In the village, an unreal silence prevailed. No one uttered a word, and the only sound was that of their footsteps, growing ever more determined as they neared the crossroads. It must have been an ordinary winter day, with no scheduled visits – not even the village chief had been informed of this unexpected arrival.
Yet there they were – about twenty men advancing behind the one who seemed to be leading them. They wore military uniforms of a dark hue, perhaps a deep green, adorned with an emblem familiar to everyone – even the children. On the left side of their chests, a star with chipped points shone proudly, the official symbol of justice. However, that emblem struck fear into the hearts of the people: it represented the Government, theoretically entrusted with punishing evil, yet dreaded for the cruelty of its guards. They dealt with every offense, and each transgression was met with the same fate: the death penalty.
This organized and relentless formation belonged, in fact, to the Government Guards. But why had they arrived in such a remote village? Judging by their demeanor, it seemed they were searching for something – or someone. In truth, this unexpected visit concealed a far darker meaning: the village was home to the prime suspect in the kidnapping of a member of the royal family.
En Luchel, the king's youngest daughter, had been missing for several weeks, and Luk – the young boy suspected of her disappearance, as well as one of the royal servants – had not been seen since the day of the kidnapping. Rumor had it that the two shared an intense bond, so much so that whispers claimed they had fled together for love.
The news had shaken the kingdom: every newspaper headlined the case "The First Criminal to Defy the Government." Thanks to Luk, many had begun to rebel against the clutches of power.
Yet the young idol, naturally condemned to death, was entirely innocent in this affair. He had never worked for the royal family nor had he ever set foot outside that village, being born poor and devoid of influential connections. Putting all the facts together, the only plausible explanation was that he had been framed. What bad luck, right?
But how does one frame an individual who has never been seen in the capital? And why would anyone want to do so? Let's analyze it together.
Imagine living in a place where crime is almost unheard of. On the surface, everything might seem safe… but if you delve into a deeper reality, you'd discover forbidden thoughts, repressed desires, and hidden resentments. No one could fully trust another, for there was always the fear of being denounced and condemned. Consequently, someone might emerge intent on defying this system – and they would do so without exposing themselves, for fear of death. Luk was likely the victim of this game, in which almost certainly someone he knew was involved, since it would be nearly impossible for a stranger to frame him so easily.
But was it really possible to do it without evidence? Well, considering that the Government only needed a few names… I'd say yes. All it took was to spread a rumor and let it circulate throughout the kingdom to achieve their aims. And if it was so easy to manipulate the truth, it was equally simple to alter the original story: at first, Luk could have been portrayed as a hitman assigned to kill the princess, or as a shady character with wicked intentions. With constant tweaks and adjustments, a single version prevailed – the one everyone preferred, namely that they had fled for love.
Meanwhile, Luk, who had never actually disappeared, was hiding in one of the largest houses at the center of the village. He was stationed at a window, intently observing what was unfolding. He waited for the moment when the guards would come close enough for him to slip away into the restaurant's storeroom inside the building. However, since the storeroom wasn't the most comfortable hideout, Luk preferred to wait patiently for their arrival.
As for his appearance, he didn't stand out in height or build. He was a simple country boy, abandoned by his parents just before he could truly understand the world. He had long, uncut brown hair and eyes of the same color. Neither handsome nor ugly, he was rather average. In the end, he wasn't particularly talented at what he did, but you couldn't say he was incapable either. The only distinguishing details were the splendid blue wool scarf he wore around his neck and that whistle he concealed beneath it. Moreover, he also had a pet that had now gone missing: a parrot so colorful that every time Luk saw it, his eyes lit up with a joy he no longer remembered.
It was clear that Luk was gripped by fear – a feeling he had never experienced before. He had always lived in peace, helping anyone in need: chopping wood, tending the wheat, fetching water from the well, and handling countless other small daily tasks. Now, however, he had been ordered not to leave his refuge and to hide at the slightest sign of danger. What on earth did it all mean? He longed to disregard those orders and go play with his friends. They had just finished renovating the nearby basketball court, and he couldn't wait to stomp on the concrete while dribbling. But he knew that would be recklessly unwise. So, he remained silent while the village chief gathered everyone.
