Warning: Violence in the final parts.

Questi sono i Vongola.

(These are the Vongola. Part I)

Giotto didn't realize that his hands were shaking until he, inadvertently, dropped the cup he held. Although it didn't break, it did scatter its contents on the floor. He sighed, grabbed a rag, and bent down to clean up.

It was going to be that night. Elena had told them that the meeting was to occur after the sun went down on one of her family's properties. (The fact that the Giardenne's were related enough to the mafia to let them use a property of theirs had made her want to scream. It didn't matter, Giotto assured her. She wasn't with them. She had risked herself and was still doing it to protect others).

"You seem nervous today, Giotto."

Giotto stopped and looked up instantly. From the kitchen door, Franco was looking at him with a smile. Even with medical help, it took him a while to recover, but he was slowly getting better. After the accident, he spent most of his time with Paolo and Maria, helping them with whatever he could since the store closed because of the danger.

"Mr. Franco, sorry. I-"

"You have nothing to apologize for," he said. "Not only you but G and Cozzato seem to be on edge today. G almost dropped what he was carrying when Maria spoke to him, and Cozzato fell over when he heard Argo barking nearby. Besides..." Franco stopped and looked at him with surprised eyes. "Giotto, what happened to your hands?"

Giotto, confused, looked at them. Had he cut himself without realizing it? No, it wasn't that. They were normal, healthy, at least in his eyes. Seconds later, Franco approached him and took his hands in his own, looking sad.

"They are full of scars..."

Giotto reacted at that moment. As he looked at them again, he noticed something he had been ignoring for the past months:

His hands were full of scrapes and scratches. He even still had a bruise or two that hadn't healed. Derived from climbing, no doubt. The consequences of holding on to the rock and having to exert force. From trying to hold on when he fell.

Surely, he would have more on his body. How many times had he ended up on the ground? How many times had he slipped and hit his leg or arm?

Franco tightened his grip. Giotto noticed that his hands were shaking.

"Giotto, what have you been doing? I haven't seen you much since the accident happened." A pause. "You don't have to risk yourself..."

He looked like he wanted to cry. Giotto shook his head. Franco had nothing to mourn; he had been the victim; he suffered too. He didn't have to carry extra worry.

"Everything will be fine," Giotto assured him, squeezing his hands between his own to give comfort. And to remind himself why he was doing all that.

No more pain. No more abuse.

"Everything will be fine," he repeated and smiled. "I promise."

Cozzato tried to concentrate on the sounds of the birds singing, the leaves of the trees moving in the wind, and the earth beneath his feet. He always felt connected to nature, and being close to it relaxed him, but it wasn't working this time. He could still feel his heart beating too fast and the knot in his stomach that wouldn't go away.

It was today. Cozzato couldn't be like this. The plan was carefully laid out; if anything failed (if he failed), it could all be over.

"Cozzato?"

He held back his scream. A short distance from him, Giotto cocked his head.

"Ah, Giotto," Cozzato smiled reflexively and used his classic cheerful tone of voice. Giotto frowned slightly. "I think I'm a bit distracted. But-"

"You don't have to keep doing that."

"Sorry?" Cozzato blinked, confused. Giotto moved closer to him.

"Pretending to be fine," Giotto said. "You don't have to do it. I'm nervous, G is nervous, we're all nervous. You don't need to hide it, Cozzato."

Cozzato opened his mouth, but no words came out. The knot in his stomach increased, and he felt his chest ache a little for some strange reason.

Since when had he started pretending like that?

At times, Cozzato felt alone.

His family usually moved from place to place, and while that helped him get to know more of the world (something he always loved), it also meant he couldn't form real, lasting bonds, the kind you can read about in books or watch in plays. The inseparable group of friends. The feeling that something was home. Between change and change, Cozzato had never experienced it.

Somehow, he learned to pretend that everything was fine. That it didn't hurt that he couldn't call someone a friend. Or that he didn't really have people to remember. If he pretended that everything was okay, maybe he could attract real happiness and avoid worrying his family.

Smiling and pretending had become a barrier that he always brought up when a negative emotion came up, a reflex action. But of course, fooling Giotto was almost impossible.

