The scorching sun beat down on Carlos's back as he walked along the dirt road, wearing his original clothes which he had finally recovered: sneakers, jeans, and a t-shirt. The familiar fabric, though dirty and worn, was a relief after so long wearing rags.
It feels so good to wear real shoes again, he thought, feeling the softness of the socks against his skin. And to have my own clothes back... But this road is in terrible condition, full of potholes and rocks. I don't even know where we are, or how much longer we have to walk. I wish I had a GPS... I even have my phone, but it's just dead weight now. A solar charger would be a godsend right about here.
Ahead of him, Tassi led the group of former slaves with firm steps. Everyone carried bundles with food, clothes, and other items looted from the sugar mill. The heavy, hot air carried the smell of dust and sweat, mixed with the sweet scent of some fruits they had gathered along the way. The weapons were with Carlos and Tassi, while the other artifacts were distributed among Pedro and other trusted individuals.
Growing impatient, Carlos quickened his pace until he caught up with Tassi.
"Tassi, do you have any idea how much longer we'll have to walk to reach the Jabuticaba Quilombo?"
She shrugged without slowing her pace.
"I'm not sure. People say it's inside the On?a Forest."
Carlos's eyes widened.
"Wait... so you don't know exactly where it is?"
Tassi shook her head, dodging a low-hanging branch.
"Of course not! The plantation owners make sure to keep it a secret. I only know it's inside the On?a Forest, and it probably isn't too far from here."
The name worried Carlos. I hope 'On?a Forest' is just a name and there aren't actual jaguars there.
They walked in silence for a few minutes, only the sound of footsteps and birdsong filling the air. Tassi was the one who broke the silence.
"I need to apologize to you. I didn't believe your story about being from another world."
Carlos accepted it with a nod.
"No problem, it was natural to doubt. But what made you change your mind?"
Pedro, who was walking a little behind, approached upon hearing part of the conversation. Curiosity was evident on his face—after all, he had witnessed Carlos's unique knowledge of the "devil's artifacts." It wasn't just him; other people also drew closer, forming a semicircle around the two as they walked. Carlos felt heat rise to his face with so many eyes on him, but he decided there was no reason to hide the truth.
Tassi, ignoring the audience that was forming, replied:
"Those weapons clearly aren't from here, and neither are you—especially with those strange clothes. It's hard to believe, but I don't have a better explanation. Could you tell me more about them? And about the other artifacts? I know you explained before, but at the time it went in one ear and out the other."
Carlos nodded in understanding.
"Alright. To be honest, it was the first time I'd ever used a firearm. In my world, everyone has at least a basic idea of how they work. And from what I've seen of the so-called 'devil's artifacts,' they are all objects from my world, just like me. I just don't know how I ended up here." He paused, looking at the curious faces around him. "And these artifacts have nothing to do with magic or demons. They are just products of science and human labor."
A thoughtful silence followed his words, until Tassi questioned:
"If you really are from another world, how do you know about the Brazilian colony, the kingdom of Portugal? And you speak our language? Just go to another kingdom and you'll find different languages!"
Carlos looked into Tassi's green eyes before answering:
"I found that strange too. The history isn't that different from my world's. I'm from Brazil, but from a Brazil of the future. The language issue also surprised me."
A Brazil in the future? That's even harder to believe, was the visible thought on everyone's faces. Despite the suspicion, the important thing was that he knew how to use the powerful weapons. Only Tassi seemed genuinely convinced.
"I see... And these weapons, can anyone use them? Or do you need some kind of magic gem?"
Carlos shook his head.
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"As I said, there's no magic in my world. Anyone can use a firearm, you just need the right ammunition."
The revelation left Tassi speechless. A weapon so powerful that it required no magical aptitude? This would completely change wars.
"In your world... are these weapons common?"
"It depends on the place," Carlos explained. "In some areas, civilians can have them easily; in others, it's almost impossible. But for the military... all the armies in my world have weapons like these, and others much more powerful."
Tassi could barely imagine battles where everyone had such lethal weapons.
From that moment on, a flood of questions arose—not just from her, but from Pedro and others—and so they continued walking until the sky began to turn orange.
When the darkness made the trail dangerous, the group camped near a stream. The sound of running water was a relief to their dust-filled ears. They lit campfires, the scent of burning wood mixing with the smell of the stew they were cooking. While some kept watch in shifts, others bathed in the river, washing off the grime of the journey. The food—taken from the mill's reserves—was more plentiful than any of them remembered eating before.
