The new beginning

On the terrace of the sanctuary, where the breeze carried secrets of millennia and the view offered a glimpse of a world full of magic and mystery, a meeting between ancient alliances was unfolding. An elf of timeless elegance, his white hair contrasting with the evening sky and blue eyes reflecting a deep wisdom, analyzed a white jewel with a precision that only magic could allow. With a magical magnifying glass in his hands, he seemed to unravel the hidden mysteries in the stone.

After moments of silence that seemed to stretch time, the elf put the jewel in a briefcase and closed it with a definitive click. "I'll pay what you're asking for," he announced, addressing the dwarf in front of him, whose stature did not diminish at all the immensity of his presence.

"OHohoh, always good to do business with you, Aranwe," the dwarf replied with a laugh that seemed to echo stories of past adventures. They got up, a mutual gesture of respect and camaraderie forged over countless years. "Yes, old friend. I'll ask my subordinates to leave the gold in your room," Aranwe agreed, sealing the deal with a handshake that was worth more than any written contract.

It was then that footsteps interrupted the moment, bringing a new presence to the terrace. The dark elf, accompanied by me, Dean, advanced with an expression that mixed curiosity and caution. I, on the other hand, was trying to process the transition from being teleported and accused of being a pervert to witnessing negotiations that seemed to come out of a fairy tale - if fairy tales included business and magical jewels.

Aranwe cast a glance in my direction, a quick assessment that made me wonder if I should feel flattered or worried. Without saying a word, the dwarf withdrew, leaving the space for what promised to be an interesting conversation… or an interrogation, depending on how you want to see it.

"Hello, Mr. Aranwe. This human appeared suddenly, with… blood on his clothes. It seems he was in Alva and Nívea's room," explained the dark elf, throwing me directly under the spotlight of a situation that I could barely keep up with.

"Hmmm," Aranwe let out, with an expression that made me wonder if he was about to reveal the secrets of the universe or simply ponder what he would have for dinner. Suddenly, he began to approach me, and I could swear that the air around me got ten degrees colder. "Your name and which organization you belong to," he asked, his voice as calm as his gaze was incisive.

I swallowed hard, feeling the weight of those blue eyes analyzing me as if they could read every confused thought that passed through my head. "Dean Carleone. I'm from the high court. This blood—" I began, trying to somehow explain the situation without looking like I had just escaped from a crime scene.

But Aranwe interrupted me, cutting off my attempt at explanation in the middle. "It's not yours, I understand. I also know that you didn't hurt anyone on the premises of this sanctuary. Now, Carleone… It's been a long time since I heard that name. The head of the Carleone family used to be my old friend."

"That's… Cool," I replied, because, of course, when you're face to face with an elf who apparently has connections with your family, "cool" is the best thing you can say. "Now that we've cleared up the misunderstandings, can I go?" I asked, hoping that my involuntary stay at the sanctuary could finally come to an end.

"You are free to leave whenever you want. But… If the twins put you here, there must be a reason. What is your position in the high court, if you don't mind me asking?" Aranwe inquired, his curiosity evident in the undertones of his speech.

"I'm a servant," I replied, trying to keep my voice firm, as if being a servant in the high court was some kind of notable distinction. In reality, it seemed more like a euphemism for "jack-of-all-trades in potentially lethal situations".

"Peculiar, you must not be a mere servant, for the twins to have put you in this sanctuary, there must be a reason…" Aranwe pondered aloud, more to himself than to me. He then began to assess me with an analytical look, as if trying to unravel the mysteries of the universe through my disheveled appearance and the blood stains on my clothes.

"He is young. He must be 16 years old? Normally, humans tend to develop their skills better at that age. Could it be that the twins put him here for me to train him, since I owe them a favor?" Aranwe speculated, his thoughts reflecting a mix of surprise and interest.

