The New York air, on the morning of the sixth day, the day before the impending catastrophe, seemed to carry a strange, almost imperceptible tension. The sun rose lazily over the skyscrapers, painting the skyline with soft hues of pink and gold, but for Thiago, every ray of light was a reminder of the countdown. The city, in its morning routine, was beginning to awaken. Yellow taxis glided along the avenues, the hum of voices and the sound of hurried footsteps filled the sidewalks, and the smell of fresh coffee and freshly baked bread hung in the air. It was a deceptive normality, an illusion of peace that would be shattered in a few hours. Thiago felt like a spectator in a horror film about to begin, the only one who knew the plot.
He had spent the night awake, not in a dormitory, but in the hotel's presidential suites, where his entire family and the families of his friends were already gathered and safe. The four meticulously organized suites served as his temporary refuge. Two of them were living quarters, where comfort, however fleeting, attempted to mask the impending calamity. The other two had been converted into storage rooms, filled with everything they had acquired: stacks of ammunition boxes and clips, carefully stacked tactical vests and backpacks, high-capacity water filters, foldable solar panels for power, and a vast quantity of non-perishable food. It was a makeshift but complete bunker, a silent testament to Thiago's obsession with preparation. Adrenaline coursed through his veins, keeping him alert, but a twinge of anxiety pierced his resolve. However, a new and crucial mission awaited him, one he had not revealed to anyone.
There was still one person to be saved. Someone who, in his previous life, had been a beacon of wisdom and a keeper of secrets in a desolate world. Hiroshi. The master blacksmith who forged "THE KATANA—THE EMPEROR'S KATANA." Thiago knew that, to his parents and friends, his sudden departure to seek a stranger would be incomprehensible, perhaps even dangerous. They didn't understand the depth of his connection to Hiroshi, nor the weight of the memories he carried.
"Thiago, where are you going so early?" his mother had asked sleepily as he prepared to leave the hotel before dawn. Her eyes, swollen with worry, fixed on him.
"I need to take care of one last thing, Mom. Something important. I'll be back before noon," he had replied, his voice calm but firm, avoiding details. He couldn't explain. Not now. The truth was too heavy a burden to share.
He drove the rented van through the still-sleepy streets, the silence inside contrasting with the whirlwind of thoughts in his mind. The image of Hiroshi, with his deep-set eyes and calloused hands, filled his thoughts. In his previous life, Hiroshi had lost everything. His daughter, Akemi, and his granddaughter, Hana, devoured byPlague that devastated the land, victims of the ignorance and brutality of the early days. Thiago had witnessed the old man's silent pain, the way he carried his grief like a shadow, transforming his art into a form of resistance. This time, Thiago wouldn't allow that to happen. He couldn't save everyone, but he could save Hiroshi and his family. It was a debt of gratitude, an act of redemption.
He parked the van on the side street, the same one as yesterday, and walked toward the inconspicuous facade of the forge. The bamboo bell tinkled again as he opened the door, a familiar sound echoing memories from the past. The smell of metal, charcoal, and incense hung in the air, and the forge furnace at the back of the room glowed with orange heat.
Hiroshi was there, as always, hunched over his anvil, gently hammering a piece of metal. He looked up as Thiago entered, his eyes deep and wise. "Welcome back, young man. I didn't expect to see you so soon." His voice was the same, smooth and filled with quiet authority.
Thiago approached the counter, his heart pounding in his chest. He took a deep breath, preparing himself for the most difficult conversation he would ever have. "Mr. Hiroshi," he began, in fluent Japanese, the language he had mastered in his previous life, out of respect and necessity, "I need to speak with you. About something... very important. And very urgent."
Hiroshi stopped hammering, his movements ceasing. He set the hammer aside and turned fully to Thiago, his eyes fixed on the young man, a serious expression on his face. "I sense the urgency in your voice, young man. And the way you speak my language... it's not that of a mere student. It's that of someone who has lived it. Sit down." He gestured to the small wooden bench near the oven.
Thiago sat, feeling the warmth of the fire. He looked at Hiroshi, his eyes heavy with the weight of two lifetimes. "Mr. Hiroshi," he began again, his voice low, almost a whisper, but each word charged with an intensity that came from a deep place of pain and knowledge. "I know you don't really know me. I'm just a young man who came to buy a katana. But I... I know you. From a future that hasn't yet happened. A future I'm trying to change."
Hiroshi remained silent, his eyes fixed on Thiago, unblinking. Only the flame in the oven crackled softly.
"In that future," Thiago continued, his voice thick with emotion but firm in his resolve, "I met him after thePlague that devastated the landhad already spread. The world was in ruins. And you... you had lost everything." He paused, the image of Hiroshi's pain in his previous life vivid in his mind. "Your daughter, Akemi, and your granddaughter, Hana. They were... they were victims of the Plague. Devoured by the infected in the early days of the chaos. I saw your pain, sir. The way you carried your grief, the way your art became the only thing keeping you alive."