***
Some time passed, and finally the guards appeared. Luk, holding his breath, averted his eyes from the villagers and, without hesitation, silently made his way towards the storeroom.
Everyone was terrified – no one was exempt. Seeing those armed men inspecting the children, even the parents grew frightened and clutched their little ones tightly, fearing harm might come to them. Every gaze was fixed on those menacing figures, and if eyes could speak, that moment would have been the perfect demonstration.
The silence persisted. The balls lay motionless, the snowmen and the falling snow seemed like silent onlookers, and the Christmas lights had long been extinguished. Then, at last, the man who appeared to be the captain of that large group stepped forward and declared firmly:
"Village LV-23-451, located in the central-northern region of the kingdom, is to be inspected. We have arrived at the request of the king, for whom we dispense justice. Our objective is to capture Luk, a commoner criminal born in these lands, interrogate him, and, ultimately, behead him. This is an order from Government Military Commander B, Draven Pyrehelm."
His voice was so grave and authoritative that it sent all the nearby animals fleeing. Some children even burst into tears. His face, however, remained hidden, for it was concealed beneath a bright yellow cap that set him apart from his men. Still, his presence was unmistakable.
"Who among you is the man called Wyn, the one who is supposed to be the village chief, and thus responsible for these lands? I need to exchange a few words with him," he added with a malicious chuckle.
No one dared move. There was a fear that these men might lose control and start firing wildly, without even waiting for the arrival of the village chief. But that did not happen: among the villagers, a slight old man stepped forward, sporting a thick mustache and a large straw hat pulled low over his head. His appearance hinted at the kind of person he was – a soul full of kindness and gentleness. Indeed, as he advanced toward the man who had summoned him, he would occasionally turn to reassure the people, whispering that everything would turn out fine.
"Pleased to meet you," he announced as soon as he reached the general. "I'm Wyn, village chief and owner of these lands. Pardon my tardiness, but as you can see, age has left its mark and my back isn't what it used to be…"
In a slightly irritated tone, the captain retorted, "That doesn't matter. I won't beat around the bush: let's get straight to the point. Where is he?"
"He's not here," Wyn replied without hesitation. "He hasn't done any–"
His sentence was abruptly cut off by the shot from Draven Pyrehelm's personal rifle, which fired a bullet into the air to silence him, causing many to fall to the ground in fright. "You don't ask questions – it's me who does. So, where is the boy?"
This time, the answer did not come immediately. Was Wyn about to reveal Luk's whereabouts? Or was he simply losing himself in needless thoughts? Neither he nor anyone else could be sure what was running through his mind, but by now he had resigned himself. He had decided never to regret his choices again. He raised his right arm and placed his hand over his heart: "I swear, he isn't here."
An obvious lie. Even the man with the yellow cap knew it, sighing at the end of that empty oath. Did he really dare to swear, even if he was lying? That was certainly behavior deserving punishment, but that day Raven was in a particularly good mood.
"Gather immediately!" he ordered, forcing the villagers to crowd into the village's main square, where the most important buildings (like the restaurant) stood. "I see you don't want to cooperate. We'll inspect the entire village anyway. You stay here, on your knees with your hands in the air, side by side. Don't move, or you'll be shot."
Without waiting for a response, he divided his squad into two groups: ten men, himself included, would search for Luk, splitting up to sweep through each building one by one; the remaining ten would stay behind to watch over the villagers, ready to shoot at the slightest suspicious movement. Darven wasn't one to act on impulse, but he didn't like wasting time either. By nightfall, he needed to return to the capital and announce his victory, because that's what the king wanted. So, with everyone gathered, the operation began.
***
After several intense hours, during which the guards scoured the village, a voice rose from among the kneeling villagers.
"Wyn, shouldn't we do something? At this rate, they'll find him," whispered a man in his fifties. He seemed to be a close friend of the village chief despite the age difference, given the familiarity in his tone. In truth, Wyn was seen as a father figure and everyone's best friend, so it was hard to believe he had favorites – but with this man, there seemed to be a special bond.
