Athena: The Song of War

It was morning when Luana's cell phone began to ring. Still hungover and tired, she took a while to get out of bed. She didn't want to move, but the incessant ringing of the phone represented an insistence she couldn't ignore.

— Answer it or turn off that damn thing! — Arthur grumbled, covering his head with a pillow.

Luana looked at him, surprised. Normally, Arthur wouldn't wake up in the morning, regardless of the noise around him. However, considering the amount of alcohol they had consumed the night before, a bit of bad mood was understandable, and she decided to ignore it.

Getting up, she started searching for her phone amid the chaos of the room. She remembered every scene from when they had entered there and closed the door. The gentle bite behind her neck, the way he devoured her over the dresser, and the shared whispers of pleasure on the balcony. The positions they attempted and failed, and the ecstasy of those that were successful. An involuntary smile appeared on her face as she bit her lip, feeling the heat rise and an unexpected dampness between her legs.

For a moment, Luana forgot about the phone and lost herself in the sight of the man who had consumed her all night. The mere memory of what had happened between them left her on fire, but the phone demanded her attention again, resting on the pants thrown over the chair, illuminated by a morning ray of sunlight that filtered through the curtain.

— Finally answered — said a deep voice on the other end of the line. The formality of the tone made her heart race. — I'm calling to inform you that there has been an accident involving your partner, Arthur Ashword...

With her heart racing, Luana shot a look full of disgust at the man sleeping in the bed, the contempt for him merging with the revulsion for herself. However, it was the sadness that consumed her, a raw pain that twisted her stomach and left the bitter taste of anguish in her mouth. The officer's words echoed in her mind, cold and sharp, while the hand holding the phone trembled until she lost it, letting it fall with a muffled thud on the floor.

She felt adrift, as if the ground beneath her feet had collapsed. In a reflex of shame and vulnerability, her arms rose to cover her breasts and belly, but there was no shield to protect her from the overwhelming guilt that now compounded her confusion. Tears streamed silently and burning down her face, exposing a deep wound she was still trying to process.

She looked at the clothes scattered around, picking up each piece with slow, almost automatic gestures. It was as if each movement was imbued with a silent farewell to that place, to that moment she wished she could erase from memory. Her body, once exposed and defenseless, was now covered again, but nothing seemed to alleviate the unbearable weight she carried.

With light steps and a last look filled with contempt and hurt, Luana left, slipping away before Rodrigo woke up.

In the taxi, on her way home, Luana tried, in vain, to organize the chaos of her thoughts, desperately clinging to the hope that it was all just a mistake. She repeated to herself that the police officer must be mistaken, that the news couldn't be true. She wanted to believe that when she opened the door to her home, she would find Arthur sleeping peacefully, waiting for her, with the serene face she loved so much.

She imagined that upon arriving, she could wake Arthur with a thousand kisses, tell him everything that had happened, expose her regret, and wait for forgiveness, even if it took an eternity to come. She wanted to convince herself that there was still a chance to rebuild what was left of them. But deep down, she knew that this desire was an illusion that only made the emptiness more bitter.

— Calm down, — she whispered, swallowing her sobs and forcing a smile that quickly faded. — He's sleeping... — she repeated, trying to believe in this lie as she climbed the stairs, her heavy, uncertain steps echoing through the silent building.

Each step seemed to drag her pain to its limit, turning that ascent into the longest and loneliest walk of her life. At the end of the gray corridor, behind the third white door, awaited a truth, merciless and unchanging. But it wasn't the truth she wanted. It was the truth that shattered her when she opened the door and found only emptiness, the inert space where Arthur would never be to wait for her.

It was then that reality hit her with all the cruelty of the truth. The ground seemed to slip beneath her feet, and the sky, lit by the bright sun of London, appeared to collapse upon her head. Her stomach churned in a mix of pain and self-loathing. The tears she had fought to hold back finally escaped, sliding down her face as a wrenching scream erupted from her throat, echoing solitary in the mansion filled with happy memories.

Outside, the sunlight illuminated one of the rare sunny days, but inside Luana, a storm of despair and pain raged mercilessly. She covered her ears, trying to block the disturbing silence that surrounded her, reverberating her own despair. Loneliness enveloped her like a heavy, suffocating blanket.

