Rodrigo
I woke up feeling the weight of sleep still clinging to my body. Soft light filtered through the refined fabric of the curtains, illuminating the spacious room around me. The mattress was absurdly comfortable, the kind that felt like it was hugging me, and the sheets had a soft texture—probably some ridiculously expensive material I wouldn't even know the name of.
The high ceiling featured a modern chandelier, its metallic structure reflecting small beams of light. The floor was covered in polished marble, and the surrounding furniture—a sturdy wardrobe, a well-crafted desk, and even a reclining armchair—only reinforced the luxury of the place. Beside the bed, a sleek digital clock and a bottle of imported water, still sealed, rested on the nightstand.
I let out a heavy sigh as I sat up, feeling a slight discomfort in my neck. We must have played until we passed out, because my head felt heavier than usual. The time we spent dueling in Melty Blood had been intense—so intense that I completely lost track of time.
I glanced around, trying to get my bearings. Hycaros's house was big, that much was obvious, but now that I thought about it… where was he?
I got up, feeling the slightly cool marble under my bare feet. Stretching my arms in an attempt to shake off the drowsiness, I started walking around the room. Was Hycaros still asleep? Or had he already woken up and was wandering somewhere in this lavish mansion?
Well, only one way to find out.
I walked to the door and opened it, ready to go look for my friend.
As I descended the stairs, my feet sank slightly into the plush carpet that covered part of the cold marble. The house was still silent, no sign of its owner, but my mind was too preoccupied to care.
What really caught my attention, though, was the simple fact that I hadn't dreamed of anything. No visions, no fragments of that mysterious darkness, no glimpse of that so-called "absolute power" that, deep down, I knew was impossible. Just a deep, dreamless sleep, as if my mind had simply shut off.
I let out a low chuckle, shaking my head. In the end, it was obvious. That was never real. I had just let my imagination run wild—maybe mixed with exhaustion or even too many hours of gaming. The human brain does that sometimes. It creates illusions so convincing they almost make us question reality.
But not me.
I knew that was impossible. There's no place where you can create anything just by thinking. No such power exists. If it did, the world wouldn't be the way it is. The laws of reality are strict, and above all else, I am a realist.
I sighed, pushing those pointless thoughts aside. Best to forget about it and move on.
With that in mind, I reached the ground floor, ready to find Hycaros and figure out what we'd do that day.
I walked through the rooms with calm steps, feeling the strange emptiness left by the silence. The place that had once been filled with laughter and the frantic button mashing of controllers now felt eerily vacant, almost impersonal.
I passed through the main living room—its leather sofas perfectly arranged, as if no one had spent hours gaming there. The TV was still off, reflecting the daylight streaming through the massive windows. The spotless floor gleamed under the expensive chandelier, and even the robotic vacuum moved methodically around the furniture, dutifully performing its programmed routine.
I glanced at the front door—locked. Then I checked the garage, but Hycaros's car was missing. That was strange. He didn't even wake me before leaving?
I made my way to the kitchen and opened the sleek, stainless-steel fridge. The food supply looked like something out of a high-end restaurant—ready-made gourmet meals and fresh ingredients worthy of a professional chef. I grabbed a cold bottle of water and leaned against the marble counter, taking a few sips.
Out of habit, I pulled out my phone and unlocked the screen. That's when I saw the notification.
Hycaros [07:12 AM]
"Had to go take care of some family stuff. If you wanna leave, I left a spare key in the hall drawer. But if you wanna stay, feel free to enjoy the day. Oh, and I left my card on the living room table. If you need anything, just use it. Later o/"
I read the message twice, frowning.
"Family stuff?" That was way too vague—even for Hycaros. Normally, he would complain about any boring event he was forced to attend, but this time, he didn't say a word.
I lowered my phone onto the counter with a sigh. At least he gave me a choice. I could leave whenever I wanted.
But… did I want to?
My eyes drifted to the nearby living room table, where a sleek black card gleamed under the morning light. Not only did Hycaros trust me enough to leave me alone in his house, but he also handed me access to his money without a second thought.
A smirk crossed my lips.
— That bastard trusts me way too much.
I picked up the card, twirling it between my fingers. I could do anything today. Buy something, order food, binge-watch movies on his massive home theater, maybe even explore this enormous mansion a bit more…
But for some reason, something felt off.
Hycaros had left too early. No warning, no explanation…
I slipped the card into my pocket and took another sip of water. Maybe I was just overthinking.
Finishing the bottle, I walked over to the water filter, the only sound in the house being the soft echo of my footsteps against the flawless marble. I refilled the bottle, watching the clear liquid flow steadily, as if that simple action could distract me from the nagging feeling in the back of my mind.
When I finished, I opened the fridge and placed the bottle on the glass shelf, closing the door with a slow motion. I stood there for a moment, feeling the faint chill escaping through the rubber seal before it fully shut.
I took a deep breath and walked back to the living room.
The silence was almost suffocating. Last night, the place felt alive, filled with voices, sound effects, and playful taunts during our matches. Now, it was just a vast, luxurious, and… empty space.
I threw myself onto the black leather couch, sinking slightly into its soft texture. Running a hand over my face, I could still feel the weight of last night's exhaustion, yet at the same time, there was an irritating restlessness that wouldn't let me fully relax.
What was I supposed to do?
This weekend was supposed to be a distraction, a time to have fun, to forget any crap that was bothering me… And yet, somehow, that dream from two days ago still lingered around me like a shadow.
I closed my eyes and leaned my head against the back of the couch.
That dream…
I should have forgotten it. Dreams are just dreams. That's all they are, right? A confusing mix of thoughts and random desires. But then… why did it feel so vivid? Why, every time I tried to push it away, did some part of me insist on remembering?
I could feel it again—that infinite darkness surrounding me, the presence of the shadow, the surreal sensation of being able to shape reality itself with a single thought. The weight of Excalibur in my hands… The golden glow of the blade, the blue details on the hilt…
I swallowed hard and squeezed my eyes shut.
"Tch… Cut it out," I muttered to myself, exasperated.
Why the hell was I still thinking about this?
Reality was simple: I was sitting on a luxury couch, in an empty mansion, with an entire weekend ahead of me. There was no talking shadow, no strange dimension, no power. It was all just in my head.
I let out a long sigh and stared at the high ceiling of the living room.
Maybe I just needed a real distraction.
