He walked, not taking just one step, nor two, but countless steps. He walked around his hut over and over, drifting a little further away with each lap, staring at the black ashes on the ground, searching for something, searching for someone whom... despite his previous efforts, he had forgotten.
The boy looked toward the sun sinking over the horizon, dyeing the world a yellowish-red. He had forgotten why he was walking, who he was looking for, or what he was seeking; he simply knew that he had to walk and find something or someone.
His right hand, as if it belonged to someone else, would move to stroke the rope around his neck every hour. It didn't matter if he was confused, dizzy, tired, or asleep; his right hand would move, touch the necklace with force, and squeeze it before returning to Almeida's control.
Every time this happened, duty returned to his mind, the duty to find something, or someone, forcing him to keep going.
He blinked for a moment. His eyes observed the sun once more, then his surroundings. Wherever he looked, there was only burnt black grass, crushed like flour, painting the entire ground as far as the eye could see.
"How much time has passed?" he asked himself. He shook his head and let out a heavy sigh, lowering his head slightly as a small smile formed. "Maybe I still need to walk."
He tried to resume his journey; however, there was someone new standing in front of him.
"Huh?" He tilted his head before leaning forward. His hands opened up at his sides, and he locked his focus on the creature before him, a combat stance his body had adopted without needing his mind's input.
"You, here?" The creature smiled slightly. It had the figure of a robust adult man but lacked any color; it was like a faceless mannequin, painted an intense pitch-black from head to toe, wearing no clothes.
"Aren't you going to run? Hmph, interesting. Tell me, boy, doesn't my physical appearance frighten you?" The creature had a harsh voice, like creaking wood, but none of that scared Almeida.
Instead, his gaze sharpened. He tensed his muscles like a tiger about to pounce on its prey, not even blinking.
The figure smiled, revealing a row of white teeth. Its two eyes—like white flames where its sockets should be, grew dimmer.
"My name is Scrap, though some just call me 'Terror'." It bowed, bringing a hand to its chest in a courteous gesture. "You are Almeida, if I'm not mistaken, huh?" It paused, bringing a hand to its chin.
"Aren't you a little too young to be here?" Scrap shook its head, smiling again. "That's life, I suppose. Tell me, young Almeida, how strong are you?"
The boy didn't answer. Instead, his right hand moved on its own accord; his palm opened, tightly gripping the rope around his neck, and then returned to its previous position.
The flames in the creature's eyes intensified, almost doubling in size. It observed Almeida's face in detail, his body, his hands, and finally, its gaze settled on the rope serving as a necklace.
"You are very young to be wearing a necklace made from such a heavy rope. Wouldn't you like to make a deal?" Scrap said with a faint smile.
But Almeida did not reply. The creature let out a heavy sigh. "I see. Is that how things are, eh? But still, I must make my offer, young Almeida. If you give me your necklace, I'll let you pass and I will leave..." It nodded its head a couple of times.
"I'm nice, aren't I? Hehehe!" The creature waited for a few moments for the boy's answer, but the boy just stood there, motionless. This made it let out another heavy sigh.
"Stubborn..." it muttered. "Well, since you reject my offer, then if you want to pass, you must defeat me. Young Almeida, tell me, are you strong?" Its smile stretched across its face in an unnatural way.
"I..." Almeida narrowed his eyes again. The creature's question brought back a forgotten feeling.
His chest roared. His muscles, as hard as rocks and as flexible as an elastic band, gave him a unique appearance. He stared at that thing with those peculiar eyes of his before speaking. "I... am the strongest!!!"
He stomped the ground hard and leaped. His right hand clenched into a fist as hard as stone, his left hand completely open. The moment his feet touched the ground, he dashed forward, roaring, "Grrraaaahhh!!!"
The flames in Scrap's eyes dimmed. It adopted a battle stance similar to the one Almeida had held, before opening its mouth again. "The strongest? Hahahahaha!!! Don't you know any other lies?"
Scrap stopped Almeida's right fist with its left palm and threw its own punch with its right hand, which was dodged. It was then forced to jump to avoid a low kick from the boy.
"Good move," it said, before attempting to drop an elbow onto Almeida. However, the boy distanced himself, and as Scrap fell, he launched a powerful kick toward its stomach.
Smash "Tsk!!" The creature let out a gasp of air before being shoved aside by the kick. It clutched its stomach, trying to compose itself, only to feel a slender arm wrap around its neck and two legs coil around its chest.
"Glrree." Scrap let out another gasp, feeling how the boy had trapped it. It tried to move its hands to break free, but it was impossible.
The creature, previously arrogant and cordial at the same time, crashed to the ground, still analyzing how the boy had taken it down in a couple of quick, precise movements.
"You don't... feel... fear..." it spat the words. Air was starting to run out; despite its frantic movements, it couldn't break free from the boy.
"Ha-ha-ha, you." Despite its condition, Scrap smiled once more. It felt Almeida's heat on its back, his arms; it remembered his face one more time before it stopped fighting.
"You are strong... but... not the strongest..." it muttered. The grip on its neck grew tighter, but its smile didn't waver. "You will... regret... this... young... Almeida." Its voice rang out right before its body crumbled, turning into a pile of black ashes.
The boy's hands were unusually calm, though he was panting like a thirsty dog. He still maintained a steady gaze. His hunched back returned to an upright position, and he looked down at the pile of ash beneath him.
"What are you?" he asked himself before standing up. Then, he looked once again toward the sun, which was just about to hide behind the mountains.
"Scrap, hmph," This time, he consciously touched the rope around his neck. He looked at its texture and noticed some heat radiating from it before closing his eyes. "I must... find something, or someone," he repeated those words.
The ashes Scrap had become blew away in a cold wind. The boy didn't seem to process what had just happened and continued with his search.
"Maybe one day I'll get tired of walking? I don't think so," he said to himself as he walked. "Walking is... nice. Moving your legs, seeing the landscape, breathing the fresh air. And to walk is to move forward, right?" He spoke to himself. "It's good to move forward."