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Chapter 30 - A Father and a friend

Chapter 30

A week had passed since Lucio fell and now Lisbon woke under a sky the color of old ash.

The clouds did not threaten rain, yet they pressed low, as if even the heavens had come to mourn.

Along the narrow streets leading to the Alfama district, silence spread unnaturally wide. No vendors shouted. No radios played. Even the gulls circling the Tagus River seemed to cry less.

At the center of it all stood the Vasquez family home.

The colors of Portugal hung beside them, lowered halfway down their poles. Candles lined the steps and windowsills, hundreds of them flickering softly like breaths that refused to die.

Lucio Vasquez had come home.

Not in triumph or armor or with the laughter that once shook these walls.

But in a coffin.

The wood was dark mahogany, polished until it reflected the world like a mirror that refused to lie. On its lid rested Lucio's insignia—the broken sun, cracked through the center. A symbol once feared by enemies, now reduced to a quiet reminder of absence.

People filled the street. Thousands of them.

Civilians. Soldiers. Medics, even children holding paper flags. Old men leaning on canes. Women clutching photographs to their chests. Some had traveled days, crossed borders. and all of them stood shoulder to shoulder, packed tight, as if proximity alone could keep the truth from spreading further.

Lucio Vasquez was dead.

And the world felt smaller because of it.

The Pillars stood together near the front unmistakable even without their armor.

Elena had not slept.

Her eyes were red and swollen, her dark hair pulled back without care, strands falling loose around her face. She wore black, simple and plain, as though anything more would be an insult. Her hands shook constantly not enough to be obvious, but enough that Marcus noticed.

Marcus noticed everything.

He stood rigid, jaw clenched so tightly it looked painful. His arms were folded, but not defensively more like he was holding himself together by force alone but his gaze never left the coffin.

Takeda stood slightly behind them.

He had removed his gloves. His hands were bare, scarred, marked by old battles and newer failures. His eyes were downcast, not in anger, but in quiet and guilt. He did not look at the crowd. He did not look at the coffin.

He looked at the ground.

We were called Pillars the last line takeda murmured..

The ones who were supposed to stand when everything else fell, and yet here we are, attending the funeral of one of our own.

Lucio's wife, Isabela Vasquez, stood closest to the coffin.

She did not cry.

Her face was pale, her expression still, almost fragile in its composure. She wore a black veil, but it did little to hide her eyes—eyes that had already shed every tear they possessed long before this day arrived.

One hand rested on the coffin.

The other held her youngest son's.

Mateo, seven years old, stared at the polished wood as if expecting it to open. As if his father might still sit up, laugh, and tell everyone this was some elaborate joke. His grip on Isabela's hand was desperate.

Lucio's daughter, Rosa, stood on the other side.

She was Nineteen. Old enough to understand. Old enough to hate the world for it.

Her jaw was tight. Her eyes burned. She did not cry either—not because she couldn't, but because she refused to do so in front of strangers, but her father had taught her strength, and she clung to that lesson like a weapon.

Isabela leaned down and whispered something to Mateo.

Whatever it was, it broke him.

The boy's shoulders began to shake. His breath hitched, once, twice—and then the sob tore free of him, raw and unrestrained.

Elena heard it.

And that was when she broke.

Elena

It started as a sharp inhale.

Then another.

Her hands flew to her mouth as her knees buckled. Marcus moved instantly, Elena!! catching her before she could fall, but it didn't stop the sound that escaped her—a choked, animal cry of grief she had been holding back for too long.

"No," Elena whispered, shaking her head. "No, no, no…"

Her body trembled violently now, tears spilling freely as she stared at the coffin.

Lucio's coffin.

Lucio, who had once stood beside her in the ruins of Madrid, bleeding and laughing at the same time. Lucio, who had shielded civilians with his own body the friendly neighborhood Lucio, who had told her, "If I fall, you don't get to follow. Someone has to stay."

She collapsed against Marcus's chest, fists clutching his coat as if he were the only thing anchoring her to the world.

"I was there," she sobbed. "I was there and I still couldn't—"

Marcus said nothing.

He couldn't.

Because the truth clawed at him just as viciously.

The miscalculation, the delay and the second that came too late.

He had replayed it a thousand times in his head, each version ending the same way with Lucio on the ground

Marcus had always believed strength was enough.