The funny thing was, he hadn't realized he was doing it until that moment.

"It's not silly," Giotto mentioned. "Feeling lonely is nothing to be ashamed of."

"It is," Cozzato replied. "Compared to what you and G have been through, it sounds ridiculous."

"But we're not talking about G or me," Giotto said. "We're talking about you. And your feelings are as valid as anyone else's. You don't have to hold them back, Cozzato." Giotto looked at him with a half-smile. "It's interesting to know that we have something else in common."

"It's a joke, isn't it?" he asked. Giotto shook his head. "Are you telling me that you also used to... pretend that everything was fine?"

"I still do it from time to time," Giotto admitted and looked up. That day, the sky was clear. "I tried to stop doing it when because of me, Grandma cried."

Cozzato also turned to look at the sky. He understood that, somehow, Giotto was looking for her there.

"I didn't want to worry her or give her trouble, so I started pretending that everything was fine. That I didn't feel sad and that I didn't feel like crying. That I didn't miss the others, or that I reflexively looked for Riccardo when I was afraid... He was always braver than me. I remember the time when I got scared because a huge lizard passed near me, and Riccardo stood in the way as if he wanted to protect me from a dragon or something."

Giotto smiled sadly.

"One day, I inadvertently broke a bottle at the apothecary and ended up cutting myself. I was bleeding from my hand, and all I did was smile and repeat, 'It's all right, it's all right.' Grandma cried and hugged me. She told me it was okay to feel bad; who wouldn't? Suppressing those feelings was the wrong thing to do. Sadness is also necessary."

Joy and sadness. Loneliness and companionship. All of that existed. It was all necessary. That was the balance of the world, wasn't it?

"So, I'll tell you the same thing she told me," Giotto turned to look at him. "If you want to cry, cry. If you want to scream, scream. If you feel bad, say it. I'll help you; I'll be with you if that's what you want, or I'll leave you alone for a few moments to clear your head. But in the end, I'll still be here," he smiled. "Say things as you told me now."

"If I say I'm lonely, will you stay close by?"

"I will."

"If I'm so nervous that I want to scream?"

"I will too."

"If I feel so scared that I might cry?"

"I'll still be there," Giotto assured him. "And if you let me, in that last scenario, I might even hug you. There's nothing like a good hug to bring together all the little pieces of soul that might be broken."

Cozzato smiled. The knot in his stomach had vanished, and his chest no longer felt so heavy.

"I was right to name him Giotto," Cozzato commented proudly. Giotto looked at him in confusion. "Ah, I mean my cat. The little one we found together."

"You... you named the cat after me?"

"When I bathed him, I discovered he was a nice yellowish color," Cozzato mentioned. "And he's a survivor too!"

And he gave him company, along with that warm feeling that soothed his sore chest.

"I need to find another one with red fur, sullen one, and call him G. Then they would keep each other company."

"You're not going to name any cat after me," Cozzato jumped with fright when he heard G's voice, who was at the door of the house watching them. "The first thing I heard when I came out to get some air is Cozzato saying he wants to adopt cats to name them after us."

"My feline version is there," Giotto said with amusement.

"Good luck finding mine," G rolled his eyes. "If he does, I'll look for his. Then Cozzato the cat can be with Giotto the cat to bother each other and let the other one sleep."

"Giotto the cat would not let G the cat sleep. He would ask Cozzato the cat to help him to bother G the cat."

"Could you leave my not yet existing feline version alone?"

Cozzato looked curiously at both. Giotto and G were still discussing hypothetical situations with cats, and Cozzato couldn't help but laugh.

He was no longer alone; he understood. He was no longer alone.

When the night came, the mission began.

Getting to the small castle had been easy; Elena had given the necessary instructions not only on how to get there but how it was composed. It was a significant architecture surrounded by a long field, with towers and gates every certain distance as a means of observation. The first gate was relatively close to the city.

At that moment, hidden behind trees and bushes, Giotto, G and Cozzato were watching the first entrance. It looked quiet, although inside the meeting between two criminal groups was taking place. They weren't sure how many people would be there, but it surely wouldn't be a small one.