With no one to turn to, Luana grabbed a picture frame from the bedside table, pressing it against her chest as if Arthur could leap out of the photo and save her from her unbearable pain. In the first moments, this gesture brought a temporary relief, an illusion of safety.

She took a deep breath, her eyes fixed on the beautiful photograph of them embraced at the feet of Christ the Redeemer in Rio de Janeiro, both radiating happiness. In that frozen moment, everything seemed perfect, but the brutality of the present quickly hit her again. The euphoria of those memories faded, leaving only the painful awareness that it was the past.

The tears returned, more intense than ever, as she pleaded, her voice choked with pain. — Forgive me, Art... — she apologized in a deep lament, — I didn't know... — The echo of her words filled the space, a desperate plea that would never be heard.

That day, Luana cried until she had no more tears, the pain consuming her in a silent wail that left her voiceless. Exhausted, she fell asleep in the sheets that still carried Arthur's scent, his presence etched into every fiber of the fabric. In her sleep, a dream enveloped her.

In that dream, she walked side by side with Arthur, their hands intertwined as they explored a sunny park. The sky was blue, dotted with a few clouds, and the sun shone, bringing a gentle warmth that made the leaves of the trees dance in the breeze. Happiness pulsed between them, and their smiles were genuine, each laugh echoing like a reminder of better times.

However, the magic of the dream began to fade. Arthur's smiling face distorted, blurring into a sad mist, and the hands that once held each other now separated, Luana's hand plunging into a deep darkness. He was far away, each step she took becoming an agonizing effort. Even when she ran, she could never reach him. Suddenly, she fell into a black hole, and her eyes opened, red and swollen, confronting the cruel reality.

It was morning again when Luana awoke. The cellphone beside her blinked with unread messages, but she curled up in bed, clutching Arthur's pillow as if it could protect her from the pain. She ignored the phone, fearing that more bad news was lurking behind the illuminated screen.

Lying there, she closed her eyes once more, wishing it was all just a nightmare, hoping that when she woke up, life would return to normal, as it had before.

The next day, the cellphone vibrated incessantly, but Luana refused to answer. She was mentally exhausted, without the energy to interact with the world outside. The desire to remain in the limbo of sleep consumed her, and so she closed her eyes again, allowing another day to pass in the inertia of her pain.

Two days later, Luana no longer had the strength to move. Dehydrated, hungry, and without a shred of voice, she surrendered to apathy, waiting for death to come and take her. However, luck was strangely on her side.

That day, Rose arrived at work early, as always, and found Luana unconscious, cold as if she were already dead, lying in bed. She immediately called an ambulance, and Luana was taken to the hospital in time, where she received the care she so desperately needed.

Days later, back home, Luana found herself watching the replay of Arthur's funeral, which had been one of the largest events of its kind, reverberating its importance in the world. Wrapped in dirty sheets that still held a trace of her beloved's scent, she transformed the living room sofa into her new home.

She couldn't sleep properly, couldn't eat, and the act of taking a shower seemed impossible. Each day, she felt she was losing the chance to see Arthur's smile again in the few interviews he had given. The television became her only reason for continuing to live, a distant connection to the world she had lost.

However, this connection was becoming lethal. After two weeks immersed in this destructive cycle, Luana lost so much weight that she had to be hospitalized again. And even after returning home, nothing seemed to change. Slowly, she was consuming herself, until one day, an unexpected sound interrupted her deep mourning.

Still in the dark living room, illuminated only by the weak light of the silent television, Luana was curled up on the sofa, holding the picture frame of her and Arthur. Her eyes were fixed on the frozen image of him on the screen when a knock at the door made her jump. For a moment, the world around her dissolved, and the loneliness that enveloped her was broken, bringing a glimpse of hope, even if fleeting.

Feeling too weak to move, Luana just stared at the door, visible only by the daylight streaming through the crack beneath it. Beyond her physical weakness, she didn't want to see anyone; so she turned her attention back to the TV, where she could continue contemplating the image of her beloved.

It had been days since Luana had cried; she simply could no longer. At some point, the thought of dying had crossed her mind, but not now. Her mind was so numb that the pain, though present, became a distant echo, suffocated by the existential void that surrounded her. Tired of everything, she didn't even bother to notice the door being forced open.

