Chapter 98:
The top floor of the fight club changed with the setting sun. During the day, the room served as a training hall, with mats covering the floor and heavy bags hanging from the ceiling. By evening, the equipment was pushed against the walls, the mats were rolled away, and a makeshift ring, folding chairs, and betting stations were prepared for the night's matches.
Tristan sat beside a window, his legs stretched out while he watched the crowd gathering below. His black jacket, marked with the golden sun of the Azura Gang, hung open over his dark shirt. Although his posture appeared relaxed, his Ki sense spread throughout the building, allowing him to monitor the preparations and the gang members moving between the floors.
Across from him, Silas sat with his arms folded, his silver hair reflecting the last rays of sunlight. His amber eyes carried an expression of growing exasperation as Tristan continued describing his latest romantic encounter.
"And then she looked at me with those beautiful brown eyes and told me that she had never met anyone like me," Tristan said, leaning forward with an enthusiastic grin. "She has been in the gang for three weeks, watched me fight more than a dozen times, and still believes I am unlike anyone she has ever met."
Silas slowly shook his head.
"You say that about every woman you spend the night with. I have heard you use those exact words at least five times since joining the Azura Gang."
"That is because they are true every time," Tristan replied confidently. "I am charming, handsome, skilled, and honest about what I want. Most men hide behind insecurity or pretend to be someone they are not. I prefer to be straightforward."
Silas leaned back in his chair and glanced toward the fading light outside.
"What you are is a man who cannot remain single for more than twenty-four hours. Between training, patrols, and gang responsibilities, I barely have enough energy to sleep. I cannot imagine wasting what remains on romantic problems."
Tristan laughed.
"That is where you are mistaken. Romance is not another responsibility that I have to schedule. It is the reward for surviving the others."
Before Silas could respond, the far door opened, and three gang members entered. The man leading them, a tall fighter with closely cropped hair and a scar above his left eyebrow, approached Silas and stopped respectfully.
"Commander Silas, the evening shift has arrived. We are ready to take over from the afternoon team."
Silas rose from his chair and stretched his arms.
"Tell your people to begin preparations. I want the ring ready by seven, the betting stations operating by seven-thirty, and the first match starting at eight. The afternoon team should return within the hour, so make sure the transition is handled properly."
The man nodded, but Tristan spoke before he could leave.
"Double the security around the VIP section tonight. We have heard that gangs from the eastern districts might cause trouble. Anyone who attempts to cross the restricted area without permission should be removed immediately."
The fighter acknowledged the order before leaving with his companions.
Once the door closed, Silas returned to his chair. His attention shifted toward Henry, who sat cross-legged on a mat in the corner of the room. His eyes were closed, his breathing slow, and a faint green aura pulsed around his body.
"What is Henry doing?" Silas asked. "He has barely moved for hours."
Tristan followed his gaze.
"He is comprehending the breathing technique Elijah recently gave him. The improvement has significantly increased its enhancement, and Henry is trying to understand how it functions before integrating it into his cultivation."
Silas raised his eyebrows.
"The technique Elijah gave the inner circle?"
Tristan nodded.
"It is different from the Dark Amber Breathing used by regular members. It accelerates physical development and raises the user's limits far more effectively. Henry has been practicing it for weeks, and his strength, speed, and endurance have already improved."
Silas glanced at Henry with a mixture of curiosity and concern.
"Elijah is an extraordinary man. The Dark Amber technique alone would be worth a fortune outside the gang, yet he gives it to people who prove their loyalty. The technique Henry received must be even more valuable."
"Elijah is investing in his people," Tristan replied. "The stronger we become, the stronger the gang grows. Increased strength means greater territory, more influence, and more money. His generosity serves a purpose."
Silas's expression became serious.
"I understand the strategy, but that is not what concerns me. Elijah is dangerous because of his mind as much as his strength. He sees possibilities that other people overlook, anticipates actions before they happen, and continues growing at a frightening pace. Every time I meet him, he seems stronger and more certain of his path."
Tristan's smile faded slightly.
"You are not wrong. That is precisely why I chose to follow him. Elijah possesses the potential to change the world around him, and he refuses to accept the limitations that other people consider permanent."
