Tassi could hardly believe her eyes. Every time Carlos used that strange devilish artifact, a deafening bang would cut through the air, followed by something invisible slamming violently against Jorge's magical barriers. The speed of the attacks was such that her eyes could barely follow. A smell of burnt gunpowder, metallic and acrid, permeated the air. Suddenly, Carlos stopped. The weapon emitted a dry click, and he threw it to the ground. For a moment, Jorge's shields seemed intact, glistening in the sun like thin films of glass.

  The respite, however, was brief. Carlos picked up a second artifact from the dusty ground and resumed the bombardment. Meanwhile, Jairo, with his muscles tensed and fists clenched, seemed poised to charge at Carlos, but he hesitated. Attacking would mean leaving his protection and exposing himself to that deadly fury. It was then that, with the new weapon in hand, Carlos managed to shatter one of Jorge's barriers and, in the wake of the attack, kill him. But Tassi noticed something that left her stunned: only the common defense gem's barrier had shattered. The divine defense gem's barrier remained intact, pulsating with a soft, unyielding light.

  This is impossible, she thought, her heart racing. For it to have passed through the divine defense barrier, whatever hit Jorge couldn't have contained any magic! If it had, the divine barrier would have stopped it. But how is it possible? A long-range attack with that much power… and no magic? And not just that: the common barrier was broken with terrifying ease! A skilled warrior would take an hour to break one of those. From the story he told me about being from another world, I thought he was crazy… but it seems he was telling the truth. No weapon like that can be from this world.

  She was shocked for a few seconds, her mind reeling, until the sound of a dull blow brought her back to her senses. Jairo was attacking and hitting Carlos.

  It seems he can't attack infinitely with the same weapon—that's why he needs to pick them up from the ground. Jairo must have noticed that too. I need to create an opening for Carlos!

  Tassi grabbed a rough, cold stone that was nearby and ran towards Jairo, hurling it with all her might. The stone hit him on the head with a dull thud, making him stagger. The stratagem gave Carlos a breather, however brief, as Jairo was already recovering for another attack. Tassi was desperately looking for another stone when Pedro intervened, attacking Jairo first. It was the cue Carlos needed to finish off the foreman.

  It seems Pedro has finally chosen a side, Tassi reflected, relieved. Although I always knew his heart was with us. He just wanted a better life for Juquinha and didn't believe freedom was possible. Now, I think there's no denying the harsh reality before him.

  Without wasting time, Tassi began eliminating the remaining overseers one by one. Noticing that some were heading for the strange artifacts, she ran towards the weapons, collected them carefully, and joined the fight again, her sweaty, aching body responding with trained reflexes.

  Sometime later, the fight was over. The courtyard, once a place of hard labor, was now a scene of liberation. She walked over to Carlos, who was sitting down, breathing deeply and recovering.

  "You're truly not a warrior," she said, her voice laden with deep admiration, "but you still killed them. You kept your promise: you freed all of us! I will be eternally grateful for this. Now, go to the priest and ask him to apply some ointment. I'm sure it will help with those injuries."

  Carlos felt a throbbing pain in his arm. He looked up at Tassi's face, at those emerald-green eyes, and said, his voice hoarse with fatigue, "We're not free yet. We need to get out of here. Slave hunters or worse could show up. Besides, I don't want the freed slaves to take their hatred out on innocent people, like the free men or the plantation master's wife."

  Tassi perked up and responded with determination. "I understand, but don't worry, I'll handle it. I know how Alice suffered at that monster hands. I'll also talk to Aunt Vera; she'll know how to calm things down. Most people here know exactly who deserves their hatred. Of course, not everyone is perfect. Now, go get treated!"

  Carlos, still in pain, murmured, "Thank you. I have one more request: go to the master's house and take all the artifacts and books you can find. And take care of these weapons for me."

  Tassi confirmed with a nod. "I'll do it. You can go now."

  Without delay, Carlos headed to the chapel. Tassi, in turn, began collecting the weapons and ammunition, gathering everything under the shade of a tree. Then she approached Pedro, who seemed lost, staring into space.

  "Now you have no more choice," she said firmly. "You'll have to help us get out of here."

  Pedro stammered, confused, "It's just… it was all so sudden. Before I knew it, my body moved on its own. I don't know if I did the right thing. I helped kill a person. Should a man of God have done that?"

