chapter 8: the youth of the xiro family

Chapter 8: The Youth of the Xiro Family

The iron bars groaned as the cell door slid open, allowing the dim lantern light to flicker against the stone walls. Rin stretched his stiff limbs, his mind still replaying the last few days—betrayals, secrets, and calculated moves that brought him closer to freedom.

Hudson yawned beside him, cracking his neck. "Feels damn good to be out of that hole."

The youth sitting across from them, who had remained mostly quiet throughout their imprisonment, stood up. He dusted off his plain clothes, his movements sharp, controlled. Then, with a small smirk, he finally introduced himself.

"Xiro Frances."

Hudson froze. His casual demeanor vanished in an instant, replaced by sheer disbelief. "Xiro Frances?" he echoed, voice low. "You mean that Frances?"

Rin raised an eyebrow. "Never heard of him."

Hudson scoffed, rubbing his temples. "Kid, you seriously need to learn about the world." He turned to Frances, scrutinizing him. "So you're the Frances of the Xiro family? The one with the potential to become a general?"

Frances shrugged, his smirk widening. "That's what they say."

The Xiro family. The third most powerful mafia family under the Throne, known for their ruthless efficiency and their iron-clad loyalty. If Frances was their rising star, then it meant he wasn't just some random swordsman—he was a future force to be reckoned with.

"Why the hell were you in a place like this?" Hudson asked, still in shock.

Frances chuckled. "Got myself thrown in for being rude to a senior."

Rin narrowed his eyes. That was a weak excuse. Someone of Frances' caliber wouldn't be jailed for something so trivial. "Lying doesn't suit you," Rin said bluntly.

Frances tilted his head, amused. "Oh? And what do you think the reason is, genius?"

Rin studied him. "You were here to keep the Xander family in check. You let yourself get imprisoned to watch their movements, ensure they didn't overstep. It's about maintaining balance, isn't it?"

Silence stretched between them. Then Frances grinned. "Smart. I like that I've seen youths like you but an advice if you care be careful of knowing tomuch knowledge can give you a kingdom but it can also make you not sit on it".

Hudson whistled. "Damn, Rin. You sure you're not a strategist or something?"

Rin ignored him, his gaze still locked onto Frances. He had no doubt his guess was right. The power struggle between the mafia families was a delicate game, and the Xiro family wasn't one to let threats go unchecked.

A sudden creak echoed through the hallway. A guard appeared, unlocking the final door spits at Hudson's face with a look of disdain.

"You three, you're free to go."

Rin exhaled. Finally.

As they stepped out into the cool prison corridors, Rin glanced around, searching. The old man. His master. He wanted to see him one last time, to demand answers about the tattoos and the cryptic strike that had nearly killed him. But there was no sign of him.

Instead, his gaze landed on something else—a raven perched on the high bars of the prison walls, staring down at him with unsettling intelligence. Its black feathers shimmered under the torchlight, and for a brief moment, Rin had the distinct feeling that he was being watched.

Then, as if satisfied, the raven flapped its wings and vanished into the night.

The main gates loomed ahead, the cold wind sweeping through as the heavy iron doors groaned open. The outside world felt strange after days of confinement—more vivid, more alive.

At the entrance, a grand chariot waited, its frame sleek and dark, the insignia of the Xiro family gleaming on its side. The horses stood still, perfectly disciplined, as if even they carried the weight of the mafia's prestige.

Frances smirked. "Looks like my ride's here."

Hudson scoffed. "Of course it is. They wouldn't let their golden boy walk home."

As Frances took a step forward, the curtain of the chariot shifted slightly. From within, a pair of sharp, luminous blue eyes gazed out.

Time seemed to slow. The person inside barely moved, but their gaze locked onto Rin. A flicker of recognition passed through those eyes—something knowing, something ancient.

Then, in a voice too soft for anyone but himself to hear, they whispered,

"Zarakai Rin Valos."

Rin felt a chill crawl up his spine.

The curtain fell back into place. The chariot door shut. With a smooth command from the driver, the horses began to move, pulling the vehicle into the darkened streets.

Rin stood still, the name ringing in his mind.

That was his full name.

But he had never spoken it aloud.