Suddenly, Aranwe, noticing my hesitation and the whirlwind of thoughts that must have been evident on my face, reiterated the welcoming nature of the sanctuary. "As I said before, the doors are open, both for exits and entrances. Sanctuaries are safe points on this planet. Besides security, they have all the services that a five-star hotel could offer. In addition to the training rooms and service, we have weapons, food and comfort. Being a servant of the high court, you are entitled to all of this for free."

"Tempting…" I couldn't help but agree. After all, since I arrived in this world, every day was a sequence of events that seemed taken from a low-budget action movie script, where the protagonist doesn't have a moment of rest. Could I just forget all this, leave aside the plot that I created myself and live in the sanctuary forever? Technically, yes. I had already disappeared without a trace, and the story should start to get back on track in my absence. Of course, there would be one or another unforeseen event, courtesy of the changes in the script imposed by the deity who decided to throw me into this chaos. Sam, however, seemed to have everything under control… As for the other main characters, well, I wouldn't be so confident.

My retirement plan seemed almost tangible, an idea that became more and more attractive as the reality of my situation sank in. But then, why did this persistent anxiety nag me, whispering that I was forgetting something important? The feeling that, if I chose to stand still, everything would go downhill, and the path that I had drawn for this world would be irreversibly altered…

Yeah, it seems that even in a sanctuary, a place designated to be a safe haven from conflicts and dangers, the mind of a writer, or in this case, mine, can't completely shut off. The stories we create haunt us, intertwined with our lives in ways that we can't always predict or control. And as I pondered about my "retirement", I couldn't help but wonder: would leaving the stage in the middle of the play really be the right decision? Or would I just be running away from a fate that, one way or another, was determined to find me?

Noah's words, that fight fanatic, echoed in my mind like a relentless alarm clock: "Do you wish to be the strongest so that you fear nothing in this world?" The truth, as frustrating as it was to admit, is that I was weak, terribly weak. Alva had used me as if I were a rag, my most powerful skill, the Dismantle, didn't even come close to scratching her skin. And in front of the characters that I created myself, true forces of nature, I felt even smaller, an ant crushed under the weight of its own insignificance.

It was time to stop hiding in the shadows of my mind and face reality, as cruel as it may be. "Aranwe, since you know my family, can I ask you a favor?" I asked, looking for some sign of understanding in his eyes.

Surprised, but no less welcoming, Aranwe replied: "Of course, I owe one to your family." What a relief to know that I wouldn't need a counterpart… at least until the vacation arc, where a massacre was planned. There, I would have the chance to strengthen myself by consuming the universal fruit.

Until this crucial moment, I needed to become stronger, to improve myself. I could no longer afford to stand still. "I need to get stronger," I declared calmly, with a determination that surprised even myself.

"You want to get stronger, do you?" Aranwe pondered, his voice tinged with a trace of amusement and skepticism. As he watched me, a silhouette formed behind me, the image of a man who could be me, but older, smiling and exuding confidence. It was as if, for a brief moment, Aranwe saw not only who I was, but who I could become. He closed his eyes, dissipating the vision before commenting: "You just met someone and right away you ask them to train you?"

"Huh?" My surprise at his response was undeniable. He had a point, after all. "Well, you are the guardian of the sanctuary and would there be anyone better for me to ask this?" I argued, trying to justify my audacious request with the logic that he was, without a doubt, the obvious choice for a mentor.

Aranwe sketched a slight smile, as if amused by my boldness, and began to walk away, heading back to the interior of the sanctuary, leaving the terrace and the fresh breeze behind. "Draco, take care of training Dean, okay?" He spoke to the dark elf by my side.

Draco, until then a silent observer of our exchange, simply nodded in response to Aranwe and said: "Of course, I will make sure to train this human."

Being trained by an elf certainly had its advantages, regardless of who the mentor was. My last look at Aranwe, who had already disappeared completely into the interior of the sanctuary, carried a mix of apprehension and expectation for what was to come. "So, when do we start?" I asked, my voice revealing both my anxiety and my desire to start this new phase.