Hiroshi's expression changed. His eyes, once calm and wise, widened slightly. A shadow of pain, an ancient and deep pain, crossed his face. His lips trembled. He remembered them. His daughter, with her gentle smile, and his granddaughter, a joyful girl who filled the forge with her laughter. The thought of losing them, in such a brutal way, was a nightmare he had never dared to conceive. He was a man of tradition, of tangible reality, but Thiago's words, the way he spoke them, the pain in his eyes... they were not those of a madman.
"What... what are you saying, young man?" Hiroshi's voice was a thread, barely audible, filled with painful disbelief. "How do you... how do you know that? Akemi... Hana..."
"Because I lived, sir," Thiago replied, his voice breaking. "I lived through these twenty years of hell. I saw the world fall apart. I saw the Plague spread, turning people into monsters, transforming nature into something hostile. And I saw your pain. I saw the pain of all who lost their loved ones. And I could do nothing. But now... now I have a chance to change that. I've returned. With knowledge of the future. And I won't let you lose your family again."
Hiroshi looked at Thiago, his eyes sweeping the young man's face, searching for any sign of deception, of delirium. But all he saw was an unshakable seriousness, a conviction that went far beyond reason. He was a man of faith, of tradition, and the idea of a premonition, of a return to time, though fantastical, was not entirely alien to the ancient texts he studied. The way Thiago spoke, the intimate knowledge of his deepest pain, the fluency of his Japanese, which he had noticed on the previous visit... it was too much to be a coincidence, a hoax.
"My daughter, Akemi, and my granddaughter, Hana," Hiroshi said, his voice breaking. "My wife, Harumi, and my son, Kenji. And Kenji's family... his wife, Yumi, and their two young children, Takeshi and Akari. They're home. I... I'll bring them. But... how?"
"I have a van outside, sir," Thiago said, standing up. "We can go now. There's no time to waste. With every passing minute, the risk increases."
Hiroshi nodded decisively. He grabbed a small leather bag from the counter, placing inside a few essential tools and a small ancient scroll. "Let's go. There's no time for goodbyes. Destiny calls us."
Thiago and Hiroshi emerged from the forge, the bamboo bell tinkling softly behind them, a sound that now seemed like a note of hope. Fifth Avenue was busier now, the city lights beginning to come on, creating a golden glow that masked the impending darkness. Thiago led Hiroshi to the van, opening the door for the old master.
The drive to Hiroshi's house was tense. Thiago drove carefully, his eyes scanning the streets, searching for any sign of anomaly, any hint of the approaching chaos. Hiroshi, silent, seemed to absorb the reality of Thiago's words, his wrinkled face reflecting a mixture of fear and determination.
When they arrived at Hiroshi's house, a traditional Japanese residence tucked away in a quiet neighborhood, the family was already gathered for dinner. The table was set, the smell of home-cooked food wafted through the air, a stark contrast to the urgency of the situation. Harumi, Hiroshi's wife, a gentle and serene woman; Akemi, his daughter; and Kenji, his son, a robust and practical man, looked at Hiroshi and Thiago in surprise. Yumi, their daughter-in-law, and their two young grandchildren, Takeshi and Akari, sat curiously at the table, and Hana, their eldest granddaughter, helped serve.
Hiroshi, with a seriousness that frightened his family, explained the situation in Japanese, without going into details about Thiago's premonition, but conveying the urgency and the need for blind trust. "We need to go. Now. To a safe place. It's an emergency. Trust me."
The family, accustomed to Hiroshi's calm and wisdom, though shocked, didn't hesitate. They quickly grabbed some bags and hurried to the van. Takeshi, Akari, and Hana looked at Thiago curiously, their childlike, youthful eyes oblivious to the danger.
The drive to the hotel was a tense silence. Thiago drove, his eyes fixed on the road, while Hiroshi and his family settled into the van. At every stoplight, every corner, Thiago's mind raced, calculating the risks, anticipating his next steps. He knew he was one step closer to his goal: to gather all his loved ones in one place, a refuge from the approaching storm.
When they arrived at the hotel, the lobby was busier, with some guests still enjoying the illusion of normalcy. Thiago led Hiroshi and his family to the presidential suites, where his own family and the families of his friends were already gathered.
Thiago's parents, Lucas, Gabriel, and Sofia, looked up in surprise when Thiago appeared with Hiroshi and his family. Confusion was evident on their faces. "Thiago, who are these people?" Thiago's mother asked, her voice low but with a hint of concern.
Thiago, amid the hubbub of introductions and hurried greetings, explained briefly, in a low voice to his parents and friends: "He is Hiroshi, a master blacksmith. And this is his family. I met him in my dreams, and he is crucial to what is to come. He has knowledge that will be vital to our survival. Trust me." He avoided details about Hiroshi's past, the pain he had witnessed, keeping the premonition secret tightly veiled.
