When I finished up the hill, I stop for a moment. My breathing is stirred, not because the road has been hard, but because my eyes, finally, contemplate what I had never seen: the human city.
It rises imposing, with high walls that seem to have resisted centuries of wars, with towers that touch the gray sky. The vision surprises me, it shakes me inside. I didn't expect it ... and yet I feel happy. A strange heat was born in my chest, as if a part of me had always been waiting for this moment.
We advance a few more steps, and cross its main doors. At first glance, the city seems beautiful: the cobbled streets shine under the noon light, the stone houses have red roofs that stand out as living flames, and the air smells like smoke from furnaces mixed with the herbal perfume that some careful hand cultivated in windows.
But the more I observe, the more details break the illusion. The markets are almost empty: shelves barely show withered fruits, hard bread, meat in bones. People walk slowly, with their eyes stuck on the floor. I do not listen to children or troubadour songs; Only dragged steps and murmurs off. The food is scarce, and with it, also hope.
The discouragement is evident in each face. The bodies are present, but the spirits ... off. It is as if the whole city had forgotten how to dream. Morality is so on the ground that they barely hold the head. No one seems to have strength to fight. No one seems to believe that tomorrow will be better than today. And at that moment a thought hits me: the whole kingdom is on the verge of surrendering.
I look back at Daichi. My older brother walks silently, with his head crouched. He says nothing, but his presence weighs, as if he will carry on his shoulders not only our lives, but also those of all those who inhabit this place. I know that he doesn't even have an immediate solution, but something inside me insists: if someone can do something, it's him.
The aura he emits is dense, powerful. Of all the twelve heroes, Daichi is the strongest. I do not say it only by its physical strength, but because of the calm that radiates even in the midst of the disaster. He is the Pilar, our older brother, the rock we rely on when the world wobbles.
I approach him, undecided. My lips tremble for a moment before forming the words.
-Hermano ... Do you think we can save these people? Really ... can we do it?
Daichi does not respond instantly. His eyes travel the streets, the fallen faces, the hardship that surrounds us. Then he looks at me. His big and firm hand perches on my head, stroking my hair with tenderness. And then smile. A quiet, bright smile, so natural that it disarms me.
"Of course," he replies for sure. All of us ... We are strong enough to achieve it.
That certainty, that faith so simple and direct, crosses my chest as a sunbeam in the middle of the storm. I feel that something inside me comes on, like a flame that had not noticed that it existed.
Daichi keeps his hand on my head a few more seconds. I close my eyes and let myself wrap for that peace. It is a happiness that I do not know how to explain. Just seeing him smile, my world seems less dark.
When he finally removes his hand, walks to the gentleman who guides us. I, with my heart burning, squeeze my left fist and raised my right hand to the sky.
-I will be the best hero of all time! The greatest among humans!
My words resonate in the silent street, and for a moment I am ashamed. But then I hear my brothers' laugh. One after another, the laughter explodes around me, even spreading to those who had forgotten to laugh.
-You! The best hero? one shouts with me with a friendly mockery. That will be me!
"You do not dream it," replies another. I will arrive first.
-The title will be mine!
One after another, they approach, and with enthusiasm we join in an improvised circle. Each proclaims that it will be the first to achieve glory, and between jokes and challenges, we explode in a fraternal competition.
"The one who manages to save the world first," says someone laughing, "will win the" best hero "title among the twelve.
We all laughed together, and in the end, with renewed seriousness, we put our fists in the center. It is a pact, a promise. A bet that goes beyond who will be the best: it is the certainty that together we will go ahead.
We were a family. United, strong, determined. We laugh, we embrace, we swore that we would succeed in this war. Nothing and no one could separate us.
The gentleman, who had left us behind with a firm step, stops and turns towards us. His voice rumbles strong:
-Apprive!
We run towards him, even laughing, with the renewed energy. Upon reaching his side, we cannot resist temptation and ask him:
-Do you want to join our competition?
For a moment, silence weighs. His helmet hides his expression, but his eyes seem to shine. Finally, respond calmly:
-Of course. Why not? I also want that title. I will not lose against you, heroes. I'm going to win too.
His words light the flame more. Joy is contagious, pure, overflowing. For the first time since I woke up from that capsule, I feel something warm ... familiar ... beautiful. It is a feeling that I had never experienced before. A part of me begins to become fond of this moment, with these people, with this shared dream.
We continue walking, now with firm and determined steps. The city is left behind little by little, and in front of us the gigantic doors of the castle rise. Its walls seem indestructible, a strength amid hunger and hopelessness.
The gentleman explains to us while we advance:
-The King will probably be in the throne room. Right now he must be arguing with his advisor to two problems: the shortage of food ... and the end of the damn war.
Upon arriving at the castle doors, two guards cross our way. But as soon as they see the knight's armor, they go back. Without saying a word, they push the iron leaves and open them par.
Their reverences are silent, almost mechanical. Respect does not need explanation. They know who it is.
Daichi, curious, asks in a low voice:
-Are you someone important here?
The knight does not show pride or surprise. Just nod.
-Yeah. I am the leader of the Knights.
The title weighs in the air like a hammer on the anvil. Leader. Not a simple soldier, not any warrior. The leader of all of them.
We cross the castle halls. The echo of our steps resonates on stone walls. Torches illuminate our path, and ancient tapestry hang from the walls, showing heroes of yesteryear in glorious battles.
The air here is different: heavier, loaded with invisible tensions. The servants we find on the road just look at us, as shadows that fear being seen. His movements are hurried, nervous. Everything indicates that even within these walls queen despair.
Finally, we arrive at the throne room. The doors are huge, carved with dragons and suns symbols. The guards who guard the custody do without protest, leaning hard.
Upon entering, I see it.
The man who awaits us on the throne does not need to talk to reveal his state. His crown shines, but his shoulders are fallen. His eyes, sunk in shadows, look towards us with a mixture of tiredness and defeat.
He is a king who seems to be on the verge of surrendering.
His layer, red and heavy, crawls on the steps. His hands tremble slightly when he rests on the throne's arm. And although everything in him shouts power, authority and greatness ... His spirit is broken.
For a moment, the silence reigns. We, the heroes, stand up in front of him. The gentleman advances, kneels, and lowers his head in respect.
And at that moment, I know something is going to change. That what we say and do in the next few minutes will mark the destination not only of the city, but of the whole kingdom.