  Tassi responded with a calm that sounded almost maternal. "Unfortunately, I can't answer that. But now you need to worry about your son. There's no future for him here anymore. Come with us to the quilombo. There, your son will have a good life."

  Pedro sighed deeply, as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. "Alright. What do I need to do?"

  Tassi pointed to the pile of weapons and ammunition under the tree. "Just make sure no one touches those devilish artifacts. Although, I suspect only Carlos knows how to use them."

  After saying this, Tassi entered the main house. Inside, the air was heavy and smelled of wax and fear. She found Mrs. Alice huddled in a corner of the kitchen, her face pale and eyes wide with terror. Aunt Vera was by her side, and upon seeing Tassi enter, she asked, her voice a thread of anxiety, "What were those loud noises? What happened outside?"

  Tassi, impassive, declared, "Carlos killed the plantation master and several overseers. We took care of the ones who were left. With all the overseers dead, we are free now!"

  Alice heard the words, and her face showed a storm of emotions: relief, anxiety, fear, a spark of happiness. But among all these feelings, there wasn't a hint of sadness.

  She looked at Aunt Vera and said, her voice trembling, "What am I going to do now?"—Hardly had the question left her lips before she began to cry, silent tears streaming down her face.

  Aunt Vera, not knowing what to say, simply held her tight. Tassi, however, was not in the mood for sentimentality.

  "Crying won't help anything!" she said, her firm voice echoing in the silent kitchen. "You're free now too. I bet the old man had some money stashed away. Take what's yours, leave this place with your son, and never buy another slave again!"

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

  After speaking, she didn't wait for a reply. She turned and started up the stairs, but before reaching the second floor, she turned back.

  "Ah, I almost forgot," she said, her tone one of warning, not request. "We're taking several things from this house. Let's just say it will be our payment for so many years of work. And Aunt Vera, don't even think about going with her. You have a grandson and you deserve to work less too." Without waiting for a response, she continued her ascent, leaving the two women alone with their thoughts.

  Aunt Vera looked at her mistress and, with a gentleness that contrasted with Tassi's coldness, said, "She's right, ma'am. You can take the money and go live with one of your sons in the city."

  Alice stopped crying, wiping her tears with the back of her hand. "You're right. And I can sell this filthy place."

  She opened her mouth to say something more but hesitated. She fell silent for a moment, a silence heavy with years of suffering and submission, before hugging Aunt Vera with desperate strength. "Thank you for everything you've done for me, Vera. Take care of your grandson. Be free, because I will be too."

  Aunt Vera couldn't respond. The words died in her throat, replaced by silent tears. Alice released her from the embrace and, with newly discovered determination, began climbing the stairs to her room. Her ten-year-old son was there, lost in his own world, playing with some toys on the floor. He was a homebound child who had always found refuge in his imagination, especially after the latest incident with her husband.

  Tassi, meanwhile, had filled a heavy sack with books from Jorge's office. Coming back down, she saw Aunt Vera still standing motionless in the kitchen.

  "Don't just stand there," Tassi ordered, a thread of irritation in her voice. "Help me take these things to where Pedro is."

  Aunt Vera, still dazed, replied, looking at her own hands, "It's just… I never imagined this day would come. If only it had come when I was younger… Now I don't even know what to do."

  Tassi retorted, impatient, "Like I said, help me with these things. These books are heavy, and there are a lot of them."

  Tassi's firmness seemed to break the spell of disbelief holding Vera. "Ha ha ha," she laughed, a tired but genuine sound. "You're always so practical, aren't you? You're right. I'll help you."

  Both women left the main house and were met with a scene of chaotic euphoria. A crowd gathered around the courtyard. Some former slaves danced capoeira, their sweaty bodies moving to the contagious rhythm of the berimbaus. Others shouted for joy, while many simply fell to their knees on the beaten ground, crying with emotion. On the outskirts, the free men watched the scene with concern etched on their faces, maintaining a prudent distance.

  When Tassi appeared at the door, one of the slaves who worked at the mill approached. "Tassi, was it you who killed Jorge? Are we all free, then?"

  Tassi looked at him, somewhat confused by the question, and spoke loudly for all to hear: "It was Carlos who killed Jorge! And thanks to him, we are all free!"

  The confirmation echoed through the crowd. Some former slaves shouted, "Finally, freedom!" while others, drained by emotion, broke down in sobs. The euphoria was palpable, a human warmth that contrasted with the cold fear that had hung over the place for so long. The free men, though apprehensive, did not dare interfere.

