Chapter 4: Fragments of Prophecy

The first rays of morning sunlight streamed through the broken window, casting a glow on the chaotic mess strewn across the floor. The battle from last night lingered in the air, a faint trace of magical energy still hanging like an unseen residue. Giovanni sat on the floor, clutching the slip of paper adorned with strange symbols, his brow furrowed tightly.

*"Tempus Revelabit Omnia"… Time will reveal all.* He repeated the phrase under his breath, trying to unearth its hidden meaning.

Arethia stood by the window, her silver hair swaying gently in the breeze. Her gaze stretched into the distance, as if piercing through the rooftops of Naples' old town to glimpse an invisible future. "Master, this symbol isn't just an ordinary prophetic mark," she said slowly. "It belongs to an artifact from the Trojan temple—the 'Wheel of Fate.'"

"The Wheel of Fate?" Giovanni looked up, his face etched with confusion. "That sounds like something out of mythology."

Arethia nodded. "It is. The Wheel of Fate was a tool used by Trojan priests to interpret the flow of time and the truth of history. However, on the final day of Troy's fall, it was shattered into several fragments and scattered across the world. It's said that only by gathering all the pieces can the ultimate secret of Troy's destruction be unlocked."

Giovanni rubbed his temples, feeling a headache coming on. "So, this symbol on the paper points to the location of one of those fragments?"

"Exactly," Arethia replied, turning to face him, a complex glint flickering in her eyes. "The problem is, those men clearly know this too. They're hunting for the fragments, and their intentions can't be anything good."

Just then, a commotion erupted downstairs. Giovanni moved to the window, cautiously peering out. A group of men in black suits had gathered on the street below, among them the tall emissary who had fled the night before. Flanking them were several burly, muscle-bound thugs, looking every bit like local gang members.

"It seems the Vatican's men have teamed up with the mob," Arethia said coldly. "They likely hope to use the gang's muscle to force you to hand over the ring."

Giovanni's heart sank. "Why are even the mob involved now? Is this ring really that important?"

Arethia didn't answer directly, instead posing a question of her own. "Master, do you remember your father's final warning? He told you not to trust those claiming to represent the Vatican, because they've long been corrupted. It seems there's a much larger conspiracy behind them."

Giovanni fell silent for a moment, then clenched his fists. "No matter what, I can't let them win. If this ring is tied to Troy's secrets, then I have to uncover the truth."

The next morning, Giovanni forced himself to pull together and head to school. But as he stepped into the classroom, he sensed something off. The two school beauties—elegant and aloof Sophia, and cheerful, outgoing Isabella—who usually paid him little attention,主动 took seats beside him.

"Giovanni, I heard you've run into some trouble lately?" Sophia asked in a gentle tone, her eyes carrying a hint of concern.

"Yeah, it's nothing, just some minor issues," Giovanni replied with a forced smile, his mind quietly on guard. He knew Sophia rarely bothered with ordinary students—her sudden kindness today had to have an ulterior motive.

Sure enough, Isabella chimed in, "Oh, come on, don't try to tough it out alone! If you need help, just tell us. We're your classmates, after all!" Her tone was playful, but Giovanni felt a growing unease.

He sensed something amiss, a nagging suspicion that their approach might be linked to last night's events. Could they be pawns sent by some faction?

After school, as Giovanni stepped out of the gate, he spotted Arethia waiting at the street corner. Her expression remained stoic, but a trace of displeasure flickered in her eyes.

"Master, who were those two girls?" she asked bluntly, her voice tinged with unmistakable jealousy.

Giovanni blinked, then gave a wry smile. "Just classmates, nothing to worry about."

Arethia huffed. "Master, you'd better be cautious. Mortals are skilled at deception, especially those with hidden agendas."

Giovanni couldn't help but laugh. "I didn't expect you to get jealous."

Arethia's cheeks flushed faintly, but she quickly regained her composure. "I'm merely reminding you to stay safe. Don't forget, we're facing enemies that threaten the entire world."

That evening, as Giovanni and Arethia returned to the apartment, they found an old man in tattered clothes standing at the door. His face was lined with wrinkles, yet his eyes burned with a piercing intensity. He leaned on a wooden staff carved with intricate runes.

"Young one, I can feel the ancient power flowing through you," the old man said, his deep voice carrying an irresistible authority. "I was a friend of Marco's, one of the team members on the Troy excavation project."

Giovanni's eyes widened. "You… you were my father's colleague?"

The old man nodded, his gaze settling on the ring on Giovanni's hand. "That ring is the last hope your father left you. But to unlock its secrets, you must go to a place—Pompeii."

"Pompeii?" Giovanni asked, puzzled. "Hasn't that place been excavated to death already?"

The old man gave a cryptic smile. "What lies on the surface often conceals the real truth. Remember, time is both your greatest ally and your most dangerous foe."

With that, he turned and walked away, vanishing into the night.

Arethia watched him depart, her expression thoughtful. "Master, I think we should trust him. Pompeii might indeed hold a vital clue."

Giovanni nodded, gripping the ring tightly. "Alright, we'll go to Pompeii. But first, we need to deal with those who've got their eyes on us."

Outside, dark clouds once again shrouded the sky, and the distant rumble of thunder rolled in. A greater storm was brewing…