I ran a hand over my face and exhaled heavily, trying to push those useless memories out of my mind.
I need to focus on something else. Right now.
Dropping my hand from my face, I glanced at the glass coffee table in front of the couch. The game controller was still there, right where I had left it last night. I picked it up and pressed the power button. The familiar sound of the console booting up filled the silent room, accompanied by the glow of the TV screen.
I scrolled through the icons in Hycaros' digital library. There were fighting games, RPGs, a few shooters… but one particular title caught my eye.
A visual novel.
I remembered seeing this game yesterday while browsing through his collection. Hycaros had laughed and said he bought it out of curiosity but wasn't really into the genre. He had never even played it.
I smirked.
Well… maybe now's the time to see what this kind of game is all about.
I clicked the icon, and the game started loading. A soft, melancholic melody played over the main menu, accompanied by a beautifully detailed illustration of a city at dusk. The title glowed in stylized letters, looking like something straight out of a dramatic anime.
I pressed "New Game" and settled into the couch, ready to dive into something completely different from what I was used to.
Maybe, this time, it would be enough to get my mind off that damn dream.
…
As I progressed through the game, I started noticing some familiar references. The way the dialogue was structured, the storytelling style, even some of the character names… It all felt incredibly familiar.
And then, it finally clicked.
"Ah… so it's a Tsukihime remake."
I chuckled softly, shaking my head. Took me long enough to realize, huh? Maybe I was really too distracted by that dream.
I hit pause and set the controller aside for a moment, leaning back into the couch. My eyes were on the game screen, but my mind was already elsewhere.
If I had the Mystic Eyes of Death Perception like Shiki… what would that be like?
Imagining the lines and points of death spread across everything around me. Being able to cut through anything—even abstract concepts.
It would be incredible… and terrifying at the same time.
Of course, if I ignored the side effects: an overloaded brain, progressive insanity, and mental exhaustion that would probably lead to my collapse in just a few years.
I sighed. Maybe it was better to stay a normal human after all.
I let out a quiet chuckle, resting my elbow on the couch's arm while spinning the controller between my fingers.
"And if…?"
The thought came to me out of nowhere.
If I had the powers of characters like Shirou Emiya, with his Projection and Tracing abilities, able to create legendary weapons just by visualizing their structures… Or Aoko Aozaki, with her destructive magic and the ability to bend the rules of the world as she pleased… Or even Arcueid Brunestud, existing beyond humanity, a being of absolute power with no mortal limitations…
Man… that would be amazing.
I imagined what it would be like to summon Kanshō and Bakuya, Shirou's twin blades, feeling their weight in my hands, their histories echoing inside me. Or launching a destructive blast of pure magical energy like Aoko, streaking across the sky with a beam powerful enough to obliterate anything in its path.
And Arcueid… well, if I had her powers, I wouldn't even have to worry about physical or magical limitations. I'd be a superior being, a true divine monster.
I sighed, sinking into the couch. It was a cool idea… but also completely impossible.
After all, I was just a normal human.
Not even in a social sense could I aspire to anything out of the ordinary. I would never have a friendship with someone like Shiki Ryougi—let alone a relationship. Not that it was possible for anyone, since she was a fictional character… But hypothetically, even if she were real, what kind of connection could I possibly have with a woman like her?
Strong, enigmatic, carrying the weight of two personalities and a past scarred by violence and the supernatural.
Definitely not the kind of woman I could handle.
But… what about Saber?
She was also powerful, determined, with an aura of royalty that commanded respect. But unlike Shiki, she had a certain idealism, an unshakable resolve to follow her path with honor and justice.
Even so… she wasn't exactly my type either.
I shook my head, chuckling to myself.
"What the hell am I even thinking? I should just focus on the game."
I tightened my grip on the controller and forced my attention back to the screen, trying to push aside the whirlwind of pointless thoughts distracting me.
…
After a few hours of playing, I realized my focus was gone. My eyes were on the screen, but my mind was somewhere else. That dream…
I let out a deep sigh and, without much thought, pressed the buttons to close the game. The screen returned to the console's home menu, its bluish glow softly reflecting around the room, while the low hum of the cooling fan filled the silence.
That's enough for today.
I tossed the controller beside me on the couch and stretched, feeling my body protest after sitting there for so long. Maybe I should do something else…
That's when I heard my phone vibrate on the coffee table, followed by a specific sound—a soft droplet of water falling.
I frowned.
That ringtone…
I grabbed the phone and glanced at the screen.
Mom.
My expression hardened slightly, and my finger hovered over the notification. Her message was simple, straight to the point:
"Rodrigo, we need to talk."
I stayed still for a moment, just staring at those words.
Talk about what?
I leaned back on the couch, spinning the phone between my fingers. My first instinct was to ignore it and deal with it later. But at the same time… she rarely sent messages like this.
And I knew that sooner or later, I'd have to respond.
I closed my eyes for a moment, exhaling slowly through my nose. The exhaustion of the past hours weighed on my shoulders, but ignoring this message wouldn't make it go away.
After a few seconds, I opened my eyes again and looked at the screen. My fingers hovered over the virtual keyboard before finally typing:
"Do you want to talk in person or just text?"
I hesitated briefly before pressing send.
The familiar message-sending sound echoed through the quiet room.
Now, I just had to wait.
The phone remained silent for a few seconds, giving me time to look away from the screen and stare at the blank TV in front of me. My mind wandered, half-tired, half-restless.
My mom wanting to talk to me? That was never a good sign. She wasn't the type to text just for small talk, and I knew that. Maybe it was about home, about my future, or just another scolding disguised as motherly advice.
A new notification sound interrupted my thoughts. I glanced at the screen:
"If possible, I'd prefer you come home. But if it's complicated, we can talk here."
I sighed. So it was something that needed a face-to-face conversation. That meant she wanted to see me in person, and considering our last interaction before I left, she probably wanted to discuss something serious.
I stared at the message for a few moments, weighing my options. If I went now, I'd miss out on the rest of the day at Hycaros's place, but if I put it off, I'd have that conversation lingering in my mind the whole time.
After a few seconds, I typed:
"I'm on my way."
I sent the message and stood up from the couch, running a hand over my face in an automatic gesture. Grabbing my phone and the spare keys Hycaros had left for me, I stuffed them into my pocket. I took a quick glance around the room, almost like I was saying goodbye to the comfort of this place before heading out to face whatever was waiting for me.
