When Cheran asked, the boy silently pointed his finger toward Guerrero.
After being beaten, the child walked toward the nearby pond, sat down on the stone steps, and began to cry uncontrollably. A little later, Guerrero happened to pass that way. At first, he hesitated to speak to the boy. But as the child's sobs grew louder, Guerrero's heart softened.
"Who are you, little one?" Guerrero asked gently.
"Why are you sitting here and crying? Whatever it is, don't be afraid. Tell me."
Comforted by his kind tone, the boy opened up and narrated everything that had happened.
"That's all?" Guerrero said calmly.
"Next time he tries to hit you, do exactly what I tell you. Now… raise your hand and try to hit me."
The boy hesitated.
"Don't be scared," Guerrero encouraged.
As the boy raised his hand, Guerrero blocked it with his own and lightly tapped the nerve at the side of the boy's neck—the vital point of the self-defense technique.
"Do you understand?" Guerrero said.
"This is where you strike. But not gently like I did. You must hit hard."
Guerrero spoke using a mix of Mayan words and hand gestures he had learned. The boy was fascinated by the way he explained.
Without another word, the boy walked away—and did exactly as Guerrero had taught him.
When Cheran heard about this incident, he looked toward Guerrero. Guerrero was painting the temple walls blue. Cheran signaled him to come secretly.
Guerrero stood before him. Before Cheran could speak, Guerrero spoke first.
"Thank you, Cheran. That day, you saved my life."
"Forget that," Cheran said sharply.
"Who are you? And how do you know these combat techniques?"
"I trained under the Spanish military," Guerrero replied.
"But I was never a soldier."
Cheran fell silent, lost in thought.
Guerrero did not realize that the opportunity Cheran was about to offer would change his life forever.
Vincent broke the silence in the present.
"So… what do you guys think about this video?"
David scoffed.
"It's complete nonsense, Vincent. NASA already reported that Hector's iPhone camera had a lens sensor defect. These frauds edited the footage just to sell DVDs."
"Okay, okay, David. Calm down," Vincent said.
"No need to get so worked up."
"No, Vincent," David snapped.
"This needs to be understood clearly. There's nothing here worth further research. Do you know how many problems this nonsense has caused?"
"In 2012, nearly a hundred people in Brazil attempted mass suicide, believing the world would end. The police barely stopped them in time."
"And that's not all. In China, a man completely believed this myth, lost his sanity, and attacked children."
"In France, over twenty thousand people climbed Mount Bugarach, believing it was the only place to survive the apocalypse."
"In Britain, a sixteen-year-old girl named Isabel—just sixteen—hanged herself."
"And in Denmark, a pregnant woman sent a message directly to NASA, saying she planned to commit suicide along with her unborn child because the world was ending."
"We receive more than ten such messages every single day."
David paused, his voice trembling with rage.
"And do you know what the Mexican government said back then?"
"They calmly released a statement saying the Mayan calendar 'issue' had increased global interest—and they expected over fifty million tourists that year."
"They know it's all fake, Vincent. But they still want to profit from it."
"I refuse to be fooled by this," David said firmly.
"I'm leaving for America. Right now."
The very next moment, David slung his bag over his shoulder and walked out of the room.
"David… stay just one more month," a voice said softly.
"After that, we'll all leave together."
David froze.
That voice did not belong to Vincent.
It was Beula.
Back in the past—
"Guerrero," Cheran said,
"If you agree to teach us the Spanish military combat techniques you learned, freeing you and your friend will be my responsibility."
Guerrero's eyes filled with joy.
"We can start right now, Cheran," he said passionately.
"Just prepare three thick wooden logs—slightly taller than us."
Cheran led him toward the eastern side. On the way, Guerrero climbed a tree with his blade and cut three sturdy branches.
They walked through dense forests until they reached Yucatan, where the Mayans would be trained for war.
"Cheran," Guerrero said,
"First, plant two wooden poles firmly into the ground."
Cheran used a stone to carve two pits into the earth—metal had not yet been discovered in Mayan times.
Guerrero fixed one pole into a pit. Cheran placed the second. Both were secured with soil.
A third pole was placed horizontally across the top and tied tightly with ropes.
The Mayans watched in confusion.
Guerrero stepped between the frames, placed his hands on them, and lifted his body upward—then lowered it, repeating the movement to warm up.
Cheran immediately copied him.
"That's it, Cheran," Guerrero nodded.
Next, Guerrero climbed onto one frame and walked steadily across the single beam above without losing balance.
The Mayans stared wide-eyed, believing it to be magic.
Guerrero demonstrated warm-up walking, jumping, hand-walking, and vaulting techniques.
"Why are you all just standing there?" Cheran shouted.
"Do it yourselves!"
Inspired, the Mayans began training alongside Cheran and Parias.
Yucatan slowly transformed into a Spanish military-style training ground.
Guerrero demonstrated Sumo Squats to strengthen the legs, explaining how these movements increased speed, balance, and survival in direct combat.
Finally, he lay flat on the ground and raised his legs at a sixty-degree angle, lowering them without bending his knees—holding the exercise for ten minutes.
Most Mayans failed at first.
"I was the same in the beginning," Guerrero reassured them.
"Practice daily. One day, your legs will be strong enough to break wood."
He then guided them through physiotherapy—ankle rotations, hip twists, and full-body stretches.
The pain faded. Energy returned.
Cheran later met the King and explained Guerrero's value and how his knowledge would benefit the Mayan people.
The King immediately declared that Guerrero and Jeronimo were freed from slavery, issuing a royal decree written in glyphs on bark paper and sealed with his mark.
Cheran bowed in gratitude and left on horseback.
Outside the temple, Jeronimo searched for Guerrero. A furious guard followed him, whip in hand.
"Stop right there, slave dog!" the guard shouted, charging forward.
Just as the whip was raised—
Cheran's horse stormed into the alley, blocking the guard.
The guard stood on one side. Jeronimo on the other.
Cheran dismounted slowly, holding the royal decree bearing the King's seal.