Nero did not stick around after making such a grand exit, though that was to be expected since even Silas' father had dismissed him. At the very least he got a good meal out of it.
As soon as he exited the mansion, on foot since there was no way he was going to request to be dropped off, he made another call to his father, who once again did not pick up. Putting the phone back in his pocket, Nero started a light jog as he made his way out, for if he walked it would take too long.
But with no distractions and a long jog ahead of him, he could not help but let his thoughts wander. This was the first time he had seen someone look down on Kolari soldiers like this. It was surprising how many firsts he was encountering since he became a Neophyte, but this was absolutely one he never even imagined.
The military ruled the entire country, basically, and the man himself was in the army at very high post. Yet just the thought of a soldier for him meant a short, unsuccessful path either leading to death or being a glorified guard.
Did he not realise that without those soldiers, his precious little mansion would cease to exist? For everything they were worth, the private security in this gated community would not be able to do much in the face of a true cursed event.
But Nero also could not deny the extremely high death rate among the army. So did that mean all the rich and powerful thought this way? Was that the reason it was so easy for the mayor to send Patrick off to his death? Was he just another 'foot soldier' in his eyes?
He clenched his fist as he changed his train of thought. Dwelling on such matters would do him no good. Instead, he started reflecting on how he behaved.
Even as he reflected on his actions, he could not tell if it was worth it or not. A side effect of always training and wanting to be a soldier was that Nero had whittled away his fears. He was not afraid to go and put his life on the line against true curses. But if that was the case, a side effect of it was that he was similarly not afraid to provoke trouble with someone clearly superior to himself.
A part of his brain told him that he would have avoided a whole lot of trouble if he had just restrained himself, and pretended to listen to the deranged man. But another, equally convincing side of him argued that on the path he was treading, there was no room for doubt or hesitation.
Obviously he should not provoke others unnecessarily, and create problems for himself, but at the same time he could not afford to step back in the face of every tricky obstacle.
Both arguments sounded correct to him, and he could not decide which one was better. Which one would serve him the best in the long run? Which one would lead him to strength?
For many things the answer came to him easily. But sometimes, he got stuck.
Nero's thoughts continued to cloud his mind even when he exited the community and took a cab to Maxim's card shop. After buying a couple of Enhanced learning cards, he took a cab back to school. It was already getting dark and he didn't feel like cycling home.
But the restlessness in his heart would not let him calm down, so instead of returning to his apartment he went to the gym and grabbed a spear. Instead of running to warm up, this time he practised forms.
The thrust was the most basic and most important form, so he began with that. He let go off all thoughts and focused solely on the spear. He didn't bother visualising his enemies and he stabbed forward, that would only distract him.
Whoosh.
The sound of the spear cutting through the air filled. At first, Nero felt something was off, so he adjusted his footing and his grip, and tried again.
Whoosh.
It was better, but not quite right. He adjusted his stance and tried again. Something clicked in his mind, and this time the thrust was perfect. Not wanting to waste the momentum, he took a step forward and transitioned into another thrust.
Step by step, he moved from practising forms to full fledged shadow fighting. In the dimly lit room, only the sounds of Nero's footsteps, his spear cutting through the air and his breathing could be heard.
Nero lost himself in practice, and suddenly, on a whim, he activated his innate ability. As his spear stabbed forward, without warning, a blue flame encompassed the blade of the spear and only the blade. This was the first time Nero summoned his innate ability far away from himself, but he did not stop to admire the feat.
Still fueled by the energy from his steak earlier, Nero dove even deeper into his training. He moved faster, stabbed with greater ferocity, and manipulated the spear around him with superior skill.
The faint, yellow lights in the room were drowned out by the deep blue of his flames, mixing colours and creating shadows as Nero unveiled his artistic performance. The flame would brighten or dim according to his actions, and leave trails behind in the air as he swung the spear through the air.
Frost eventually began to gather, and mist escaped Nero's mouth with every jagged breath he took, but he did not slow down. Fatigue started to build in his muscles, and his energy finally started to fade, but Nero did not allow himself to stop.
Finally, in the heat of practice, and the chill of the hall, Nero's mind began to clear.
Whoosh.
He cut down an imaginary foe, and stepped forward to face another. It did not matter what others thought. He was Nero Grant. While others played, he trained. While others slept, he studied. While others gave up, he persevered.
Whoosh.
His flames began to brighten just as the light in his eyes began to increase. He was not a foot soldier, he was a warrior. He was not a coward, he was a Kolari. When others feared death, he flirted with it. When others bowed, he stood straight. He did not need to worry about anything else, and just needed to focus on his goals.
If trouble came his way, then he would not be afraid to deal with it.
With a magnificent roar, Nero thrust his spear forward one last time, causing the flame on the tip to explode in glorious shades of blue.