Since that day, he and Carls began talking—in fact, much to Carls' surprise, Arthur loved to talk. Perhaps a bit too much.
Arthur shifted conversation topics as quickly as lightning. First he spoke about the history of the characters he was drawing, then he asked Carls about the ideas that had come to him in the past for his novel, and then he talked about characters from other works—before abruptly changing the subject to something entirely different.
Carls went along with the little one, and he truly enjoyed talking with Arthur despite his hyperactivity when it came to discussing fantasy novels.
Time passed, and the fondness Arthur felt for Carls grew just as much as Carls' regard for Arthur, forging a solid friendship. Although Arthur hadn't really thought about it, he had finally made his first true friend.
Things were going well. But of course, nothing can remain as it is forever. Otherwise, we wouldn't be recalling this memory, right?
One day, Arthur came home as usual after playing in the park. He opened the door and heard, deep within the house, the voices of Aunt Sunny and his uncle. It seemed that at last, Aunt Sunny had managed to carve out some time and come home early from work. Excited, Arthur ran forward—forgetting to even open the door properly.
For the first time in three months, Aunt Sunny was home on time—before Arthur went to bed. He couldn't wait to hug her and tell her about all the things he'd done at school.
However, a question began to form in Arthur's mind:
Why all the shouting?
He stopped at the entrance of the kitchen, where Aunt Sunny and his uncle were. The scene before him left Arthur paralyzed. His eyes fell upon a mass of dark, thunderous shouts and near-infernal screams.
On the kitchen floor lay the man Arthur always called "uncle," standing over Aunt Sunny—his uncle's hands raised to strike his aunt's head. The sound of her screams and cries of pain filled the room, while the cursed man continued to hit that gentle woman, again and again.
"TAKE THIS, BITCH! I TOLD YOU TO GIVE ME THE MONEY!!!" With every word, he landed another blow.
Arthur didn't understand what was happening. He couldn't fathom the situation. Why was his uncle doing this? Weren't they together because he loved his aunt? Then why was he beating her as though he were trying to kill her?
"Please…" Aunt Sunny pleaded, almost fading away. "Stop, please... Richard."
Even at his wife's desperate pleas, he didn't stop—he continued striking her with all the pent-up rage he'd been accumulating for weeks. There was no mercy in his blows, no restraint at all. If this continued, that man was going to kill Sunny.
Arthur stood frozen, watching the scene without trying to process it. He didn't attempt to analyze the situation; he only knew the man hitting his aunt was evil.
Though his thoughts seemed paralyzed, his instincts—driven by his values—forced his body to move. He remembered a line from the book he treasured so much:
"Protect those who have always cared for you."
Without hesitating, Arthur grabbed a solid ceramic vase on which his aunt had placed some withered camellias and flung it mercilessly at the back of his uncle's head, shattering the ornament in the process.
There were no protests or cries of pain—the man collapsed onto the floor, already unconscious from the powerful blow Arthur had delivered.
The child's legs buckled at the sight, and he sank to the floor, his breath coming in gasps.
In an instant, panic finally overtook him, and he began to cry uncontrollably. His gasps soon turned to whimpers, and his tears became a heartbroken wail.
Aunt Sunny, though shaken, appeared to have not entirely lost consciousness and looked at the frightened, broken boy. Her vision blurred in and out, yet she focused on him.
With great effort, she managed to rise from the floor. Her arms trembled as she struggled to regain strength, and all she could do was crawl over to the boy and extend a hand to his face.
"Now, my little sunshine," she said in a hoarse, almost broken voice, "it's over now. Don't cry anymore."
Arthur looked at his aunt's face—half of it bruised, swollen, almost deformed. His heart shuddered with a dull, aching pain that spread through his chest.
His crying continued, but this time Aunt Sunny was able to sit down and take him into her arms. She buried her head against his, trying to console him, and gently caressed the back of his hair, while the little one clutched her waist tightly, releasing all his tears.
"Shh, shh. It's over now," she murmured, unconsciously offering her familiar warm smile. "You saved me, my little sunshine. Thank you so much."
Two hours later
The authorities had arrived and taken that bastard away. Arthur remained seated in one of the dining room chairs, staring downward, unmoving.
Paramedics took Sonia away to get prompt treatment at the nearest hospital.
"Don't worry, my sunshine. I'll be back soon. In the meantime, I'll call someone to take care of you."
Arthur lifted his gaze to see his aunt being carried away on a stretcher, and he began walking beside her as he thought about the possible people who might care for him. He didn't want to have anything to do with anyone else in that family—everyone had rejected him when his parents died without even having taken the time to see him.
