Kano stood on a street that had sprouted through the ash of ruins.
The stone was still warm from the day's sun, but evening was already laying long shadows across it.
A city was being born from nothing—like his second life.
—"Can we set up lighting here?" Kano asked, addressing the dwarves. —"So the city breathes even at night…"
The dwarves traded glances and laughed.
—"Of course, we'll do it," one of them replied. —"Magical lanterns on the house walls, like in our workshops."
—"No. Not like that," Kano bent down and picked up a charred splinter of wood near the fire. —"I'll show you."
He dropped to his knees, unrolled a rough scrap of hide that served as a map, and began to draw.
Hand steady, precise—line after line.
The dwarves leaned in, silent. The orcs froze. Silence. Only the scratch of charcoal on hide.
The lines became a schema: tall posts spaced along the streets, magic crystals set on top—light from above, open space below.
What had been ordinary in his previous world looked here like something new, almost sacred.
One of the dwarves muttered:
—"We've put lamps like these in the deep mines. But smaller."
—"These will be larger," Kano said. —"And visible from afar."
—"Prettier," another dwarf added. —"And tougher."
A few seconds—silence. Then someone asked carefully:
—"And who will set them up across the city?"
Kano raised his head and looked at the high orcs standing a little aside.
Their faces were serious, intent.
He looked at them in silence.
—"Will you try?" he said softly.
The orcs exchanged glances. One of them, stocky and young, nodded. The others followed.
No words. But certainty.
The dwarves moved for the forges at once.
An idea began turning into iron and crystal.
Kano stayed where he was. He stood without a word, peering into what did not yet exist.
Into a light that did not yet burn. Into a dream that someone had only just spoken aloud.
"In my world, streetlamps were ordinary things. Here—it's a dream. I want that dream to become normal."
"Let this be the beginning. For everyone."
And in that very moment—when the silence was deepest—
a cry rang out:
—"Kano! Over here!"
Everything changed.
Night crawled across the stone.
The ash had long settled, but the air still smelled of soot and iron.
Kano stood by the gate.
Back straight, gaze fixed on the dark.
No one spoke. Even the guards seemed frozen.
And only footsteps…
Slow, heavy, with branches cracking underfoot.
Out of the darkness the orcs emerged.
Chests broad, shoulders taut—but their heads…
all bowed.
Not a single shout.
Not a single signal.
Only silence. And the aftertaste of something you cannot wash away.
Hrimtar walked at the front.
Usually he carried himself like a cliff, ready for battle.
Today—like a stone barely clinging to the edge of a precipice.
Kano took a step toward him in silence.
—"What did you see?" he asked evenly, almost in a whisper.
Hrimtar stopped.
His eyes did not lift for a long time.
—"Hell," he said. —"Cold hell."
Kano's fingers tightened slightly.
His gaze was calm. But beneath it something stirred.
—"All the men…" Hrimtar began. —"Simply killed. Without resistance. Lying wherever: in the streets, in the yards, in the houses.
Someone with an axe in his back. Someone just sitting, leaning against a wall, eyes open.
As if the world had forgotten they were ever alive."
Kano tilted his head slightly. His shoulders sank, and a moment later—tensed again.
He did not blink. He swallowed his rage.
—"They weren't just killed. They were removed.
As if they weren't enemies. Just garbage."
One of the orcs standing behind clenched his fists. But he stayed silent. Like the rest.
—"And the women?" Kano asked softly.
Hrimtar held his breath. And answered:
—"They were… tormented.
Long. Cruelly. Not for the body. For the… soul.
Beaten. Broken. Driven on their knees through glass.
One of them—her arms had no skin. They dragged her.
They didn't die right away.
They were broken—piece by piece. Until their last breath."
Kano drew a deep breath.
His hand moved to his belt by reflex…
But not for a weapon.
He only gripped the strap, as if his balance depended on it.
—"They were thrown into a single building. One…" Hrimtar's voice nearly rasped.
—"And set on fire."
Silence crashed down on everyone again.
—"We found one. Naked. Lying in the middle of a house.
In her hands—a piece of an elven cloak.
It bore the crest of one of the lords.
She held it so tight…
that even after death she didn't let it go."
Hrimtar pulled out a scrap of cloth.
Kano didn't take it. He only looked.
And blinked slowly. Once.
It was worse than anger.
—"On the cloak…" Hrimtar added. —"…a scent. Not hers.
His—the one who did it. He was there. There were several of them.
But the cloak—his."
From the back, one of the orcs whispered:
—"We will never be what we were.
Never."
Kano stood in silence.
But anyone who looked at him could feel it: something in him was already burning.
Not fire.
An eruption that hadn't yet broken through the crust.
Kano stood.
The world around him froze.
He heard everything—the crackle of the fire, the heavy breathing of warriors, the rustle of cloaks.
But in his head…
only one thing:
"They raped them to death."
Something collapsed inside.
He clenched his fists. Slowly. Until it hurt.
And then—the trembling. At first slight. Then—through his whole body.
And not from the cold.
His gaze—empty. Until the memories began to…
cut.
A gray office. Artificial light. Monitors blinking, keyboards clacking. And again—his desk. The lowest. The joke of the floor.
—"Hey, Kano, bring me coffee, slave!" —laughter.
—"You never do anything—so at least do something useful."
—"Oh look, he still doesn't get how Excel works! God, Kano, are you alive or just a virus?"
Mockery. Every day. Every morning. And every evening—the feeling that you simply don't exist.
—"You broke the laptop!" the boss thunders.
—"I saw him pour coffee on it!" says a colleague with a grin.
Laughter.
Hands shaking.
Kano wants to say something. But his mouth won't open.
He stays silent. Because… because he doesn't know how to defend himself.
And then—the whole room laughs.
And every sound is a sword slicing through lungs.
If he could—he would have strangled them. But he couldn't.
Because he was no one. Just a rag. Just a target.
And the news. Every morning.
—"Man kills woman—jealousy."
—"Gang rape in the capital."
—"No one intervened. Witnesses walked by."
Kano—among them. A witness.
He walked by too. Because… he was afraid. As always.
The snap back to reality—like a blow.
Kano's eyes burn. No face—only
darkness and flame.
Fire tears out of him—not a flash, but a slow, unstoppable wave.
Stone cracks beneath his feet.
The air ignites with red light.
—"I…
I was no one.
They humiliated me. They broke me.
I lived in fear!"
His voice is hoarse. Almost a whisper, yet everyone hears it.
—"And I thought that here…
—That here I'd become strong… That here I could protect…"
Kano snaps.
—"And them?!"
—"They raped those women to death! They laughed!"
—"They had fun! They didn't care!"
—"And I stood there! Again! I stood and listened to the report—and so what?!"
Flame shears the air.
The orcs fall back. The dwarves shield their faces.
The girls—stunned.
This isn't magic. This is hell yawning open inside a human heart.