  Shortly after, Alice appeared at the door, holding suitcases in one hand and her son's hand in the other. Her face, once always drawn, now showed a glimpse of determination. Spotting the free men in the distance, she shouted, her voice clear and firm cutting through the tumult: "I need someone to get me a cart to take me to the city! I'll pay well!"

  The sudden authority in her voice surprised everyone. They had never heard her speak that way. Unfortunately, some of the former slaves cast looks laden with resentment and bitterness in Alice's direction, which did not go unnoticed by Tassi.

  "Listen well!" her voice cracked like a whip, restoring order. "Carlos is the one who gave us our freedom, and he told me that anyone who does anything to Alice or any free man will meet the same end as Jorge!"

  She paused, letting the words sink in.

  "Besides, we're not completely safe yet. We need to prepare to leave here before the slave hunters appear. We're going to the Jabuticaba Quilombo, where we can live without being hunted!"

  Alice was surprised by the unexpected defense. A feeling of guilt and gratitude mixed in her chest. "Thank you," she said, her voice quieter now, but still firm. "And I'm sorry… I'm so sorry for never stopping my husband from doing the horrible things he did to you."

  Tassi ignored the apology. For her, some wounds were too deep to be healed with words. She returned to work, her focus now on survival and escape.

  Meanwhile, in the chapel, Carlos was being treated by Father Ant?nio, who was applying a strong-smelling ointment to the wound on his arm. The priest was visibly shocked by the events, but in his heart, he did not condemn Carlos. For him, fighting a tyrant was not a sin, but an act of justice. It was a conviction that made him unique among his order, although he knew that somewhere in the holy city, the Pope herself might share his way of thinking.

  When Carlos left, Ant?nio accompanied him, determined to speak with Alice. As they approached the courtyard, they saw that she had almost finished loading a cart with her things. Tassi, for her part, had gathered all the requested artifacts and items.

  When they saw Carlos, the former slaves couldn't contain themselves. They thanked him, cried, tried to touch his cloak. The emotion made him embarrassed, a blush rising to his cheeks. He recomposed himself and approached Tassi.

  "Did you get everything?" he asked, his voice still a bit weak.

  "Yes," Tassi replied with a decisive nod.

  Carlos then thought, a little regretfully, I should have asked to take more things besides the artifacts. There must be a lot of useful stuff in that house.

  "And those vials… for checking if a person can use magic gems?" he asked, trying to remember the name.

  "You mean the magic proficiency tests? I got them," Tassi replied directly and efficiently.

  "Yeah, I'd forgotten the name. Thanks for getting them. And what about your magic staff? It's very useful."

  "I got it, just like Jairo's whip. I also got food for the journey. It's all settled. Just help me carry everything so we can leave this place soon. I also got clothes for us to wear instead of these old rags, and Aunt Vera took plenty of sugar and other things from the kitchen. She and Alice divided what was there," Tassi listed practically.

  "It's good that you're smart," Carlos said, visibly relieved. "And thank you for helping me in the fight against Jairo."

  Meanwhile, slightly away from the crowd, Father Ant?nio was talking with Alice, who was adjusting the last straps on her cart.

  "What will you do now, my child?" he asked in his calm, paternal voice.

  "I'm leaving this place," she replied, her voice heavy with emotion but with a spark of renewed life in her eyes. "There's nothing left for me in this land."

  "I understand. It's good that you're resolved. But it would be good for me to go with you. The road is dangerous, and no one would dare bother a priest in these parts," Ant?nio insisted with a reassuring smile.

  "Thank you, Father. But you don't have to do that if it will interfere with your work," said Alice, her voice still tired, but now with a newly discovered vitality.

  "Don't worry about that. The people who needed me most are leaving. And I also need to go to the holy city to report what happened. Although I find their actions just, I am a member of the church and have my duty. But don't fear, the Pope is a kind and understanding person. She will understand the situation, and nothing bad will happen to these people," the priest explained, trying to calm her fears.

  "I don't care what happens to them," Alice said, her gaze drifting to where Aunt Vera was organizing her belongings. "I only care about Aunt Vera. I hope she finds happiness."

  Not long after, under a sky that seemed more open and hopeful, the large group began to move. Former slaves, a lady freed from her golden chains, a priest, and an outsider from another world. Each carrying their own burdens, their traumas, and their hopes, they set out together in search of a new dawn, leaving behind the horrors of the plantation, heading towards a life that, finally, belonged to them.