Without further delay, I made my way to the door.
Just before my hand touched the doorknob, the familiar chime of a notification echoed in the silent room. My first thought was that my mom was replying, maybe just reinforcing her request for me to come home.
I pulled my phone out of my pocket and looked at the screen. But to my surprise, it wasn't her. It was Hycaros.
"Looks like I'll be out all day, so leave whenever you want. But I doubt you'll last long alone in that giant house lol."
I rolled my eyes, letting out a small sigh.
"Oh, and one more thing"—another message popped up right after. "There's a spare key to my bike in the kitchen drawer near the fridge. If you feel like cruising around the city, go for it. I know you like wandering aimlessly sometimes."
I stared at the message for a few seconds. Hycaros always had this habit of predicting what I might want before I even considered the possibility.
Wandering around aimlessly actually seemed like an interesting idea. But I had already told my mother I was coming, and making her wait just because I wanted to take a ride didn't seem like a good choice.
Still… the idea of riding that motorcycle was tempting.
I put my phone back in my pocket without replying right away. First, I needed to decide what to do. Would I go straight home, or take a ride first?
I pulled out my phone again and opened my chat with Hycaros. I started typing:
"Can I use the bike to go home? My mom wants to talk to me in person."
I hesitated for a moment, then added another message:
"Oh, and is it okay if I use your card in case I need to refuel?"
I sent the messages and waited for his response. It didn't take long before a notification popped up on the screen, followed by Hycaros' usual carefree tone.
"Dude, stop acting like I don't trust you lol."
Another message quickly followed:
"You're literally the person I trust the most. Use the card however you want. Just don't buy a country, okay? Other than that, we're good."
I let out a small chuckle at that. Hycaros and his exaggerated way of speaking… But somehow, his words carried weight. Knowing that he trusted me that much gave me a strange feeling—somewhere between comfort and responsibility.
I replied with a simple "Thanks, man. I owe you one." before putting my phone away and heading toward the kitchen. Time to grab the key and leave.
As soon as I opened the front door, I was greeted by the soft, steady sound of rain hitting the asphalt and the leaves of the trees. The damp scent of earth mixed with the fresh morning drizzle, hitting me instantly. Small puddles were already forming along the driveway, reflecting the mansion's lights and the gray sky above.
But none of that held my attention like what was right in front of me.
There, waiting as if it had been expecting me, was Hycaros' motorcycle.
It was simply breathtaking. A machine that looked like it had been pulled straight out of a cyberpunk movie—or better yet, Akira. Its vibrant red body gleamed even under the rain, with an aerodynamic and aggressive design that made it instantly iconic. Sturdy fairings covered parts of the wheels, giving it a solid and futuristic look, as if it were more of a spacecraft than a simple bike.
The details were all there—stickers from famous brands like Canon, Citizen, BMW, and Shoei, strategically placed on the chassis, alongside Japanese symbols and military insignias. The headlights were narrow and elongated, giving the motorcycle a fierce glare, while the digital dashboard on the handlebars displayed a sleek, high-tech interface filled with technical data.
The wheels were massive and thick, built for speed and stability, while the low suspension made it look even more aggressive. The dual exhaust pipes on the side added the finishing touch to the machine's bold design.
For a moment, I just stood there, taking it all in.
Hycaros really knew how to show off.
The rain kept falling gently, trickling down the surface of the bike, forming tiny shimmering trails of water over its red body. A distant rumble of thunder echoed through the sky, snapping me back to reality.
I let out a long sigh.
"Of course he has one of these…" I muttered to myself.
Now the question was: was I really going to ride this thing in the rain?
I looked at the motorcycle again, feeling a slight chill in my stomach. It was an impressive machine—powerful and, without a doubt, far more advanced than anything I had ever ridden before. The light drizzle continued, droplets accumulating on the dashboard's display and rolling down the seat.
My mind started weighing the possibilities. What if I slipped? What if I lost control? What if this bike was more than I could handle?
Before that train of thought could spiral, I lightly slapped both sides of my face.
"Come on, Rodrigo, stop overthinking."
I knew how to ride. My father had taught me, and Hycaros had given me plenty of tips over the years. It wasn't like I was getting on a bike for the first time. Besides, I'd been in way worse situations than this.
I took a deep breath and ran a hand through my damp hair.
The truth was… this machine was calling to me.
A shiver ran down my spine—not of fear, but of excitement. The idea of riding something this powerful sent a different kind of rush through me, an anxiety that wasn't unpleasant.
I smiled.
"Well, I can't just leave a beauty like this sitting here, can I?"
I stepped closer to the bike, my heartbeat picking up as my fingers ran along the cold, wet fairing. The smooth surface reflected the dim light of the cloudy day, and the scent of metal and rubber mixed with the fresh rain.
I slid the key into the ignition, turning it slowly.
The digital screen instantly lit up, illuminating the dashboard with sharp numbers and glowing graphs. The engine let out a low growl, like a predator waking up. A deep vibration ran through the bike's frame, reaching my arms and legs—a mechanical greeting.
"So this is how you sound…" I murmured, fascinated.
I tightened my grip on the handlebars, feeling the leather of my gloves adjust perfectly to my hands. The rain had started to fall a little harder, but I no longer cared.
I had already made my decision.
It was time to ride.
The bike's dashboard flared to life as I turned the key, displaying a series of digital screens filled with precise, detailed information. The holographic speedometer stood out immediately, glowing in a vibrant blue, while other indicators flickered around it—fuel level, tire pressure, engine temperature, and even a real-time weather monitor.
I ran my eyes over the various colorful buttons scattered across the handlebars and dashboard, each seemingly activating some specific function. One of them blinked red—probably triggering some kind of special mode. Another, right next to it, displayed a small rocket icon, and I could only imagine what it did.
— Hycaros, you bastard… what the hell did you put in this bike? — I murmured, surprised by the level of technology.
Beyond the information panel, a side screen displayed a three-dimensional map of the city, with real-time suggested routes and a blinking dot indicating my location. This bike wasn't just fast—it was a full-fledged cockpit on wheels, something straight out of a cyberpunk movie.
The low, ergonomic seat fit perfectly, favoring an aggressive riding posture. The angular, compact frame seemed designed to cut through the wind, conveying a sense of speed just by sitting on it. I had barely started riding, yet I could already feel the power of this machine beneath me.
