Capítulo 3: What is Justice?

The sun ascended from the eastern horizon, enveloping the world in a vivid crimson glow. It resembled an enormous red sphere rising gradually, illuminating the surroundings; however, it failed to reach Roy. His thoughts remained ensnared in darkness. He had not slept at all. The occurrences of the previous days replayed in his mind like an unending sequence of images and words. His body, still aching, served as a continual reminder of his vulnerability. But his mind? It was keen, persistently devising his escape. Roy reclined on the bed, gazing at the ceiling while counting the seconds. The hours crept by, slow and tormenting. Each movement caused his body to throb, yet his thoughts never wavered. How would he extricate himself from this place? How could he endure with the odds stacked against him? His injuries were grave, but escape remained the sole option (and he knew it). He could not place his trust in Erika, nor could he linger here. The longer he remained, the greater the peril to his life. He had to flee. It was around midday when a gentle knock at the door interrupted his musings. "Who is it?" Roy's voice emerged, roughened by exhaustion, yet his tone was incisive.

A voice—familiar yet distant—resonated from the other side of the door. "It's me, Erika. I brought you some food and water. Can I come in?" Roy sat up slowly; his muscles protested the movement. He wished to lie back down, to rest, but the voice outside served as a reminder of his circumstances. He couldn't afford to display weakness. "Yes, come in," he responded, his voice colder than he had intended. The door creaked open, revealing Erika, who entered carrying a bowl of soup and a flask of water. She moved with an effortless grace; her every motion seemed deliberate. She placed the items on the table beside him and smiled—her expression soft, kind, almost innocent. "Here, some soup and water. Eat well and recover faster," she said, her tone gentle. Roy noticed the smile that flickered across her face. It seemed genuine, although he knew better. He couldn't blame her because she was the daughter of a man he had destroyed. Her kindness, he assumed, was the calm before the storm: the mask concealing the vengeance that would inevitably surface. It was merely a matter of time.

Time elapsed swiftly; the day faded away and soon enough, the sun began its descent. The forest, immersed in hues of orange and red, morphed into a vast expanse of shadows. Nightfall arrived, dense and oppressive. It represented an entirely different realm within the darkness of the Eternal Forest. Here, even the most formidable beings of the land quaked with fear. Every creature in this domain was a predator, larger and more ferocious than those encountered beyond its borders. For an ordinary man, the forest could be likened to a death warrant. The tribes who inhabited this territory were, however, survivors—individuals forged and nurtured to pursue the predators, not as victims but as hunters. If Erika's tribe chose to support her, Roy would encounter even greater perils in his already compromised condition. Although this was not the first instance Roy had confronted insurmountable challenges, he had endured worse situations, having eluded death's clutches more times than he could possibly enumerate. But this time, his injuries complicated any potential escape. The mere contemplation of what awaited him in the forest was sufficient to keep him in a state of unease, his thoughts incessantly sifting through his alternatives.

As night deepened, the eerie sounds of distant howls reverberated through the darkness. Roy understood that tonight might very well be his final opportunity to escape. He could sense it in his bones—the heavy, ominous weight of the approaching storm. Erika's patience was dwindling and he was acutely aware of what that signified. Her moment of retribution was imminent. Once again, a soft knock at the door disrupted the silence enveloping the room. Roy's heart raced; here it comes. He sat up, bracing himself for her words. "Who is it?" he inquired, striving to maintain a steady tone. Erika's voice, now softer, drifted from outside. "It's me, Erika. I have an important matter to discuss with you. May I come in?" Roy rose slowly, grounding himself against the pain that surged through his body. He was aware of what was about to transpire, however, he needed to feign compliance. "Yeah, come in," he replied, attempting to keep his voice as neutral as possible. The door creaked open and Erika entered, her expression calm, yet her eyes were shadowed by an emotion Roy couldn't quite identify. She appeared composed—almost too composed. "So, what do you wish to discuss?" Roy asked, his tone tinged with skepticism.

Erika fixed her unwavering gaze upon him. "Oh, it pertains to the tribe chief. He wishes to meet you. He is the one who tended to your wounds, not I. When he learned you were awake, he insisted on this meeting. Can you accompany me?" Roy narrowed his eyes, scrutinizing her intently. "However, Miss Erika, I previously informed you that I can't recall anything." "It's not an issue," she responded swiftly. "The chief simply desires to meet you. You need not remember anything." Roy hesitated, feeling uncertain about her motives. "Is it truly that significant?" She gave him a reassuring nod. "Yes. It is a chief's command." Roy sighed inwardly, recognizing there was no option except to comply. "Okay. Let us proceed."

---

They navigated the serpentine trails of the forest. Roy couldn't help (but) observe that they were not proceeding toward the village of the tribe. Instead, Erika guided him into a remote, open field, far from the proximity of any immediate assistance. His instincts suggested that something was amiss; however, he remained silent, attempting to decipher her actions. Erika halted abruptly, pivoting to confront him. The smile she had previously exhibited was absent, supplanted by a demeanor that was more frigid, something considerably more ominous.

Roy's thoughts raced. *So, it's time, huh?*

"What is the meaning of this, Miss Erika?" Roy inquired, his tone composed; however, the tension emanating from his body was unmistakable. "You claimed we were to meet with the tribe chief, but there appears to be no one present except for you, me and some of your ambushes. Where is the chief?" Erika's eyes sparkled with fury. "Meaning? There is no meaning here except for your demise, you repugnant piece of filth." Roy's demeanor remained steady, even as he grasped the gravity of the situation. "What do you mean by that?" "Drop the facade," Erika retorted, her voice laced with malice. "Did you truly believe I would fall for your pathetic ruse? You have misjudged me." Roy let out a soft chuckle, his smile tinged with bitterness. "Ah, so I have been exposed. How unfortunate." "Prepare for your demise, Narzan's lap dog," Erika spat, her anger reaching a boiling point. "You will not escape this time, you coward." Roy's grin broadened, his eyes shimmering with a sharp, sardonic wit. "How ironic. Just a year ago, you were the one attempting to flee from me and now you dare label me a coward? It's utterly laughable."

Erika screamed, her voice raw with fury. "Shut the fuck up! I don't want to hear your opinions! A year ago (when you murdered my father and destroyed my family), I was helpless! You wiped out everything I had and I couldn't do a thing to stop it. I was forced to run and to hide. However, now I have my chance to avenge them. I swear, I've thought of nothing else—how to kill you, how to bring justice to my family!" Her eyes burned with an almost unholy fire. "It's like heaven itself is urging me to do this." Roy's laughter was low and cold. "Justice? How ironic. You're the daughter of a rebel. Your father killed many people and now you speak of justice? You, of all people, should know that there is no such thing as justice in this world. It's merely a fairy tale we tell ourselves to feel better. You talk about vengeance, but it's just as empty as the so-called justice you seek. Where was your justice? When your father slaughtered those people, where was your justice then? There is no justice, Erika. There's only the fight to survive." Her expression faltered, but her rage only intensified. "You'll pay for what you've done, Roy."

"I am certain I will," Roy responded (his tone nearly tranquil). "However, not today."