After the meal, a satisfied tiredness settled over everyone. Despite the long walk, no one felt as exhausted as they did on days of forced labor. For the first time, they could talk freely, eat until they were full, and rest without fear of the whip. Freedom, however uncertain, already brought its own comfort.
The next day, they resumed their march early, stopping only for a quick lunch. It wasn't long before the dense On?a Forest rose ahead, its vegetation dark and imposing. As no one knew the exact location of the quilombo, they began to enter the forest, with the stronger men clearing the path with machetes. Tassi led the way, while Carlos stayed behind, his city-dweller legs aching from the intense trekking.
After about an hour of slow progress through the thick forest, Tassi shouted:
"Stop! Look here!"
Everyone froze. She pointed to the ground.
"There are a lot of banana leaves here, but there are no banana trees nearby. This is a trap!"
Carefully removing the leaves, she revealed a deep hole with sharpened stakes at the bottom. A murmur of concern ran through the group, but Tassi smiled.
"This is good! It means we're close to the quilombo. They must suffer many attacks, that's why they set traps. Watch your step!"
Carlos felt relieved to see her in charge. It's a good thing Tassi is leading. In this situation, I'm just dead weight.
The pace slowed considerably as everyone trod with extreme caution. Anxiety grew as nightfall approached—walking in the dark forest was dangerous, but stepping into another trap would be even worse.
Suddenly, Tassi raised her hand again.
"Stop! We're being watched," she whispered, before shouting towards the trees: "If anyone from the quilombo is listening, we are runaways from a sugar mill! We ask for shelter! We will work and fight for the quilombo!"
Carlos, though trusting the plan, placed his hand on his weapon, ready for any hostile reaction.
As tension gripped the group, a man appeared as if materializing from the shadows. He was tall, muscular, with a scar cutting across his face. He was shirtless, wearing only a necklace with a gray gem.
"My apologies for the scare," said his deep, calming voice. "We don't usually receive so many visitors at once. The last time a group this size came... it was to attack. But the Jabuticaba Quilombo welcomes all who are honest and willing to work."
He smiled, showing white teeth.
"You can call me Specter. I'm the leader of the Night Mocambo. Since it's getting dark, you'd better follow me. The forest at night... well, you never know what kinds of dangers lurk. We can talk more at the quilombo."
Upon hearing the name, exclamations of relief and admiration erupted from the group: "It's Specter!", "The nightmare of the slave owners!", "They say he appears and disappears like a ghost!" Morale was instantly renewed, and everyone began to follow him without hesitation.
Carlos approached Tassi, curious.
"Is he that famous?"
Tassi lowered her voice.
"Very. He appears at night, destroys mills, frees slaves, and vanishes before dawn. Like a ghost. There are legends saying he's immortal and can teleport," she made a dramatic pause. "Of course, that's an exaggeration. What you saw is the power of an Assassin's Gem, which allows the user to become invisible."
"Wow, what an advantage! How do you fight someone like that?"
"It's difficult, but not impossible," Tassi explained, animated. "With a Vision Gem, you can see through the disguise. And battle veterans develop a sixth sense for detecting approaches. Still, it's tricky. Fortunately, practitioners of that gem are rare."
She noticed that Specter had glanced in their direction, but continued:
"But more important than the gem's power is the person who wields it. Specter is legendary not just for freeing slaves, but for commanding the quilombo's defense against the Portuguese, the Dutch, and the slave catchers. All of that before he turned forty. Do you see now why he's so respected?"
Carlos became thoughtful. It makes sense... he's like the Zumbi dos Palmares from my history. I just hope this quilombo doesn't meet the same tragic end.
As they walked under the ancient trees, his thoughts deepened. How long did Palmares last again? A hundred years, more or less? It doesn't matter... I can't let history repeat itself. I won't return to slavery. I'll use all the knowledge I have to protect this place.
As Carlos got lost in his thoughts, Specter observed Tassi discreetly. That woman... she noticed our surveillance without using any Vision Gem. Better keep an eye on her. The new governador is still young, and I don't know what method he'll take; if it were me, I'd send spies to know the enemy before an attack. Perhaps I'm wrong, but... she certainly led this escape. I don't see another qualified fighter here.

