Web Novel · Zombo Country

  The Golden Shooter

  Chapter 3: The Ally in the Shadows

  Part I: The Look That Doesn't Say Goodbye

  The morning sun bathed the halls of Park Zuyk School Elite in a peaceful, golden light, as if the universe had not yet become aware of what was to come. Students came and went in their carefully stratified groups—the heirs of industries, the children of the media, the award-winning geniuses—all playing their roles in the social theater of the Zombian elite.

  Houka walked down the main corridor with the same precision as always. The leather backpack over his shoulder. Thin-framed glasses. The yellow hair perfectly aligned. Os olhos vermelhos — discretamente ocultos — varriam o ambiente como radares, catalogando cada rosto, cada express?o, cada movimento.

  "—Houka!"

  The familiar voice made him stop. Not out of obedience, but out of calculation.

  Gicib walked quickly down the hall, her light blue dress dancing around her legs, her perfectly wavy brown hair bouncing like an advertisement for luxury shampoo. She reached her brother and, without ceremony, put her arm around him.

  "— You disappeared after breakfast! You didn't even wait for me to enter."

  Houka tilted his head slightly, enough to appear attentive. I needed to keep up appearances. Her sister was her anchor with the "normal" world. As long as she believed in him, everyone would.

  "— There was a guild meeting. Sorry."

  The lie came out smooth as silk. Gicib accepted with a radiant smile, because he always did.

  "—Okay, okay! Look, I came to tell you that I'm leaving early today. Mom asked me to accompany her to the foundation meeting, something about the charity auction next month."

  She rolled her eyes with mock affection.

  "— Bummer, right? But at least I escaped the last class. You'll stay, of course. Always the exemplary student."

  Houka watched her for a moment. Gicib had no idea. She had no idea that, while she was rambling on about imported silk and fundraising goals, her brother would be staining the school walls with something no auction could clean.

  "— I'll stay." — His voice was calm. — "I have things to sort out."

  Gicib squeezed his arm affectionately.

  "— You and your things. One day you'll tell me what's going on in that brilliant head, won't you?" — She laughed, rising on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. — "Call me later, okay? Love."

  Houka allowed the kiss. He felt the heat of her lips on his cold skin. And for a moment he almost felt something like guilt. Almost.

  But the Original Plan did not include sisters.

  "—Of course. See you later, Gicib."

  She waved away, her hair dancing in the artificial wind from the central air conditioning. Houka remained motionless for exactly three seconds, watching her disappear between the polished marble corridors. As she turned the last corner, the mask of the devoted brother retracted.

  The exemplary student was still there. But now, beneath the surface, the wicked smile began to blossom.

  She was safe. Outside of school. Fora do Inferno Roxo.

  Perfect.

  · · ·

  Part II: The Ascent

  The clock said 1:47 pm when Houka walked through the back of the main building. The hallways were emptier — most students were eating lunch or preparing for afternoon classes. No one noticed the yellow-haired boy who slid along the sides like a vertical shadow.

  The service door creaked slightly as it was opened. Houka froze for a second, her senses on high alert. Nothing. Just the distant hum of generators.

  The staircase to the terrace was narrow, metallic, almost industrial—a stark contrast to the marble and velvet of the rest of the school. Each step echoed beneath his feet with a metallic sound that sounded like a countdown. Houka climbed slowly. No fear. No hesitation.

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  In the inside pocket of the blazer, the weight of the tactical headset — direct communication with Kael. In his pants pocket, a small, black device with a single red button. The signal.

  Upon reaching the terrace door, Houka took a deep breath. Not out of nervousness. But for pleasure.

  He pushed the door.

  The wind greeted him with a cold, piercing breath. Below, the main courtyard of Park Zuyk was swarming with ants in impeccable uniforms. The late midday sun bathed the scene in an almost sacred light. Almost ironic.

  Houka walked to the edge. From inside his leather backpack, he removed a discreet cooler bag. Opened. And smiled.

  The Golden Sniper was there. Mounted. Perfect. The long barrel of a metal that existed in no known alloy glowed amber in the sunlight. The viewfinder, a piece of glass so pure it looked like frozen liquid. The trigger, cold as the touch of death.

  He mounted her on the railing with gentle, almost affectionate movements. Adjusted the position. Tested the sight. Adjusted the wind.

  In the headset, Kael's voice crackled:

  "—Alpha position confirmed. All in place. Awaiting signal."

  Houka didn't respond. Just pressed the earphone twice. Code confirmed.

  Far below, in the corridors and courtyards, his allies began to move.

  · · ·

  Part III: The Masquerade and the Hood

  Mira adjusted her black hood over her blond hair. The fabric was thick, suffocating, but necessary. Beside him, another dozen hooded figures — elite students who exchanged their illustrious surnames for the anonymity of the massacre — were positioned at strategic points.

  She felt her heart speed up. Fear? No. It was adrenaline. Excitement. The promise of power that Houka had sold them was too sweet to ignore.

  "—Remember." — Kael's voice echoed through everyone's headphones. — "Priority targets are the leaders of the factions. Then anyone who tries to escape. No mercy. No names. Today you are no one's children. Today you are the hand of chaos."

  Mira swallowed. Olhou para a própria m?o. The handle of the knife — made of common, unmarked steel — trembled slightly. She squeezed tightly.

  He thought about Houka's smile. Naquela curva perversa que parecia conter séculos de loucura. And, strangely, he calmed down.

  If he could smile like that, she could kill like that.

  Around the school, in every corridor, in every bathroom, in every empty room, the hooded men waited. They were the invisible ones. The discontented. Those who always wanted more than their surname allowed them.

