Rain poured heavily, washing the streets of Cazalini and painting faint reflections of light on the wet pavements.
"How long will I keep fighting?" Mildo whispered to himself, his voice drowned in the echo of rain.
"How could I just leave it all behind and hide forever?"
"The sound of gunfire ,the sound of crying ,why won't they leave my head?"
He clutched the mask in his hand, half of his face smeared with blood, the other half revealing his deep hazel eyes.
"Who am I?"
"Where am I going? Why do my feet keep moving on their own?"
"It doesn't matter ,as long as they take me somewhere I can finally rest."
He reached a wall overlooking the river, stood there for a moment, then set the mask aside.
A single tear slid from his eye as he whispered to himself: "I guess this is it "
He lost his balance, his feet slipped, and he fell into the cold waters of the river, leaving behind nothing but the sound of rain and the endless whispers of the past.
He sank quietly into the icy depths, each breath a struggle against the water. Suddenly, something moved something was approaching him.
"What am I starting to hallucinate?" he muttered, his heart racing.
"Is that a girl?"
The world around him blurred, the water distorting the reflected glow of the city above, the image never clear enough.
For a fleeting moment, I opened my eyes underwater and glimpsed a strange figure holding onto me , as if i were someone precious.
But I was certain it was just an illusion.
No one would ever weep for my death.
The cold water wrapped around me, rain washed over main face, and everything became hazy, unreal.
Yet why did i feel something different?
A sensation i couldn't explain.
When he woke, he was in a strange house. Dim light filtered through the windows. He couldn't stay still for long quickly, he grabbed his belongings and rushed out.
He opened the window, leapt without hesitation, rain splashing across his face, the wet ground beneath his feet driving his speed. Each step was an escape, each breath an attempt to stay far from everything.
He finally reached his home, removed the mask, inhaled the cold air, and felt a fleeting sense of relief.
Then, behind him, appeared his only friend.
"What are you doing, Mildo?" he asked, his voice carrying both curiosity and concern.
"Writing, as always" Mildo replied indifferently. "Strange things that happen in my day."
His friend stared at him for a moment, as if searching for something between the lines, then simply nodded.
Mildo sat on the floor, closed the curtains, set the mask aside, and for a brief moment of silence something old resurfaced in his mind.
He was seven years old, his days simple and quiet or so he thought.
His mother was gone, and his father absent most of the time.
He was left to survive in a world far too big for a child.
He played in the narrow alleys of Cazalini, explored every corner, and wished there was someone watching him with a smile instead of the harshness of reality.
There was a girl.
Beautiful, often seen at the wall watching the sunset, her hands stained with mud from playing.
Once, she ran toward him with excitement, splattering mud onto his face and clothes.
"Hey! What are you doing here?" she asked with a bright smile.
He wiped the mud off, staring at her in surprise. How could she laugh so freely amidst all this chaos?
"I like the sunset from here," he answered softly.
Her smile grew wider. She grabbed his hand with her dirty fingers.
"Me too , want to play with me?"
She didn't wait for his answer she dragged him to a playground full of kids his age.
"Let's climb the dome!" she said eagerly, pointing at a structure of nets and iron bars.
He hesitated, but her smile pulled him along. For the first time in a long while, he felt part of something fun and free of danger.
When he almost slipped, she caught his hand quickly.
"First time here?" she asked, laughing.
"Yes " he muttered.
She looked surprised, then chuckled lightly.
"Why? Don't your parents bring you here?"
"My mother's dead. My father isn't always home."
Her expression softened, as if saying silently: "It's okay ,I'll be your friend here."
Days passed. She became part of his everyday life, filling it with warmth he never knew.
But one day, weeks later, she came wearing a strange black outfit. She hugged him, tears in her eyes.
"I'm leaving this city today."
"Why? Where?" he asked nervously.
"I don't know," she whispered, trembling.
She pulled out a strange iron pendant.
"This is for you a gift."
Behind her stood a silent woman.
"Come ,let's go," the woman ordered.
The girl waved goodbye, then suddenly paused, turning back to him with questioning eyes.
"I forgot what's your name?"
He exhaled softly, his voice barely audible.
"My name is…"
That evening, he returned home to find a curtain open his father was inside.
"Father, you're back!" he called, but got no reply.
He showed him a drawing proudly. "Look, I made this!"
But his father pushed it away. "Not now ,another time."
The drawing fell into the fireplace and burned. He didn't even flinch. He was used to it.
His father reeked of alcohol, a lifeless shell of the man he once was once a feared leader, a man of power. But after his wife's death, everything crumbled.
Mildo retreated to his room, writing in his notebook his little refuge. He dozed off, only to wake with a blanket over his shoulders, a tear sliding down his cheek.
"He covered me" he whispered to himself.
Moments later gunshots shattered the silence.
He rushed out. His father lay bleeding on the floor, surrounded by men who once respected him. His father raised a trembling hand:
"Run!"
Mildo fled, bullets chasing him through the night. He tripped, scrambled up, shouting: "Father!"
A carriage stopped ahead. Desperate, he grabbed onto it.
"Help me! They're trying to kill me!"
The men inside exchanged glances.
"Who's this boy?"
"Just a poor kid ,we should help him."
One of them smiled strangely.
"Come on, boy, climb in. We'll help you."
He obeyed only to have a cloth pressed against his face.
"What?" he whispered, before darkness consumed him.
When he woke, his hands and feet were bound in iron.
"Where am I?" he whispered.
The man he thought had helped him stepped forward.
"So, you're awake," he said calmly.
"Where am I?" Mildo repeated, his heart pounding.
The man pressed a finger to his lips.
"Shhh ,no questions allowed here."
Terror crawled through his body.
He was dragged into a vast, cold chamber.
Children. Dozens of them, chained, lifeless eyes staring.
He was thrown before a massive man who lifted him by the hair, studying him.
"He's good. Train him well we don't need more failures."
Mildo was handed a weapon almost too heavy for his small frame.
"See those targets? Hit them."
His tiny fingers trembled on the trigger. The shot fired, the recoil almost knocking him down.
The bullet grazed the edge of the target.
No punishment came. Instead, the man smiled faintly.
"Good ,now, again."
One shot after another, his aim improved until the final bullet struck the black heart of the target.
The man's eyes widened.
"A seven-year-old ,hitting the center?"
Chains clinked again as he was dragged into another room full of children.
And there among pale faces sat a girl. Blonde hair to her shoulders, icy blue eyes that pierced through him.
"A new boy?" she asked coldly.
"Yes" he whispered.
Her lips curved into a thin smile.
"Welcome to the Black Beasts' Hell."
"The Black Beasts" he muttered.
"No one leaves this place alive," she said, voice sharp and merciless. "We are nothing but tools. Killers."
She leaned closer, her whisper heavier than his chains.
"Welcome to the killing squads."
In that moment, Mildo realized his life was no longer his own.
Here, you either kill or be killed.