That if he trained harder, fought smarter, stood firmer, he could hold the line.

Now he stood at a funeral instead.

What good is a pillar, he thought bitterly, if the structure still collapses?

His grip tightened around Elena's shoulders.

For the first time in years, Marcus questioned whether he deserved to stand at the front at all.

Takeda bowed his head deeper.

In his culture, grief was quiet. Heavy. Internal.

But this… this went beyond tradition.

Lucio had trusted him to be their leader He had laughed at his seriousness, clapped him on the back, called him "brother" without hesitation. And when the moment came—when the strike should have landed, when the defense should have held

The President's Speech

A hush rippled through the crowd as the President of Portugal stepped forward.

He was an older man, silver-haired, his posture dignified yet heavy with the weight of the moment. He wore a black suit with a small Portuguese flag pinned to his chest.

He looked at the coffin.

Then at the family, then at the people.

"My fellow citizens," he began, his voice steady but thick with emotion, "today, Portugal does not bury only a man."

He paused.

"We bury our protector."

A murmur moved through the crowd.

"Lucio Vasquez was born on these streets. He walked them as a child. He learned courage here not from power, but from people. From family and responsibility.

The president's gaze softened as it fell on Isabela and the children.

"He could have left. Many times. He was offered comfort, safety, distance from danger. And every time, he chose to stay."

The wind stirred the flags.

"He stood when the world burned. He stood when fear told others to run. He stood not because he was unafraid but because he believed someone had to."

The president swallowed.

"Portugal thanks him. The world thanks him. And history will remember his deeds long after this day."

His voice lowered.

"But no words, no honors, no monuments can replace a husband. A father. A friend."

Silence followed.

Heavy. Absolute.

Then the president bowed his head.

And so did the world.

Aftermath

The coffin was lowered.

The sound of earth hitting wood was unbearable.

Each thud felt final. Cruel. Unforgiving.

Mateo cried openly now, clinging to his mother. Rosa stared down into the grave, her expression carved from stone, tears finally slipping free despite her resistance.

Elena watched until she couldn't anymore.

She turned away, burying her face in Marcus's shoulder.

Takeda closed his eyes.

The Pillars stood together, surrounded by thousands yet never had they felt more alone.

Lucio Vasquez was gone.

Rarvi surya spoke first Renji was right! we need to understand the truth we have been avoiding we are not enough,

There's powers that only we can handle and we need to become stronger

We need to attack

Slowly as the crowd dispersed, Elena approached Isabella

Her voice was hoarse.

"I don't know how to make this right," she said.

Isabella looked at her.

"I know," she replied softly.

I failed you Elena said as tears filled her eyes.. I promised I'll watch his back but he moved that I couldn't follow and it was to late

She placed a hand on Elena's arm.

"it's okay you guys are best friends for a reason I know he'll want you to be happy but just don't let his death be meaningless."

Elena nodded, tears falling silently.

"I won't," she whispered. "I swear."

The news did not break it spread like a fracture racing through glass. Throughout the entire world

Lisbon — Ground Zero

The broadcast began locally, asingle camera. No dramatic music or sensational graphics.

Just the coffin.

Black banners, Candles , and the broken sun insignia resting atop polished wood.

The anchor's voice trembled despite her effort to

remain professional.

"umm breaking news we are receiving confirmation now…

Lucio Vasquez, one of the world's designated Pillars, has been laid to rest today in Lisbon.

He is survived by his wife and two children."

Behind her, footage rolled silently, elena collapsing, the president bowing his head, a child's sob echoing across stone.

Within minutes, the signal was picked up internationally. And the world stopped what it was doing.

Europe

Spain interrupted a parliamentary session mid-debate.

Lawmakers stood in stunned silence as the announcement echoed through the chamber.

Breaking news:

We have received tragic news that Lucio Vasquez the pillar of Portugal had died and been laid to rest today... Lucio Vasquez was survived by his wife and two children the entire city of Lisbon made a huge memorial for him ...

For once, there was no shouting, no argument only the uncomfortable awareness that someone who had defended their borders was now soil and memory.

In France, crowds gathered outside government buildings, not to protest, but to watch the news projected onto massive screens. Veterans removed their caps. Some saluted. Others crossed themselves.

A French general was interviewed briefly.

" he was a hero it's really shocking Vasquez held the southern line during the Marseille Collapse," he said.

