Leo's greatest advantage now was his intellect and speed. Luckily, he found a corner with a fallen rock. He hid behind it, pulling out an old rope he had picked up from the trash days ago. He tied the rope between two rock pillars, barely visible in the bluish gloom of the place. Then he covered himself with a piece of rubble, using his rusty armor as a makeshift shield.
He waited. The goblins arrived, screaming. The first one tripped over the rope and rolled on the ground, exposing his neck.
Leo didn't hesitate. He jumped and plunged his blunt knife into the goblin's throat. The blade didn't pierce his neck completely, but it was enough to seriously wound him. The goblin let out a bloodcurdling scream.
"Die, you bastard!" Leo shouted.
Greenish blood splattered his face. Another goblin rammed him from behind, knocking him down. Leo rolled, kicked, and luckily hit him in the face with the handle of the knife.
The third goblin threw a rock that hit him on the side of his left leg. The pain was sharp, but the blow was effective, and Leo rolled out of reach of the next attack.
In a desperate move, he used the knife as a lever to break a stalactite above his head. It fell hard on one of the monsters, injuring it in the leg.
"Agh... damn you..." Leo gasped, leaning his weight on his right leg, as the wound in his left leg caused his blood and pain to intensify.
The fourth goblin took advantage of his weakness and lunged at him, biting his shoulder hard. Leo screamed, stabbing blindly until the goblin released its bite and collapsed.
His breathing was labored. He was wounded, his shoulder bleeding from a bite, a rib probably broken, and he could barely move his injured leg. His strength was leaving him.
He fell to the ground, crawling toward a nearby rock, panting. He lay there, his body shaking, his breathing erratic. The blunt knife in his hand seemed heavier than a war sword.
The three remaining goblins slowly approached. Their eyes glowed with savage eagerness.
Leo raised the blunt knife with a trembling hand, hoping he had managed to kill two of them.
The goblins, still alive but wounded, approached, one dragging a leg, another with blood dripping from his forehead, one still intact, but all still filled with rage and hunger.
Leo looked at them, pointing the knife at them with a trembling hand. His vision was blurred, but he couldn't close his eyes.
Not yet.
"Come on... come closer... I'm not going to die... not here..." he muttered. The determination in his gaze burned brighter than any torch in Orario.
His vision was clouding. The pain was unbearable. He couldn't move. He clenched his teeth.
"Agh...! Not yet...! I won't die... without proving to them... that I was worth it... not here... not before proving... that I too... could be someone..." he thought, tears mixed with sweat and greenish blood still falling from his face.
The goblins were approaching, roaring.
Leo gripped the handle of his knife and, with his last ounce of strength, stood up, ready to die on his feet.
The knife trembled in his hand.
The goblins were approaching. Blood ran down his leg, his shoulder throbbed from the bite, and his head spun. His chest rose and fell violently, and suddenly, fear was no longer something he could control. It became something deeper... darker. Leo broke down, and a panic attack overwhelmed him.
Leo felt the air escaping from him. His vision began to blur. A high-pitched ringing echoed in his ears as a bitter taste rose in his throat. He vomited bile, his body falling back onto the stone, convulsing.
"I don't want to die. No. No... not here..."
In that mental abyss, his mind searched for an anchor, an image that would give it meaning. And then he remembered.
A warm breeze caressed his face. The sun shone high above. There were no cars, no smoke, no sound of horns. Only peace... and the strange heartbeat of a new world.
Leo slowly opened his eyes as a blinding light appeared. A field of flowers surrounded him, glowing under a clear sky. Leo felt his body was different, small and thin. When he raised one of his hands to the sky to shield himself from the sun and see better around him, he noticed that his hands were irregular in size, like a child's.
Around him, three other figures rose among the flowers, just as confused, just as young.
"What...?" stammered one with tanned skin and jet-black hair combed back, with eyes as gray as intense steel. His voice was firm even in the confusion. Julian. Once a sarcastic, impulsive guy, but with a heart hidden beneath his pride, now he only appeared to be a child with an elegant bearing and a sharp gaze.
"What the hell?! What is this body?!" shouted another with dark hair and calm, analytical eyes. Andrés. The logical one, the strategist of the group. Always colder than the others, but reliable to the core, his now golden eyes reflected the brightness of the sun itself.
"What is this place? Where are we?" asked the third, combing his short, tousled silver-white hair, with blue eyes and a flirtatious expression. Angello. The dramatic one of the group, charming, empathetic, always the first to speak and the last to judge.
Finally, Leo, with light blond hair and green eyes like pure emeralds, sat among the flowers, his mind blank.
"Are we dead?" was all Leo could think, remembering the sound of metal twisting, glass breaking, the muffled scream of his own voice in the accident.
"...This isn't a dream." Andrés was the first to understand, looking at his hands. "I remember... the crash... the curve..."
"We're alive," added Julian, clenching his fists. "But... not in our bodies."
The four of them fell silent, assimilating the undeniable truth: they had died... and had been reincarnated in another world after the car accident.
"Hey, look at that," said Julian, pointing north.
They all looked in the direction he was pointing, and then they saw it. In the distance, a gigantic white wall, and in the center, a colossal tower piercing the skies.
The Tower of Babel.
A colossus of living stone that glowed in the sun. Hundreds of meters high. Its tip seemed to touch the clouds. Surrounded by roads, fields, and merchants with carts. Some adventurers practiced with swords near the road. Laughter, shouts, and movement could be heard. Life.
"Is that... Orario?" Andrés said in a whisper, recognizing the scene from memories of video games, anime, and legends.
Without further hesitation, Andrés turned to look at Leo, who remained motionless.
"Leo," he said in a calm but firm voice. "Let's go. We can't stay here." Andrés offered him his hand.
Leo looked up. In Andres's eyes, there was a mixture of concern and leadership. He was the same Andres who had been his best friend for years. He took his hand, confident that they would find an answer to what was happening.
The four walked toward Orario along the dirt paths marked by the footsteps of countless travelers and inhabitants of Orario, all walking and commenting on the different qualities of their new appearances, their small bodies, and their different eyes.
A merchant who saw them in the distance helped them climb into his cart, as they were still a few meters from Orario.
Impressed by the condition of the four children and convinced by the scene, the merchant was willing to help them enter without any problems from the guards. In silence, the four children watched as they approached the city wall that would one day change their lives.