Chapter 2: Surviving.

Screams and desolate cries filled the air, as if the entire world were in agony. I ran out of my room, my heart pounding in my chest. Something was wrong, more wrong than usual.

The first thing I did was search for my mother. I checked every corner of the house, calling for her desperately:

—Bianca! Bianca! Where are you?

Only the empty echo of my voice responded. No sound, no sign of her presence. The liquor bottle she always had in her hand lay empty on the table, as if marking the end of something.

It was then that I knew: she had abandoned me. For a moment, the silence was louder than the screams outside. But the truth was, it didn't hurt as much as I would have expected. Deep down, I had always known this day would come. Bianca never really cared about me. I wasn't her son; I was a burden.

A bitter laugh escaped my lips as I sank into one of the broken chairs in the living room.

—Of course—. I murmured to myself. —What else could I have expected from her?

The emptiness I felt wasn't sadness, but a cold resignation that spread through my entire body. For some reason, the chaos outside seemed to reflect exactly how my life had been up until now: disordered, cruel, and completely out of control.

But something inside me refused to stay still. If Bianca had decided to leave me, then I no longer had to carry her. My life was mine now, as useless as it seemed.

With no reason to stay in the house, I grabbed the sword and the mask. The sword had an odd weight, as if it weren't just made of metal, but something deeper and darker. The mask, on the other hand, seemed to look inside me, even before I put it on. I didn't understand why Lucifer had given them to me, but I didn't have time to question it.

I opened the door and stepped outside.

—What... the hell...? —I murmured, my eyes wide in disbelief.

The world was a living hell. Corpses and blood covered the streets; some people ran in desperation, while others huddled in dark corners, waiting to escape something worse. In the distance, columns of black smoke rose, blending with the red-tinged sky. The smell of burnt flesh and blood hit me immediately, making me nauseous. My stomach churned, and I fought to keep from vomiting.

I froze, unable to process what I was seeing. I had heard stories of violence and desperation, but this... This was different. It was as if the world's sanity had been torn apart in an instant.

Suddenly, a figure emerged from the shadows, sprinting directly toward me. He was a man covered in filth, with eyes bloodshot and an expression of pure madness. In his hands, he held an improvised weapon, a jagged piece of metal that looked more like a trap than a weapon.

I didn't have time to think.

Screaming, the man raised his weapon and swung it down toward me. By pure instinct, I lifted the sword I carried. The clash was deafening; the impact vibrated in my arms and threw me onto my back against the ground.

—Shit!—I gasped, trying to catch my breath.

The man looked at me with fury, raising his weapon again. My hands trembled as I gripped the sword. I had no real experience in fighting, only hours of practice against imaginary foes. But this was different: if I messed up, I would die.

I scrambled backward, trying to gain distance, while the man lunged at me with a deranged grin. Time seemed to slow down as my mind screamed one word: Do something!

When he lunged again, I rolled to the side, barely dodging his attack. He stumbled forward with his own momentum and hit the ground with a heavy thud. I seized the moment, rising as quickly as I could. My heart pounded in my chest, and I could barely hold the sword steady in my trembling hands.

The eyes of the mask began to glow faintly. Before me, ethereal lines appeared, drawing a path in the air. They formed a clear guide, showing me how to wield the sword.

He struggled to stand, his eyes full of rage and madness. Without thinking, he charged at me again, screaming like a wild animal.

I was terrified, but I decided to trust what I saw. I followed the path the mask showed me, moving the sword as if someone else were guiding my hand.

I felt the resistance of flesh and the warmth of blood splashing against me. The sword cut into his arm, not enough to incapacitate him, but enough to make him back off, releasing a wrenching cry.

—Ahh! Bastard!—he roared, clutching his wound.

His expression twisted even further. The pain didn't stop him; it only made him angrier. The foam on his lips and the fire in his eyes were proof that he had no intention of giving up.