The three looked at each other and nodded. They moved forward through the darkness and stopped in front of the first door. For the plan to work, they had to be the opposite of discreet.

They had to shout that they were there.

Cozzato went into hyper mode, and G and Giotto backed up a few steps. Cozzato looked forward, and the energy around him changed. He stretched out his hands. Those symbols that formed around him whenever he used his powers appeared. He raised his arms, and before doing his part, he smiled.

"It's rude not to welcome guests, so let's make our presence known!"

He let gravity fall with full force.

The people in the city heard a thunderous sound.

The earth seemed to shake for a few moments, and frightened, everyone woke up. That sound was followed by another and another, which made the ground rumble. It was as if something was collapsing.

People came out of their houses, looking around in confusion.

"What's going on?"

"It's the castle," someone exclaimed. "The gates around it…."

"Are smashed!"

The first door fell. The sound of bending metal filled the air, and when it collapsed, dust and dirt rose. The second also fell.

It didn't take long for the sound of footsteps and exclamations to appear through the thick dust that prevented a clear view.

"How many do you see?" Giotto asked.

"There are several groups," G answered. His eyes darted from side to side, managing to see beyond the cloud of dust to the moving silhouettes. "There were some in the towers, the first one on the left and the second one on the right. The others seemed to be coming from only one direction, the main entrance. It's not as far as it looked at first glance; it won't take them long to get here."

"Understood," Giotto said. "I'll go for the ones coming out of the castle."

Several subordinates came out to see what was happening. The layer of dust was so thick that seeing beyond a few meters away was almost impossible. Still, they moved forward.

What had happened? Earthquake? A failure in the structure of the buildings?

One of the men blinked. He had felt a strange rush of air nearby. And-

Had that been a flash of light?

He turned back to ask one of his companions if he had seen that too. All he found was that he was unconscious on the ground.

"Enemies!"

Before the men closest to them could even blink, they felt a heavy blow to the head that knocked them unconscious. Those behind managed to see how a shadow moved through the cloud of dust, leaving behind it a kind of orange flash.

However, there was something strange there. That person was moving...

Too fast.

The man pulled out his pistol and tried to aim. It was no use: that figure seemed to appear and disappear in the blink of an eye; all he could see was that orange light moving from side to side; he could only hear muffled exclamations and bodies falling to the ground.

Then the presence stopped in front of him: it was someone young (how old was he? 14 at most?) blond hair, orange eyes, flames glowing in his hands and head.

He fired, but the teenager dodged it, moving too fast to even get behind him, hold him by one of his arms, and throw him. Nearby, more screams could be heard as one tower seemed to collapse downward as if a strange force had toppled it. From the other, exclamations of fear came out as the exit door was destroyed, and the way was blocked by red flames that had appeared after a bang was heard.

A burst of gunfire was fired at them (the mafia didn't mind shooting an ally if it would stop the strange attack). However, he didn't feel the bullets hit him but was pulled backwards by his clothes, further into the dusty area that was gradually dissipating, thus avoiding danger.

Was his enemy saving him?

Confused, he tried to turn, but he was knocked out by a blow before he could do so.

"G, Cozzato! They're starting to shoot, be careful!" Giotto shouted, holding the unconscious man.

Bullets began to fly. Giotto propelled himself backwards, avoiding a wave of gunfire, and watching as enemies began to emerge from everywhere. It had worked; they had attracted attention.

Giotto left his previous opponent on the ground, and in that instant, a sense of danger ran through him. He turned towards the castle, still several meters away, from where footsteps and exclamations could be heard.

"G, destroy the right-wing!" Giotto shouted before dodging another wave of gunfire and running towards the next row of enemies.

G turned to look towards the castle. The distance was relatively long from where he stood, and the walls looked thick. The dust and dirt still in the air was another factor to consider, as it was extra resistance.

He analyzed it for a few seconds, then took aim.

Nearby enemies recoiled in fear as a burst of red flames, intense, concentrated and frighteningly accurate, was fired. The flames tore through, clearing their path and destroying a part of the place's wall in a small explosion that threw several backward.