Silas lowered his gaze.
"I fear him, although I do not believe he will betray me. I fear what someone like him might eventually become and what that could mean for people like us, who have spent our lives trying to survive."
Tristan placed a firm hand on Silas's shoulder.
"That is a conversation for another time. Since we are waiting for the evening matches, why don't you tell me more about yourself? You have been with the gang for weeks, but I know very little about where you came from."
Silas remained silent for a while before releasing a slow breath.
"I was born in the Eighth District, where violence was part of everyday life. My father drank heavily and became increasingly violent whenever his frustrations overwhelmed him. He beat me throughout my childhood, and by the time I was twelve, I had already developed a hatred that I did not know how to control."
Tristan listened without interruption.
"When I was thirteen, I began running with other troubled children. We fought, stole, and caused trouble because nobody had taught us how to live differently. Fighting came naturally to me, and I discovered that I could read my opponents and exploit weaknesses in their defenses. For the first time, people respected me."
Silas's hands tightened around the arms of his chair.
"My first kill happened when I was fifteen. My father came home drunk with a knife and attacked my mother. When she tried to protect me, he struck her so hard that she fell to the floor. I grabbed a glass bottle and hit him until he stopped moving."
His voice remained controlled, although the memory had clearly not lost its weight.
"Afterward, I took my mother and ran to the Ninth District. She never asked me what happened, and I never explained it. She simply cared for me, protected me from judgment, and made sure I had food and a place to sleep."
Silas looked down at his hands before continuing.
"I joined a gang when I was sixteen. Those people became my family, and for a few years, I believed we would remain together. A larger organization eventually destroyed us, killing most of my friends and scattering the survivors. I lived because I knew when to fight and when to escape."
His amber eyes lifted toward Tristan.
"After that, I decided that nobody would ever control me again. I would protect the people I cared about and live according to my own decisions. The Thorn Wolves gave me a place where I could use my strength without feeling that I had surrendered my freedom."
He paused before continuing.
"When Elijah came to the warehouse, he defeated me with nothing more than his presence. I could have fought him and died, or I could have followed him. What made the decision easy was that he gave me a genuine choice. He allowed me to leave, and I could see that he meant it."
Silas leaned back.
"So I stayed because I wanted to discover what the future might hold."
Tristan remained quiet for a moment before speaking.
"My childhood was different. My parents treated me well, and I grew up with enough comfort that I never worried about food or shelter. They wanted me to study in a Tier 3 city and build a successful career. I also have a younger brother, and both of us were expected to make something of ourselves."
He gave a faint, embarrassed smile.
"Unfortunately, I was young, reckless, and obsessed with women. One of those women happened to be my teacher."
Silas's eyebrows rose.
"When our relationship was discovered, I destroyed the opportunities my parents had worked to provide. They were devastated, and I felt ashamed of what I had done. Although they tried to find another educational opportunity for me, I decided to leave for Blackridge."
"Why?" Silas asked.
"Because I wanted my failures to belong to me alone. I loved my family, but I could not bear the thought of disappointing them again."
Tristan glanced toward the empty ring.
"I began fighting in underground matches because I enjoyed the challenge. I was not desperate for money, and I was not trying to escape some tragic past. Fighting simply gave me freedom, and I discovered that I was good at it."
He spread his hands.
"That is my story. I enjoy women, fighting, and living according to my own choices. Elijah gave me the opportunity to pursue those things while belonging to something larger than myself, so I accepted it."
Silas considered his words before asking another question.
"You are young, talented, and capable of building a different life. Why did you choose this gang and this city?"
Tristan turned his attention toward Henry, who remained absorbed in meditation.
"That is a question you should ask Henry. He has spent hours trying to comprehend Elijah's technique, and he pushes himself harder than anyone else here. If you want to understand why someone chooses this life, perhaps his answer will tell you more than mine."
Tristan leaned forward and called across the room.
"Henry, Silas wants to know why someone young and talented like you chose to join this gang. What do you think?"
Henry's eyes opened slowly. The faint green aura surrounding him continued pulsing as he looked toward the ceiling, apparently considering the question.