Chapter 5: The Battle in the First Act
A colossus, made of rubble and stone, as large as six men and as strong as a man could never be, armed with a hammer that could split a tree in half and human eyes that reflected fear. The situation couldn’t be worse, except for the fact that a terrified Tommy was cowering on the ground in front of him, waiting for the lethal blow from the giant of stone.
What led Tommy to do something so absurdly foolish at that moment? Was it fear? Or perhaps the desire to defeat the one who interfered with the fulfillment of his wishes? Or the immense longing to return home to his family? It was pointless to reflect on this now. Tommy had only three seconds before his head would be crushed by a hammer three times larger than his entire body; there was no way to escape, not in this state—trembling, terrified, and curled up on the ground. A brutal death awaited him, and perhaps, because of his cowardice, his companions would die as well. Everything was a matter of seconds. The blow was rapidly approaching, and all he could do was cry. When the hammer was less than a meter from his head, Tommy closed his eyes, awaiting his own death without moving a muscle.
Tommy didn’t even feel the pain of the blow or hear the sound of his bones breaking; he was simply there, in a dark place, without sound, pain, or feelings—only death. But something felt strange; he then realized he was still breathing, and when he opened his eyes, he saw something impossible: a boy with black hair, dressed in a uniform like his own, with eyes that had once been dead. The boy stood in front of him, wielding a sword his own size, preventing the colossus's hammer from crushing them both.
Tommy watched, hoping this was some illusion caused by death in his mind, but the figure holding the sword firmly, already sweating from the immense force he was applying against the blow, turned to say:
— DO YOU WANT TO LIVE?! — shouted an enraged Mors, holding a weight so great he could hardly breathe. — THEN GET OFF THE GROUND!
Tommy regained his strength and ran alongside the other “actors,” who, like him, seemed just as surprised and immobile.
— WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU WAITING FOR?! — shouted Mors, still holding the hammer, which was pinned against his sword.
Awakened by the shout of the boy with ancient dead eyes in front of them, six children attacked without thinking against the monstrous and gigantic creature. But what about Mors? What did he feel after saving the person who hated him most for the second time? Was it a kind act on purpose? Or merely the instinct of a strange heroism, the same instinct that had coursed through his mind in the fight against Gilbert? But unlike a schoolyard fight, he was facing a brute far larger than Gilbert or any of his henchmen; he was face to face with a gigantic beast. But Mors was no longer just any boy; he now saw before him proof of his own heroism. Yet even a newfound sense of pride and strength would be enough to defeat the strange and fearsome monster before him? A real danger, in a world of illusions.
A grenade exploded near where the colossus's ear should have been, causing it to scream in pain and fury, and, injured, it retreated, giving the boy a chance to escape from under its hammer and begin the attack.
There was something unbelievable, a distinct and fantastic scene: children performing acrobatics and executing moves that no man could do without decades of training. The clinking of blades clashing against the marble and the stones that formed the colossus, the symphony of destruction echoing through a colorful and vibrant forest. The battle for the fulfillment of their desires transformed innocent children into skilled soldiers.
Caius advanced first, spear in hand, jumping so high he seemed to know how to fly, and his blade met the colossus's chest. A boomerang sliced through the air and stabbed the monster's back. Grenades were tossed in piles between its legs and arms, but no scratches were made, to Dáhlia’s dismay, who watched as explosions were wasted. Tired of the blows, the stone man raised his fists and tried to strike Mors, who ran towards the blow, narrowly avoiding it among the colorful trees, knocking them down one by one, sending wooden splinters flying toward Mors's legs. As he fell, he managed to dodge the punch, which struck a tree with such force it shattered into millions of pieces of wood and twisted leaves.
Quick daggers were thrust into the colossus's right knee, which managed to counter the blow instantly, kicking Amy into the depths of the forest so quickly that Vincent barely saw Amy collide with his torso, which, with the impact, sent him flying deeper into the woods, but luckily, he managed to hold some of Amy's weight.
— Are you okay? Are you hurt? — Vincent asked, trying to get up while noticing the marks and injuries the blow had caused him.
— Fortunately, I think so — she replied, rising from Vincent's arms. — Something cushioned my fall.
— Do you think I’m soft? — Vincent asked, smiling.
— Maybe, but I hit my head on your shoulder — she said, sharing a smile. — And it's not something I’d like to do all the time.
— I promise to be more careful.
Far from the battlefield, Amy and Vincent took time to arrive, and Mors and the other four actors needed to stop the colossus to return to the Shadow Theater.