G's flames had made a hole that had penetrated the rock and created chaos within the room itself. Sensing the danger and seeing how the wall beside them had been shattered, the procession of enemies had broken away and had run to avoid the attack reaching them.

Giotto looked at the hands of those men, and there he saw them:

Rings.

He sighed, inhaled, concentrated the flames in his hands, and propelled himself towards them.

Thanks to his training with Cozzato, he had learned to use the flames to move faster: the amount needed, when to stop drawing them, how much to use to have a certain speed. At times, Giotto swore he felt as if he were flying.

A soon as his opponent saw him, he pointed a gun at him. Reacting, Giotto grabbed the weapon, the flame in his hands grew darker, and then...

"What the hell!" he shouted. "The gun! He melted it, how-!"

Before the others could do anything (Giotto could clearly see how they loaded their weapons and how flames of various colors illuminated the room), he knocked the man unconscious with a direct blow to the stomach and then propelled himself backwards, taking distance. He charged soft flames in his hands and expanded them in front of him, creating a kind of improvised barrier in which several bullets bounced off. He had learned one of Miss Sepira's tricks after replaying a thousand times in his mind the scene in which she had saved Flavio.

He counted how many enemies there were: several had been knocked unconscious by G's attack, leaving about 15 or so. Fifteen in an enclosed space, he could do it.

Giotto propelled himself forward, and before his enemies could react, he was right in the middle of them. With his leg extended, he made a 360° turn to make those near him fall, and without wasting time, he hit them (some in the stomach, others in the head); the men fell unconscious shortly before a series of shots went towards him. Giotto jumped and, with the help of the flames, propelled himself upwards, managing to evade them.

It was no use if there were many of them if he knocked them out before they could attack. In those moments, his speed was his best strength.

He moved and charged at them. For the men, he seemed to dance through the air at a speed that was difficult to follow and therefore made him impossible to touch: when they least realized it, they felt the hard blow that knocked them out of consciousness.

When the last fell, Giotto exhaled loudly. He hadn't even realized he had held his breath. Outside, he could hear Cozzato and G battling with some of the opponents he had left behind.

"G? I think that much change in gravity made me dizzy."

"And I feel like I'm roasting in my own flames. Come on, there are still enemies left!"

And they were. It wasn't long before Giotto saw more people appear to his left, through a hallway. The gathering was a big one, just as they expected. Both families had come together to attack with their forces the Giglio Nero, the new group that had emerged. From that position, they wanted to move their troops westward and destroy their enemy.

Of course, they didn't expect such a surprise attack. And that was also why the mission was so vital: If Giotto and his friends won, they could completely wipe out the Reale and Lontanni force at the same time.

Giotto gathered the flames in his hands and ran towards the enemies. Elena should have a clear path with all that roar and the number of men heading toward them.

Elena peeked into the hallway, turned right and left, and when she saw that no one was coming, she went out and moved to the right. The number of people inside the castle was already minimal.

She used to play in that same castle when she was little, so she knew where everything was placed: the offices, the cellar, the rooms. She clutched tighter the series of papers in her hands (she had managed to steal them after the meeting in which both bosses were in was interrupted by the clatter of the giant metal grates falling like paper). At last, she found something besides loose words about this Alaude that Giotto and G were looking for. Not only that but there was also a list of other important names and even transactions of both families.

Elena had infiltrated the castle to gather as much information as she could before those guys destroyed it, something simple considering that the building belonged to her family. (She had arrived half an hour before, and when the mafia groups arrived, she had hidden, waiting for her friends to do their part). All she had left to do was to check one of the cellars, and then-

In front of the door, she could see the silhouette of someone. His face wasn't visible because of the darkness.

Elena pulled out the pistol she had strapped to one of her legs and fired. The bullet ricocheted near the man's feet, making him jump back: a warning.

"Get away from there and turn around. On the next shot, I will have no consideration."

The figure seemed to tilt his head and slowly took a few hesitant steps towards her. When she caught a glimpse of his face, Elena stifled an exclamation.

"Guido?" Elena stared at him and lowered the gun. The young man smiled. "Guido! Why-?"

"Hello, Elena," Guido greeted. "Looks like we ended up with a similar job."