—I'm going to kill you! I'm going to kill you! —he spat saliva as he charged towards me again, his footsteps pounding like hammer blows in my mind.

The eyes of the mask lit up again, showing a new stroke. This time, the path wasn't meant to injure him, but to kill him. It started at his head and ended at his groin, a deadly and definitive cut.

I didn't think. I had no time to hesitate. As he approached, his sword raised, I followed the stroke of the mask.

The sword sliced through his body as if cutting through air. The impact was silent, almost unreal, until I heard the dry sound of something falling to the ground. I looked down.

There it was. His body split in two, his eyes still open in an expression of frozen fury. The blood formed a growing puddle around me.

I stood still, unable to process what had just happened. My breathing was heavy, and my hands were still gripping the sword's hilt, stained with his blood.

I didn't feel guilt, but neither did I feel pride. Just a strange mixture of emptiness and confusion.

—What… what did I just do? —I murmured, not taking my eyes off the corpse.

I understood that if I wanted to survive and meet Lucifer again, I had to use the sword and the mask to make myself stronger. I had no other choice.

After standing still for a few minutes, processing what I had done, I decided to move forward. If I wanted to leave Esperion alive, I couldn't afford to stand still.

I ran through the streets, avoiding confrontations whenever I could. The smell of smoke and blood continued to invade my senses, and although I wore the mask, I didn't want to get complacent. Something told me I wasn't invincible, at least not yet.

As I advanced, the devastation I saw grew worse. I heard cries for help, desperate sobs, and hysterical laughter that seemed to come from the throats of possessed people. The scenes I witnessed were grotesque: mutilated bodies, homes on fire, people fighting over anything that seemed useful.

I couldn't help but think: How can I get out of here?

I had to face several vandals on the way. They attacked me with makeshift weapons and a ferocity I had never seen before. Every time I raised the sword, the lines traced by the mask guided me, and although I still felt clumsy, something had changed. With every strike, with every enemy knocked down, I felt my swordsmanship improving. It was as if the mask and the sword were teaching me.

Time blurred between fights and escapes. Finally, after what seemed like fifteen minutes, I reached the main square.

From here, my journey began. If I took the main street, I'd be outside Esperion in about five minutes, but I was sure that route would be filled with vandals. I couldn't risk facing so many at once. I opted for one of the side streets. It would be slower, but much safer.

I looked around, taking a deep breath. The smell of chaos still filled my lungs, and the ruins of the square were a grim reminder of what I had left behind and what still awaited me.

With determination, I started running towards the side street. I had barely been running for a few minutes when I was attacked from a dark alley. This time, I was able to face it without difficulty. I blocked his attack and quickly defeated him by following the mask's strokes. Without stopping, I continued running.

Finally, I reached an intersection, and that's when I saw him. A boy, no much younger than me, maybe 15 or 16 years old, was being attacked by a vandal. I tried to ignore him. I thought it wasn't my business, and the best thing was to keep going. But something in that scene stopped me.

It was like seeing myself a few years ago, defenseless, on the verge of being crushed by the world. Before I knew it, I had acted.

—Hey, bastard! —I shouted, my voice louder than I expected. —Leave him alone, or I'll kill you.

The vandal turned toward me, surprised at first. Then his face twisted into a mocking smile.

—And you, who are you, weirdo? What are you doing hiding behind that mask?

His tone was defiant, and it didn't take long for him to charge at me with his sword. I prepared myself, letting the mask trace the path as always.

I struck confidently, but this time something was different. The vandal blocked my attack.

My mind went blank for a moment. I never thought anyone could stop my sword so quickly.

—What happened? Weren't you confident? —mocked the vandal, with an arrogant smile that infuriated me.

—Shut up and attack —I replied, trying to sound confident, but my words didn't hide the nervousness I felt.

I knew I had to try something different. If I only relied on the mask, I wouldn't be able to beat him. I had to think quickly.

—What should I do? —I murmured to myself, searching for a strategy.

The vandal laughed, attacking me with a force I could barely block.