"If he had been ten seconds slower, my city would not exist."

In Germany, the reaction was colder—but no less severe.

Analysts spoke in clipped tones.

"This marks the first confirmed death of a top-tier Pillar in active global defense," one expert said.

"Strategically, this changes everything."

We all know the pillars are the strongest in the world dose that mean they're are powers stronger than them

What else can they not be telling us what caused his death, no official statement has been released soo how can we not know, we all deserve to know

The United Kingdom

In London, rain fell as it always did.

The Prime Minister addressed the nation from a podium outside Number 10, voice composed, eyes betraying exhaustion.

"Lucio Vasquez was not British but his sacrifices saved British lives and today we mourn him as one of our own."

My condolences goes to the Vasquez family it's really shocking and sad

And because of that today July 19th 4069 will be a public holiday in memorial of Lucio's Vasquez legacy

The camera cut away before the briefing ended.

Because off-screen, aides were already whispering.

About weakened defenses.

About exposed regions or how many Pillars were left.

And whether they would be enough.

In Nigeria, the news spread through radio before television.

Markets slowed. Conversations paused. Phones were lifted higher so others could hear.

An old man in Lagos was interviewed.

"That man stopped the sky from falling," he said simply.

"You don't forget someone like that."

It's something that's very sad but we all move once and for all

In Kenya, memorial candles appeared outside a hospital Lucio had once defended during an evacuation crisis. Nurses stood silently, hands clasped.

In South Africa, a mural began forming within hours lucio painted in rough strokes, the broken sun behind him, the words HE STOOD scrawled beneath.

In the middle East even in regions where politics ran hot and trust ran thin, Lucio's name carried weight.

In Jordan, a military spokesperson released a rare public statement.

"Vasquez prevented a cross-border catastrophe in 4021

We acknowledge our debt."

In Israel, a news panel debated the implications late into the night.

"If someone like him can fall," one analyst said quietly,

"then none of us are untouchable it begs the question are the pillars really enough, for Lucios death does that mean they're something stronger than pillars now ?."

In Japan, the coverage was subdued.

No dramatic headlines. No emotional anchors.

Just facts.

And a single line repeated across multiple networks:

"A protector has fallen."

Takeda's homeland watched carefully.

A retired general bowed deeply during a televised interview.

"Strength does not mean immortality," he said.

"It means choosing to stand anyway."

In South Korea, online forums exploded—not with jokes or memes, but with long threads asking the same question:

Who replaces him?

In China, state media framed it cautiously.

"The loss of a Pillar introduces instability," the anchor said.

"Global cooperation will be tested."

What they did not say was louder:

This was a warning.

In Brazil, crowds gathered in São Paulo's central plaza. Candles. Flowers. Flags. Someone played a recording of Lucio's old speech from years ago:

"If I fall, it means I stayed."

Many cried openly.

In Canada, the Prime Minister's voice broke during a live address.

"We have lost someone who carried the weight of the world on his shoulders," she said.

"And now that weight shifts—to all of us."

The United States reacted the loudest.

Every network ran the same headline in different fonts:

PILLAR FALLEN. GLOBAL SECURITY AT RISK.

Former officials debated. Generals argued. Commentators speculated.

"This is what happens when we rely on symbols instead of systems," one pundit snapped.

Another shot back:

"He wasn't a symbol. He was a shield."

Social media flooded with old clips.

Lucio laughing mid-battle.

Lucio pulling survivors from rubble.

Lucio standing alone against impossible odds.

Hashtags trended worldwide:

#LucioVasquez

#BrokenSun

#IfHeCanFall

Back to Lisbon — The Pillars Feel It

Elena felt it before she saw it.

Her phone buzzed.

Once.

Twice.

Again and again.

Messages. Alerts. Headlines from every corner of the planet.

Marcus glanced at his own screen.

His jaw tightened.

Takeda finally looked up.

The world knew now.

Lucio was not just gone to them.

He was gone to everyone.

And with that knowledge came something heavier than grief.

Expectation, fear and pressure

Elena whispered, barely audible:

"They're watching us."

Marcus nodded slowly.

"Yes," he said.

"And they're realizing the truth."

Takeda closed his eyes.

"We were never enough," he murmured we were just all they had."

The bells of Lisbon rang out across the city.

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