Hearing his voice, the village chief glanced at him from the corner of his eye, gave a faint smile, and whispered back, "He'll manage. Even if he's not the strongest or the bravest, he's never lost. We have to believe in him."
"But... I've been wondering for a while now," the man continued without much hesitation. "Did we really do the right thing for everyone? Wouldn't it have been better to just tell them? Why are we risking so much, Wyn? There are children here – you know that as well as I do."
The old man in the straw hat raised his gaze to the sky before answering. "Heaven is where the blessed rest, a wonderful place I'd love to visit. Don't you think so too, Alban? But sadly, we won't go there. If we've ended up in this situation, it's only our fault. Because we have sinned, and now we must face the consequences. So, what matters now isn't whether we acted for the good of all or not – but to stay silent and let fate draw its path."
"But if we do that… they'll kill us all. None of us will survive!" shouted the man, his face twisted by anger and fear. "We followed your words, Wyn! If we all die, it'll be your fault! Forget Heaven. You're the one keeping us from reaching it! What the hell was the point of this plan? If you feel guilty about Luk, why don't you care about all the other kids?"
"Be quiet," Wyn replied, his voice low and steady. "If they hear you, they'll kill you."
"And what does it matter anymore?" Alban answered, his voice breaking with pain. "I have children, Wyn. A wife and three kids – one girl and two little boys. They're all about to be slaughtered if they don't find Luk. And all because you want to save a broken world! Why couldn't we just go on living in peace? Laia and I were even thinking about having a fourth… But you, Wyn, you've always worn a mask to be liked – and now you're leading us all to death! How dare you? You may be the village chief, but you have no right… to drag us all down with you."
Alban was becoming more and more agitated, to the point that others began to pay attention to the argument. Those with children nearby instinctively reached out to protect them, covering their ears so they wouldn't hear the harsh words flying between the adults. But, surprisingly, the guards didn't seem to notice anything yet. Maybe they just wanted to finish their job and return to their usual lives, without complications. But what the hell.
"Why do you want to play the hero, Wyn?" Alban continued, his tone growing increasingly bitter. "There's no need for it. Especially not in our village. We weren't afraid, because we made a promise to each other. No one who's ever lived here has ever had to face the Government's guards, because no one has ever been reported to them. Why? Because we trust each other. And now – now that we've spread those rumors – we find ourselves here, waiting for a certain death."
"We won't die, Alban," Wyn said, still calm and without beating around the bush. "And even if we did tell them where the boy is, I doubt they'd let us go unharmed. It's true – I'm the one who led you here. But don't you think someone has to change the system that's kept us in chains for so long? We can't just be selfish and ignore those who live in the big cities, like the capital. We have to save them, even if it costs… a few lives."
"Do you realize what you're saying?" the man retorted, visibly agitated. "If you really want to save the world, why didn't you sacrifice yourself? Why did you put a young boy like Luk at risk? Tell me, Wyn. Tell me why you chose not to do it."
The village chief narrowed his eyes and lowered his head, almost as if to show his regret. He remained silent for a few seconds before responding: "I... was afraid."
Alban watched him and sighed. "Yeah, fear. Of course." He seemed to have finally calmed down, regaining his composure. To fight. There was still so much left to fight for...
***
"Brr... it's so cold here," the young boy murmured, trembling as he pulled his scarf tighter around his neck. "I wonder what's going on outside? I heard some screams, and honestly, I'm feeling a bit anxious..."
It was natural for him to feel this way. Luk wasn't used to situations like this. He liked spending his time competing with his peers, trying to come out on top and bragging about his successes. Seeing all of that come to a halt – or worse, seeing it turn into tragedy for some senseless cause – made his blood boil. Though, in a way, it wasn't so senseless, since death was at stake.
"But honestly, why should I give a damn if I die?" he sighed, complaining in his dialect. "I mean, if you die, you die. That's it. Who gives a shit?"
Underneath it all, however, a deep unease gnawed at him. Ever since the news had come out, the village chief and the elders had repeated it over and over, as if it were an endless tragedy – death here, death there. Luk, although only fifteen, was old enough to understand the gravity of the situation, but he still tried to reassure himself, ignoring the overwhelming reality as much as he could.