The families looked at each other, still confused, but their trust in Thiago was unshakable. Hiroshi, with his serenity, greeted everyone with a bow, his calm presence bringing a strange sense of peace to the tense atmosphere. Hiroshi's children—Takeshi, Akari, and Hana—quickly joined the other children, their innocent laughter filling the air.
The air inside the four presidential suites, now more crowded, was thick with anticipation. Thiago gathered everyone in the living room of his suite. His parents, his sister, Lucas's parents, Gabriel and Sofia, and some of their younger siblings, and now Hiroshi, his wife Harumi, his daughter Akemi, his son Kenji, his daughter-in-law Yumi, and his grandchildren Takeshi, Akari, and Hana. About twenty or so people, all looking at him, waiting for answers. The silence was almost palpable, broken only by the distant sound of New York traffic. He reminded himself of the importance of not alarming anyone, of remaining calm, of being the leader they needed. He couldn't speak about the true nature of the situation.Plague that devastated the land, nor about the System that had taken him to Level 9, a secret he carried alone. He needed to simplify, but be convincing.
"I know you have a lot of questions," Thiago began, his voice serious but calm, trying to convey confidence. "I had a nightmare," he repeated, the same story he'd told individually. "A very real nightmare. About the future. And I saw what's going to happen. In less than 24 hours, the world as we know it will end." He paused, letting the shocking words sink in. "This won't be a war, it won't be a common disease. It will transform life as we know it. And I've seen how it unfolded. I've seen the mistakes people have made. And I'm here to make sure we don't make the same mistakes. Folks, look at the news. The White House announcement isn't being made from the White House, but from a secret bunker. The Senate, which previously broadcast its plenary hearings live, is silent, with no open sessions. And have you noticed how some of the richest and most influential people in the world have simply disappeared from social media? This, folks, is just the beginning of my dream. It's far worse than you can imagine." He gestured to the flat-screen television on the wall, which displayed news footage with alarming headlines and tense-faced reporters, though the exact content of the news was drowned out by the sound of the conversation.
He explained about the fog, the rain that would bring thePlague that devastated the landHe spoke about the impending dangers in a more general way, without going into details about evolution levels or crystals. "They'll be slow at first, but numerous. And the noise... the noise will attract them. That's why we need silenced weapons." He didn't mention the strength-restoring animal meat or the traits that could be gained. He focused on the threat.
"And it won't just be them," he continued, his voice lower, almost a whisper. "ThePlague that devastated the landwill affect the world itself. Plants will become dangerous. Animals will evolve into beasts. The sea and sky will become death zones. We need to be prepared for all of this."
"The money you mortgaged your homes for," Thiago said, looking at Lucas's parents, Gabriel and Sofia, who looked even paler than their children, "was for this. To give us a chance. To buy what we need to survive. Weapons, supplies, equipment. Lucas is in charge of medical supplies. Gabriel, long-term supplies and logistics. Sofia, communications and tactical security. And I, firearms and more specific bladed weapons." He gestured to the suitcases and boxes, now visibly present in two of the suites.
"And the hotel?" Sofia's mother asked, her voice trembling. "Why here? And why the four presidential suites?"
"The hotel is our temporary refuge," Thiago replied, his voice calm and controlled. "It's the safest place we can be in the early days of the chaos. The four presidential suites provide us with isolation and space. Two of them will be our living quarters, where we will stay. The other two will be our storage rooms. Inside, we have everything we need: stocked food, high-capacity water filters, foldable solar panels for power, and all the equipment we've acquired. It's a makeshift bunker, but a safe one."
"And today at 10 p.m., we will begin closing the elevator doors and emergency exits on this floor, because the outbreak is tomorrow at 7 a.m.," he continued. "Not to stop people from leaving, but to stop them fromother people come in. To create a safe zone. A perimeter. It will be a 'hotel security' measure, an 'emergency maintenance' measure. No one will question much amid the initial buzz of the news about the strange rain. And when thePlague that devastated the landspread, they will be too busy with their own panic to notice anything beyond their own survival."
He looked at every face in the room, hope and fear mingling in their eyes. "I know this is a lot to take in. I know it sounds crazy. But I swear to you, I swear it's the truth. And I will protect you. All of us. This time, I will not fail."
Silence reigned in the suite again, heavier now, charged with the gravity of the revelation. The children, oblivious to the conversation, played in a corner, their innocent laughter a cruel contrast to the approaching darkness. The adults, however, were in shock, their minds struggling to reconcile the normalcy of their lives with the apocalyptic vision Thiago presented them. The decision was theirs now. Life or death. And Thiago knew that, even with all his knowledge and his status as the only human being to reach Level 9 in his previous life, faith was the only thing that could save them. He felt the weight of responsibility, but also an unshakable determination. The night would be long, and the dawn would bring hell. But this time, they would be ready. The race against time had reached its climax, and the next 24 hours would determine their fate.