With a sigh, I gripped the handlebars tighter and looked ahead. The rain was still falling, tiny droplets sliding down the digital visor and reflecting the dashboard lights.
— Alright… let's see what you can do.
I twisted the throttle lightly, and the engine responded with a deep, metallic growl.
A shiver ran down my spine.
This bike wasn't just a vehicle.
It was a beast waiting to be unleashed.
As I revved the throttle a bit more and started maneuvering the bike out of the garage, the integrated speakers suddenly played the opening chords of Ela Partiu by Tim Maia.
I blinked in surprise. Hycaros listens to this kind of music? Not that it was bad—on the contrary, the melancholic groove of the song oddly fit the heavy rain falling around me.
— Heh… you really do surprise me sometimes, Hycaros. — I murmured to myself as the bike glided smoothly over the wet asphalt.
Raindrops splattered against the visor and trickled down quickly, while the city lights reflected off the puddles, creating a kaleidoscopic effect on the road. The city, wrapped in the gray of the rain, seemed less busy than usual. Cars moved sluggishly, their windshield wipers dancing frantically to keep up with the downpour.
The nostalgic melody and the song's rhythmic beat made for a curious contrast with the futuristic machine I was riding. Tim Maia sang about loss and solitude while I drifted through the streets, feeling the vibration of the bike beneath me.
The engine purred smoothly, like a predator lurking. I tightened my grip on the handlebars, feeling adrenaline rush through my veins as I accelerated slightly. The bike's deep roar echoed through the surroundings, slightly overpowering the music.
"Ela partiu… e nunca mais voltou…"
Tim Maia's deep voice carried a weight that, for some reason, fit perfectly with the moment.
The damp wind hit my face as I cut through the wet streets, raindrops mixing with the glow of headlights and neon signs. Even in the middle of a storm, there was something almost cinematic about it all.
The rain grew heavier, drumming against the panel and the bike's frame. This definitely wasn't just a typical summer storm. The dark sky seemed to be announcing something bigger, something unknown.
But at that moment, as I rode through the streets to the sound of a Brazilian classic, only one thing mattered—moving forward.
The beat of the song and the deep rumble of the bike made me fall into rhythm. Little by little, my mouth started following the lyrics, first in a low murmur, then more freely, until I realized I was actually singing along.
"Ela partiu… e nunca mais voltou…!" I sang, tapping my left hand lightly against the handlebar in time with the music.
The rain kept pouring down, dripping onto my helmet and sliding down the visor, but I no longer cared. The wet asphalt reflected the city lights, creating a dazzling spectacle all around me. The feeling of gliding down the road to the sound of Tim Maia made the moment feel surreal—like I was in a movie scene.
"Ela sumiu… e nunca mais ligou…" I continued, leaning slightly into a turn, feeling the bike's weight respond smoothly and precisely.
I knew that once I got home, everything would change. My mother wanted to talk, and the tone of her message suggested it wasn't going to be a light conversation. Whatever it was, it would probably give me a headache.
"Se souberem onde ela está… eu vou lá buscá-la!" I sang louder, chuckling to myself.
If I was about to deal with stress when I got home, I might as well enjoy the ride while I could. After all, it's not every day you get the chance to ride a machine like this, in the rain, to the sound of a classic.
I accelerated slightly, feeling the engine's vibration pulse through my body as the song continued its unmistakable rhythm.
For now, it was just me, the road, and Tim Maia's nostalgic melody.
As I neared the condominium, I slowed down and pulled up in front of the gate. The engine still hummed softly, and I noticed another song starting to play—this time, Gostava Tanto de Você, also by Tim Maia.
"Damn, Hycaros, you're in a nostalgic mood, huh?" I muttered to myself, lifting my visor with one hand while keeping the other on the handlebars.
The rain had eased up, but it was still enough to make the asphalt shimmer under the streetlights. The condo wasn't exactly luxurious—far from it, actually. The garage gate was in the same sorry state as always: broken, slightly crooked, and groaning loudly whenever someone tried to move it. I was used to it by now.
I sighed, turned off the bike, and stepped down, feeling the wet ground seep into the soles of my sneakers. The music was still playing softly through the bike's sound system, and for some reason, it made me pause for a moment.
"Because you left... and I missed you so much..."
I shook off the strange feeling, tucked the helmet under my arm, and walked up to the gate, slipping my fingers between the bars to force it open. As expected, it screeched loudly, and I had to push harder to budge it.
"One of these days, this thing's just gonna collapse completely," I grumbled, finally managing to open it just enough to pass through with the bike.
I pushed it into the narrow garage, where the stained concrete and patches of oil only added to the place's rundown look. I parked it near the wall, making sure it was stable on the kickstand.
Before stepping away, I glanced at the sleek machine for a second, noticing the stark contrast between it and its surroundings. This bike didn't belong here—it looked like something from a whole different world, one far more advanced and extravagant than mine.
"Yeah... this thing definitely doesn't fit in here," I muttered with a small chuckle.
Closing the screeching gate behind me, I made my way toward the building entrance, knowing that once I crossed that door, things wouldn't be as simple as a late-night ride in the rain anymore.
I wheeled the bike carefully into the designated parking area for two-wheelers—a cramped space under a faded blue tarp, held up by rusted metal beams. The area was tight, occupied by a few other bikes—two beaten-up ones, covered in scratches and duct-taped seats, and another that was newer but clearly a budget model compared to the futuristic beast I had just parked.
I turned off the engine, and the music cut out abruptly, leaving only the soft patter of rain against the tarp. Pulling the key from the ignition, I felt a small shiver as I took in how out of place this high-tech machine looked in this rundown parking lot.
"Yeah... definitely doesn't belong here," I murmured to myself, making sure it was properly secured.
I locked the helmet onto the side holder, double-checking before stepping away. Taking a deep breath, I walked toward my building, stepping over puddles that had formed in the uneven pavement. The damp smell of earth mixed with a faint whiff of gasoline, and my sneakers made soft splashes as I moved through the wet ground.
Climbing the worn-out steps to the building entrance, I pushed open the heavy door with a familiar creak. The lobby was the same as ever—faded beige walls with peeling paint, cold ceramic tiles, and a vague scent of cleaning product mixed with something slightly sour—probably coming from the elevator, which rarely worked properly.
Luckily, today it was operational, its call button flickering weakly. I pressed it and waited, listening to the faint hum of the machinery as it slowly ascended. When it arrived, the doors opened with a muffled ding, hesitating slightly as if reluctant to move.