But the questions kept coming: why him? What had he done wrong to end up on the blacklist? He had always behaved well, helping those in need... So why him? Was he really such an easy target? Maybe the fact that he wasn't born in this village had triggered someone's wrath. But could it really be that simple to become a target? Who could it be, when the village had welcomed him without hesitation, or at least that's how he remembered it? Maybe someone else was to blame, maybe someone in the village had been threatened or bribed. But that wasn't what mattered right now. He shook his head, deciding that he would think about it and discuss it with the others only after this whole ordeal was over.
"I just hope this ends quickly," he muttered. "I really need to go to the bathroom. I didn't go earlier, and now–"
Suddenly, the door downstairs slammed against the wall. A sharp noise that made the boxes around him tremble. But it wasn't just any noise, it was a warning, an unmistakable signal: they had finally arrived. It wasn't yet time to be calm.
They rushed it, huh? he thought, listening to the creaks of the old wood in the building. Luk tried to stay as silent as possible, fearing he might be discovered. Even though he tried to ignore it, he was afraid of death and didn't want to meet it in such a brutal way. He clasped his hands together and began praying for his safety.
With each step they took, his prayer grew more fervent. When the guards finally positioned themselves in front of the storeroom where he had taken refuge, sweat beaded on his forehead. Luk was hidden inside a box, placed high on a shelf. It wasn't an ideal hiding spot – if the soldier started shooting at all the boxes, he would be easily discovered – but at least the box had holes that allowed him to breathe and observe the situation. His hope, though fragile, was the last light in that darkness.
The door opened, and one of the guards entered, just as he had seen before: impeccably dressed and with a rigid, cold bearing. The rifle he held was identical to the others, except for the one belonging to the soldier with the yellow cap, which appeared more imposing. The guard took a quick glance around, then almost immediately turned away. Fortunately, Luk had crossed paths with that particular guard, who clearly lacked motivation, until he...
...began to casually strike each box.
One shot, two shots, three shots, four shots... How many boxes were there in that storeroom? And more importantly, in which of them was he hiding? Had his time come? He still hadn't fully understood who had set him up and why... Maybe he should rebel, step out, and try to steal the guard's weapon, or perhaps it would be better to wait for his end? He had no idea, and he had never thought for so long, not even at school. He finally closed his eyes and resumed praying, until the gunshots suddenly stopped.
"Damn it, I need to reload," muttered the soldier, now out of ammunition. "Well, whatever. I'll do it while heading to the other building. He wouldn't hide so close to the square anyway. That'd be stupid."
With those words, the soldier left, notifying the others that the search was over. How lucky, thought Luk, remaining still, his hands clasped and his breath broken, curled up in the box, thanking the gods for granting him yet another moment of life.
His strategy had worked: hiding in a spot very close to the guards' position. It was a method he often used, even when playing hide and seek: instead of moving as far away as possible, he stayed nearby. Either the others were stupid, or thinking of something like that was stupid. Although, after taking such a huge risk, he wasn't sure whether to breathe a sigh of relief or feel like a complete fool. But whatever now.
All that was left to do was wait. Wait for it to all be over, for them to leave. He still couldn't go out and join the others, not until this torture ended. He felt a little sleepy, but the discomfort of the hiding spot prevented him from falling asleep. So, he decided to stay awake and listen to what was happening outside...
...if it wasn't for the squawk of a parrot.
"Luk. Found. Pharmacy," the bird squeaked from the storeroom window. Was that the boy's lost pet? Well, which pet would reveal its owner's location? Wait... It seemed to be trying to say that Luk was in the pharmacy, currently the building furthest from the center – definitely not his current hiding spot. Was it trying to trick the men?
Later, one of the guards heard it and turned back to shoot several rounds in an attempt to bring the animal down. But the bullets missed their mark, skillfully dodged by the parrot. Unable to shoot it down, the guard decided to ignore it. However, soon after, he mentioned it to the others, who burst out laughing.
"What are you talking about? A parrot helping us? Are you out of your mind, Hask?"
