I watched as his eyelids lifted heavily, revealing a blurry, confused gaze. I noticed he felt disoriented, as if dark and bright spots danced at the edges of his vision, threatening to drag him back into darkness.
Finally, he closed his eyes again, but this time not from weakness.
Somehow, clinging to the fragile thread of his wavering consciousness, Arceus fully awoke, only for his expression to crumble in a moment of sharp pain, the pain lingered as a cruel reminder of how close he had been to death.
—R-Reinhardt… —he stammered in a raspy voice, trying to sit up. I held him by the shoulders, noticing how he trembled under my hands.
—Stay still —I ordered gently—. The wound is closed, but you lost a lot of blood.
He nodded weakly, with beads of cold sweat sliding down his pale temple. His crimson eyes, usually burning like embers, now fixed on the children scattered around us with concern, some beginning to stir with groans.
—And the others? —he asked in a hoarse voice, his worry evident even in his weakness.
—Alive —I replied with genuine relief—. Now I need you to get up. We can't stay here.
—Yes —his immediate response, despite his condition, reassured me. I could always count on Arceus.
—Where are we? —he asked, trying to orient himself in the dimness of the alley.
—Who knows… —I murmured, scanning the shadows for any recognizable sign.
Suddenly, more childish voices joined our conversation; the younger children had begun to wake, their voices blending into a cacophony of confusion and relief that echoed between the narrow alley walls.
—Where will we go? —Arceus's question was tentative, but I could detect the underlying trust in my judgment, a trust that weighed on my shoulders like a slab.
Taking control of the situation, as I knew I had to, I gave my first order in a clear, firm voice:
—Guys, wake up the children who are still unconscious.
I stood as I spoke and searched for Cassie among the scattered bodies. I knew I would be the only one able to carry her, being one of the oldest and strongest. This division of tasks was based on the harsh logic of our situation: in case of any unforeseen event, the only one who could offer effective resistance would be Arceus.
Arceus, understanding his role without need for explanation, immediately began organizing the children into orderly columns, instructing them in a low but authoritative voice to maintain formation as they moved forward. As the natural warrior he was, he took the lead of our makeshift army of frightened orphans.
As we ventured into the unfamiliar streets, I looked up, letting my eyes trace the imposing infrastructure towering over me. The recent events had kept me so absorbed that I hadn't noticed earlier: we were in an underground city. The residences and buildings rose like an artificial sky of gray stone, speckled with green lights glowing in the windows, reminiscent of stars twinkling on a full moon night.
Elevated corridors and walkways, guarded by sturdy safety railings, connected the structures, forming a network of suspended paths. On one of those railings, a man leaned with carefree nonchalance, chatting with another while the void yawned beneath their feet. I couldn't help but mentally calculate the force of the impact if someone fell from that height to the ground where I stood; the chances of survival would be practically nonexistent.
I shook my head to banish those grim thoughts and lowered my gaze, focusing on moving forward. Around me, faint lights filtered through the cracks of closed doors and windows, glimmers hinting at hidden lives behind those barriers. A lone young man crossed the opposite sidewalk, head down and steps hurried, as if the ground might swallow him if he stopped.
His fleeting glance, meeting mine, revealed a barely contained fear, a spark of distrust that made me wonder if he feared we might harm him. The irony of his wariness didn't escape me, considering our own vulnerability at that moment: a group of injured, disoriented children, barely able to protect ourselves in this strange environment.
The sadness of the place was palpable in every crack of the buildings, in every elongated shadow. As I observed the few people we passed, that's when I spotted them in the distance: five men approaching with determined steps.
Their way of moving, their threatening posture, their developed muscles visible even under their clothes… everything about them screamed "danger!" with the clarity of a siren. They weren't mere passersby; they were trained fighters, urban predators, and by the calculating way they scrutinized our group, their intentions were evidently hostile.
—Look, what do we have here? —the hoarse voice of one of them, the burliest, shattered the silence like breaking glass. His accent was slightly different from the clandestine language we spoke at the orphanage, but the difference wasn't significant.
—Where did so many pretty brats come from? —asked another, a man with a long scar slicing across his cheek like petrified lightning. He clicked his tongue with thinly veiled disdain, his eyes assessing us like merchandise.
—Do they breed them like rabbits or what? —added a third, stroking his thick chin as a malicious smile spread across his cracked lips.
I saw Arceus exhale heavily, though not surprised. I understood his reaction perfectly: in truth, we had expected something like this. We knew a place like this, ruled by the law of the strongest, wouldn't welcome us with open arms; we'd have to earn our place, likely by force.
With a silent but eloquent gesture, Arceus signaled me to move the group to a safer position. I responded immediately, organizing the younger children and instructing them in a reassuring voice to stay calm.
As I retreated with the group, carrying Cassie on my back, my mind was already working on our next move. The freedom we had fought so hard for had just begun, and the outside world was proving to be as challenging as we had always feared.