"What are you doing here?" Elena asked. "Not only that, where have you been? You just disappeared!"

"It was something necessary," Guido answered as he took out a gun and shot at the lock on the door, destroying it. "Since we are in a similar situation, you of all people should understand that the best thing to do is to go unnoticed."

Guido entered the room, and with curiosity, Elena followed him. The cellar had five boxes inside.

"I'm part of Giglio Nero," he explained. "We have been tracking this shipment, and my mission here was to infiltrate to make sure that neither of the two families could use its contents. However, from what I see, they must have already taken several things. The boxes should be more."

"Telling me all this is not very spy-like of you," Elena commented.

"She said that I could be honest with you," Guido answered. Elena didn't take long to understand.

"Miss Sepira," the girl said, almost in shock. "She is the leader of Giglio Nero."

"Indeed."

Elena had a thousand doubts in her head (and a big part of her wanted to just grab Guido by the shoulders and shake him until he told her everything: what had happened, where Miss Sepira was), but she just bit her lip and shook her head. In those moments, her friends were battling with two groups of criminals; she had to fulfill her part of the mission, just as they were doing it. Later she would yell to Guido.

"Did she know they were going to attack you tonight?"

"Maybe," Guido answered while with a steel pipe he had found in the room, he tried to open one of the boxes. "Knowing what she thinks is not easy. But if she knew, she assumed that you would intervene, and that's why she only sent me. She has a lot of faith in you."

There was a crack and the box opened.

"You must see this. If you are fighting too, you need to know."

Elena walked over to the box and peeked in to see its contents. Her heart stopped for a few seconds.

Weapons. All kinds: firearms, stabbing weapon, even some that looked more medieval-like sledgehammers. What did it all mean?

"These are no ordinary weapons," Guido explained. "These work with flames."

"I beg your pardon?" Elena looked at him with concern. They had taken so long to even understand how the flames worked, and the mere fact that the mafia was already making weapons to use them gave her goosebumps. Seeing her reaction, Guido hurried to continue.

"Don't worry, not everyone has them. In fact, there's only one family that knows how to make them. This shipment was stolen from them... I'm even surprised they're not here for the same thing. It gives me a bad feeling."

"Who are they?"

"The Origine," Guido answered. "Their leader is a kind of genius; he was the one who designed the first ones. Already with the necessary knowledge, manufacturing them was not so complicated, especially with the contacts he has."

"Monsieur Champagne," Elena remembered. "How does he make them?"

"We don't know," Guido sighed. "The alarming thing is that we believe he even sold some prototypes as a kind of test to see how they worked."

"Who did he sell them to?"

"The man is slick; it's not easy to get as far as he did," Guido said. "To someone from Japan. Don't ask how; we have no idea. Maybe he has a contact there too." The young man took one of the weapons from the box and looked at it with a frown. "And most likely now, part of the Reale and the Lotanni have them."

"I'm sorry, Cozzato," G commented, catching his breath. "It must be especially tiring for you considering you took the part of dispersing all the initial obstacles."

"Not that you have it any easier," Cozzato replied, trying to get up. If it weren't for the training with Giotto, he was sure he wouldn't have lasted even a minute of using his power in that constant way. "You used your flames and normal bullets. Your gun is truly unique."

Around them, the ground, once quite ornate, was now littered with chunks of stone, dust everywhere, and several unconscious men on the floor—a pitched battle in every sense.

G looked ahead at the castle. No trace of Giotto was now visible. Perhaps he had gone deeper than expected due to the number of enemies.

"We're not finished yet. We must go on and..." G looked at Cozzato, then raised his gun. "Cozzato, don't move!"

Cozzato was petrified in his place. G fired with a regular bullet to the right. The bullet passed close to the young Simon, who heard metal colliding with metal before a dagger flew off to bury itself in the grass a few feet away.

"Your sight always-"

Cozzato couldn't finish speaking because a second later, he felt something sharp brush past his abdomen. Without understanding what was happening, he watched as a dagger identical to the one G had fired was only centimeters away from him, embedded in the ground.

It wasn't a normal dagger; it was covered with...

"G, watch out!"

