The entire stadium fell silent. On the immense screen hanging like a watchful god in Amazonia's sky, a shocking image projected endlessly: Makia, suspended like a trophy in Kraven's monstrous claws, while the jungle itself, the ancestral and savage Amazonia, responded… not with fury, but with loyalty.
Alistair Bekkart, in the imperial box, felt a chill run down his spine. His entire body tensed, his face paled. His heartbeat galloped as if he were about to fight his last war.
"No… it can't be…" he murmured, frozen. "Could it be that…?"
And without anyone pushing him, his body fell heavily onto the chair behind him, as if the weight of revelation had broken his bones. His eyes, still open, refused to accept what he saw. Amazonia… all of Amazonia, responding to his daughter's unconscious call for help.
Miles away, in the apparent safety of the Bekkart home, Anya contemplated the same scene on a crystal screen. Her face, filled with serenity until a second before, transformed into an overflowing sea of tears. As if a mother's heart had also shattered.
"No… no, no, no…"
"What's wrong, Mom…?" asked Alena, lifting her drowsy torso from the side couch, rubbing her eyes. Her innocent voice clashed with the mortal silence reigning in the room.
But Anya didn't respond. Her lost gaze rose for an instant to the sky, and then, her knees failed. Her body collapsed like a surrendering sigh. Alena ran to her, screaming through tears, shaking her desperately:
"Mom! Wake up! Mom, please!"
On the floor, beside her mother's body, the coffee remained lukewarm… but the world had changed.
⸻
In Amazonia, neither the soldiers nor the spirits could believe what they saw. The savage creatures, who an instant before wanted to devour them, knelt, bowing before Makia. Kraven, still with her in his claws, narrowed his eyes. Intrigued. Irritated. Confused. He didn't understand what was happening.
The image of Makia projected in the skies wasn't only seen by high command. The newly named Eternal Lances, scattered in the jungle, saw it too.
And one among them trembled.
Sofia, proud warrior with violet eyes and black hair, felt memories assault her like thunder. Her childhood, marked by insults and blows, unfolded before her with rawness.
"Bastard!" they shouted at her in the streets. "Your cursed eyes shouldn't exist!"
Blows. Stones. Blood.
But that day, a girl her age, small but brave, interposed herself between her and the hatred. The projectile heading straight for Sofia struck that girl's forehead, who only smiled, covering her with her body.
"Are you okay?" she said, bleeding, but serene. "Wait—" She was suddenly amazed. "Hey! Hey! But what beautiful eyes you have."
Sofia didn't understand it at that moment. But that girl had just transformed what she hated most about herself into something beautiful.
And then they appeared.
From the sky, as if sent by justice itself, a dark-haired boy fell on one of the aggressors and began hitting him with tremendous fury.
"Get this brat off me!" the adult shouted. "He's a demon!"
It was Ian, still a child, but already a titan.
Another boy followed, charging at a second attacker with courage. Aelius, silent and fierce.
Makia also launched into the attack. Fists, kicks, childish rage and pure courage.
When everything ended, the adults were on the ground, panting, humiliated. And the three children, beaten, dirty and bleeding, remained standing.
"Disgusting adults," Ian growled. "You have no right. Next time I'll kill you."
Makia turned to Sofia, still trembling.
"Now you're safe."
At her side, Aelius smiled. Makia took Sofia's hand. And in that gesture, the little bastard became a warrior.
"Th-thank… you so much…" Sofia whispered.
⸻
Now, in the present, that same Sofia—already forged in steel—looked with determination at the sky, where Makia remained in the monster's hands.
"I don't know about you," she said with a trembling voice, but firm as a spear. "But I'm going there. I won't let anyone in my family die."
She clenched her fists, and fire danced in her gaze.
"Thanks to her I am what I am. A proud warrior."
And without waiting for permission, she ran toward the heart of the battle.