—Such tender words for a child —Bolívar said, stifling a smile like the others.
All I could think was:
"If I could die again, this would be the perfect moment."
The echoes of Arthur's victory slowly faded away. As he left the arena, the platinum knight turned toward the stands and bowed his head in a solemn reverence to the crowd. The multitude fell silent, as if that act of courtesy were worth more than any cheer. Only then did he vanish in a flash of light.
—As I said, my king has no equal —the fairy proclaimed loudly, hands on her hips, puffing out her voluptuous chest with pride—. If the Nexo so desires, we shall meet again.
She disappeared in an instant, dissolving into particles of light.
Sucre, reduced to a sea of tears, was completely captivated. Manuela and Bolívar comforted him by patting his back, while Paul and Geronimo approached me.
But honestly, I barely cared; I couldn't take my eyes off Rachel, who was still on the stage. She struck the ground a couple of times before rising abruptly, declaring forcefully before everyone:
—If this is the price of having fought my king, I will pay it! —her voice burned with overflowing passion—. I will start over… and I will face him again. I swear it!
Saladin smiled, softening his face in a way that didn't quite match his imposing figure.
—That's the spirit, Rachel —he said, standing up—. I wish you the best in the Nexo.
Without another word, he vanished the same way as the fairy queen. I remained lost in thought, watching the young woman stand up and wipe away her tears.
"She definitely brings back memories… She reminds me so much of you, Ale."
—I… must become stronger.
—A very bold statement —Bolívar commented, standing up—. I like it, especially that look in your eyes. You're determined, and do you know where else I've seen that spark? —he said, pointing at me—. In myself.
Emotion blurred my vision, forcing me to lower my gaze. Bolívar gently lifted my chin so he could look me in the eyes.
—Head held high, child. Never be ashamed to show who you are.
Then he placed his hand on my head and ruffled my hair in an almost paternal gesture. It felt awkward… I mean, I'm almost thirty years old, even if I look twenty. Still, I accepted the gesture from a hero of his stature. Taking Manuela by the hand and dragging along the depressed Sucre, he waved goodbye.
—Take care, kid. Hopefully next time we'll be on the same side —Bolívar said.
—It was a pleasure meeting you, Tristan —Manuela added, pulling Sucre along as he wiped his nose.
—We're nobody… they're the real knights… —he repeated over and over, deeply moved by the spectacle.
—Ah… I hope he gets over it soon.
Finally, the trio left.
—Did you have fun? —Paul asked.
"Fun" isn't the word… I'd say it was inspiring.
Paul's eyes shone for a moment, and I received another one of his powerful yet friendly pats.
—Let's head back —he concluded.
—But… how do we get out…? —As I finished the question, I felt my body being dragged by a whirlwind of lights. When I opened my eyes, I was standing before the Connector—. I'm not getting used to this.
—Damn, look how late it is —Paul commented as he appeared—. I've got a commitment. See you around, kid. Geronimo.
With a simple "jum," Geronimo bid farewell to his friend, who disappeared into the crowd. In the end, it was just the Apache and me. His presence no longer made me uncomfortable; on the contrary, it was reassuring to have someone I could call a friend.
—Geronimo… how can I become stronger? —I asked with determination.
The Apache raised an eyebrow and sighed.
—Stronger? Tell me, what does being strong mean to Tristan? —he said, standing in front of me and staring directly into my face.
—Well… being a bit like Arthur, Rachel, Bolívar… you… —I replied clumsily.
Geronimo remained silent for a few seconds, weighing his words.
—Metal, Steel, Bronze, Silver, Gold, and Platinum… That's how the Nexo classifies us, but they're nothing more than keys to ascend this complex system. True strength must be sought within oneself: in your story, your legacy, and your myth. In what you did in life, and what you want to do now.
—What I did in life… and what I want to do…
Geronimo lifted his gaze and continued with the warmth of a grandfather:
—I don't know if my name truly transcended history.
—Of course it did! —I blurted out immediately, recalling Native American history—. You were born in Arizona, a great leader of the Chiricahua Apache. No matter the enemy—Mexican or colonizer—you fought with pride to protect your lands. You are, without a doubt, an icon among your people.
—Among my people? —he let out a bitter laugh—. Tell me, what good did it do? Did my struggle change anything?
A knot formed in my throat. I knew how that story ended, and I couldn't bring myself to say it aloud.
Geronimo continued:
—We resisted, but I knew it was futile. My people suffered, starved. I surrendered to protect them, and even so, we were sent away to die as prisoners. I lost my wife, my children…
His face darkened with every word.
—The last thing I did was try to flee on horseback through the desert. And what did I gain? I fell, fractured my hip, and died of hypothermia, abandoned in the middle of the night.
The rawness of his words made me tremble. I wasn't ignorant of history, but hearing it from his own mouth turned it into a living testimony of the cruelty of his world. His voice faltered for a moment, then hardened again.
—I want only one thing, Tristan: to become a constellation. And maybe… just maybe, I can leave a legacy so that the few Chiricahuas left down there can say: "There lies 'The One Who Yawns,' sleeping among the stars."
"What does it mean to become a constellation? Why do they desire it so much? Don't they realize they're playing in someone else's hands without knowing what the prize truly means?"
I had tried to ignore it, but "becoming a constellation" didn't mean a second chance. What I truly wanted was to ignore that reality, but judging by how events were unfolding, even if I somehow won… I would never see my father or Ale again.
—I understand —I replied with a trembling voice—. I'll do my best too. That's why, if we ever face each other, I won't kill you.
Geronimo watched me for a moment, then nodded.
—Neither will I. If we're forced to fight, I'll surrender… of course, if I find myself at a disadvantage.
—Sounds fair.
I said, as we shared a smile.