Chapter 60: The Inca Warrior

Sometimes, power isn’t found at the end of a battle, nor at the peak of a mountain.
Sometimes, true power is born from letting go —
Letting go of the past, of wounds that never healed, of oaths born from pain.

Guayas wasn’t a hero from the start.
He was a child walking without a map, without certainty — driven only by the need to be seen, to stop being “the other.”
But destiny, like the gods, does not answer prayers.
Destiny tests. Destiny takes.
And whoever defies it must be willing to leave a part of themselves behind.

Today, that lost part begins to shape the silhouette of a warrior.
Not a god.
Not a martyr.
But a man who, in the end, still wishes to be remembered for what he loved — not for what he destroyed.

——————————————————————————————————————————

The forest seemed endless. The leaves, damp with the afternoon mist, crunched beneath Guayas’s feet. Every step was a decision — a silent vow toward his promise: to become stronger, even if the path cost him his life.
It’ll be a long journey, he thought, dodging low branches. But if I want to become strong, I’ll have to do it at any cost.

Thunder rumbled in the distance. The clouds gathered overhead, heavy and threatening to fall. Guayas quickened his pace, searching for shelter among the trees until he finally spotted the mouth of a cave, veiled by vines and moss.
“This will do,” he muttered, pulling a torch from his makeshift pack.

The trembling light revealed what lay inside.
“Huh…?”

A family of bears watched him from the back of the cave. The mother — protective and fierce — roared and charged. But Guayas, without flinching, raised his arm and blocked the strike with his forearm. His eyes carried not fear, but respect.
“You’re the mother, aren’t you? Relax… I don’t intend to harm you.”

The growl continued. Calmly, Guayas dropped his weapons to the ground. Then, from beneath his cloak, he drew a small wooden flute. He closed his eyes… and began to play.

The melody was soft, almost whispered, as if speaking the language of the trees. Gradually, the air filled with a warm serenity. The cubs lay down, and even the mother lowered her guard.
“See? I mean no harm. Just like you, I’m only trying to survive.”

To his surprise, the bear tilted her head slightly, as if recognizing something beyond words.

Then, the sound of footsteps broke the calm.
“Well, well,” said a deep, relaxed voice from the entrance, “you’ve got quite a talent for taming beasts.”
Guayas turned sharply, wary.
“Who are you?”
The stranger raised both hands in peace.
“Hey now, don’t look at me like that… you look ready to kill me.”
“At the moment, that’s exactly what I want to do.”
The man sighed.
“My name is Atahualpa. I was just looking for shelter from the storm.”

The name struck like lightning between them.
“Y–You’re Atahualpa?! The Atahualpa?!”
“I suppose,” he said casually.

Guayas immediately bowed, deeply respectful.
“You’re an inspiration to me, sir.”
Atahualpa blinked, confused.
“Eh?”
The legendary Inca warrior, thought Guayas, the one who defeated a thousand men with his own hands. Atahualpa the Invincible.
“May I ask what brings you here?”
Atahualpa’s expression hardened.
“It’s a long story… but I’m looking for the land of the Incan gods.”
“You? Why?”
A shadow crossed his eyes.
“They took my daughter from me. And I intend to avenge her.”
Guayas lowered his gaze.
“I’m sorry.”
“And you? What brings you to these parts?”
“I want to become stronger — to make my people proud.”

For the first time, Atahualpa smiled sincerely.
“A noble goal, boy. I’m sure you’ll achieve it.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“Want something to eat?”
“Y-yes.”
“And you, bears? You look hungry too.”

They spent the night sharing bread, dried meat, and silence by the gentle warmth of the fire. When morning came and the first rays of light filtered through the branches, both prepared to set off on their separate paths.
“Well,” said Atahualpa, adjusting his cloak, “I hope we meet again someday.”
“Wait.”
“Hm? What is it?”
“Please… let me go with you.”
Atahualpa looked at him seriously.
“Why?”
“I want to go to Hanan Pacha.”
The warrior narrowed his eyes.
“It’s dangerous. I can’t promise we’ll make it out alive.”
“I don’t care. If I want to grow stronger, I’ll have to face even the gods themselves.”

That answer made him smile.
“Alright. You can come. But don’t complain later.”
“I won’t disappoint you.”

And so, together, they began their journey into the unknown — through deep forests, hidden valleys, and mountains where the wind cut like blades. Winter caught them high in the cordillera. Hunger and exhaustion gnawed at them.

Atahualpa, his vision blurring, struggled to keep pace.
“Damn it,” he thought. “It’s been days since we ate or rested. Does this mountain have no end?”
“Hey, kid… you still holding up back there?”

No response.
Guayas lay unconscious in the snow.
“Damn it!”

