Awakening

In a dark and oppressive room, the air hung heavy with anticipation. The only source of light came from a single flickering candle on a large, ornate wooden table. Don Vittori, a powerful and feared figure, sat at the head of the table, his steely gaze locked onto his personal bodyguard and subordinate, Fish.

Fish, a peculiar man with purple lips and metal bands wrapped around various parts of his body, knelt before Don Vittori, his eyes downcast in a show of loyalty and respect. "Don Vittori," he began, his voice a low, gravelly whisper. "I have been investigating the incident involving Ikki, as you requested. What I discovered was... unusual."

Don Vittori leaned forward, his eyes narrowing as he studied Fish's every move. "Go on," he commanded, his voice cold and demanding.

Fish continued, "Ikki used an ability that we have never seen before. It wasn't Nen, but something else entirely. It's difficult to describe, but it seemed to give him immense power and control over his surroundings."

Don Vittori's focus shifted, his thoughts now on Algabono, one of his men. "What about Algabono? Is he still alive? And what is his condition?"

Fish nodded, "Yes, he's alive. The boy spared him. But he's in a bad shape."

Don Vittori's voice lowered to a menacing undertone, "So, you just watched as one of our men was threatened?"

Fish lifted his head, revealing a maniacal smile. "But I wanted to watch him in action," he replied, his voice tinged with excitement.

The advisor standing nearby paled at the sheer bloodlust emanating from Fish. Don Vittori's back tensed, cold perspiration forming on his skin. The room seemed to grow even darker, as if consumed by the sinister energy that Fish exuded.

Fish's eyes seemed to glow with a twisted excitement as he spoke, "But I have no doubt that this youngster is a monster; he detected my nen and was even capable of cutting through Algabono's 'Ten.' We shouldn't teach him aura until we know who he is."

Just as he finished speaking, a lanky boy with golden locks entered the dimly lit room, his footsteps barely making a sound. He held a folder in his hands, which he presented to Don Vittori as he approached the table.

"Don Vittori, I have gathered information on this Ikki as you requested," he said, his voice smooth and confident. "Unfortunately, we could not find any significant background on him. It's as if he appeared out of nowhere."

He paused for a moment, then added, "However, there is one possibility. His mysterious origin may suggest that he is from Meteor City, a place where people can discard everything and become essentially 'nonexistent' to the outside world."

Don Vittori's eyes narrowed as he considered this new information. He leaned back in his chair, his fingers steepled together as he thought. The room grew silent, the tension palpable as everyone awaited the Don's decision.

Finally, Don Vittori spoke, his voice low and authoritative, "If that is the case, then we must tread carefully. Keep a close eye on this Ikki and learn everything you can about him. But remember, do not teach him aura until we know for certain who he is and where his loyalties lie."

Don Vittori's brow furrowed as he considered the implications. "It's strange, though, that he would be from Meteor City, considering it's on another continent. Unless... perhaps Ikki was a spy planted within the Kurta Clan by the Phantom Troupe." He stroked his chin thoughtfully, a gleam in his eye. "It would be a brilliant move by Chrollo, spreading orphans throughout the Luxo Province to find the Kurta Clan faster."

The room filled with an uneasy silence as they considered the possibility. However, after a moment of contemplation, Don Vittori shook his head. "No, that seems highly improbable. So, we have an outcast in our manor." He paused, looking around the room, his gaze landing on each advisor in turn.

"I'll call Giuseppe and see if he can persuade the child to be loyal to us." At the mention of Giuseppe's name, some of the advisors paled, their eyes widening in fear. Even Fish's twisted smile wavered slightly.

Don Vittori continued, his voice steady and determined, "If Giuseppe fails, we'll have to resort to other means. Perhaps we can persuade Ikki with documents of his existence, something that will allow him to leave Meteor City." He leaned back in his chair, his expression stern, conveying the gravity of the situation.

Suddenly, the heavy doors of the room burst open, and Don Vittori's daughter, Roxanna, charged in, her face flushed and her eyes wide with a mix of mischief and panic. "Papa!" she cried, her voice full of naive enthusiasm. "My friend didn't listen to me, and now she's all dirty and hurt! You need to make her disappear, she disobeyed me!"

The room fell silent as everyone turned their attention to the distraught girl. Don Vittori looked at her for a moment, his expression unreadable. Roxanna seemed to shrink under his gaze, but then she gathered her courage and ran to him, throwing her arms around his neck and planting a smooch on his cheek.

Don Vittori's features softened, and he hugged his daughter tightly. He then looked up at his men, giving them a silent signal. Luca, one of the advisors, made a cutting motion across his throat, questioning Don Vittori's intentions.

With a quick wave of his hand, Don Vittori made it clear that he wanted the girl out of the manor, safe and sound, not dead. His men nodded, understanding their orders, and quickly left the room to attend to Roxanna's friend.

Roxanna looked up at her father, her red eye sparkled with unparalled beauty. "Thank you, Papa," she whispered, her voice trembling with excitement. Don Vittori simply nodded, his expression a mix of love and concern, knowing that his daughter's unpredictable nature had just made the situation even more complicated.

......

Ikke, is lying on the cold, hard floor of a dimly-lit room. His eyes flutter open, and he quickly realizes that he's trapped in a cage. His instincts sets in, and he struggles to get up, noticing the heavy shackles that bind his torso. Determined to break free, Ikke gathers his strength and attempts to jump upwards.