— Luana! — called a woman with long, curly black hair as she entered through the broken door, accompanied by a tall and robust man.

The woman was Minerva, and the man was Philip. Arthur wasn't someone who had many friends, but these two managed to secure a special place in his life and eventually in Luana's as well. Minerva and Philip were more than mere companions; they were loyal followers who had stood by Arthur since he earned the notorious reputation of Hades.

When Arthur became known under the guise of the feared Hades, they didn't hesitate to join him, building a guild that brought together criminal players willing to obey and serve Hades's purposes. This guild, called "Scavenger," was made up of red and purple players, and even included some of the most notorious black players, who excelled in their illegal activities.

Following Hades, Minerva and Philip committed atrocities that would be unthinkable in the real world. Over time, the three grew close in a master-servant relationship, also getting to know each other in real life.

Minerva, a beautiful doctor in her almost thirty years, was the embodiment of elegance and sensuality. Her voluminous curly black hair contrasted with her ebony body, exuding an exotic sensuality that stirred both envy in women and passion in men — and a certain fear. Despite her striking appearance, her caring and welcoming personality was a stark contrast to what many might imagine.

Philip, a former mercenary from the war in Ukraine, was a tall Norwegian, about one meter and ninety-five. With blonde hair, penetrating blue eyes, and toned muscles, he possessed a beauty that intimidated. His tattoos, some covering old war scars, only accentuated his tough demeanor. However, behind this facade, Philip was gentle and a great husband to Minerva.

It didn't take long for Arthur, Minerva, and Philip to become best friends in real life while still maintaining their roles as master and servants in the game. Over time, Luana also joined them in Kastigo Online, but she didn't agree with the actions of Arthur and his new friends in the game. Thus, she allied herself with Rodrigo, the second-ranked player, which distanced her a bit from the group.

However, life in the game never held the same importance as real life. Despite the differences in the virtual world, they met frequently — going to the movies, traveling, or attending funerals. They were always there for each other, in good times and bad. When Minerva's mother passed away, Philip was away, but Arthur and Luana were there to support her. Now, it was Luana who needed comfort and help, and they were determined to stand by her.

— Luana... — Minerva approached slowly, her heart aching at seeing her friend in such a state.

Luana remained silent, her eyes fixed on the TV screen. Her lips were dry and cracked, as if dehydration had overtaken her. The dark circles under her red eyes made her suffering evident. Her straight hair looked like a heron's nest, and the smell of urine and sweat mixed with the surroundings. Minerva had never seen Luana like this, and the scene broke her heart.

— My friend... — Minerva murmured as she embraced Luana, but the young woman kept her eyes glued to the frozen image on the TV.

— It's going to be okay. Turn off the TV and dim all the lights to twenty percent.

With Minerva's command, the TV turned off, and the lights in the house flickered on with a pale light, creating a gray twilight that enveloped the mansion. However, the moment Arthur's image disappeared, Luana panicked.

— N-no... Art... Art... — she protested, her voice weak and hoarse, as she extended her thin arm as if she wanted to reach for what she could no longer have.

— Luana, Arthur has been dead for days... — Minerva tried, the pain in her voice intertwining with the difficulty of accepting reality.

— No... He... Art... — Luana repeated, denial filling every word.

Minerva bit her lip, struggling to hold back tears. She knew what it was like to lose someone dear, but she couldn't even imagine Luana's pain. Seeing her friend in that state shattered her into a thousand pieces.

— I-it's going to be okay... — Minerva promised, her voice barely audible as she held Luana tightly against her. — It's going to be okay, — she repeated, this time as a mantra she tried to use to calm herself.

With tears streaming down her face, she looked at Philip, who stood still, concern etched on his features.

— Let's take her to the bedroom, — he said, stepping forward to help Minerva.

The two of them lifted her with difficulty, holding Luana between them. The mansion, once filled with laughter and light, now seemed to echo the sadness that enveloped them. Each step toward the bedroom was an effort, but they were determined to bring a bit of comfort to their friend, even if it took time.

Minerva forced herself to think that, with support and love, Luana could find a light amid all that darkness. And even though the days seemed endless, they would be there, together, to face each one of them.