Tch! Of course, it had to be him.
We kept walking through the Temple of the Sun, looking for some answer to help Lenore and the people of the Swamp Forest, and I was bringing up the rear, as always. Because someone’s got to watch out in case they stab us in the back. Buns was up front with his shiny spear, polishing it every other step as if that would make it any less useless. Jolius was fixing his hair using the reflection from Buns’ spear. Fucking narcissist. Ember huffing, fed up with everyone—she’s the only one I understand.
And the merman with rat legs… I mean, the Ratbound Corsair, with his stinking fish tail and his rats, swimming in the little water left on the temple floor as if it were an ocean. What an idiot.
Then we felt it. No, not them—me.
A weight in the air. The smell of old blood and leather.
I told them: “Stop!”
But those idiots didn’t stop.
Until he stepped out of the shadow of the altar. Big. Green. A braided blue mohawk that looks like he stole it from Jolius, but at least it actually looks menacing on him. A golden skull at his waist. The red cape covered in dust. And the twins. An axe in one hand and a huge sword on his back. Not two axes, an axe and a sword: The Twincleaver.
King Erminaz Twincleaver, the fucking King.
Buns opened his mouth. Jolius stared at his own braids, comparing them. For the first time, Ember didn’t look annoyed; he looked like he was thinking, “Finally, something interesting.”
The King didn’t look at all of us. He looked at me. From behind. Because kings know who’s really watching.
“Another gift from Donfrigginknotts,” he muttered, and tossed a card onto the floor. The card glistened. 10 mana. 5 health. His own face. As if to say, “They gave me a gift of myself—what a joke.”
The Corsair pointed his gun at him. Because he likes me, I suppose. The only one who stands up for me, and he’s half fish, half garbage collector.
The King laughed. A sound that made the crystals I’d already counted tremble. 17. Now 18 with his gold tooth.
“Are you the one who sees?” he asked me.
Tch! What an idiot—as if that were a compliment.
“No, I’m the one who stays behind when you lot die because you’re idiots,” I replied.
And for the first time, the King truly smiled. He raised the axe with one hand and left the other on the hilt of the sword he carries on his back, still undecided which to use.
“Then stay back and watch me fight, you bitter one.”
Perfect. Another idiot who thinks he knows me.
But Ember… Ember looked at me and, for a second, understood that I don’t want to be left alone back here.
And there he stands. With the axe lowered and his hand on the Twincleaver, looking at me as if I were going to give him permission.
“So what are you waiting for? For me to applaud you?” I snapped.
Buns got nervous. He always gets nervous when someone doesn’t follow his “good hero” script. “Uh… we’re allies, King…”—shut up, Buns. Your clean spear doesn’t make you diplomatic.
Jolius, of course, took the opportunity to butt in. “King, your armor matches my…”—nobody asked you, narcissist.
The King ignored them. He kept looking at me. Because he knows. He knows that I counted the steps in the temple. Forty-three steps to the altar. That I saw the tip of his cloak is singed. That someone tried to burn him and failed. That his axe has dried blood on it that isn’t from today.
Silence. Even the Corsair’s rats fell silent.
The King finally drew the sword from his back. Slowly. The metallic sound echoed. He placed it next to the axe. The twins. Now we’re talking. One in each hand.
“I didn’t come here to look after you,” he said. And he looked at Ember for a second, then at me. “I came because I was told there’s someone back there who can see perfectly and who says ‘tch’ every time he breathes.”
I went cold.
Who told him that?
Ember’s eyes widened. A lot. She understood.
The Corsair lowered his gun. For the first time. Because he understood this wasn’t a fight. It was recruitment.
The King thrust both weapons into the temple floor—the axe and the sword—right in front of my feet.
“You choose which one we carry first, you bitter bastard. Because I don’t want to be left behind alone either.”
Tch! What an idiot.
What an idiot for thinking that would work on me… but it did.
¡Tch! Claro, tenía que ser él.
Seguimos caminando por el templo del sol buscando alguna respuesta para ayudar a Lenore y la gente del bosque del pantano, y yo atrás, como siempre. Porque alguien tiene que ver si nos van a apuñalar por la espalda. Buns adelante con su lanza limpia, puliéndola cada dos pasos como si eso fuera a hacer que no sea inútil. Jolius acomodándose el pelo con el reflejo de la lanza de Buns. Narcisista de mierda. Ember bufando, harta de todos, que es la única que entiendo.
Y el sireno con patas de ratas... digo, el Ratbound Corsair, con su cola de pescado apestosa y sus ratas, nadando en el poco de agua que queda en el suelo del templo como si fuera un mar. Qué idiota.
Entonces lo sentimos. No, ellos no, yo.
Un peso en el aire. El olor a sangre vieja y a cuero.
