Closer and closer we went… and with every step, the world around us began to change. The thick forest slowly thinned, the air grew lighter, and a faint breeze carried the scent of running water and fresh soil. As we approached the final rise, Menko's pace quickened; he knew this terrain, every slope and every sound.
When we reached the crest, the village revealed itself—quiet, untouched, and exactly as Menko had described.
A paradise.
From above, the place looked almost unreal: wide stretches of green fields, clusters of healthy trees heavy with fruit, and a shimmering river that wound through the land like a silver ribbon. Sunlight reflected off its surface, scattering warm, golden rays across the valley. For a moment, it didn't feel like the world we knew—the world that had been ravaged, emptied, forgotten. This place stood untouched by time.
"Finally," I breathed, my voice a mixture of relief and disbelief.
Menko nodded, "It's the same as before," he said softly. "Nothing has changed at all."
And he was right. Not a single structure looked abandoned, not a single field overgrown. It was as if the village had simply been waiting for someone to return. The sight stirred something in me—hope, maybe, or a memory I didn't know I still had.
With our long journey behind us, and the village quietly welcoming us from afar, we took our first steps down the slope, ready to discover what waited within.
"It was huge… I don't know why you called it a village. It looks like more than a thousand people could live here."
Menko smiled as we approached the main gates. There were no guards—apparently, the villagers lived in such a paradise that they never felt the need for protection. The villagers were all faceless, with only ears, noses, and mouths visible. Most wore elaborate headgear that covered the area where their eyes should have been.
Our robot bodies were identical in form, except for the permanent steel helmets covering our eyes and ears. Because of this, the villagers seemed unsurprised by our appearance, though it was clear they knew we were outsiders. Surprisingly, no one took action. The atmosphere was eerie.
We explored the village for about half an hour before being stopped by the chief. Menko immediately bowed, much to both my and the chief's bewilderment.
The chief spoke, his voice calm but firm. "I do not recognize you from this village, yet one of you bows."
Menko had forgotten about the change in our bodies; out of habit, he bowed.
"Stand. We don't bow to anyone," I commanded.
I sensed something strange from the chief. I recalled that Menko had wandered far from the village, despite it being a paradise. His familiarity with the land, and the way he had ventured so far, seemed to unsettle the chief. The response left the leader visibly taken aback, though he quickly masked it with composure.
The chief guided me to his house—a grand, colorful structure. If I were to describe it, I'd say it was a blend of European and Eastern architectural styles, rising about three floors tall, each level adorned with intricate details and vibrant hues.
Fresh, shiny fruits were offered to us, laid out on polished wooden trays, their colors almost unnaturally vibrant under the warm light of the chief's hall. Yet, despite the display of abundance, a gnawing unease settled over me. There was something too perfect about it, too deliberate.
Menko, seated beside me, was unusually quiet—far quieter than usual. His small hands fidgeted with the edge of the tray, and he shifted uneasily with every movement of the villagers. It wasn't the calm, attentive silence of respect; this was something else. Something heavier. Fear.
I glanced around the hall, at the faceless villagers. None spoke, none approached us directly. Only their quiet observation pressed against me, a weight in the air I couldn't shake. Something about this paradise felt… off. The sweetness of the fruit could not mask the tension threading through the room, nor the silent warnings hidden behind those eyeless faces.
Even as I reached for a piece of the fruit, my instincts screamed at me to stay alert. Menko's fear mirrored my own, and together we shared the unspoken understanding: this village, no matter how bountiful and serene it seemed, was not entirely safe.
The chief spoke, his voice calm but firm."You are outsiders… this is the first time we have encountered this. Rest assured, the villagers will not harm you."
I ignored his words, sensing something beneath the surface, while Menko remained utterly silent, his small frame tense beside me.
Finally, I spoke."This here, next to me, is from your village. His name is Menko."
Shock flickered across the faces of the villagers, subtle but unmistakable. Yet the chief regained his composure almost immediately.
"Welcome back, Menko," he said, his tone steady, though his eyes betrayed a hint of disbelief.