G saw another flash in the darkness, now directed at him. Reflexively, he took aim and fired. He could see how the bullet interrupted the trajectory of another dagger and sent it flying upward, and at that moment-

G jumped back as fast as he could, barely dodging a second dagger that had emerged from the first, revealing for a few moments a purple flame.

They had weapons; G understood.

They had weapons.

Suddenly, the darkness around him was illuminated by several purple flashes.

Lucky that the shot he fired had been with one of his last bullets, G thought wryly. At least he wouldn't have to pull it out to now shoot flames.

Moments later, dozens of daggers came hurtling toward them. G loaded his pistol as much as he could with his own flames, moved back, and fired a large burst toward the front, forming a sort of barrier of red flames that, with contact with the daggers, devoured the surrounding purple flames and stopped them.

Of course, he had left himself defenseless so that several daggers were embedded in his left arm. But it mattered little; he wasn't protecting himself.

"Cozzato, to your right!"

Confident that G's flames would cover him, Cozzato concentrated his powers in the direction G indicated: where the attack was coming from, the place where the enemy was. G not only had good eyesight, but the familiarity he had with ranged weapons made him able to see the trajectory of an attack.

Gravity advanced down the path, and it wasn't until he felt someone fall through it that Cozzato stopped it. Escaping that force was not something anyone could accomplish.

"G! You let yourself get hurt?!" Cozzato exclaimed. G was removing the daggers from his arm with a grimace of pain.

"The important one here is you. You're the one who stops the enemies."

"Even so-"

G's eyes widened in fear.

"Cozzato, move!"

Cozzato could only turn to the front and move a little to the right, avoiding another dagger aimed at his chest, hitting him in one of his hands.

"Impossible," Cozzato said. The fear reflected in his eyes. "My powers are still active, how-?"

Then he screamed.

G watched in horror as the dagger began to multiply. From one, it grew to five, each one embedding itself in his friend's entire arm. Cozzato fell to his knees, unable to continue using his power because of the pain. Seconds later, purple flashes illuminated the darkness of the open field.

G stepped in front of Cozzato and fired again with his flames. The red flames came out in a more dispersed manner, a sort of red mist that didn't burn like the first but served to stop and deflect daggers coming straight at them.

"Ah?" an unfamiliar voice. "I thought you looked familiar. Red flames and that hair. You're Ambizio's son, aren't you?"

A man approached them. Black hair, tall, he was playing with a dagger in one of his hands. G pointed his gun at him, but before pulling the trigger, he spoke again.

"If you don't want me to multiply my weapons on your friend's body again until they reach his heart, I wouldn't do that."

G stopped. Cozzato turned to look at the stranger with hatred.

"G, don't worry about me. Shoot him, I'll use my powers to-"

"Don't talk nonsense," G complained. "We don't even know how he was able to attack when he was immobilized by your powers, remember?"

Or how the hell he can multiply weapons in the air, G thought grudgingly. Cozzato bit his lip.

"The desire I've had to kill you for years," the man commented. "Especially after that farce at the estate. Because of you and that other boy, I lost several of my men."

The leader of the Lontanni.

G felt a shiver run through him as he realized he was in front of a mafia family leader, but soon that feeling changed to one of anger.

"Farce?" G growled. The man cocked his head to one side.

"You're not aware of anything," he said with disappointment, "And I was thinking of torturing you to make you talk. Ah, whatever, the blond will be in trouble once he meets Rinaldo," he threw the dagger in the air, and one became four. He caught two in one hand and two in another. All surrounded by purple flames. "And he will be angry if I don't do the same with you."

The strange shiver in him increased with every step he took. The wing he was in was too quiet, but still, Giotto continued his way. He took a step forward, then stopped as he felt a slight tremor beneath his feet.

Seconds later, the wall a meter away from him shattered. Pieces of stone flew out.

From that strange attack, a man had been thrown (with a blow strong enough to break a wall, it was even surprising that he was still conscious). A subordinate, most likely. He was bleeding and was looking towards the destroyed wall in fear.

"I swear no one talked!"

Other person moved towards him (too fast, Giotto thought). His gaze was cold, his hair a dark blond, and in his hands...

