"Validity… so, if I understand you correctly, I'm right."
Alex replied in a low voice, sharp with underlying edge.
"Right? And what exactly does 'right' mean to you?" Ilio asked calmly.
"Don't joke with me… you're a traitor," Alex shouted, his eyes burning with hidden fury. "I suspected you from the first day you joined us. But after what happened in Verdantiz… now I know. Every step, every decision, every piece of information you had before anyone else… it all screamed: spy."
"A traitor… me?" Ilio responded coldly, then added with a faint, mocking smile: "And what proof do you have? Just a gut feeling? Or do you possess undeniable evidence?"
"You know too much." Alex stepped forward, his gun rising slowly until it aligned with Ilio's chest. "You couldn't know all this without inside sources. They feed you information… you could be a spy."
Ilio let out a soft, mocking laugh, tinged with shock. He raised his hands slowly, as if surrendering:
"A spy… me? Well… maybe part of what you said is true." He paused, then continued in a more serious tone: "But isn't it rational to take advantage of me before I act suspiciously? Everything I've done so far has served the group. I contribute everything I have for humanity. Yes… this is me, this is my role. So is that the only reason you doubt me? Or is there something else eating at you from the inside?"
"I won't wait for you to betray us," Alex said, his voice trembling with a mix of anger and pain. "I'll cut out the sickness from within… as anyone in my position would. Don't resist me… you know the difference between us in combat."
Ilio looked at him strangely, then replied coldly:
"Fine… you're right. Go ahead… my hands are empty. You can kill me now without resistance."
Alex gripped his gun firmly, the barrel aimed squarely at Ilio's head. The cold wind on the bridge whipped hard. Before pressing the trigger, Alex whispered, as if bidding farewell to an old friend:
"Thank you for everything you've done for us… any last words?"
Ilio closed his eyes for a long moment, then opened them slowly and spoke in a calm tone:
"'Father… don't do this. I wouldn't be happy with a father who fails at his duty.'"
Alex froze. His face drained of color, as if an invisible bullet had pierced his heart. His hand trembled on the gun.
"What are you trying to do…"
"What do you mean?" Alex whispered, voice quivering.
"You heard me," Ilio said, deadly calm. "I don't like repeating myself. Your daughter… is she content after her death? You know the reason for her passing; you are her hero. Maybe she's watching us now… from somewhere… in the sky. I just wanted to ask: is she content? Content with a father who follows his heart? Answer me, Alex… do you truly want to kill me because I'm a traitor… or for a reason that would shame your daughter if she saw you now?"
Alex's anger flared, eyes burning with tears and fury:
"If you want to know… go ask her yourself!"
Before pulling the trigger, Ilio closed his eyes again and whispered:
"What a waste of time…"
Gunshot.
A single, sharp shot.
Thick smoke rose from the barrel.
Alex remained standing, face furious, hand trembling slightly.
And Ilio… stood unharmed.
The gun now pointed to the sky.
After a faint metallic clang on the ground, Ilio opened one eye, then closed it and said coldly:
"And then? I'm still alive… I don't see your daughter… I see a man who betrayed himself standing before me. Aren't you right, human?"
Alex dropped to his knees suddenly, as if all his strength had left him. He threw the gun aside, grasped his face with both hands, and spoke in a hesitant, fearful, broken voice:
"No… no, I can't kill you… I truly… I'm not fit to be a good father, to be a hero."
"It's not about being a good father or a hero…" Ilio replied calmly, eyes on him. "It's about how your daughter sees you."
"Really… after what I almost did… do you think I'm still a hero in her eyes?"
"A good father? I'm not your daughter to answer that. But I can reason this. Now answer me honestly: what is the real reason you want to kill me?"
"I don't know…" Alex said, tears streaming freely, voice choking. "But I feel something inside me that wants to kill you… something eating me from within."
"And you still deny it," Ilio said coldly. "You've suffered since I joined you a year ago. You suffered from loneliness… or rather: your glory and admiration vanished. A deadly sin tempted you into killing me, betraying the group. You were no longer the planner, the decision-maker, the one credited for every small victory; you were no longer loved, no longer the hero you built for your daughter… even though she is dead. To be frank: human life ends with death. So don't worry… she doesn't see you as a failure or a bad father. She sees us all as corrupt humans… isn't that right, traitor?"
"Shut up… shut up… please… I don't want to hear more. Tell me what I can do to atone, I'll do anything, just don't tell the others what happened," Alex whispered, head shaking violently, as if trying to rid himself of thoughts.
"The others? Atonement? Ask yourself this: why are you comfortable with me, speaking to me with such emotional weakness? Yes… that's the reason. What made you want to kill me wasn't your sense of duty… but pure envy."