"I swear," Hask retorted. "Whether it's divine or natural help, we still need to check the pharmacy. That's where Luk is, or at least, that's what the parrot told me... but for safety, we need to go there. After all, they wanted to help us because we represent justice. So, are you with me? Will you come along? Oh, and maybe we should let the general know."
"Alright, alright. We'll come. But let's leave the commander out of this. I don't want him getting involved. So, it'll just be the four of us: me, you, Rikk, and Klynt. And let's hurry up, or we'll end up in trouble. By the way… you guys know where the pharmacy is, right? Because I have no clue."
"I know where it is – I saw it on the map they gave us," replied one, looking as ordinary as all the others.
"Perfect. Lead the way, Rikk." Evidently, his name really was Rikk. If it weren't for the name, he could have easily been mistaken for Hask or Klynt, as he had no distinguishing features. It was hard to imagine that they had a family, a home, a life as human beings. After all, at times like these, they seemed like nothing more than extermination machines driven by higher-ups.
And so, they left. That parrot had bought him time. Thanks to it, the guards had now moved away from the center and were heading toward the most remote part of the village. Thank goodness, right?
Once he was sure they had scattered, Luk emerged from his hiding place and dropped to the ground. He looked around to make sure he hadn't been discovered, then headed toward the window where he had spotted the parrot. As soon as he saw it, he leapt for joy. A joy he had forgotten. "I knew it, it was you! How long has it been, Pop! Come on in, it's cold out here. Oh poor Pop, you should have stayed inside at home where it's warm. After all, it's winter. It's not good for you."
While talking to him, Luk scrutinized the bird for any injuries, but Pop seemed surprisingly in good shape. "So, what's the deal? Why did you run off so suddenly? You worried me."
"Luk. Follow. Pop," the bird replied in a monotone voice. "Danger. Hiding. New. Evening."
"Pop, where did you learn all these words? I only taught you our names and how to say hello. Did they poison you or conduct experiments on you?"
Receiving no answer, Luk reiterated the bird's words. "You want me to follow you? A new hiding place? And what does evening have to do with it? It's still afternoon."
"Luk. Follow. Pop," the animal repeated, as if it wanted him to follow no matter what, anticipating imminent danger.
"I got it," Luk finally said. "I'll follow you. I trust you, Pop. But promise me you'll tell me what happened later, okay?"
After a few chirps, Pop took flight. Meanwhile, on tiptoe, Luk made his way through the building, passing by the storeroom and then the restaurant, until he was finally able to step outside and walk on the snow as he once did.
Such nostalgia, he thought. Although, in reality, the last time he had done it was that very morning. Still, it felt as though an eternity had passed.
He then resumed his journey, continuing to follow Pop.
The parrot's name, which held no particular significance, had been chosen by Luk himself because it was simple and easy to remember. But, upon reflection, perhaps it was a fitting name after all: "Pop" evoked the idea of an explosion of colors, just like the feathers that adorned the bird. As a result, the boy was convinced that Pop was the perfect name.
It didn't take long until they arrived at the new hideout. This time, instead of a small and uncomfortable box, there was an entire old, worn-out cart, once drawn by horses – even though the horses themselves were long gone – one of those carts from days gone by, a few years back. But it was perfect, as it was situated between some fallen trees in the forest, making it invisible to anyone approaching from the outside. Moreover, the forest wasn't far from the village, so Luk could easily return there.
"It looks like you've found an incredible hiding spot, Pop," Luk said.
"Luk. Sleep. Rest. Pop. Watch," chirped the bird in response. A pet worried about its owner? Especially a parrot – Luk had never seen one so caring. The boy decided to listen, happy to have found his animal again and to be able to communicate with him once more.
So he entered the cart. It was empty, of course: there was nothing inside except some wooden planks sticking out and a foul smell, similar to urine. Without dwelling too much on these details, he decided to ignore them and lay down. He closed his eyes and, finally, fell asleep immediately, with all the things he had carried on him, forgetting even his bounty and the soldiers who were searching for him. After all, it had been a long day, one that had made him extremely tired and worn out.
Well, what can be said? Rest well, Luk. May you enjoy, in peace, your final sleep…
…before the end.