I stepped inside and pressed my floor's button, leaning against the wall with my arms crossed. The elevator's mirror reflected my face, slightly damp from the drizzle, and the tired look in my eyes that I was trying to ignore.
"Showtime..." I muttered sarcastically, knowing that whatever conversation awaited me with my mom wouldn't be an easy one.
The elevator creaked as it ascended, swaying slightly with each passing floor, until it finally reached my stop. The doors slid open with another dull ding, and I stepped into the familiar hallway, feeling the tension mount with every step toward my apartment.
I stopped at the door. Took a deep breath.
Then, reaching out, I turned the handle.
"I'm home."
My voice was calm, but inside, I was bracing myself for whatever came next.
As soon as I stepped inside, my suspicion was confirmed—my mom and my brother were seated at the wooden dining table, facing each other in an atmosphere that felt far too formal for just a casual family talk.
My mom, sitting stiffly with her hands clasped on the table, had clearly been waiting for me. Her sharp gaze locked onto mine, and even without a word, I could feel the weight of it. This was serious.
My brother, on the other hand, was slouched in his chair, completely indifferent to the situation. One leg stretched out, the other bent, his eyes glued to his phone as if he couldn't care less. He didn't even bother looking up when I walked in. The glow of the screen reflected off his face, emphasizing that ever-present expression of boredom he always wore.
I sighed internally.
— "Great..." — I thought. If he's here, this conversation is definitely not going to be simple.
I dropped the motorcycle keys on the entry table and closed the door behind me. The tension in the air was almost tangible, like an invisible thread stretched to its limit, ready to snap at the slightest wrong move.
I walked slowly into the living room, feeling each step echo in my head like a countdown. I glanced at the table and then at my mother, waiting for her to start whatever this was.
— "So... what happened?" — I asked, keeping my voice neutral but already bracing myself for whatever was coming next.
My mother looked at me for a moment, her gaze sharp and analyzing, as always. She seemed to be searching for clues in my expression, trying to figure out what was going through my mind.
— "You got here pretty fast… You're not with Hycaros anymore?" — she asked, her voice slightly concerned, as if trying not to sound too curious. She was rubbing her hands together on the table, a small habit she had when she was anxious.
I looked at her for a moment before answering, shifting my weight from one foot to the other. The concern in her voice, though subtle, unsettled me a little. She knew this weekend was important to me, and the fact that I had come home early had clearly caught her attention in a way that made me uneasy. I knew what she really wanted to ask, even if she didn't say it outright.
— "No, he had to leave early." — I replied, trying to mask any hint of discomfort. — "I decided to head back sooner. It was just a game… nothing special. It's not like I missed out on anything."
My mother studied me carefully, her eyes narrowing slightly, as if searching for something more between the lines of what I was saying. She didn't seem entirely convinced but knew she couldn't push too hard.
— "You're not lying, are you?" — she asked, her voice softer but still carrying a trace of concern.
I sighed, letting my gaze wander across the room, trying to ease the weight of the conversation. Then, I turned back to her.
— "No, Mom. I just wasn't in the mood to stay there, that's all."
She paused, maybe not completely convinced, but she chose not to press further—at least for now. She glanced at my brother, who was still completely absorbed in his phone and didn't seem to care about the conversation at all, which was a relief. But with him, the problem was always something else.
Then, she took a deep breath and changed her tone, more serious and cautious now:
— "I hope I didn't ruin your weekend, Rodrigo. But I need to talk to you about some things… about how we're handling things at home."
Her voice was gentler, but I could tell there was something more behind it. I already had a feeling that, whatever this was about, my life was about to take a turn, and I wasn't sure if I was ready for it.
My brother, who had been completely engrossed in his phone until now, suddenly lifted his head and looked at me with a smug grin. He was younger, but with that sarcastic and arrogant tone, he always acted as if he were older. I already knew how much he enjoyed teasing me whenever he got the chance, so his next question didn't surprise me.
— "Hey, Rodrigo… How'd you get here so fast? Had the money to take a car, or did you use Hycaros's card again?" — he asked, still with that annoying smirk, making sure to emphasize the word "money" like it was some kind of accusation disguised as curiosity.
I shot him a glare, trying to keep my cool, but the slight irritation he always caused me was already starting to surface. It was no surprise that he took every chance to provoke me, especially now that he was comfortably at home, without the responsibility of keeping up appearances.
— "I didn't need a car, and Hycaros has nothing to do with this." — I muttered, trying to avoid getting into a direct confrontation. — "I just came back early, simple as that."
He let out a chuckle, clearly doubting me, as if it was impossible for me to have done something on my own. That attitude of his always pissed me off, especially because he knew how much I hated these unnecessary provocations.
— "Oh, sure… 'simple as that,' huh?" — he replied, his voice dripping with sarcasm. — "Are you gonna tell me you weren't on a motorcycle too? I heard an engine outside."
I took a deep breath, trying to control my anger. I knew he liked to push my buttons, but I wasn't in the mood for an argument right now.
— "No, I wasn't on a motorcycle. Maybe you were just imagining things." — I shot back, keeping my tone indifferent.
He didn't seem too satisfied with my answer, but he didn't push further. He just rolled his eyes and went back to his phone, probably already thinking of another way to provoke me. At least he wasn't causing me trouble for now, but that didn't stop the growing weight of knowing that, deep down, something was wrong at home. And it was probably related to what my mother wanted to talk about.
I sat down in the middle of the table, resting my hands on the sides of the wooden chair, already preparing myself for what was to come. I didn't like the heaviness in the air, but I knew something had to be addressed. I looked at my mother and took a deep breath, trying to hide the discomfort of being there at that moment.
— "Okay, Mom, you can say what you need to. I want to resolve this quickly because I've got things to do afterward." — I said, trying to stay calm, though the discomfort was building up. I didn't want any more beating around the bush.
My brother, who was sitting next to me, let out an ironic laugh, clearly enjoying provoking me again. He loved throwing these jabs in my face as if they were something that would actually affect me.
— "Oh, sure, what are you gonna do afterward? Play with your usual poor friends? Or are you going to keep 'sucking' up to Hycaros?" — he said, laughing at himself, clearly thinking he was going to get a rise out of me.