  Today, they would.

  · · ·

  Part IV: The First Spark

  2:02 pm.

  The debate in the main hall began with the usual arrogance. Students from rival families exchanged polite barbs as audiences chose sides. The topic was irrelevant — economic policy, or something like that. What mattered was the tension.

  Mira, still without her hood, sitting in the audience, exchanged a quick look with Kael, on the other side of the room. He nodded almost imperceptibly.

  She raised her hand.

  "—Matter of privilege, mediator."

  The student presiding over the debate frowned. "—What question, miss?"

  Mira pointed to the leader of one of the factions. A sweet smile on your lips.

  "— I would like to remind you that our colleague's father is being investigated for tax evasion. Perhaps his opinion on 'business ethics' is... hypocritical."

  The silence was absolute. The accused's face contorted in fury.

  "—How dare you, you..."

  He didn't finish. The first punch came from behind. Then another. Within seconds, the audience exploded in confusion. Chairs flew. Screams echoed.

  And, in the midst of the chaos, someone turned off the lights.

  · · ·

  Part V: Purple Blood

  The lights blinked once, twice, three times. And then they turned it off once and for all.

  The darkness in the main hall was total for three seconds. Enough time for panic to set in. When the emergency generators turned on the red exit lamps, the scene was already nightmarish.

  The hooded men had entered.

  Mira felt the hood being placed over her head by friendly hands. When he pulled the knife from his waist, the world seemed to slow down. The first target—a boy who had humiliated her the year before—was ten feet away, disoriented.

  She advanced. The steel entered. It went out. Entered again.

  The blood was hot. It ran through my fingers. Red almost purple in the light of the generators.

  Outside, in the corridors, the scene repeated itself. The hooded men advanced like a black wave, silent and deadly. Screams echoed off the marble walls. Students tripped over their own feet, over the bodies of their classmates, over the blood that was beginning to form pools on the shiny floors.

  "—RUN! FOR THE LOVE OF THE GODS, RUN!"

  "— WHO ARE THEY?!"

  "— THE JUDAAAA!"

  The dry sound of a sniper shot echoed from somewhere above. A student trying to reach the main door fell to his knees, then face down. A perfect hole in the forehead.

  Another shot. Another body.

  Those who looked up at the tower saw only a golden reflection before they were struck.

  · · ·

  Part VI: I Love War

  At the top of the tower, Houka Yseten watched the show with the serenity of a maestro conducting his masterpiece.

  Each shot was a note. Each scream, a chord. The blood on the marble, the paint.

  He changed targets. A blonde girl was running towards the second story window, her face contorted in utter despair. Ela alcan?ou o parapeito, bateu no vidro com os punhos.

  "— SOMEONE HELP ME! FOR THE LOVE OF...!"

  Her eyes widened. She saw. In the neighboring building, in the tallest tower, the silhouette of a boy with yellow hair. The golden sniper. The smile.

  She opened her mouth to scream the name—

  Two hooded men appeared behind her. The stabs were quick. You need it. The girl's body slipped out the window like a flesh-and-blood ghost.

  Houka noted. The smile didn't just stay—it widened.

  "—I love war." — The voice was soft, almost a whisper dedicated to himself.

  He rested his face on the handle of the sniper, his red eyes shining in the twilight of the afternoon that was beginning to fall.

  "—This is art."

  · · ·

  Part VII: The Eye in the Dark

  Outside, beyond the walls of Park Zuyk, the city of Zombo remained oblivious to the Purple Hell that was taking place in its most precious jewel. Traffic flowed. People lived. The sun slowly set over the horizon, painting the sky in orange tones.

  But in a building much taller than the school tower — an abandoned skyscraper, condemned by city hall decades ago — something watched.

  Black wings spread against the sunset light. Huge. Immeasurable. Made of a substance that was neither feather nor leather, but something between shadow and matter. They didn't match. They just existed, draped like a cloak over the ruined building.

  The figure that possessed them was leaning against the edge of the building, silhouetted against the burning sky. It was not possible to see his face - the shadows hid him jealously. It was not possible to see his body — the shadows wore him like a second skin.

  But it was possible to see an eye.

  Just one. Dark brown. Deep as a bottomless pit. Fixed on the school tower, where Houka's silhouette still moved between shots.

  The eye didn't blink. He didn't deviate. He just watched.

  And then, a smile. Not wicked like Houka's. Different. Older. More patient. A smile from someone who has seen empires rise and fall, from someone who has witnessed gods die and be born.

  The lips that couldn't be seen moved. The voice that could not be heard whispered something that the wind carried nowhere:

  "— Um aliado em potencial."

  The brown eye glowed for a moment, reflecting the distant flames of the school.

  "—The First Architect will be pleased."

  The black wings slowly retracted, swallowed by the darkness of the abandoned building. The figure disappeared as if it had never existed.

  But the eye remained. For a moment. Floating in the darkness.

  Observing.

  Waiting.

  · · ·

  ?? A Golden Shooter

  Only the powerful have one.

  · · ·

  ?Final Revelation · Chapter 3?

  GICIB YSETEN Left early. It's safe. He doesn't know that his brother is the author of the massacre.

  THE ALLIES Mira, Kael, Dhan and the hooded men execute the plan with surgical precision. The Purple Hell is real.

  HOUKA At the top of the tower, with his Golden Sniper, he declares: "I love war."

  THE SHADOW A figure with black wings, in an abandoned building. Only one brown eye is revealed. His assessment: "A potential ally."

  THE FIRST ARCHITECT The name echoes again. Algo muito maior do que uma guerra escolar está em jogo.

  End of Chapter 3 · Continued