As he leaps into the air, the shackles suddenly tighten, and with a harsh, metallic crack, they yank him back down to the ground. The force of the impact knocks the wind out of him, and he gasps for air, his eyes wide with shock and pain.

Ikke's face contorts with frustration and anger, but he quickly realizes that his situation is dire. His breathing becomes labored as he tries to control his emotions, his eyes darting around the room in search of an escape route or a weakness in his restraints.

Ikke's voice cracks as he shouts out his frustrations, echoing through the dimly-lit room. "So I failed once more," he observes bitterly. "Haha, it's so funny! Every time I find a person I want to be with, a family I care about, it always gets taken from me! By the lies of the family, by the inability to bring them with me, by the slaughter where I couldn't do a single thing and ran out like a coward! Hahaha, such a great life, really!"

As he finishes his tirade, Ikke's face freezes, all emotions draining from his expression. It's as though a cold, impenetrable mask has fallen over his features. "What do I need to win against opponents I could never beat?" he murmurs, his voice low and barely audible. "Strength, power, intelligence? No, in the face of an undefeatable opponent who wants, what I have? What must I do?"

His words hang heavy in the still air, unanswered. The silence that follows feels oppressive, pressing down on him like a physical weight. Ikke's eyes, once burning with determination, now hold a trace of despair.

Ikke's eyes suddenly widen, a spark of curiosity igniting within him. He begins to rapidly sift through his memories, his brow furrowed in concentration. His hands clench into fists, as if trying to grasp onto something that has eluded him thus far.

"Those I've seen in the city are quite ordinary," he mutters to himself, "but the ones who assaulted the village and knocked me down... they were incredibly strong and fast." His gaze shifts, unfocused, as he delves deeper into his thoughts. "Is there some form of power in this society that is hidden from ordinary people? Could it be...?"

A flash of realization crosses Ikke's face, his eyes growing wide with astonishment. "That weird energy I felt in the village during my rehabilitation... could that be the key?"

A mixture of emotions play across Ikke's face – excitement, determination, and a hint of trepidation. His body tenses, as if preparing to leap into action.

Ikki takes a deep breath and centers himself, closing his eyes to block out the cold, damp jail room. His mind begins to slow down, and he focuses on his breathing, listening to the sound of his heart beating in his chest. The rhythm of his breaths becomes slower and slower until it becomes a powerful *thud thump thump* sound fills the room.

Ikki's breathing slows down as he concentrates all his energy on his aura. He envisions the power within him, visualizing it as a ball of pure energy, ready to be unleashed. He feels a slight tingling sensation in his fingertips as the ball of energy begins to take shape. As he continues to focus, his thoughts slowly fade away, and he feels as though time itself has stopped.

Everything around him is silent, and the only thing he can hear is the sound of his own heartbeat, thudding steadily in his chest. Suddenly, a searing sensation rips through his body, starting from the tip of his skull and spreading down through his limbs. It feels as though his entire being is being engulfed by flames, and he grits his teeth as the intensity of the sensation increases.

But he does not falter. He keeps his focus, and soon the sensation turns from pain to power. His aura explodes outward, a white, viscous material flaring to life on his skin. The gaseous life force of his aura escapes from his body, and he feels invigorated by the surge of energy coursing through him.

He can feel the power within him, raw and untamed. He flexes his muscles, testing the limits of his newfound strength. His aura dances around him, flickering and pulsing with an otherworldly light. Ikki grins to himself, feeling a sense of liberation he has never known before. This power is his to command, to wield as he sees fit. He takes a deep breath and revels in the feeling of utter control over his own life force.

With a loud laugh, Ikki opens his eyes, feeling a surge of power coursing through his veins. As he stands up, his body trembles with excitement and madness. He takes his first step but misses, falling to the floor with a loud thud. The impact reminds him that something is wrong.

He then snaps his aura, with a quick thought he controls his aura, which closes around his body like a protective shield. He stumbles to his feet, feeling the warm energy of his aura enveloping him like a comforting embrace, and starts pacing around the small jail room with a glint in his eyes.

"This power...this is what I needed," he mutters to himself, his voice quivering.

The chains that had held him in place for so long suddenly burst apart, As Ikki snaps his wrist, a wave of energy emanates from his body, causing the metal chains to tremble and shake. Suddenly, with a deafening clang, the chains shatter into a thousand pieces, their sharp edges flying towards Ikki. But as the metal bits reach his aura, they bounce off it like they were hitting a solid wall, clattering onto the floor in a metallic rain.

He watches in amazement, feeling the warmth and power of his aura pulsing through his veins.

Ikki rubs his wrist, which are now in a gruesome condition . The metal chains had cut into his flesh, leaving deep gashes that oozed blood, and the skin around the wounds was already turning purple and black.

The pain that should have been unbearable doesn't seem to faze him, his calm smile still adoring his cheeks.

"I'll call it prana," he says, marveling at the aura.

He raises his hands and examines the white, viscous material that has flared to life on his skin, feeling the energy coursing through him like a river.

The sensation is overwhelming, he revels in the rush of power that surges through his veins. For a moment, he forgets where he is, lost in it. He clenches his fists and feels his prana closing around him like a warm, protective shield.

The smile on his face grows wider, and he raises his arms, commanding his prana to contain itself as thin as possible around his body.