Leo's greatest advantage now was his intellect and his speed. Luckily, he found a corner with a fallen rock. He hid behind it, pulling out an old rope he had picked from the trash days ago. He tied the rope between two rock pillars, barely visible under the bluish gloom of the place. Then he covered himself with a chunk of rubble, his rusty armor serving as an improvised shield.
He waited. The goblins came screeching. The first tripped on the rope and rolled across the floor, leaving its neck exposed.
Leo didn't hesitate. He leapt and drove his dull knife into the goblin's throat. The blade didn't go all the way through, but it was enough to wound it badly. The goblin let out a shrill, guttural scream.
—Die, damn you! —Leo shouted.
Green blood splattered across his face. Another goblin rammed him from behind, knocking him down. Leo rolled, kicked, and by luck struck its face with the knife's hilt.
The third goblin hurled a stone that smashed into his left leg. The pain was sharp. Though staggered, Leo rolled out of range of the next attack.
With a desperate burst, he used the knife as a lever to break a stalactite above him. It crashed down onto one of the monsters, crushing its leg.
—Agh… damn it…! —Leo gasped, leaning his weight on his right leg as blood and pain from the injured left one grew worse with every second.
The fourth goblin seized on his weakness and lunged, sinking its teeth into his shoulder. Leo screamed, stabbing blindly until the goblin released its bite and collapsed.
His breathing was ragged. He was wounded—shoulder bleeding from the bite, a rib probably broken, and his leg barely moving. His strength was leaving him.
He fell to the ground, dragging himself toward a nearby rock, panting. He leaned against it, his body trembling, his breath erratic. The dull knife in his hand felt heavier than a greatsword.
Meanwhile, the three remaining goblins crept closer, their eyes burning with savage hunger.
Leo lifted the knife with his trembling hand. By some miracle, he had managed to kill two.
The surviving goblins, though wounded—one dragging a leg, another bleeding from its brow, one still intact—advanced, still full of rage and hunger.
Leo stared at them, pointing the blade with a shaking hand. His vision blurred, but he couldn't close his eyes.
Not yet.
—Come on… get closer… I won't die… not here… —he murmured. The determination in his gaze burned brighter than any torch in Orario.
His vision was dimming. The pain was unbearable. He couldn't move. He gritted his teeth.
—Agh…! Not yet…! I won't die… without proving… that I was worth something… not here… not before proving… that I too… could be someone… —he thought, tears mixing with sweat and the green blood still dripping down his face.
The goblins drew near, growling.
Leo gripped the knife's handle and, with his last strength, rose to his feet, ready to die standing.
The blade trembled in his hand.
The goblins advanced. Blood streamed from his leg, his shoulder throbbed from the bite, and his head spun. His chest heaved violently. Suddenly, fear was no longer something he could control. It became something deeper… darker. Leo broke. Panic consumed him.
He felt the air leaving his lungs. His sight dimmed. A high-pitched ringing filled his ears as a bitter taste rose in his throat. He vomited bile, his body collapsing again, convulsing on the stone.
—I don't want to die. No. Not… not here… —
In that mental abyss, his mind searched for an anchor, an image that gave meaning. And then, he remembered.
A warm breeze brushed his face. The sun shone above. No cars, no smoke, no blaring horns. Only peace… and the strange heartbeat of a new world.
Leo slowly opened his eyes as a blinding glow filled his vision. A field of flowers surrounded him, radiant under a clear sky. He felt his body different—small, thin. When he raised one hand toward the sun to see better, he noticed it was irregular in size… like a child's.
Around him, three other figures rose among the flowers, just as confused, just as young.
—What…? —muttered one, bronze-skinned, with jet-black slicked-back hair, and eyes like cold steel. His voice was firm, even in confusion. Julian. Once sarcastic, impulsive, and prideful, but with a hidden heart, now he only looked like an elegant boy with a sharp gaze.
—What the hell?! What is this body?! —shouted another, with dark hair and calm, analytical eyes. Andrés. The logical one, the group's strategist. Always colder than the rest, but steadfast to the core. His now golden eyes reflected the sun itself.
—What is this place? Where are we? —asked the third, with short messy silver-white hair, blue eyes, and a playful expression. Angello. The dramatic one of the group, charming, empathetic, always the first to speak and the last to judge.
Lastly, Leo, with light blond hair and emerald-green eyes, sat among the flowers, mind blank.
—Have we… died? —was all Leo could think of, recalling the sound of twisting metal, shattering glass, and his own choked scream in the accident.
—…This isn't a dream. —Andrés was the first to understand, staring at his hands—. I remember… the crash… the curve…—
—We're alive, —Julian added, clenching his fists—. But… not in our bodies.
The four fell silent, absorbing the undeniable truth: they had died… and reincarnated in another world after the car accident.
—Hey, look at that —Julian said, pointing north.
They all turned toward the direction he indicated, and then they saw it. In the distance, a colossal white wall, and at its center, a towering spire that pierced the heavens.
The Babel Tower.
A colossus of living stone shining under the sun. Hundreds of meters tall, its tip seemed to touch the clouds. Roads, fields, and merchants with carts surrounded it. Some adventurers practiced with swords near the path. Laughter, shouts, movement. Life.
—Is that… Orario? —Andrés whispered, recognizing the scene from memories of video games, anime, and legends.
Without further hesitation, Andrés turned to Leo, who still sat motionless.
—Leo, —he said in a calm but firm voice—. Let's go. We can't stay here. —Andrés offered his hand.
Leo looked up. In Andrés's eyes was a mix of concern and leadership. The same Andrés who had been his best friend for years. He took his hand, certain they would find answers to what was happening.
The four walked toward Orario along the dirt roads marked by countless travelers and inhabitants, all the while talking about their new appearances—their smaller bodies, their different eyes.
A merchant who saw them from a distance helped them onto his cart, since they were still some distance from the city.
Impressed by the state of the four children and moved by the scene, the merchant was willing to help them enter without any trouble from the guards. In silence, the four children watched as they approached the city wall that, one day, would change their lives.