Les dije: ¡Paren!
Pero no pararon los idiotas.
Hasta que salió de la sombra del altar. Grande. Verde. Mohawk azul trenzado que parece que se robó de Jolius pero al menos a él sí le queda amenazante. Una calavera dorada en la cintura. La capa roja llena de polvo. Y las gemelas. Un hacha en una mano y una espada enorme en la espalda. No dos hachas, un hacha y una espada: La Twincleaver.
King Erminaz Twincleaver, el puto Rey.
Buns abrió la boca. Jolius se quedó mirando sus propias trenzas comparándolas. Ember por primera vez no puso cara de fastidio, puso cara de "por fin algo interesante".
El Rey no nos miró a todos. Me miró a mí. Atrás. Porque los reyes saben quién es el que realmente está viendo.
"Otro regalo de Donfrigginknotts", murmuró, y tiró una carta al suelo. La carta brillaba. 10 de maná. 5 de vida. Su propia cara. Como diciendo "me regalaron a mí mismo, qué chiste".
El Corsario le apuntó con la pistola. Porque le caigo bien, supongo. El único que me defiende y es mitad pez, mitad basurero.
El Rey se rió. Un sonido que hizo temblar los cristales que yo ya había contado. 17. Ahora 18 con su diente de oro.
-"¿Tú eres el que ve?"-me dijo.
¡Tch! Qué idiota, como si fuera un cumplido.
-"No, soy el que se queda cuando ustedes se mueren por idiotas"-le contesté.
Y por primera vez, el Rey sonrió de verdad. Levantó el hacha con una mano y dejó la otra en la empuñadura de la espada que lleva atrás, sin decidir todavía cuál usar.
-"Entonces quédate atrás y mira cómo peleo, amargado".
Perfecto. Otro idiota que cree que me conoce.
Pero Ember... Ember me miró y por un segundo entendió que no quiero que me dejen solo atrás.
Y ahí se queda. Con el hacha abajo y la mano en la Twincleaver, mirándome como si yo fuera a darle permiso.
-"¿Y qué esperas? ¿Que te aplauda?"-le solté.
Buns se puso nervioso. Siempre se pone nervioso cuando alguien no sigue su guion de héroe bueno. -"Eh... somos aliados, King..."—cállate, Buns. Tu lanza limpia no te hace diplomático.
Jolius, por supuesto, aprovechó para meterse en medio. -"Rey, tu armadura combina con mis..."—nadie te preguntó, narcisista.
El Rey no les hizo caso. Siguió mirándome. Porque sabe. Sabe que yo conté los pasos del templo. 43 escalones hasta el altar. Que vi que su capa está quemada en la punta. Que alguien lo intentó quemar y no pudo. Que su hacha tiene sangre seca que no es de hoy.
Silencio. Incluso las ratas del Corsario pararon.
El Rey sacó por fin la espada de la espalda. Lento. El sonido metálico hizo eco. La puso al lado del hacha. Las gemelas. Ahora sí. Una en cada mano.
-"No vine a cuidarlos"-dijo. Y miró a Ember un segundo, luego a mí. -"Vine porque me dijeron que atrás hay uno que ve perfecto y que dice 'tch' cada que respira".
Me quedé frío.
¿Quién le dijo eso?
Ember abrió los ojos. Mucho. Ella sí entendió.
El Corsario bajó la pistola. Por primera vez. Porque entendió que esto no era pelea. Era reclutamiento.
El Rey clavó las dos armas en el suelo del templo. Hacha y espada. Delante de mis pies.
-"Tú eliges cuál cargamos primero, amargado. Porque yo tampoco quiero quedarme solo atrás".
¡Tch! Qué idiota.
Qué idiota por creer que eso iba a funcionar conmigo... pero funcionó.
This was my entry for @takeru255's Writing Contest. I'm not very good at telling stories, so I hope you like it. Many thanks to Takeru for making this possible.
Este ha sido mi participación para el Concurso De Literatura de @takeru255. No soy muy bueno contando historias, así que espero que les guste. Muchas gracias a Takeru por hacer esto posible.
| CREDITS | SOURCES |
|---|---|
| Cover, Banners and Separators: | Canva. |
| Traslated by: | DeepL Translate. |
| Character Created by: | Bing Image Generator. |
| Markdown Tool: | Hive Studio. |
| Profile Picture: | Description: |
|---|---|
 | My name is Nattosheru. On Hive, you can find me as @nattosenpai, but you can call me Natto. I'm a young Venezuelan who likes to talk about anime, movies, and music on my Hive Blog. I'm 28 years old and I'm working toward my dream of "living doing what I love" online. My profile picture was created by Gemini AI based on the main character from the movie Blade Runner 2049, but with my real face. |