Without hesitation, Atahualpa tied a rope around him and began dragging him, step by step, as the blizzard bit into his skin. The fog thickened. In the distance, a faint light flickered.
“Help!” he shouted hoarsely.

His legs gave out, and he collapsed.
“Quil, prepare something warm!” ordered a voice.
“Yes, Father,” replied a young woman from inside a wooden cabin.

The firelight flickered softly against the stone-and-wood walls of the cabin. A heavy silence filled the air, broken only by the crackle of burning logs in the fireplace.
Atahualpa slowly opened his eyes, feeling the warmth of a thick blanket over his body and the faint aroma of freshly made soup.

“Well, looks like you’re finally awake,” said a calm, warm voice.
Atahualpa blinked a few times. In front of him sat an older man with a gray beard and weary eyes, smiling gently.
“Where am I?”
“Welcome to my little cabin. You were lucky to find this place.”
Atahualpa struggled to sit up.
“How’s he? The young one?”
“The adventurer? Out of danger, thanks to you. If you hadn’t brought him in time, it would’ve been another story.”
The warrior closed his eyes briefly, relieved, though guilt still weighed heavy on his tone.
“No. If it weren’t for you… he’d be dead because of me.”
The old man tilted his head.
“You look a bit hungry. Quil, bring our guest something warm.”
“Yes, Father,” answered a gentle voice from another room.

Atahualpa turned toward her, recognizing the young woman who had tended to them before he lost consciousness. Her face carried sweetness — but also hidden scars beneath a calm she had learned to wear.

“May I ask you something?” Atahualpa said, looking back at the old man.
“Of course.”
“Why is there a cabin in the middle of nowhere?”
The man sighed, his gaze drifting into the burning logs.
“Many years ago… I fled my village. It was destroyed by enormous men. We lost everything.”
Atahualpa frowned.
“They attacked your land too?”
“Yes… but you’ve met them as well, haven’t you?”
“Yes. We’ve managed to stop them for now. But I doubt they’ll quit. They’re too stubborn… too obedient.”
The man nodded slowly.
“Stubborn, yes. But they obey something… or someone.”
Atahualpa gritted his teeth, his thoughts burning.
“Those bastards were sent by the damned gods. What the hell are they after?”

The conversation was interrupted when Quil appeared, placing a steaming bowl before him.
“Here you go.”
“Thank you.”

“What brings you two to a place this far out?” the old man asked.
“We came searching for Hanan Pacha.”
The man’s breath caught for a second.
“Hanan Pacha? The land of the gods?”
“That’s right.”
The old man lowered his gaze, his tone shifting.
“You’d better abandon that idea. It’s impossible.”
Atahualpa studied him carefully.
“You know where it is?”
“Yes…”
“Then…?”
But he stopped. The man’s face was distorted — not by doubt, but by fear.
“I’m sorry,” Atahualpa said softly.
“Don’t worry… But if you go there, there’s no coming back. It’s not paradise — it’s hell.”

His words carried a weight that couldn’t be faked.
“Many years ago,” he continued, “I led an expedition with hundreds of men. We sought the gods’ aid… But they promised riches and power to whoever survived. My men forgot their purpose.”

Scenes flooded Atahualpa’s mind — soldiers slaughtering one another like soulless beasts.
“They turned on each other without mercy… until none were left. I… I had to survive.”
His voice cracked. A tremor ran through him.

Guayas, silent until then, stood and placed a firm hand on his shoulder.
“I promise we’ll avenge them. You… and every man who died in battle.”
The old man looked at him, surprised.
“Killing gods?” Guayas added with a faint grin. “Doesn’t sound so bad.”
Atahualpa turned to him.
“Young man, are you feeling all right?”
“Better than before.”
“That’s a relief…”

“By the way,” said the old man, trying to steady his tone, “you haven’t told me your names, young warriors.”
“My name is Atahualpa,” replied the warrior.
“And mine… is Guayas.”
“You hadn’t told me that before, had you?” Guayas said, smiling.
“Not until now,” admitted Atahualpa.
“I see.”
“My name is Patxi. It’s a pleasure,” said the old man, his voice stronger now. “You can stay as long as you need.”
“Thank you,” Guayas replied. “But as soon as I recover, we’ll be leaving.”
“I see. Such a bold, youthful spirit.”
“That’s right,” Atahualpa agreed.

Guayas looked down for a moment.
Father… I’m getting closer. I promise you.

Night fell over the cabin. Atahualpa, lying outside, watched the stars above.
“He said we’d leave as soon as he felt better… but it seems he’s found a reason to stay. I can’t blame him. Love is powerful.”

Inside, Guayas and Quil shared laughter over a simple dinner. Their eyes met in silence. Atahualpa observed them from afar, a mixture of tenderness and resignation in his gaze.
“I’d better leave soon… but I won’t interfere in his life. He’s still young, with so much ahead of him. I can’t drag him to a place where death is almost certain. Not now.”