I couldn't let that slide. Not that I cared what he thought of me, but it was about time to set things straight. So, as calmly as possible, I looked directly at him and responded:
— "You really aren't much of a friend, you know? Especially when I think about who visited you in the hospital when you had to undergo that life-threatening surgery." — the last word came out with a slightly acidic but direct tone, and I could see the immediate discomfort on his face.
My brother froze, the ironic smile disappearing instantly. He fell silent, unsure of how to respond. He knew I was telling the truth, and although he wasn't the type to apologize, his silence spoke volumes. The weight of the memory was greater than any provocation he could throw at me.
My mother, who had been quiet up until then, sighed deeply, probably feeling the weight of the situation. I saw her look at me with a mixture of concern and sadness. It was as if she knew that, at some point, we would have to talk about this. But before I could do anything else, she started to speak.
I looked at her, waiting for the moment when everything would be clarified.
My mother sighed again, her eyes revealing a mix of worry and exhaustion. She was trying to find the right words, but she knew that, somehow, the moment had arrived. The silence in the room was heavy, and the only sound was the soft creaking of the wood on the table as she rested her hands on it. She looked at my brother first, probably trying to find the courage before finally meeting my gaze.
— "Rodrigo..." — she began, her voice low but firm. — "I know you've been distancing yourself from us a bit, and it's not because we don't love you or care about how you're doing. But there's something we need to talk about. It's not easy for me, and I imagine it's not easy for you either."
She paused for a moment, taking a deep breath as if she were trying to strike a balance between being honest and protecting the family's feelings. I knew she was walking a fine line, trying not to hurt me with the truth, but at the same time, there was an urgency in her words. I watched her carefully, feeling the weight of the conversation.
— "I know you and Lucas have your differences. I believe that's a part of any family, but... I've noticed you're isolating yourself more. And I don't want that to become a burden for you. I just... I want you to open up to us more, Rodrigo."
I stayed quiet for a few seconds, trying to understand what she meant by that. I'd always known she cared, but honestly, I felt like she didn't understand the reason behind my distancing. Not that I minded it, but I couldn't just go back to being who I was before, not with my family, and especially not with my brother.
I didn't answer right away, because I knew that any word I said now needed to have the right weight. My mother was hoping I'd be more vulnerable, that I'd open up to her, as if it were easy.
But amid everything that was happening — the strange dreams, the doubts about my own reality, the struggles with my feelings — maybe I was incapable of connecting the way she wanted me to. It wasn't because I didn't want to. It was just... complicated.
I was interrupted by Lucas's eyes, now fixed on me, but with a different tone. Something more serious, more silent than his usual disdain.
— "Mom, he's right. I'm not the kind of person who deserves an apology, but... I know I'm trying. If he wants to stay away, I'll let him. It's not gonna help to stress over it more." — he finally said, breaking the mood. What surprised me was that there was no sarcasm in his words. On the contrary, there was a raw sincerity that wasn't typical of him. And somehow, it made me feel like, maybe, he had finally understood something.
My mother looked at both of us, gently touching my hand as a gesture of reconciliation. She knew that the atmosphere between the three of us had changed, but she wasn't sure how to fix everything.
— "I just want you to know that... our family needs you, Rodrigo. You don't have to carry everything alone."
The conversation was far from over, but for now, the tension at the table seemed to ease.
I gripped my hands tightly, feeling my nails press slightly into my skin. I looked down, my chest rising and falling slowly, trying to hold back the wave of frustration building inside me.
— "Ever since we moved because of you, Lucas..." — my voice came out low, but filled with resentment. — "Things were even calm. It wasn't perfect, but at least we had a bit of peace. But then you came back with your tail between your legs, full of debt, and now here we are again. You don't help at all around the house. You contribute nothing. And still, it seems like I'm the bad guy for wanting distance from you?"
I looked at him, finally meeting his gaze. There was something different in his expression, like he had been waiting for me to say that for a long time. But there was no regret. No anger. Just exhaustion.
Lucas took a deep breath, resting his elbows on the table, his eyes fixed on me.
— "So, this is how you see things, huh?" — he said, his voice cold but without the usual mockery. — "You think I wanted to come back to this house? You think I wanted to show up here broke, empty-handed, with nothing? I didn't come back because I wanted to, Rodrigo. I came back because I had no choice. Because, after everything, the only person who would still accept me was our mom."
My mother shrank back a bit in her chair, the tension rising even more. I could see in her eyes that this conversation wasn't something she wanted to happen this way, so brutally.
— "And what did you want me to do? Pretend nothing happened?" — I retorted, my voice now firmer. — "Because I'm not like that, Lucas. I don't forget so easily. I don't forgive so easily."
He ran his hand through his hair, exhaling a dry laugh.
— "And you think I've forgotten, Rodrigo? You think I don't know the kind of shit I've done? You can hate me as much as you want, but I'm here trying... in my own way, but trying. If that's not enough for you, then fuck it."
Silence fell over the room like a heavy weight. My mother looked from one to the other, as if trying to find something to say but couldn't find the words.
I wanted to respond. I wanted to shout, throw more truths in his face. But at the same time, there was something about this conversation that drained my energy. Like it was all bound to repeat itself, an endless cycle of resentment and failed attempts to fix what was broken.
I took a deep breath, looking away.
— "You know what? Forget it. Just tell me what you wanted to talk about, Mom."
I was tired. Tired of all of this.
My mother sighed, rubbing her face, clearly worn out by the tension between me and Lucas. Her eyes lingered on me for a moment before turning back to the table.
— "Rodrigo..." — her voice came out slightly hesitant. — "What I wanted to talk to you about has to do with our current situation... and what's going to happen from now on."
She paused, as if choosing her words carefully.
— "We're not in an easy situation. Since Lucas came back... the bills have piled up, and, well, you know I'm doing my best to keep everything balanced."
I let out a sigh, crossing my arms.
— "I figured as much."
Lucas, across the table, didn't say anything, just looked away.
My mother continued:
— "What I want to say is... I got a better job. It's something more stable, with a salary that will help ease our bills, but... there's one thing."
She looked at me with a certain sadness in her eyes.
— "I'm going to have to travel."
My heart tightened a little.
— "Travel?" — I repeated. — "For how long?"
— "Three months. Maybe four."
The room fell silent. I could hear the sound of rain outside, the muffled thud of the drops hitting the window.
— "So you're going to leave me and Lucas here alone?" — I asked, my voice laced with disbelief.