Draco pondered for a moment before answering, evaluating me with a critical look that seemed to measure my capabilities and limitations. "We can start now, if you prefer, but you would fight with those injuries and most likely hurt yourself even more. Or…" His voice left in the air the suggestion of an alternative, and I leaned in to listen, my curiosity sharpened by what he could propose.

"…or we can give you some time to recover. We have here in the sanctuary resources that can speed up your healing," he continued, his expression serious, but not devoid of a certain compassion. "Besides, this time can be used for you to familiarize yourself with the environment here. Training is not only about physical strength; it is also about knowledge and strategy."

"Sure, knowledge and strategy," I spoke, acknowledging that, despite the appeal of immediate training, my body needed care before anything else. "But I think it's better for me to heal. Besides, I'm starving. Now that I'm under your care, and I'm a servant of the high court, everything is free, right?" I tried to add a touch of humor to the situation, despite everything.

"Of course. Then, follow me, Dean. I'll take you to the healing room," Draco replied, starting to walk. But then, the atmosphere changed suddenly, his voice becoming more serious, even cold. "But know this. I'll give you only today a day of rest. From tomorrow, you'll be awake at six in the morning and you'll only stop training when you can't stand anymore. Are you ready for the training? If you want, you can give up, there's still time."

Give up? The word sounded strange, almost alien, considering everything. No, giving up was definitely not in my plans. "So, a day of rest before hell begins? That sounds cool," I replied, trying to keep the tone light, despite the promise of a rigorous training that awaited me.

With Draco guiding me through the sanctuary, I couldn't help but feel a bit like a recruit being taken to his first night in the barracks. But, at the same time, there was a spark of excitement within me. The opportunity to train, to become stronger, was exactly what I needed. And, if for that I had to endure exhausting days under the tutelage of an elf, so be it.

"A day of rest before hell begins," I repeated to myself, mentally preparing for what was to come. If I wanted to change my fate and the course of the story that I had created, then this was the way. And I was ready to face it, with all the determination and courage that I could muster.

---

The mission that was entrusted to me at the Pentagon Academy was as simple as it was deadly: to eliminate Alice del Ferraro and then accept death at the hands of her father as a disposable pawn. The idea was that, without a known background, it would be almost impossible to trace the motive of the murder back to me, or more precisely, to my contractors.

But, as is typical in my life, the script suffered more twists and turns than a prime-time soap opera. Problems arose, plans changed, and before I could say "mission aborted", Judge Alva saw me as someone with potential. Thus, my original mission was canceled, and she decided to teleport me to this sanctuary, where she now decides that the best way is to seek more power. It's almost poetic, if you ignore the whole part of attempted murder and magical teleports.

And now? Without any more obligations that bind me to the Pentagon Academy, Alice is nothing but a distant memory, an unfulfilled mission that lost its meaning. But, oh, the others - the main cast, the only people I had real contact with. How would they react to my sudden disappearance? Certainly, I don't expect tears, but I don't doubt that a veil of mystery will form around me. They'll probably think I'm dead or something like that.

The irony of the situation does not escape me. I, who always saw myself as a lone wolf, now find myself pondering the reaction of my… colleagues? Friends? Characters? No, colleagues sounds more appropriate. And, as I find myself in this sanctuary, surrounded by creatures of fairy tales and legends that I created myself, I can't help but wonder what the future holds for me, but I already have an idea…

The "Vacation Arc" - sounds like a special episode in a TV series, doesn't it? But for me, it represents a chance, a breach in the script that I wrote myself. Stealing Sam's fruit that breaks limits… is still in play. Their reaction to my sudden reappearance promises to be worth seeing. A mix of surprise, disbelief and, I hope, relief.

Well, whatever the case, one thing is certain: my journey is far from over. And who knows, maybe, in the end, I'll find something worth fighting for… besides my own survival.