After the place was surrounded, Adam sat beside Zeif, who was trembling from a high fever. Even Adam was shaking, but each was afraid of something different.
Adam raised his trembling hand and looked at it nervously, then held it with his other hand, trying to calm himself. Only moments after sitting down, he suddenly stood up, grabbed his weapon, and moved to the window to watch the scene outside.
He saw the Organized standing outside, surrounding the cabin, as if waiting for a single signal to blow it to pieces. Adam's eyes froze in horror. His hand gripping the weapon still shook, but he had no choice—fight, or die without resistance. He chose to fight.
He pulled his rifle out of the window, loaded with twenty bullets, and decided to take down at least ten of them to carve a path for escape. He focused intensely before firing. His breaths were fast as he began shooting rapidly, spreading bullets in different directions. He tried to open a passage, but hope quickly faded. When the smoke cleared, he noticed he had only taken down three… the rest still stood.
Adam's eyes widened, unable to comprehend what had happened. He quickly turned to Zeif and found him still unconscious. He ran to the other window to look for an exit but saw more Organized closing in.
Sweat poured down his face, his clothes stained with blood, the thick scent of iron filling his nostrils. He began searching inside the cabin—among drawers and wood—for anything useful but found nothing.
He stood in the middle of the cabin, hands on his head, sweat pouring like rain, whispering:
"Should I run? But… where? How? Is there no way for Zeif and me to escape?"
He shouted aloud:
"What should I do?!"
In that moment, his heart began to slow, his breathing eased. He remembered how running always got him deeper into trouble… how he had always fled his problems instead of facing them. Clenching his hand tightly, he said:
"So… I'm going to die here?"
Adam whispered, staring into the void with tired eyes.
"I wished I could be that hero written about in stories… the one who saves the world, not the one who waits silently for his end."
He smiled bitterly once, then added:
"But it seems the true heroes… are those unknown, those no one knows, and who aren't immortalized in books."
He paused, then looked behind him, where Zeif lay:
"But… will my death help anyone?"
He clenched his fist, whispering angrily:
"Won't they get to him the moment I fall? Won't everything end then?"
He lifted his head, his eyes shining with renewed determination:
"No… no room for fear now. No time for regret."
He took a deep breath and stood straight despite exhaustion:
"I won't be the coward I've been all my life… this time, I'll fight till the end."
The atmosphere in the room shifted from suffocating darkness to a burning feeling of courage. He stepped toward the cabin door with steady strides. Despite the tension and sweat on his face, he didn't let fear stop him.
He held the door handle calmly, took a deep breath before pushing it with all his strength.
But strangely, the Organized didn't fire at him. He paused in surprise but continued forward. He descended the cabin stairs until halfway down. Then, the Organized rose, raising their weapons.
But Adam was different this time. He wasn't afraid of death… it was as if he had been waiting for it for a long time.
He raised his arms to neck level and lifted his head, ready to die.
A frown was clearly painted on Adam's face, as if he struggled between deep regret and a decision he had to make. He stood between the moan of his aching heart and the battle in his mind:
"I lived an ordinary life, and it seems it will end without meaning, just as it began. Why then must I die now, when all I asked for was my freedom?"
Suddenly, a loud gunshot echoed—not from the Organized, but from the hill across the way!
In that moment, everything changed.