***
It was evening. The guards had found nothing and had to return to the capital to announce... what victory? There was no trace of Luk, not even in the pharmacy. What could they do now? Declare their defeat to the king? Impossible. They would be decapitated on the spot. They could lie, saying they had successfully completed the mission, but what if the boy showed up afterward? Goodbye world, decapitated all of them. They couldn't even afford any delays, and so time was running out. Soon, they would have to leave.
"What a hassle," muttered Draven Pyrehelm to himself, watching the villagers still kneeling. "None of us found the boy. Moreover, it's likely he's already changed hiding places. So, they might not even know where he is anymore. Is this the first defeat for the Government? No, that's impossible."
Draven knew he had to come up with something. He couldn't just go back empty-handed. That would be an embarrassment. But there was no problem, because he already had a solution in mind.
He called some of the soldiers over and, with an unnerving coldness, revealed his plan to them. His voice was so devoid of emotion that even his subordinates exchanged a glance and asked him to repeat it, just to make sure they had heard correctly.
"Do you really want to do it, Commander? And the civilians? We can't ignore the Government's regulations. After all, it stipulates that–"
"Silence."
The word "cruel" described Draven Pyrehelm perfectly, the Military Commander B of the Government. After all, he was simply a man proud of his victories, keeping every trophy and medal of honor in his office, like a collection of triumphs. However, his character was that of a true bastard – tough and ruthless. Everyone feared him, but everyone also respected him; he was an idol for the recruits, as he had never lost, even during training. Because of this, Draven was considered one of the strongest men, if not the strongest. Every military campaign he had led had been a success, and in just one year, he had earned the title of Military Commander, one of the most prestigious.
"Place the red packages at the four corners," Draven ordered in a chilling voice. "I don't want any failures. Hoping to kill the boy and that he's still nearby, we'll execute this plan flawlessly, even if it means disobeying the Government."
With a moment of hesitation, the soldiers responded in unison, "Yes, sir!" Then they scattered to announce the order to the others, provoking clearly questionable reactions. But no one dared to refuse, and they obeyed Military Commander Draven Pyrehelm.
Thus, what seemed like any ordinary winter day would become the spark that would ignite a continuous massacre between the guards and the rebels, and Luk, sleeping like a log, had no idea of what was about to happen.
***
There was a terrible smell, perhaps something was burning. The air was unbreathable, and indeed, coughing, Luk woke up from his long sleep. He didn't know how much time had passed, but the sun had already set. Only the light of the moon faintly illuminated the sky, while dense, acrid smoke rose into the air, coming from who knew where. "Could it be bandits? They haven't shown up recently, but it's still possible..."
Luk had never been the brave type, but it couldn't be said that he was ever afraid when someone needed help. He considered those people lost, difficult to guide on their path, and he would have been happy to try talking to them, to do something to help. However, despite the desire, there had been many occasions when he had failed to do so, only causing more trouble for the villagers.
So, reflecting on those moments, he decided to bury that desire and quietly slip out of the cart.
The first thing he saw was not Pop, who had disappeared for the second time – likely fleeing because of the smoke, which would make sense. But it was the smoke itself that caught his attention: was it really just from a fire set by bandits? Looking closer at the sky, it didn't seem normal at all.
"It's coming from the village… Could they have…?" he hesitated, but immediately shook his head. "No, impossible. The village chief and the others must have managed. It must just be the smoke from a big bonfire they lit to celebrate. Yes, it has to be that."
He wanted to convince himself. He was desperately trying to push that thought away. He didn't want to believe such a conclusion, but deep down, he knew very well that smoke that dense couldn't come from a single fire. There had been a fire, and it wasn't one easily ignored.
Luk began running, not so much for his own life, but for the villagers'. Maybe he could save someone. Maybe everyone was fine, and he just had to help them put out the fire. But how could it be that he hadn't heard anything? How could he not have woken up earlier? And yet, he was someone who usually opened his eyes at the slightest noise. He wasn't the type who slept like a rock, but this time, it was clearly the exception, the only time he wouldn't have wanted to fall asleep that way. What if something serious had happened? What if someone had died because of him? He would never forgive himself.
