Abel opened his eyes and the world was different.
Nine men were lying around him in the sand, moaning softly, clearly hurt but alive. The woman had disappeared – probably fled during... whatever had happened. And there, right in front of him, was the tenth man.
In Abel's hands.
The young man's hands were covered in blood – he didn't know if it was his or the man's – and his fingers were positioned exactly on the victim's neck. One movement, just one, and the guy would be dead.
The man gasped, his eyes wide with pure terror.
"It's been a long time since this happened," Abel whispered, more to himself than to anyone else.
Tears began to flow down his face, mixing with the blood still dripping from the wound on his forehead. He dropped the man, who fell into the sand coughing and choking.
"Sorry... sorry..." Abel repeated, sobbing. "Forgive me, please..."
The men who could move began to flee stumbling, some dragging themselves, others being carried by less injured companions. No one said a word. The fear in their eyes said everything.
Abel stayed there, on his knees in the sand, observing his own trembling hands. What did I do? What have I become?
He got up slowly, staggering a little from the blow he had taken to the head. He walked toward the sea, needing to feel the cold water on his skin, needing to clean himself somehow.
The moon had risen, silvering the waves that broke gently on the beach. A few meters ahead of him, a seagull flew low over the waters, its white wings reflecting the night light.
That's when it happened.
The seagull simply... stopped.
In the air. Wings extended, frozen in the middle of a beat. As if someone had pressed the pause button on reality.
Abel blinked several times, thinking the blow to his head was causing hallucinations. But no. The bird was still there, impossibly suspended in space.
He looked around and felt a chill run up his spine. The sea waves had stopped in the middle of movement, creating liquid sculptures that defied all laws of physics. A leaf falling from a nearby tree was frozen in the air. Even the sand that the wind carried had transformed into golden dots suspended.
Time had stopped.
This isn't possible, he thought, his heart racing again. This can't be happening.
An energy began to approach from behind him. Abel felt it before even hearing or seeing it – a presence that made every cell in his body tingle. It was powerful, more than anything he had ever experienced, capable of crushing his mind with a simple thought.
But, strangely, it wasn't malevolent.
It was... pure. Ancient. Wise.
He turned slowly, every muscle tense, every sense on maximum alert.
What he saw left him speechless.
A man walked toward him, stepping on the frozen sand as if nothing extraordinary was happening. He wore completely formal clothes – an impeccable white shirt, gray vest over it, tailored pants and black formal sneakers. He could be an executive returning from an important meeting.
If it weren't for the mask.
A smooth white mask that covered his entire face, fitting perfectly to the skin as if it were part of him. It had no decorations, drawings, or imperfections. It was simply... white. Perfect. And through it, only the eyes were visible.
And what eyes.
Abel felt himself being pulled into them, as if they were infinite abysses. The more he looked, the more he lost himself, but at the same time, he felt a strange peace taking hold of his chest. It was like looking at space and time simultaneously, like contemplating the birth and death of the universe in a single blink.
Wisdom. Power. Eternity.
And something else he couldn't identify.
The man stopped about three meters away. When he spoke, his voice echoed in a way that seemed to come from all directions at once:
"Abel Santos," he said, and each word carried the weight of mountains. "I have been waiting for this moment for a long time."
Abel tried to speak, but the words refused to come out. His throat was completely dry.
"You demonstrated something today that few humans can," the man continued, taking a step forward. "You lost control, but didn't lose your essence. You killed, but didn't become a killer. You felt anger, but didn't let it consume you."
"I... I don't understand," Abel finally managed to whisper. "What are you?"
A sound that could be laughter came from behind the mask.
"The most important question isn't what I am, Abel. It's what you are."
The young man frowned, confused.
"Today you accessed something that has been sleeping inside you for a long time," the man explained. "Something your ancestors knew well, but modern humanity forgot. You felt it, didn't you? The connection to something more primitive. More... true."
The image of the maned wolf returned to Abel's mind like a flash. The hunt. Pure instinct. Survival above all.
"How do you know that?"
"I know many things," the man replied, raising a gloved hand. "I know you lost a brother. I know your mother withers in depression. I know you train capoeira with the man who transformed a marginalized art into a symbol of resistance."
Abel took a step back, frightened.
"And I know," the man continued, "that you have potential for much more than you imagine."