Then a spark of determination flashed in Arthur's eyes.
"Don't worry, Aunt Sunny," he said as he quickened his pace to stay by her side. "I'll call a friend to take care of me."
She looked at him in confusion, but when she saw the certainty in his eyes, she simply smiled.
"Alright, but remember: you must not be left alone. Aunt will be in the hospital for a couple of weeks, so I won't be able to cook for you."
"Don't worry—I promise I'm not lying."
The ambulance's door closed, leaving Arthur watching intently as the vehicle started and drove away.
Then, Arthur ran back inside, grabbed the telephone next to the front door, and pulled out a small piece of paper from his school backpack that had a number and a name on it:
"Carls Kingsfield."
He quickly dialed the number on the landline and pressed the receiver to his ear. After the ringtone chimed, a click came through, followed by a very familiar voice.
"Yes, speak."
"Mr. Carls!"
"Oh, hello, Art. How are you?"
"I need to ask you a favor…"
"Go ahead—tell me. As long as it's within my power…"
Two weeks later
It was Saturday morning. Carls was in the kitchen wearing an apron while cooking; the young teacher whistled a tune as he beat eggs in a frying pan, and in another pan he stirred bacon so it wouldn't stick.
Arthur watched attentively as his teacher demonstrated his command in the kitchen—not quite matching Aunt Sunny's skills but showing good technique nonetheless.
Once the sizzling of the bacon subsided, Carls served breakfast for both himself and Arthur: eggs with bacon and toast, with warm milk and butter to spread—a traditional English breakfast.
Arthur took his first bites of each part of the meal and felt the gentle flavors energize him, as if awakening his mind.
Meanwhile, Carls sipped a cup of coffee calmly beside him.
Arthur looked at Carls with a spark of curiosity as an intrusive thought that had been gnawing at him over the past few days surfaced in his mind.
"Mr. Carls, if you're here with me without any worry, does that mean you've left your house in someone's care?"
"Mhm?" Carls mumbled, coffee still in his mouth, swallowing it before he replied. "I live with my parents, so they take care of everything when I'm not home."
"Oh, I see. That's a bit unusual."
"Unusual?" Carls asked, arching an eyebrow.
"Don't most people your age avoid getting married and buying a house with their partner?"
Carls's eyes widened, and he choked on another gulp of coffee as the little boy's question took him by surprise.
Once he recovered, Carls cleared his throat noticeably to ease his tone.
"I don't know how a kid knows that, but… let's just say things haven't exactly worked out for me in the romance department."
Arthur looked at Carls, a hint of confusion on his face.
"Why not? You're quite handsome."
Carls shrugged and shook his head.
"I have no idea." Folding his arms, he assumed a thoughtful expression. "But I'm pretty sure it's because I've always been focused on my own things."
"Are you talking about writing?" Arthur asked with a smile.
"I suppose my studies and writing just consumed my life."
"I see…"
"Besides, the current real estate market is very expensive."
Arthur narrowed his eyes as he studied Carls's expression when he said that.
"You just didn't want to spend a fortune on a house, so you still live with your parents?"
"Who knows…" Carls replied with a touch of cheekiness.
Both finished their breakfast and then sat on the sofa to relax. Carls looked at the news on his phone while Arthur read a book.
"So what are we going to do today?" asked Carls. "Yesterday, we wrote a short story after school. But today, we have the whole day."
Arthur tapped his chin and looked upward, trying to force his brain to think of something.
"Let's see..."
Suddenly, the house door opened, and both Arthur and Carls turned to look behind them. Arthur's eyes widened as a thought flashed through his mind.
"It's Sunny."
Arthur jumped off the sofa and ran toward the entrance.
Carls paused for a moment before following the boy.
"Sunny? Your aunt?"
Arthur ran down the hallway as fast as he could and, sure enough, found his aunt standing in the doorway while she was taking off her shoes and changing into a clean pair.
She looked at Arthur, who was running uncontrollably toward her. Sonia opened her arms to welcome her nephew with warmth. She enveloped the little one in a cozy hug.
"Aunt!" Arthur cried, his excitement overflowing from his words.
She ran her fingers through the back of her hair, gently caressing Arthur's head. "I'm here now, my little sunshine… I'm here."
Tears welled in Arthur's eyes as he pressed his head against his aunt's chest; then he looked up to see her eyes with a smile.
"Welcome back."
Carls watched the scene from the staircase, leaning against the wall, moved by their reunion.