— This creature is immortal! — exclaimed Caius after being hit by a monstrous kick from the giant man.
A curtain of dirt, torn leaves, and twisted wood covered Mors, who lay on the ground and could already feel the scratches and some wounds from the blow that had nearly killed him. Mors collected himself and sought his sword.
— We will all attack together; we have to hurt it enough to at least slow it down — Mors wiped the dirt from his sword. — I’ve never seen something so big and so fast; if we don’t act together, we’ll be killed one by one.
— Okay — replied Caius. — Dáhlia, Rune, and Tommy, on the count of three seconds.
The monster waited for the count, staring at each of the children who challenged it, awaiting its chance to kill them with the strongest of its blows. Its strange blue gaze pierced Mors’s spine as he prepared for a direct strike. One. Dáhlia readied her smoke bombs. Two. Caius spat and aimed his spear. Three. Mors glanced one last time at the monstrous face.
At the sound of the last number, Mors quickly sliced through the air, raising his weapon above his head and jumping towards the monster's forehead. A thin curtain of smoke covered the creature's eyes, which were blinded for just three seconds—enough time for the four to attack different parts of the colossus simultaneously.
As the smoke passed from its eyes, it was too late; a gigantic blade was heading for its forehead, ready to slice it in half. Then came that moment of eye contact: Mors's black eyes locked onto the creature's blue eyes, which seemed to freeze for a millisecond, but felt like an eternity. Those blue eyes, that iris—they didn’t seem to belong to a monster, but to a person as frightened as Mors. And for a millisecond, the thought of anguish and relative pity gnawed at Mors’s mind. What was he doing? Was he truly fighting a monster? Or just another being like him?
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As the blade finally touched the stone forehead of the creature, slowly scratching its marble skin and sending small splinters flying, the creature reacted. Its right arm shot towards Mors, where his blade was already embedded in the animal's forehead. Its thick stone fingers grabbed Mors's legs, pulling them away. But the sword had already begun the cut and continued until it reached the creature's right eye. Mors found himself slicing through the iris and eyeball of the stone man, tearing apart an eye much more alive than his own, seeing the same red blood that flowed in his veins gush from that wound. Witnessing the pain he had caused the creature, Mors’s legs were pulled, and his entire body fell prey to gravity, rushing towards the colorful, twisted trees as he watched the monster, now blinded in one eye and writhing in pain, thrashing and stabbing anything it saw in front of it.
And then came the impact: the boy’s hurled body collided with a large tree with pink leaves and a light trunk. He felt his ribs and bones strike against the trunk; a great pain filled his nerves. Falling from the top of the tree, he hit sharp branches that scratched his face, pulled strands from his hair, and tore parts of his clothing, until he finally landed on the ground. There he lay unconscious for a few seconds, forcing himself to see what he had done, unable to call for help or get back up.
The beast had gone berserk, destroying everything around it, pounding the ground, toppling trees, and trying to find any target to unleash its fury upon.
The other four ran through the minefield of uprooted trees and flying debris, along with chunks of stone and branches. Then Mors heard:
— There’s no way to kill it; it’s out of control!
— Then let’s blow it up.
No, thought Mors; that would be a tremendous mistake. If they caused a big explosion, besides possibly being hit by shrapnel, they could also set the trees on fire and trigger a devastating blaze. But the words didn’t leave his mouth, and his body took time to respond to even his simplest movements. Weak and finished, Mors realized what he was certain of.
Dáhlia filled the area around the colossus with bombs, but the creature was moving wildly, in pain from being blind in one eye. With its movements, it sent TNTs and grenades flying throughout the forest. Fear then coursed through Dáhlia, who not only had made all her companions potential victims of possible explosions but would also spark a great fire; and even if they weren’t blown up and burned, the children would still be at the mercy of a colossus filled with rage.
— Terrible idea! — shouted Dáhlia, running into the forest, trying to take refuge from the nearby explosions.
TNTs, grenades, and dozens of other bombs flew over the forest, each moving in different directions. Then gravity pulled them down; few exploded in the air, while others detonated upon touching their counterparts, creating a "rain of fire," where small flames filled the forest. Now, they were falling one after the other, causing the first major explosions.
As they fell disoriented, the explosions had no marked location and could not be predicted, but Mors knew that if he stayed where he was, motionless, he would be blown up in seconds. Or, if he were lucky, he would wait for the fire to reach him, which would soon begin, as the small flames were already rising among the branches.