Ilio paused, then continued:
"Humans follow their hearts… their emotions. Do you know the difference between now and before I joined? You celebrated small victories: a meal, a good dish, a night of rest, a clean cup of water. You celebrated victories with no real value, to convince yourselves you were doing something meaningful and difficult. But now, the equation has changed. We are fighting to reclaim your rights as real humans. Look behind… the alarms have started. They heard your shot… useless as it was. They won't delay being here. Who will be here? Followers… or rather, programmed slaves. Do you know how far the government officials have taken this? They exploited your weakness as humans. As for them… they extinguished it and moved toward their goal without hesitation. And they succeeded. And this is exactly what I am trying to do too."
Alex interrupted, broken, desperate:
"No… humans can't do this… they're not human anymore."
Ilio approached Alex's head, placing a hand on his shoulder:
"Really? You think that? You're still blind even in your last moment. Victor… the young recruit… do you know what he did in the industrial building? He killed a man claiming to be his son. Honestly, anyone reasonable would see the resemblance… even I did. And what did he do? Despite the evidence given… he killed him. His mind refused it. Not logical. You may even feel a little envy toward him now. You must free yourselves from emotions to reclaim your true identity. Others won't accept it… not in this harsh way. But don't worry…"
Ilio paused, then continued coldly:
"I will kill you… because my mind refuses to have someone like you alive in our group… or alive at all."
Ilio bent slowly, picked up the gun from the ground. Alex, consumed by fear and regret, trembled violently, tears streaming like a flood, shaking his head and whispering:
"My daughter… am I really not a good father, not a hero?"
"Your heart still lies to itself," Ilio said calmly. "Let her rest in peace."
In a quiet, cold voice, Ilio added: "Who are you really, Alex?"
Suddenly… the bullet pierced Alex's heart.
He fell slowly, as if time itself had slowed.
Second by second.
For a moment, time froze in Alex's mind. He saw himself a year ago: leading the group, planning, deciding. Everyone looked at him with admiration. Even he looked in the mirror and saw the "hero." But Ilio… this mysterious young man… came, without fight, without struggle, and took everything. Everyone now looked at him. Even Louis and Hamilton trusted him more than anyone. And Alex? He became just a name in the roster. Every time Ilio succeeded, Alex felt something die inside. Not ordinary envy… but the feeling that the daughter who once looked at him with pride… might now be ashamed.
My daughter, I'm not a hero, I failed to protect you, to serve humanity.
He heard a voice calling from afar:
"Father… Father… Father… you failed."
"Father…"
"Father…"
"Father…" in Ilio's voice, echoing repeatedly in his mind.
Alex finally collapsed, blood pooling around him like a small lake. Ilio stopped repeating the word "Father."
Because…
Alex was dead.
Ilio slowly turned behind him. The capital's forces were approaching: heavily armed, armored vehicles moving fast across the bridge. But in the middle… someone unmistakably clear, too clear to be real. A small girl, black hair whipped by the wind, eyes full of anger, lips moving as if speaking despite the distance. Ilio heard her clearly, as if she whispered directly into his ear:
"I hate you… my father was a hero… and will remain a hero… unlike you, monster, demon, traitor, you are not human."
Ilio opened his eyes too wide, tension gripping him, blinking sharply, but she was gone.
"It was only an illusion, not human… just slave talk…" he whispered to himself. "I need some rest… but it's still early. They're about two hundred meters away… okay, that's a suitable distance."
He pulled a small knife from his inner pocket, tore a long strip from the bottom of his shirt, bit it to fasten it. He began to tremble slightly, thinking:
"Damn you, Alex… the cost of getting rid of you was high… so high I must hurt myself for them to believe I'm a victim like you."
A sharp stab… into his left palm.
He screamed muffled, fighting the pain with all his strength.
Blood gushed, dripping onto the ground.
"Still early… as if I'm not used to this kind of pain."
Dizziness washed over him.
"Yes… the pills."
He pulled a small white pill from his chest pocket, swallowed it dry. The pain eased gradually, the dizziness fading. He could stand steadily, moving toward a seemingly ordinary metal beam… but it wasn't. Behind it, a strange device: a small metallic controller with one red button, nothing else. He took it, pocketed it carefully.
Returning to Alex's body, he bent down, lifted him onto his shoulder. Blood flowed from both Alex's hand and chest. He stepped down from the bridge, heavy, painful steps.
"A little further… a few more steps… yes, this place is perfect."
He took the device, pressed the red button with his wounded thumb, tossed the device over the bridge, then continued back toward the group, blood trailing from his hand like a thin red thread.
He began counting silently in his mind:
One… two… three… four… five… six… seven… eight… nine… ten.
Explosion.
A massive, deafening blast beneath the bridge, near the capital's forces. Armored vehicles flew into the air, bodies falling one by one, fire raging everywhere, spreading like a plague. Black smoke spiraled into the sky.
And from the heart of the flames and thick smoke… Ilio, carrying Alex's body in his arms, walked slowly, features calm, cold, as if witnessing the end of another chapter in his plan. Blood continued to drip from his hand, but he didn't care.
Not yet…
To be continued...