Sunny turned her gaze toward Carls. Her eyes widened for a moment before she understood the situation.
"Oh, I see. You must be the young man Arthur has told me so much about."
Carls looked intently into Sonia's eyes before diverting his gaze downward.
"Very good, my name is Carls. I'm Arthur's teacher—nice to meet you."
"Oh, how polite. My name is Sonia. A pleasure to meet you too, Carls."
They stared at each other in silence while Arthur tried to decipher what was going through the adults' minds. In a way, he simply gave up.
***
Arthur gazed toward the golden horizon of the sunset, sitting atop the dome in the park. The other children had already gone home, leaving the landscape desolate and lonely.
Arthur wasn't fully aware of this; he was simply lost in his thoughts.
In his mind, he replayed the images burned into his memory: the man he once called uncle striking his aunt.
And also…
The bodies of his parents, lying on the floor as they bled out slowly, their blood seeping along the concrete; his mother's empty, lifeless eyes—and the deep wound his father carried in his chest.
"Everything is falling apart…" A voice—not his own—resonated inside his head, forcing the little one to glance around. But there was no one there.
"Everything you know… everything you love… None of it is eternal, little one."
Arthur didn't question the voice further; to him, he simply felt as if he were going crazy. Yet, he didn't dismiss it either.
"You're right," he thought to himself. "In the future, everything I care about can be easily destroyed." He looked up at the sky and stretched out his hand toward the sun. "But they won't."
He recalled a history book he had read some time ago, which told of the great descent of the gods into the human world.
It was a day like today—the sun shining with its golden sunset rays—when suddenly, a light burst across the sky, making it daylight again, if only for a moment.
At that moment, dark silhouettes appeared among the glimmering rays, descending toward us mortals.
"Oh mortals, from today onward, our transparency will become flesh and our lives will be like yours. Receive your parents now as your siblings."
"I will become one of them," Arthur whispered.
"Oh, little one," the voice said in a disdainful tone. "Even the great, the almighty, the magnanimous gods can crumble."
"No," Arthur retorted defiantly toward the light. "I will be eternal… I will be, The King of This World."
Part 2
Arthur opened his eyes with tremendous determination, one that made them burn, one that ignited a flame within him that threatened to consume everything. He had remembered his purpose, long lost.
But... what was this so soft thing that was under his hands?
"Yes, like that! Continue, slave."
Cleopatra was beneath him, on her back, while he moved his hands almost involuntarily across Cleopatra's back, massaging her muscles through her soft skin.
Arthur's eye twitched and a vein swelled running from his neck to his forehead, from the indignation and anger he felt now at this moment.
"Fucking goddess..." he murmured with clear indignation.
Cleopatra, upon hearing the man she had cast a hypnotic spell on speak, was paralyzed by shock, looking back with incredulity.
"It can't be..."
"Oh, it can be."
Arthur grabbed her by the neck almost instantly, taking advantage of his dominant position, and pressed her against her bed mattress.
"How is it possible?!" asked Cleopatra loudly, but it sounded as if she was saying it to herself.
"Nothing is impossible," said Arthur while approaching her face.
Cleopatra began to move, trying to escape his grip, with clear surprise and fear plastered on her face.
"Stupid mortal. How dare you touch me? You know very well I could make you disappear with one word."
"If you could do it, you would have already done it."
Cleopatra took a deep breath to calm herself and gently placed her hands on Arthur's face, caressing his cheeks with her thumbs.
"Come on, calm down," she said while looking directly into his eyes. "Go back to being an obedient slave and continue giving me a massage like the waste you are."
Within Cleopatra's golden irises, a hypnotic spiral formed. But to her surprise.
"Do you think I'll be your slave again?"
It didn't work at all on Arthur.
"Impossible! How can a mortal resist a Divine's spell?!"
"I already told you... In this world..." Arthur's hair moved away from his eyes, revealing something that terrified Cleopatra. "Nothing is impossible!"
Within the mortal boy's irises was drawn a mantle of stars that formed a crown within the deep natural blue of his eyes.
"It can't be. You had a blessing?!" Cleopatra bit her lower lip. "No, if you had had it before you would have already used it. Then...!" She looked at Arthur with her heart almost jumping out of her mouth. "You just awakened a blessing by yourself?!?!?!"
Arthur smiled in a confident, almost mocking way.
"I don't know what you're referring to, but..." He raised his hand and began to caress Cleopatra's hair, running his fingers through her bangs.
"You've been a very bad goddess. You clearly deserve punishment."