— Where is Mors?! — asked Rune, running toward the woods alongside Caius.
— MORS?! — Caius suddenly remembered the boy who had been thrown far away. — He must be in danger!
— What are you thinking of doing?! — said Rune, noticing the concern on Caius’s face.
— I’m going to look for him! — Then Caius turned around and headed back to the plain where the colossus was still dazed and now angrier, as flames covered its body.
— NO! YOU’LL DIE! — shouted Rune, but Caius was already out of reach.
An explosion occurred in the rest of the temple, sending smoke upward and obscuring Caius’s vision. He was running in circles, searching for Mors when an explosion went off a meter from his body. Stumbling to the side, he bumped into the colossus’s leg, attracting the attention of the beast, which now had its long-desired victim in sight.
Seeing this, the few energies remaining in the boy returned, and he shouted:
— OVER HERE!
Caius immediately took his stance and ran toward the call, but now a great beast was chasing him, and the explosions were more frequent. He passed by Mors, helping the weak boy to stand up. Together, they ran deeper into the forest. The fire had already spread throughout the woods. Burned branches and weak trunks began to collapse, while the sounds of explosions did not cease.
A tree exploded behind the two boys, nearly throwing them off balance. Even with the impact, the stone man continued to pursue them, using his fists to knock down the broken trees in his path.
Flaming pieces of wood fell to the rhythm of the explosions, hitting Mors's and Caius’s shoulders and causing the first burns. Sweat, adrenaline, and focus kept the two boys running as more and more explosions occurred. A grenade fell from the sky, passing through a dry branch and heading toward the blind boy, who quickly drew the crossbow from his back. With his left hand, he pulled Caius and swiftly positioned the crossbow as a shield. The grenade collided with the blade; the impact of the explosion threw Mors to the side. His hands slipped from the sword, and his body was sent tumbling, crashing into two or more burned trees, until he exited the density of the forest, falling to the edge of a river that cut through the woods.
Now, with his vision blurred, he saw the forest before him, burning in flames, as the last explosions echoed. Vincent and Amy emerged from the woods, reaching the riverbank alongside Mors, who sought water to douse the small flames on his worn clothes. Rune, Dáhlia, and Tommy appeared from the opposite side, also looking for water, their faces battered and bodies weary.
Trying to regain his strength, the boy attempted to get up and then remembered Caius, the only one missing from their meeting by the riverbank. But his concern was short-lived when the colossus that had been pursuing them until then appeared, knocking down trees and searching for its prey. Disoriented by the chaos, the monster spotted the boy rising. Their gazes met; the stone giant saw the one who had wounded its eye. A chill ran down the boy's spine; this would be the scene of his death. The creature ignored the other five children, who moved aside, and fixed its gaze on the blind boy, who was trying unsuccessfully to retrieve his sword, remembering that it had disappeared at the moment of the explosion.
The boy then accepted his own death, simply watching as the monster charged uncontrollably toward him. The ground around him trembled, and the creature jumped over his body. But at that very moment, a call came from the opposite bank of the river.
— Mors!
Turning to see who was calling him across the river, Mors spotted Caius, injured and almost out of strength, who, with all his effort, threw an object in his direction. It was his sword, which crossed the river and reached his hands just as the stone beast was a meter away. The boy gripped his sword tightly, pointing it at the colossus's chest as he surrendered to his final act of heroism before death. The two collided, but the force of the impact caused both to fall into the river, as the stone figure collapsed on the young man, dragging him to the bottom of the water.
The characters remained stunned; even Tommy seemed shocked by it all. Even though he hated Mors, seeing him die like that was a hard blow to his stomach. Caius fell to his knees upon witnessing his friend sink alongside the creature. The silence was broken by the sound of cracking stone as bubbles surfaced in the water. Mors had died; that was the certainty they held. Amy, who was the most emotionally fragile, broke into tears, while the others wore expressions of extreme horror and apprehension.
More bubbles appeared, and they turned their attention back to the river, hoping the colossus would emerge victorious, now intent on killing them. But to their surprise, something incredible happened: the crossbow flew to the bank, where Caius, terrified, threw himself aside.
The infamous terrifying figure emerged from the lake toward Caius. This was not a giant; it had no body made of stone or blue eyes, but rather a cold, black gaze, reflecting only the light of the burning forest. With its wet, tattered clothes, its face wore an expression of hatred.
— I didn’t kill a monster, I killed a man.