—What are you saying? Speak louder! —he mocked, clearly enjoying the fight.

—I wasn't talking to you, pig —I muttered, though my mind was focused on his movements.

He was stronger than me, and my hands shook with each clash of our swords. Blocking became harder and harder, and I knew I couldn't keep doing it for long.

I dodged as best as I could, and then I realized something. Every time I dodged, his side was exposed, even if just for a brief moment.

If I wanted to win, I had to strike there. I would have less than a second to seize the opportunity, but it was all I had.

I prepared myself, adjusting my stance, waiting for the perfect moment. Both my body and mind were in sync. Just as he attacked, I took a step back, moving out of range of his sword. In the same movement, I lunged toward him with all the speed my body could gather, cutting him deeply across the side.

He let out a gut-wrenching scream, falling to his knees while his trembling hands tried to stop the bleeding.

—Agh! How is this possible? You could barely block and dodge, how did you manage to move so fast? —His voice was weak, interrupted by pain.

I looked at him coldly, feeling a mix of satisfaction and emptiness as I saw his condition.

—I don't know what you're talking about —I replied, gripping the hilt of the sword tightly—. I just took advantage of your carelessness. Now, shut up, I'm going to end your suffering.

Without hesitation, I positioned myself behind him, and with a firm motion, I drove the sword through his heart. The vandal let out a final gasp before collapsing completely.

It was hard to pull the sword from his body. The blade was stuck, as if the flesh and bones were resisting letting it go. Finally, with a yank, the sword came out, and with it, a gush of blood splattered the ground and my hands.

After finishing off the vandal, I tried to approach the boy to make sure he was okay, but as soon as I took a step toward him, he backed away, trembling. His eyes were full of fear, as if I were a monster.

To calm him, I took off the mask, revealing my face.

—Stay away, don't hurt me —he said in a broken tone, fear evident in his voice.

—Don't be afraid —I replied softly. —I don't intend to hurt you.

I extended my hand toward him, hoping he would trust me. For a moment, he hesitated, his eyes moving between my face and my outstretched hand. Finally, he took my hand with some suspicion, and I helped him up.

Despite his relief at being on his feet, the fear still lingered in his eyes, though not as intensely as before.

—What's your name? —I asked in a friendly tone, trying to break the tension. Then I added, with some sincerity—. I'm Orion. I'm eighteen. I helped you because you reminded me of myself a few years ago.

I wasn't sure why I had told him that, but it came out naturally. In the end, it didn't matter much.

—And you? What's your name?

—I'm Finan—he replied, his voice still trembling, but with less fear than before.

—Well, Finan, I'm leaving. I need to get to Columba. I'm glad you're okay, but I have to go.

I was about to turn and leave when I felt a tug on my arm. I looked back and saw that Finan had grabbed me tightly. He didn't say anything, but his eyes spoke for him: don't leave me alone. I sighed, trying to stay calm.

—What's wrong, Finan? I have to go.

—No... Don't leave me —he replied, his voice barely a whisper. After a moment of silence, he added hurriedly—: I can help you. A little while ago, I saw Miss Elena. She was leaving in a caravan to Columba.

I stayed looking at him, waiting for him to say something more.

—Yes... if you take me with you, I'll take you to her.

His proposal took me by surprise. The idea of a caravan meant a faster and safer way out of Esperion and to Columba, but traveling with someone else could delay me or complicate things. On the other hand, leaving him here, alone and unprotected, would probably condemn him to a certain death.

I looked at Finan, who waited for my answer with a mix of hope and fear.

—Alright —I said, finally, with a sigh—. But if you come with me, you have to follow my rules. No distractions, and you'll do what I say. Understood?

Finan nodded quickly, almost as if he feared I'd change my mind.

—Thank you, Orion. I promise I won't cause any problems.

I watched him for a moment longer, evaluating whether it was a good idea or not. Finally, I put the mask back on.

—Alright, Finan. Take me to that caravan.