"Menko was a little boy, about ten years old, when he left. It's been five years since then," the chief said, his eyes studying him carefully.
"He looks different… that is obvious," he added, his tone measured but curious.
He reached out and lightly touched Menko's metallic helmet."Strong material indeed," he remarked, tapping it gently as if testing its resilience.
"Let us explore the village. I'm sure Menko would love to meet his family," I said.
Menko's posture straightened, a spark of excitement flickering across him.
"Alas," the chief said, his voice calm but tinged with sorrow, "I cannot show you. He had his only mother… and she has passed away."
"You should know very well the consequences of leaving the ritual," the chief spoke, smiling gleefully.
"If not you, it would have been your mother, of course," he added.
I stared at him in disbelief.
He continued, his voice calm but chilling: "Every five years, we hold a sacrifice. This ensures we do not run out of the bounty we have been given. And clearly, the sacrifices have satisfied the earth, for we still remain in this paradise."
Menko sat frozen, his screams echoing across the rooms. Suddenly, I understood why he ran, why he had said nothing had changed.
I rose to my feet. The chief's guards had no chance against me.
"If you had even an ounce of sense in your head," I said coldly, "you could have simply grown your so-called bounty."
The chief, with the gall to argue, shot back, "This is an insult to the earth… why do we grow what she gives us?"
I remained silent. There was no point reasoning with blind belief.
Sensing his power slipping away, the chief finally fled. I let him run for a few seconds—just enough to give him a false hope—before deciding what would come next.
I ran after him, tearing away whatever hope he had left. With a vicious sweep I ripped his legs out from under him, and he screamed—loud, panicked, all the arrogance torn out of his voice in an instant.
He tried to crawl away, dragging himself across the dirt, refusing to face what he'd caused. I grabbed him by his hair and forced him still.
Then I reached for Menko's hand.
We stepped outside the chief's house together.
"THIS VILLAGE," I shouted, my voice shaking with a rage I hadn't felt since the day I lost my own family, "FROM NOW ON, WILL NOT FOLLOW HIS RULE!"
The crowd froze.
"YOU LET THIS HAPPEN!" I roared. "YOU IGNORED EVERY CRY—EVERY LIFE—EVERY SACRIFICE! WOULD YOU HAVE STOOD QUIET IF IT WERE YOUR CHILD? YOUR SIBLING? YOUR MOTHER?!"
Gasps rippled through the villagers. Some trembled. Some lowered their heads. No one dared speak.
I threw the chief to the ground in front of Menko.
His fists were trembling. His breath was shaking. All the years of fear, loss, confusion… everything was right there in his eyes.
"Menko," I said quietly."…what do you want to do with him?"
Menko's breath shook, rage and heartbreak tangled together. He looked down at the chief—broken, terrified, finally stripped of all arrogance.
Menko didn't lift a hand.Instead, he whispered, voice hollow:
"…I don't want anything from him. Do whatever you think is right."
Then he turned away.
Menko left the choice to me and walked away, his footsteps heavy with anger and grief.
The villagers watched from a distance—silent, afraid, unsure. Their paradise suddenly felt colder, darker.
I stood there with the chief at my feet… and the choice entirely in my hands.
The chief begged, his voice trembling.I didn't respond.
"Let this be your final sacrifice," I said, my voice low and steady.
He cried out, offering promises, bargains, anything that might save him."Please—anything you want!"
"Give Menko his mother back," I demanded.
He fell silent. He had no answer—only fear.
That was enough.
Then, in one swift, clean motion, I relieved his head from his body.
The chief lay motionless at my feet. I dragged what remained of his authority to the village square and left it there—untouched, unaltered—its presence a message sharper than any blade.
I faced the villagers.
"FROM NOW ON," I declared, my voice echoing across the silent streets,"I RULE THIS VILLAGE."
No one dared step forward.
"Leave his body where it is for a week. Let everyone see it. Let everyone remember it. And if any of you truly believed in his cruelty… if any of you aided him willingly… your fate will mirror his."
The crowd did not speak. There were no shouts, no protests—only a trembling, collective realization that the era of blind obedience had ended.