In silence, with one last look at the sky, Atahualpa vanished into the darkness.
“Something wrong, Guayas?” Quil asked, noticing his distracted expression.
Guayas paused. His smile faded.
“No… it’s nothing.”

Far away, atop a smoking volcano, a lone figure faced the abyss.
Atahualpa stopped at the edge of the crater.
“What a lovely place for a hideout… you damn gods.”

The flames of the volcano roared like ancient beasts, and the heat struck as if the entire world were burning beneath his feet.
Yet Atahualpa did not waver. His gaze, steady and resolute, fixed upon the molten abyss.

“No wonder no one ever finds them… after all, no one’s crazy enough to jump into an active volcano.”
A faint smile crossed his face.
“But that’s not my case, you bastards.”

“Where do you think you’re going?” interrupted a voice behind him.
Atahualpa turned in surprise. There, between the smoke and black rock, stood Guayas.
“What are you doing here?” asked the warrior, half confused, half annoyed.
“Sorry,” Guayas replied, “but I can’t abandon my comrade — especially not the one who saved my life.”
“Leave,” ordered Atahualpa firmly. “You shouldn’t be here. It’s too dangerous. You could die.”
“Who are you, my father?” Guayas shot back without hesitation.
“I can’t… I can’t let you enter. There are people waiting for your return. Me, on the other hand… I’ve lost everything. It doesn’t matter if I die here.”
Guayas glared at him.
“Are you stupid?”
“What?”
“I’m not letting my friend die here. We’re going back together, idiot!”

Atahualpa fell silent. For a brief moment, the roar of the volcano itself seemed to stop. Then, a proud smile spread across his face.
“Guayas…”
“Let’s go kick those bastards’ asses.”
“Yeah!”

Both leapt into the abyss. Fire engulfed them like a curtain — but instead of consuming them, it carried them away.

They fell — not into lava, not into ash — but into a meadow bathed in eternal golden light.
“We’re… alive,” Guayas gasped.
“Yes… it seems so,” Atahualpa replied, just as bewildered.

They stood, slowly taking in the vast valley before them: green hills, crystal lakes, white mountains gleaming in the distance. The air smelled like eternity.
“Where are we?”
“Welcome to Hanan Pacha,” said Atahualpa solemnly. “The realm of the Incan gods.”
Guayas swallowed hard.
“It’s… beautiful.”
“Don’t get distracted,” warned Atahualpa.
“What’s wrong?”
“They already know we’re here. They’re watching us.”

And then — they saw them.

From every corner, creatures were staring. Gigantic birds, ethereal felines, deer with glowing antlers… even the trees seemed to move.
“Atahualpa… is that normal?” Guayas asked, his eyes darting.
“What do you mean?”
Guayas took a step back.
“The trees… they’re walking.”

Indeed, several Ents were approaching. Their pace was slow but steady, their roots crawling along the ground as if alive.
“Does that look normal to you?” Atahualpa replied with a tense smile.

The trees began to surround them. One of them stretched out a branch and caught Guayas.
“What? Let me go!”
“Damn it!” roared Atahualpa.

With a swift strike, he cut the branch and freed his companion — but more Ents appeared, closing in.
“Wait!” shouted a voice.

All the Ents froze instantly.

From within their ranks emerged a young man with copper skin and sharp eyes. He walked with the calm of someone who had never known fear.
“Who the hell are you?” Atahualpa spat.
“It would be a waste not to bring you before the chief. You had the guts to show up here. That’s… rare.”
“Shut your mouth,” growled Atahualpa. “I’m not here to talk to trash.”

The stranger didn’t answer with words. He answered with action.

In an instant, Atahualpa’s arm flew off — severed by an invisible strike.
“Wha—?!” Guayas froze in shock.
“Insignificant human,” said the young man coldly. “Who do you think you are, speaking to me like that?”

Atahualpa fell to his knees, clutching the bleeding stump, his face contorted in pain.
“All this trouble… just for their whims…” the young man muttered, turning away in irritation.

But then, a familiar voice broke the silence.
“What are you talking about?” asked Patxi, placing a hand on his shoulder.

The young man froze.
“You—?” Atahualpa recognized him instantly. “Get out of here!”
“Why? Why is he so calm?” Guayas murmured, confused.

The old man sighed, scratched his head… and smiled, almost sheepishly.
“Ah, right… I forgot to introduce myself properly.”

Then, without changing his tone — without a hint of solemnity — he spoke words that shattered the air.
“My name is Inti. And I am the king of the Incan gods.”

The world seemed to stop.

“What are you saying?” Guayas stammered. “Did you hit your head or something?”
“What about Quil?” he added, breathless.
“Quil? Ah, yes,” Inti replied calmly. “The girl I let everyone believe is my daughter. Don’t worry — she’s still herself. She simply doesn’t know who I truly am. So you can keep being happy with her.”