Meanwhile, he ran. Faster than ever. To be honest, he had never been good at running, not even at playing tag with his friends. But with the speed he had now, perhaps even a lion wouldn't have been able to catch him.
He ran. He just ran. Without paying attention to the surroundings, without caring where he was stepping, he ran… so much so that, at one point, he tripped and fell heavily to the ground.
He scraped his knee. Blood flowed freely, but at the thought that the villagers might be in danger, the pain faded away.
He got up and ran again. Was he limping? Hard to tell. Maybe he was running faster than before, maybe slower. But now, only one thing mattered: were the villagers alright, yes or no?
When he finally arrived, the village… was destroyed. The buildings had holes and collapsed walls, and the streets were broken, as if something had bitten them. All that hard work… ruined in a single day. It almost felt like a cruel joke. Why? Why me? Couldn't it have happened to someone else, to another village? No, these are just useless thoughts. Rather... where are they?
Luk kept running, this time observing the surrounding landscape. Every house had been blown apart. None had survived. Was it the work of those guards? Surely. But where had they gotten all that gunpowder? If I'm not mistaken, the Government was running low... Was it a lie? Was that newspaper fake? he wondered, without stopping.
Bombs, dynamite, rockets, cannons, mortars… Could it really be that the Government was that rich? Luk couldn't believe it. How the hell did they get all these weapons here though? When I saw them from the restaurant window, the guards had arrived on foot with minimal equipment. Did they place them outside the village? Don't tell me, damn it.
He was almost at the center now, the square where the others were. The young boy, slowly approaching, could already make out the destroyed basketball court and the restaurant reduced to rubble, without a single sign of life. The thought that everyone had run away, like Pop, crossed his mind, but for some reason, he felt that wasn't the case. Because… it would have been too good to be true. Yes. Too good.
Suddenly, Luk began to feel the pain. He looked down and saw the wound on his knee: from it, a river of blood flowed, enough to feed someone who needed it. What a shame.
He hadn't even realized he was limping. His steps had become slower and slower, his desire to continue weaker with each passing moment. But he had to do it. He had to see with his own eyes, he had to make sure the villagers were all safe and sound.
Finally, Luk reached the square.
A smile lit up his face as soon as he saw them, and then he burst into uncontrollable laughter, so loud that tears streamed from his eyes. "So you're okay! What a relief, you have no idea how worried I've been, guys!"
The villagers, whom Luk thought had died…
…were indeed all dead. From the first to the last. They seemed to form a mountain of corpses, scattered in a sea of blood that stained the ground. The village chief, the one who had been like a father to him when his real father was absent. The children he had played with that very morning. The elderly who had scolded him for every mistake, trying to teach him the value of discipline. And all the others. Everyone who had welcomed him with open arms, never asking for anything in return, were lifeless.
"I feared the guards had hurt you," Luk laughed. "So, how are you all? As you can see, I'm doing great. And as for the village... when do we start rebuilding? My house, your houses, they're all in pieces… Ah, right. So, where do we sleep tonight? If there's not enough space, I can even skip sleeping. Why? Well… because I already slept this afternoon, sorry about that. But it's no problem! While you rest, I can start rebuilding the houses on my own, what do you think? I'm in great shape. Ah, this wound, you say? Doesn't hurt, don't worry. Nothing can stop me. Just some water and soap, and I'll be as good as new! And what about you? You've got more wounds than me, and the blood coming out of you is twice mine! Are you really sure you're okay?"
The boy paused for a moment to think. "If I'm not mistaken, I have some band-aids at home." Then a bitter smile touched his lips. "Unless, of course, my house is in the same state as the others around here, haha!"
He couldn't stop stammering in the sight of that mountain. Instead of a single mountain, it seemed more like a mountain range, given how many bodies surrounded the place. It was a tragedy.
"But we could easily go to a nearby town and buy what we need if our pharmacy is in terrible condition," he said. "I'm sure they'll give us what we need, I'm certain of it."
No one answered. It was logical: they were all dead. But Luk didn't want to accept it. He didn't want to accept that all the memories he had made with them... like dinners under the stars, wild boar hunts, working the fields, playing in the paths, winter vigils, harvest festivals, summer nights, river races, arguments over boundaries, babies taking their first steps, silent funerals, full moon dances, trials of courage, prayers before sowing, secrets in the mill, games of morra, reaping contests, torch processions, blankets for brides, herbal remedies, underwater challenges, snail hunts...