She nodded slowly.
— "I know it's a big burden for both of you, but... Rodrigo, I need to take this opportunity. You understand, don't you?"
I closed my eyes for a moment, trying to process everything.
I understood. Of course, I understood. But that meant I'd have to share the house with Lucas. And after this conversation, the idea of spending months with him without our mom as a balancing point felt like a real nightmare.
I opened my eyes and stared at my mother.
— "When are you leaving?"
— "Next week."
I let out a dry laugh.
— "Great. That was fast."
She lowered her head, looking guilty.
— "I know I'm asking a lot from you, Rodrigo. I know it's not fair, but..." — she hesitated for a moment before continuing. — "I need to trust that you two can handle this. That you can... understand each other."
I looked at Lucas. He was still silent, his expression closed off, as if trying not to show what he was feeling.
I turned my gaze back to my mother and sighed.
— "Alright. I get it."
My response seemed to ease some of the tension in her face, but deep inside, I knew this was far from something easy to accept.
I crossed my arms and leaned back in my chair, feeling the weight of the situation settle over me.
— "Look, Mom, I may be 16, but I understand things." — My voice was firm but not aggressive. — "I know you wouldn't make this decision if it wasn't necessary. So, you don't need to worry about me."
She sighed, her eyes showing a mix of relief and concern.
— "Rodrigo... I know you're mature. I know you're responsible. But..." — She hesitated for a moment. — "I also know how you and Lucas are when you spend too much time together."
Lucas scoffed beside me, finally breaking the silence.
— "So, he can do whatever he wants, but I'm the problem here?"
I rolled my eyes.
— "That's not it, Lucas. But we don't get along, and everyone here knows that. It's not a surprise."
My mother raised her hands in a pacifying gesture.
— "I'm not asking you to be best friends. I just want you to... try to tolerate each other for now."
I shook my head in disbelief.
— "Tolerate... yeah, that's a good choice of words."
Lucas snickered to himself, clearly amused by the situation.
My mother, on the other hand, didn't find it funny.
— "Rodrigo, I trust you. I know you'll manage, but just promise me you'll try to keep the peace at home while I'm gone."
I sighed, rubbing my face.
— "Alright, Mom. I promise I'll try."
She smiled faintly, looking relieved, even though she knew my promise wasn't exactly a guarantee of peaceful coexistence.
Lucas just shrugged, picking up his phone and disconnecting from the conversation.
The situation was set, but that didn't mean it would be easy. And deep down, I was already mentally preparing for the challenges that lay ahead.
— "Is there anything else you want to say?"
She shook her head slightly.
— "No, Rodrigo. That's all."
I let out a sigh and stood up from my chair, stretching my arms.
— "Alright, then. I'm out." — I pulled my phone from my pocket and unlocked the screen. — "I wanted to stay away this weekend anyway."
Lucas let out a nasal laugh.
— "Uh-huh, sure. Must be great to run away and hide at Hycaros' place, huh?"
I rolled my eyes, ignoring his comment. It wasn't worth responding to. My mother watched me for a moment, looking hesitant, but she didn't say anything.
— "If you need anything, just text me." — She said, her tone tired.
— "Got it." — I quickly responded, already heading for the door.
I wasn't exactly sure where I was going, but staying there in that house wasn't an option.
I grabbed the keys to the bike and the house from the counter near the door, feeling the metal weight in the palm of my hand. With one last look at the apartment, I opened the door and stepped out, closing it behind me with a sharp click.
The muffled sound of the rain outside grew louder as I started descending the building's stairs. The heavy drops pounded against the nearby windows, trailing down the glass in irregular streaks. The smell of wet earth mixed with the cold, distinctive scent of damp concrete.
My footsteps echoed in the hallway as I made my way to the exit. The air outside felt dense, heavy, as if the rain wanted to swallow everything around me. I quickened my pace, feeling the humidity cling slightly to my clothes.
When I reached the ground floor, I stopped under the small awning at the entrance, watching the rain fall. The thick drops splashed against the asphalt, forming little puddles that reflected the glow of the streetlights.
I sighed and looked at the key to the bike in my hand.
— "Well, I guess we'll get a little wet." — I murmured to myself before finally heading to the garage.
I walked to Hycaros' bike, feeling the rain soak my jacket even before I reached it. The heavy drops slid down the shiny body of the red machine, reflecting the pale light of the streetlights around.
I ran my hand over the damp seat before climbing on, feeling the cold leather beneath me. With a quick motion, I turned the key in the ignition, and the digital panel lit up with a series of lights and indicators, while the engine rumbled with a deep, powerful sound.
I grabbed the helmet from the side hook and put it on, adjusting the visor to block some of the rain. I took a deep breath, feeling the humidity in the air, then I gently accelerated, letting the bike respond with a soft roar.
— "Let's go..." — I muttered to myself, twisting the throttle and driving out of the garage.
The rain hit the visor of my helmet as I drove through the city, aimlessly. The blurred lights of traffic signals and neon signs glowed on the wet asphalt, reflecting vibrant colors that flickered as I passed.
I needed to think. I needed to clear my mind. After that conversation with my mom and brother, the pressure on my chest only grew. Maybe a bit of escapism would be enough to relieve it, at least for a while.
Taking my time, I kept driving through the streets, letting the city guide me.
As the bike glided through the wet roads, my thoughts became louder than the roar of the engine.
In the end, that stupid dream was just that... An escape. A way to run away from all this crap.
If I had that kind of power, that kind of existence... Things would be different.
I wouldn't have to worry about money. About overdue bills, the pressure to grow up and "make something of myself."
I wouldn't have to deal with family. With a brother who only despises me, with a mom trying to balance everything on her own while pretending everything is fine.
I wouldn't have to obey anyone. No boss, no rules, no constant feeling of being crushed by the world.
I could simply do whatever I wanted. Create. Change. Undo.
But the real world doesn't work like that.
Here, I'm just a 16-year-old kid, riding my friend's bike in the rain, running away from home because I don't want to deal with any of it.
I gave it a little more gas, feeling the cold wind slip through the cracks in my helmet. The wet asphalt reflected the city lights like a distorted mirror of reality.
Deep down, I knew none of this would change. I'd still be Rodrigo Raphael, an ordinary guy, without powers, without a destiny, without a clear purpose beyond moving forward.
But for now, at least for tonight... I could keep pretending I was free.