"Then explain to me what is happening right now," the blond man said as he raised his arm to attack.

Giotto moved towards them before the mace full of spikes fell on the subordinate. He felt the weapon graze his back but managed to dodge it by a few inches and pull the victim away from being hit. The sound of the ground breaking was the only thing that reached his ears.

The person he had saved fainted in fear while the assailant looked at him with an arched eyebrow.

"Who are you?" he asked. With a flail in his hand and his surroundings in tatters, the man looked menacing. "I've never seen you before."

"You," another voice interrupted. Giotto turned to the destroyed wall, where a familiar figure smiled at him.

The guy with the blue flames.

"Do you know him, Camillo?" the blond man asked.

"He is a walking nuisance," he answered. "He caused us problems during the opera mission. He's a friend of Giovanni's, and he can also use the flames."

"Oh?" the man looked at him curiously. "Are you the ones who are attacking?"

Giotto tensed. The smile that man had on his face gave him a bad feeling. The best thing to do would be to move fast before-

His eyes widened in surprise, and he used his flames to move to the right. The wall next to him was destroyed with one blow.

The man turned to look at him. His fist was still resting on the shattered wall.

"He is fast. I could entertain myself, then."

Before Giotto could say anything, the man moved again, and his figure appeared in front of him. He threw a kick that Giotto dodged and ended up smashing part of the floor. Without losing sight of him, his enemy made a half-turn, and with the speed and strength acquired in that movement, he stretched out his arm and threw a punch, which Giotto could barely dodge.

He was too fast. And his attacks were too strong. What kind of skill did he have? The worst part was that he wasn't even using his weapon yet (how was it that he could move so fast with it in his hands?).

That small hallway turned into a sort of ballroom where both opponents were moving at a speed that most people would have had a hard time keeping up with. The walls and floor around them ended up shattered, while one launched attacks without giving the other a break.

Things started to become unequal when the man, instead of using his fist, moved one of his arms forcefully and attacked him with the flail. Unable to dodge due to the extra range of distance the weapon gave his opponent, Giotto parried the attack with his hands, instantly feeling his body recoil from the impact. The man smiled, and Giotto felt a shiver run through him.

Seconds later, the force of lightning flashed through his entire body, making him scream.

Green flames had come out of the weapon. These not only hurt Giotto's hands but expanded until they enveloped him completely. Without missing the opportunity, that man lashed out and punched him hard in the stomach causing him to run out of air and shoot out towards the nearby wall, destroying it.

It didn't take long before his opponent was back in front of him. Giotto, reacting, and despite his body screaming in pain, gathered flames and propelled himself to the right, dodging another blow of the flail. However, this time he was not so lucky because from the weapon, green flames emerged again, and this time several lightnings came out of it, like a kind of spears of electricity.

Giotto fell when one of those bolts hit him in the arm. His breathing failed him.

The man was at his side again, but before Giotto could move, he felt how his muscles didn't respond at all. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see how the guy with the blue flames, Camillo (who hadn't even moved and seemed to be enjoying the situation), smiled at him.

He was using his flames on him, Giotto understood. So that he wouldn't be able to match his enemy's speed.

The blond man smiled and attacked him directly with the flail, which hit him in the stomach. Giotto felt his air run out, and something warm dripped out of his mouth. Then the man kicked him and sent him flying.

"Is that all? It seems as if those orange flames are useless. Lucky, I don't have them."

On the ground, Giotto looked over to where his enemy was, who had remained in place, looking at him with an almost bored expression. There, Giotto noticed it:

He had two rings in his hands. One glowed with a green flame, the other glittered with a yellow flame. Until that moment, Giotto hadn't met someone who used that kind of yellow flame, so he didn't know its effects. But if he had to imagine what they were, Giotto would say without hesitation that it gave more energy and strength as if it activated and made natural reactions faster.

He was facing someone who had two flames.

"Ah, but how rude of me. I haven't even introduced myself," the man commented. "It's not very dignified of royalty not to do so."

Royalty.

Reale.

The leader of the Reale.

"My name is Rinaldo," he smirked.

Battle scenes are hard to write. I really hope they turned out well.