The Robbers of the Tunnel
1191 Words
Alejandro woke in darkness.
The memory of serpents still throbbed in his bones, his sword of light still burned faintly in his mind, and the faces of the villagers still lingered, full of awe and fear. He had saved them. Yet here, alone in the tunnel, the silence pressed on him heavier than any crown.
He sat up, brushing dirt from his long hair. His chest still glowed faintly, as though the light within him had not fully faded. The wings he had used to fight folded into nothingness, vanishing like mist. He felt ordinary again, just a tired, hungry man.
But his mind was not free.
WarGreymon’s image flickered in the shadows. Not real, yet vivid — towering, armored, claws gleaming. Strength lies within. Survive, and rise. Alejandro pressed his palms against his eyes, groaning. “Leave me alone.”
When he opened them again, WarGreymon was gone. Instead, Alexandra’s face shimmered in the dim glow of a crystal vein on the tunnel wall. Her smile was soft, her eyes warm, her hair brushing her neck just as he remembered.
“My love,” she whispered. “You are stronger than you think.”
Alejandro reached for her, but his hand touched only air. His chest ached. Were these visions blessings? Or the cave’s cruelty? He could no longer tell.
---
The Ambush
The tunnel stretched endlessly, a narrow throat of rock. Alejandro walked with cautious steps, every sound magnified. Water dripped, wings flapped in the distance, and the scurry of unseen creatures echoed like whispers.
Then — voices.
He froze, pressing himself against the wall. Rough laughter carried through the dark, followed by the clink of metal. Shadows moved ahead.
A group emerged from the gloom: men with ragged clothes, scars across their faces, eyes sharp with hunger. Each carried crude weapons — spears tipped with stone, blades forged from scrap metal.
“Well, well,” one sneered, stepping forward. “What do we have here? A lost bird?”
Alejandro straightened, forcing strength into his voice. “I am no enemy. I seek only passage.”
The men laughed. “Passage costs,” another said. “And you look rich with spirit, boy.”
Before Alejandro could react, they lunged. Rough hands seized his arms, slammed him against the wall. A fist struck his stomach, knocking the breath from him. Another blow split his lip. His sword did not appear. His wings did not answer.
The robbers dragged him deeper into the tunnel, their laughter echoing.
They stripped his pouch of mushrooms, tore his water skin away, and searched his pockets. “Nothing but scraps,” one growled.
“But he has something,” the leader said, his eyes gleaming. He jabbed a finger at Alejandro’s chest. “That light. I saw it flare.”
He reached, gripping Alejandro’s shirt, pulling it aside. The faint glow still pulsed beneath his skin.
Alejandro struggled, but a spearpoint pressed against his throat silenced him.
The leader grinned. “We’ll sell him to the silver-eyes. The Aliens pay well for freaks.”
The others roared with laughter.
Alejandro’s heart sank. The Alien Kingdom. He had only glimpsed them from afar — tall, silent beings with black eyes that seemed to see through flesh. To be their prisoner… the thought curdled his blood.
---
Hallucinations in Chains
The robbers tied his hands with rope and shoved him forward. The tunnel stretched darker, colder. Alejandro stumbled, the rope biting his skin, the jeers of his captors echoing like wolves.
But his mind was not silent.
Visions surged, wild and cruel.
His father appeared before him, eyes blazing with contempt. “Even kings must bleed,” the apparition sneered. “You are weak, Alejandro. You deserve the dirt.”
Alejandro gritted his teeth. “I am not weak.”
Alexandra’s voice whispered next, softer, pained. “Survive. Please. Do not let them take you.”
And then WarGreymon’s massive silhouette strode through the shadows of his mind, claws raised, voice rumbling like thunder. The light is not theirs. The light is yours. Claim it.
Alejandro staggered, shaking his head. His captors mocked him, calling him mad. But inside, something stirred.
The white fire in his chest answered.
---
The Escape
When they reached a wider chamber, torches lit the robbers’ hideout — a nest of stolen goods, crates of fruit, stolen weapons, piles of furs. Alejandro was thrown to the ground.
“Bind him tighter,” the leader ordered. “Tomorrow we march to the Aliens. They’ll pay in crystals for a glowing freak like him.”
The robbers jeered, tossing scraps of food at him. Alejandro’s blood boiled. His fists clenched against the rope. He remembered Alexandra’s blessing. He remembered WarGreymon’s voice.
And then — the glow erupted.
The rope burned away in a flash of light. The chamber flared white, blinding the robbers. Alejandro surged to his feet as the sword of radiance appeared in his hand, wings bursting from his back with a storm of wind.
The robbers cried out, shielding their eyes.
Alejandro moved.
He launched upward, wings slicing the air, rebounding off the cavern walls in a blur. His blade flashed, striking spears, shattering them into splinters. He spun midair, diving in arcs that knocked weapons aside.
A robber lunged with a jagged knife — Alejandro twisted, wings folding, then snapped them open, blasting the man into the wall with a gust of force. Another swung a club — Alejandro’s sword met it, splitting it in half, sparks flying.
The leader roared, charging with a massive axe. Alejandro met him head-on, blade against blade. The clash echoed like thunder. With a stunt-filled flip, Alejandro vaulted over the man, wings propelling him in a twisting arc. He landed behind the leader, sweeping his sword across the shaft of the axe, splitting it clean.
The leader fell to his knees, weaponless, gasping. Alejandro raised his glowing sword, ready to strike.
But he stopped.
The robbers stared, trembling. The leader met his gaze, sweat dripping.
Alejandro lowered his blade. “I am not your prisoner. But I will not be your executioner either.”
The chamber fell silent.
The robbers bowed their heads, shame burning their faces. The leader growled, then nodded slowly. “You are stronger than we thought. Stronger than us. We’ll not cross you again.”
Alejandro’s wings folded. His sword dissolved into mist. His chest still glowed faintly, but softer now.
---
The Lesson
He stepped out of the chamber, leaving the robbers behind. The tunnels stretched before him, endless. His body ached, bruises stung, blood stained his lip — but his spirit burned brighter than ever.
He had learned something vital: strength was not just light and wings. It was restraint. It was knowing when to strike, and when to spare.
WarGreymon’s voice lingered faintly in his mind. A king does not rule by the sword alone.
Alejandro walked on, deeper into the cave’s mysteries. The kingdoms waited. The whispers grew louder. And somewhere in the shadows, a greater threat stirred, watching.
The cave had not finished testing him.
And Alejandro had only begun to rise.
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- Writer
