Chapter 2: The Wool City and the Shadows Below
The sun cast its golden hue on the path ahead as Ronan and Dante trudged toward the infamous Wool City, a place known for one very odd thing—wool. From scarves to capes, to carpets and even... wool art?
As they entered through the stone archway, the air turned fuzzy—literally. Strings of dyed wool hung from shop roofs, and crowds of locals traded, bargained, and bragged about their wool quality.
Dante looked around in disbelief. "Seriously? These people are obsessed with wool?"
Ronan smirked. "Yeah. Weird, right?"
"But... why?"
Ronan shrugged. "No clue. Even I think it's kinda creepy."
Dante sighed, stepping aside to avoid a child throwing wool balls at pigeons. "So, how far to your grandfather's house?"
"Just a few kilometers," Ronan replied.
Meanwhile, back in the city of Falias, Michael Giordano—Dante's father—paced near the window. "Sol, have you seen Dante?"
Sol lounged on the sofa, sipping from a juice box. "No clue where that shithead went."
Michael sighed, rubbing his forehead. "Where could he have gone at a time like this...?"
The Realm Authority had issued a full lockdown order. A Realm Gate had opened unexpectedly, and until the Enforcers sealed it, no one was allowed to leave their homes.
But Dante... was already kilometers away.
Back in Wool City, the two boys finally arrived at a quaint, seaside house surrounded by sand dunes and seagulls. The air smelled of salt and old wood. As they stepped inside, the house was oddly quiet.
"Grandpa?" Ronan called out.
No reply.
Then—
"HELLO!"
The voice came from above. Ronan and Dante looked up and saw an old man crouching upside down on a rafter beam like a ninja goat.
Ronan jumped. "Grandpa! Don't scare us like that!"
Ojjisan grinned as he dropped down like a feather. "Just keepin' your reflexes sharp."
He dusted his palms. "Now then—ready to learn some moves?"
Ronan gave a thumbs up. "You bet!"
Ojjisan looked at Dante. "And you are?"
"Dante Giordano, sir."
"Michael's kid, eh?" Ojjisan squinted. "You've got his eyes. And his bad posture."
Dante smiled nervously. "I get that a lot."
"Well then, let's not waste time. Warm up!"
The two boys began stretches, lunges, and a few jogs across the sand-covered porch. Ojjisan clapped his hands. "Now, what style do you boys wanna start with?"
Ronan's eyes lit up. "Muay Thai... and maybe some BJJ! I wanna move like Tony Jaa!"
Ojjisan grinned. "A fine choice."
As the sun dipped lower into the sea, fists and elbows flew in practiced rhythm. Ronan and Dante trained hard—every drop of sweat proof they were evolving.
Dante's inner voice echoed in his mind.
We have to train... We have to become stronger. There's no other way.
But deep beneath Wool City, under layers of forgotten sewers and locked doors, shadows stirred.
A man stood with three others in a damp, torch-lit chamber. His face was calm, yet his eyes shimmered with madness.
"It's time," he said.
His name was Hikaru.
And above him... the wool market bustled, unaware of the chaos creeping closer.