubbed his eyes, his body heavy from the restless sleep of the night before. As he sat up, his gaze landed on the pouch of coins left on the table. A faint frown crossed his face as he walked over, picking it up and feeling its weight in his hand.

Beside it, a folded piece of paper caught his attention. He unfolded it carefully, his eyes scanning the lone sentence written in Travis's bold handwriting:

"It’s not your fault."

Evan stared at the note, his throat tightening as the words sank in. They were simple yet carried a weight that pressed against his chest. He sat down, the note trembling slightly in his hand, and let out a shaky breath.

For the first time in years, the guilt that had chained him felt a little lighter.

In another location, Travis was already miles away from Valorim, the town shrinking into the distance as he climbed a grassy hill. The wind whispered through the tall blades of grass, carrying with it the faint sounds of morning life awakening in the valley below. He paused at the crest of the hill, turning to take in the view.

The town, bathed in the golden light of the rising sun, looked almost idyllic. The cobblestone streets and neatly arranged buildings gave it a rustic charm, the kind of place someone might call home if not for the dark shadow looming at its heart. The Coliseum stood out like a wound on the town’s beauty, a cruel reminder of its tainted history.

Travis narrowed his eyes, a flicker of disdain crossing his face. But as he took a deep breath, he let the anger settle, replacing it with resolve. Ignoring the Coliseum and the bitter memories tied to it, he could admit the town had its charm.

"Valorim," he muttered under his breath, letting the name linger in the air. This wasn’t the last time he’d see it. No, far from it.

As he turned away, his hand instinctively brushed the hilt of his weapon. His eyes burned with determination as he gazed toward the horizon, where endless possibilities awaited.

"The next time I step foot in this town," he thought, his jaw tightening, "I’ll be the strongest to ever live."

With that silent vow, Travis continued his journey, his silhouette disappearing into the morning light, leaving Valorim and its shadows behind—for now.

TO BE CONTINUED