The rain came down hard, and the drops tapped against the helmet like tiny snaps, while I accelerated through the dark streets.
In the end, it doesn't matter what I do, does it?
I can run, I can try to ignore it, but in the end... I'm just another nobody.
If I had the power to change everything... I wouldn't need to follow rules, I wouldn't need to worry about tomorrow, I wouldn't need to... feel all of this.
The weight of reality. The suffocating pressure of existing in a world where nothing seems to be in my favor.
But no. I'm stuck here.
Looking at an uncertain future, with nothing but a handful of impossible dreams and a crazy desire to escape.
Because that's the truth, right?
No matter how much I imagine grand things, I'm just a kid riding my friend's borrowed bike, trying to distract myself from a life that makes no sense.
— Tsk... — I clicked my tongue, adjusting myself on the seat.
I gave the throttle another twist. I had no destination, just wanted to feel the speed, the sensation of movement, like I could outrun this shitty life and find something new on the other side.
But then—
Something flew over me.
A dark figure, fast, cutting through the sky like a silent lightning strike.
My eyes widened.
— What...?!
Instinctively, I slowed down, looking back and around, trying to make sense of what the hell I had just seen.
The rain kept pouring down hard, and for a moment, I thought it might have just been a play of shadows, a trick of my tired mind.
But no.
My heart raced faster now, not because of the speed of the bike, but because I was sure there was something there.
Something real. Something that shouldn't be.
Something that was watching me.
I was on a long, barely populated avenue, surrounded by commercial buildings with modern architecture, their large glass windows reflecting the artificial lights of the city. Some stores were still open, their neon signs contrasting with the dark, overcast sky.
Across the street, a gas station illuminated the wet sidewalk, with a bored attendant fiddling with his phone. Further ahead, a viaduct rose over the avenue, its wide columns casting irregular shadows on the soaked asphalt.
The rain fell heavily, making everything more misty and distorted by puddles and streetlight reflections. The constant sound of raindrops against the helmet created a monotonous soundtrack, but now my focus was entirely on that figure.
I was alone on that road... Or at least, that's how it should have been.
But I felt like something was watching me.
I gripped the bike's handlebars harder, quickly scanning the buildings around me, the rooftops, the narrow alleys between the buildings, the distorted reflections in the wet windows.
— What the hell was that...? — I murmured, feeling a chill run down my spine.
Nothing.
There was nothing there.
But the feeling of being watched wouldn't go away.
And that bothered me.
My eyes widened.
The raindrops, which had once slid down the visor of my helmet and exploded on the wet asphalt, began to slow down before my eyes. As if someone were decelerating the speed of time around me. My chest tightened, and a cold shiver ran down my neck.
Then... They stopped.
The entire rain... frozen in the air.
Each drop hung still like tiny crystals suspended in space, reflecting the light of streetlamps and storefronts in thousands of tiny glimmers, like distorted stars in a warped night sky. My heart pounded in my chest. A profound silence took over the world around me, as if the very sound had been torn away from reality.
And then, the voice came.
Echoing from all directions, coming from nowhere and everywhere at once.
— "It took me a long time to find you, worm."
The tone carried something I couldn't describe... Ancient. Refined. It wasn't just a voice; it was an echo of something that didn't belong to this time. The way the words were spoken, the precise and cold intonation, each syllable carrying a weight that wasn't of this world.
— "How many ages have turned to dust, while my search stretched on, always fruitless? How many suns have risen and fallen in vanity, before your foul name echoed once more in the threads of fate?"
My body froze.
This... This wasn't real, right?
My breath quickened. My hands sweated inside the gloves. The handlebars of the bike felt like lead, too heavy for me to hold properly.
My eyes moved frantically, searching... for something.
But the world around me was a broken painting.
The street, the buildings, the storefronts... they were there. But they weren't. It was as if I was looking at a black-and-white photograph of a distant time, a fragmented echo of something that had once existed.
Then, the voice spoke again.
— "You, whose essence crawls among the ruins of what could have been..." — The voice sounded almost... disappointed. As if speaking to something beneath it, unworthy. — "...Do you know who I am? Or does your ignorance, like time itself, devour everything?"
A chill ran down my spine.
The question... didn't seem like mere provocation.
It felt like a test.
And I didn't know the answer.
The world around me trembled.
An overwhelming sensation gripped my chest, as if reality itself was bending under an invisible weight. The air grew dense, filled with something ancient, relentless, divine.
And then, the sky tore open.
Above me, the dark clouds of the rain violently split, as if an invisible force was pushing them aside. Behind them, what should have been a starry sky wasn't there. Instead of an empty, silent space, there was light. A vast red expanse, pulsating, as if the very firmament were bleeding.
The crimson light spilled like a torn celestial cloak, and from its center, it emerged.
An angelic being descended from the tear in the sky.
Its wings weren't feathers. They were beams of golden light, pulsing like liquid flames, shimmering in patterns that seemed to defy any human logic. Each beat of its wings left a trail of glowing particles, like stardust dissolving in the still air.
Its armor was pure gold, adorned with intricate white details that formed enigmatic patterns, like divine writings carved into the very metal. Each piece seemed to fit perfectly to its body, molding to it like something alive, radiating its own light.
And then, its face...
Or rather, the absence of it.
Its face was hidden beneath a white hood, embroidered with silver threads. But what concealed it wasn't mere shadow. Inside the hood, where there should have been a face, there was an absolute emptiness.
And above it, crowning its head, floated a halo.
It wasn't a simple circle of light.
The halo shone in a brilliant gold, but within it spun unknown symbols, patterns, and runes that seemed alive, rotating in unison like the gears of a divine mechanism. Its glow pulsed slowly, as if echoing the very heartbeat of the universe.
It hovered in the air, not moving a muscle. Just existing.
And that was enough for my body to refuse to react.
I couldn't move.
It was as if its mere presence imposed an overwhelming weight upon me. My chest rose and fell with short, rapid breaths, but each inhale felt wrong, as if I didn't belong there.
Then, its voice resonated again—but this time, it didn't echo just around me.
It echoed inside me.
— "You, who walk the path of the insignificant, have finally been found."
My eyes widened.
— "Your existence crawls between shadows and light, but the balance will not tip forever."
One of its wings of light rose slowly, and a new gust of wind swept through the still street.
— "The time for judgment has come."
My heart pounded like a war drum.
What the hell was happening?