An impossible wind began to blow around them, making the stranger's formal shirt wave, but the mask remained perfectly still.
"What happened here today wasn't an accident," he said, pointing to the bodies still lying in the sand. "It was awakening. You touched something that is beyond common human understanding. Something few can access without losing their sanity."
"Awakening to what?" Abel asked, finally finding his voice.
The eyes behind the mask shone with something that could be approval.
The eyes behind the mask glowed with a light that transcended anything earthly.
"My name..." he paused, as if carefully choosing his words "is irrelevant to what you know as reality. But if you need something to call me, you can call me Arbiter. I am what you call... God. But not from this universe."
Abel felt his legs weaken. The words echoed in his mind like distant bells.
"There exists a world parallel to yours," Arbiter continued, gesturing with his gloved hand. "A place where only special eyes can see. A place where warriors from all universes gather to prove their strength, technique, and spirit."
The air around began to distort, as if reality itself was being bent.
"I observe. Through countless worlds, universes, dimensions. I search for the best fighters, those who possess not only physical ability, but something deeper. A flame that differentiates them from the others."
Abel tried to process what he was hearing, but it was impossible. God? Parallel universes? It seemed like delirium.
"And you, Abel Santos," Arbiter pointed directly at him, "demonstrated today that you possess that flame. That's why I'm here with a proposal."
"What... what kind of proposal?"
"A tournament. It happens once every cycle, gathering warriors from different realities. The winner has the right to make two wishes of their choice. Any wish."
Any wish.
Abel immediately thought of Maria, lying in that bed, lost in her own sadness.
"I..." he began, but was interrupted.
"Before you refuse," Arbiter said, "let me be clear. Capoeira isn't just fighting, I know. It's art, it's philosophy, it's resistance. You were taught never to use your art for evil."
Abel nodded, surprised that the being knew this.
"But think," Arbiter continued, "this is your opportunity to make your mother smile again. To have answers about your father."
"I don't want to know about who abandoned me," Abel said harshly.
"Maybe not. But what about making Maria return to who she was? And about discovering the truth behind Kayn's death?"
Abel's heart accelerated violently. The truth about Kayn?
"You... know something about my brother?"
"I know there's much more behind his death than a simple robbery gone wrong," Arbiter replied. "And I know the answers you seek are in the Fight World."
Abel closed his eyes, his mind seething. It was impossible, absurd, but at the same time... it was a chance. A chance to save his mother from the depression that consumed her. A chance to discover what really happened to Kayn.
"If I accept..." he said slowly, "and if I lose?"
"You return home. Simple as that."
"And the people here? Will they miss me? My mother, my grandfather..."
Arbiter shook his head.
"Time works differently between our worlds. When you return, not even three hours will have passed here. For them, it will be as if you went for a walk on the beach."
Abel looked at the frozen waves, at the seagull impossibly suspended in the air, at his own hands that minutes ago held a man's life.
There was something inside him that always knew he was different. Something that yearned for answers, for adventure, for discovering how far his limits really went. The idea of meeting warriors from other worlds, of testing his abilities against the impossible, made his heart race in a way he couldn't explain.
And Maria... his poor mother who withered day after day. If there was really a chance to save her...
"You have five minutes to decide," Arbiter said, crossing his arms. "After that, the opportunity closes and I look for another candidate."
Abel breathed deeply, smelling the salty scent of the sea mixed with something he couldn't identify – maybe it was the smell of magic itself.
Kayn, he thought. If there are answers about you... I need to find out.
Mom, he continued. If there's a chance to see you smiling again...
He looked into the abyssal eyes of the being before him and, for the first time since his brother's death, felt something he had forgotten existed:
Hope.
"I accept," he said, his voice firm despite the fear he felt.
Arbiter nodded slowly, and Abel could swear there was approval in his mysterious eyes.
"Then let's go," he said, extending a gloved hand. "Let's go to the Fight World."
At the exact moment Abel touched the gloved hand, the world exploded in light.
The last thing he saw before everything disappeared was Salvador's frozen beach, the waves suspended in time, the seagull hovering impossibly in the air. Then, only a white void that swallowed him completely.
When the light diminished and he could open his eyes again, he was no longer on Earth.
Fight World.
The question burning in his mind was no longer about powers or mysteries. It was much simpler and much more frightening:
What world did I get myself into?