Atahualpa trembled with rage.
“What was your plan in all this?”
“Me? Who knows… I suppose it was a little whim of mine.”
“Do you take us for fools? What’s your real intention?”
“You want to know? Fine… I saw potential in you, Atahualpa. I wanted to offer you a place among my soldiers. If you accept, both of you will walk out of here alive.”
“A soldier?” Atahualpa spat. “Stop spewing nonsense. You know damn well I’ll never join you. I’ll kill all of you instead.”
“Come now, don’t be so stubborn. What would your daughter say?”

Atahualpa froze. A shadow crossed his eyes — the same one he’d seen the day everything was destroyed.
“It was you… wasn’t it?”
Inti smiled.
“Well, look at that. You’re sharper than I thought… at least smarter than a monkey.”
“You son of a bitch!”

Atahualpa didn’t wait any longer.

Like an ancient storm reborn, he launched himself at Inti with every ounce of his determination. His blade cut through the air, aiming straight for the neck of the self-proclaimed king of gods — but the sword stopped.

A single finger was enough.

“So eager to die already?” Inti murmured mockingly, stopping the attack without even moving.
“Hurry, Guayas! What are you waiting for?!” shouted Atahualpa, forcing his body against the invisible wall of power.

But there was no answer.

A single punch to the gut crushed all resistance. Atahualpa’s body was thrown through the air, rolling over sacred stones and dust.
Guayas clenched his teeth. His legs trembled. So did his heart.
“I… I can’t…” he whispered. “I want to help, but… he’s on a different level.”

From the ground, bleeding, Atahualpa looked at him with quiet disappointment.
“So everything you said… were just empty words?”
Guayas swallowed hard. His throat burned — not from the heat, but from shame.

Atahualpa turned his gaze away, without resentment.
“I don’t blame you… you have your reasons.”

Then it happened.

His body lit up. A dense, primal, brutal energy burst from deep within his spirit — as if every fragment of his past, his rage, his pain, and his love had fused into one single moment.
“Well now…” Inti said with a crooked smile. “Seems I wasn’t wrong about you. You really are fascinating.”
“And that’s why…” roared Atahualpa, rising to his feet, “I’ll give my life for him!”

The air shattered. Their bodies collided.

Blade against palm. Dry, thunderous impacts that made the ground quake. Each step, each strike, each clash was an explosion of power — a dance of destruction.

Guayas watched in silence, powerless.
“I’m sorry…”

Atahualpa began to falter. Wounds opened across his body. His breath was ragged, but his eyes still burned with life.
Idiot… there’s nothing to apologize for, he thought. I was afraid too, back then… but you gave me a chance to redeem myself. Live! Live!

“How foolish,” Inti muttered.

A clean slash. Precise. Lethal.

Inti’s blade tore a deep wound across Atahualpa’s chest. He fell to his knees, drenched in blood.
“Atahualpa!” Guayas cried, rushing to him.
“Did I… fight well?” the warrior whispered, barely breathing.
“Stop saying stupid things,” Guayas said, voice trembling. “We’re getting out of this together.”
“Please… go. You don’t have to die here…”
“Shut up,” Guayas muttered, his hands shaking. “I’ll get you out of here, no matter what. And then… I’ll invite you to my wedding.”

Atahualpa managed a tired smile.
“You’ll marry? Quil?”
“Yes…”
“Congratulations… my friend. Sorry I won’t be there…”
“Atahualpa…”
“A beautiful farewell, really,” Inti said flatly.
“Shut up,” Guayas hissed through his teeth, holding his wounded friend tight.

The blood wouldn’t stop. Atahualpa closed his eyes.
What are they talking about…? he wondered, as silence wrapped around him.

Inti stepped forward.
“You were a fool. An idiot for refusing my offer. What a waste.”
“Wait,” Guayas said suddenly.

Inti stopped.
“What is it?”
“I want to make a deal with you.”
“How interesting…”

Time passed.

In another place, surrounded by birdsong, Atahualpa slowly opened his eyes.
“Guayas…”
“Thank god…” his companion replied, relieved.
“Where… are we?” he asked, still dazed.
“Are you feeling better?”
Atahualpa sat up slowly.
“My wound…? My arm… why do I have it back?”
Guayas looked away.
“We should get going. I barely managed to escape in time.”
“Why won’t you answer my questions?”
“Please… drop it. I’m begging you.”

Atahualpa stared at him in silence.
“Guayas…”

But there was no answer.

Only the sound of the wind — like a distant lament.

And elsewhere… Guayas’s homeland burned under the attack of infernal creatures. Faceless monsters tore through every house, every familiar face, every hope.

Nothing remained — except guilt.