...would now remain only as memories.
Luk returned to reality. His eyes, ablaze with hatred and fury, closely observed the bodies of the poor people he had always tried to protect. It was strange to see it all end like this, with a simple snap of the fingers. And now, the blame fell on the guards and on him. They were the ones who had killed his family, and now it was his turn to repay them, to be forgiven. It was only right, wasn't it? You give, you receive.
But he... wasn't like that. He wasn't strong, intelligent, determined, courageous, clever, wise, skilled, or insensitive. He wasn't even cruel. He didn't desire to be hated; what he wanted was simply to be loved. He still needed affection, especially with such a long life ahead of him. He had no intention of changing, nor being changed, and he didn't want to kill to exact revenge. After all, what he was looking for wasn't vengeance, but... love.
Luk burst into tears. For some reason, he felt light, as if a warm embrace were lifting every burden off his shoulders. Meanwhile, the snow had also stopped falling.
Drawn to the chirping of a bird, the boy paused to wipe the tears from his face. It was a small bird fluttering above him, so colorful it seemed as if a bunch of markers had exploded on it, creating a living rainbow.
Of course, it could only be Pop, his pet.
But what was Pop doing here? And how could he breathe with all that smoke? It seemed absurd. Lately, Pop had been acting strange. He didn't seem like the same bird as before. Now, he looked... more mature? Who knows... Moreover, now that Luk looked more closely, he noticed that Pop was carrying something in his beak: a sheet of paper. A sheet with very few words on it, but they didn't appear to be handwritten. They seemed machine-written. "Wait… machine-written? Could it be the... royal family?"
Indeed, only the royal family possessed such an extraordinary machine. An invention that allowed for writing and photocopying words, making communication and historical record-keeping easier than ever. It was something revolutionary, so advanced that the family itself had decided to keep it hidden, refusing to allow it to spread throughout the kingdom. Egoism reigned supreme: the machine was never to become public domain because it would threaten their status as the sole holders of such power. Even though, in reality, they were already considered the most powerful. The royal family ruled over everything and everyone: the Government obeyed them, and at the same time, the people obeyed the Government.
Luk took the sheet in his hand, worried it might be a trap, and quickly glanced at it, reading in a low voice the words written on it:
—
The 100 Deadly Trials
The 100 Deadly Trials: an enigmatic game launched by the Divinity itself. Currently, 99 brave or desperate souls are participating in this unprecedented competition. But there is still one player missing. Will you, Luk, be the one to complete the circle?
Whoever manages to overcome all the challenges first will have the chance to grant any wish. Imagine what it could mean for you, the first criminal to face the feared Government: the possibility of bringing back those you've lost.
The choice is in your hands. It's time to decide.
—
"Can I really save them…?" he asked himself, the question haunting him more and more insistently. He didn't worry about how it could be possible, nor who or what was behind it all. That single question was all that remained after reading that piece of paper.
"Can I really save them?" he repeated, this time looking at Pop as if the bird could provide him with an answer that went beyond his solitude and despair. Luk was unrecognizable. He had never acted like this before, and even the parrot, before responding, seemed frightened by his demeanor.
"Luk. Save. Village. Luk. Winner. Prize," chirped the bird, its voice uttering only a sequence of words, not forming complete sentences. But for the young boy, it was the thread of hope he had been searching for.
The boy jumped for joy at the response, as if he had already emerged victorious from the game. For a moment, he seemed to forget the carnage surrounding him: the bodies of his friends, the rubble of the destroyed village, the smell of death in the air. But he didn't care. Hope, even if small, had crept inside him, and with it, the desire to fight. Perhaps fighting would be pointless, but now, more than ever, it was the only thing he had left.
In conclusion, Luk embarked on the long and arduous journey to save those who, until that moment, had taught him what love was and how to live in a world that had now condemned him…
…but he could never have imagined that, in the end, he would come face to face with the very person who had caused, or rather allowed, all that destruction.