They followed the narrow path, passing long black fences on the sides of the grounds. Some shrubs grew and intertwined between the metal spears, blooming into beautiful, swollen, colorful flowers with hundreds of petals, where small bees made a point of landing and delighting in the succulent pollen.
Reaching a double side door made of dark wood and inlaid with refined floral designs, both entered a beautiful kitchen. It was lined with white flooring and a vast counter over three meters long. Hundreds of employees, dressed in colors similar to the butler, scurried like ants from one side to the other—all agitated yet silent as they went about their tasks.
— "Come with me," said the butler, directing him to what appeared to be a locker room, where Gantz was handed a white cook's uniform. He was led to the stove area, where hundreds of similar men worked in unison to prepare dinner. The sight was impressive, and for a moment Gantz let himself appreciate the beautiful vision of men and women coming and going with stunning plates of food of varied colors and shapes, the scents seizing his nostrils as he enjoyed the dance of the food.
— "Go, blend in, and do your job. Your life is at stake, and so is your revenge."
The man turned and left. Gantz didn't take long to join the beautiful dance; already accustomed to the movement of a kitchen, he learned the steps, and his movements flowed, leaving no doubt for the others about his place there. On every plate his slender fingers touched, he slipped a beautiful blue drop of the poison. His vision and perception helped him whenever someone looked his way. It didn't take long for the vial to be empty and the plates full of a cruel fate—not at all unfitting for a cruel man.
Such is life; sometimes retribution arrives. Though it is not always the case, do not doubt its coming—not by the hands of fate, but by those who were wounded by your actions.
Gantz followed in line as everyone left the kitchen to rest in a side room. He diverted from the path, taking advantage of the tired workers' inattention to escape through one of the doors. Finally, he found himself inside the building. The wooden floor was polished to such a degree that one could see their own reflection. The scent of flowers permeated the environment, and not a single grain of dirt was to be seen. Red walls warmed the space like embers, comforting the vast rooms. Portraits of Olete, his wife, and his daughters on the wall displayed an apparently perfect family.
He passed by beautiful reddish-wood furniture—likely Brazilwood—upholstered in dark green with buttons securing the padding. Climbing the stairs, he gripped the handrail, also made of highly polished Brazilwood, and walked down the hallway lined with a beautiful dark red carpet until he found a gap between some furniture. He hid behind a fine cabinet and remained as still as possible.
The smell of old wood filled his nostrils while the tightness and nervousness unsettled him. That feeling, which was no longer hatred or revenge but a thirst for justice as his mother would have desired, helped him maintain his calm. He felt the spirits of his kin around him, behind him, waiting—soothing his racing heart.
Footsteps echoed, coming and going as the table was served and the house filled with life. He couldn't understand how someone who had lost their daughters could be so calm, so unconcerned.
— "Perhaps I wasn't the only one condemned to know Olete."
Gantz didn't know how long he waited. His mind filled with images of his brothers, his parents, and every happy moment they had lived in that divine land, now cursed. When he realized it, the house was silent again. He stepped out from the side of the cabinet and looked around; the yellowish lights brought a strange comfort to the environment. Walking down the hall, he spotted a door covered in beautifully carved fish that seemed to leap out of the wood. Gantz turned the golden handle and entered the room. The fire in the hearth burned, pushing shadows to the edges of the room. To his left, a wall lined to the ceiling with leather-bound books; on the floor, a soft rug filled with beautiful designs; luxury chairs to the right; and a white fireplace carved from stone in the shape of a whale's mouth, crackling and emitting the sweet scent of burning wood. Above it hung a beautiful portrait of the four residents, all smiling, with Olete in the center.
Gantz ran his hand over the dark, almost black, heavy-looking desk, curved and adorned with fine contours. He sat in an armchair that seemed to be a match for the desk, with a high backrest, settling into the dark blue leather and crossing his hands while appreciating the burning flames. They weren't just burning the wood; they seemed to start burning in his eyes, reflected in his emerald-green irises.
The sound of footsteps echoed in the corridor. A short man with a belly that made its presence known before his body entered the dark room appeared. He closed the door behind him and, with a smile on his face, took a step until he saw a figure in his chair. His smile vanished slowly as his eyes focused on the eyes covered by the reflection of the fireplace flames.
— "One cannot expect fate to do for you what a man, a brother, and above all, a son must do."
Gantz stood up. His shadow seemed massive and intimidating. Olete took a step back, his old heart feeling tense as it hadn't been in many years. That feeling he hadn't felt in a long time—when he was still young and weak—seemed to return like hands coming back from the underworld to grasp his soul. But a priest's arrogance was greater than his fear.
— "Who are you! Sinner who dares to set foot on my sacred lands!"
— "Shall we really talk about sins, Olete? Olete the killer of families. Olete the torturer of children. Olete the pyromaniac who enjoys watching the limbs of his victims twist amidst the flames."
— "Who the fuck are you?"
Gantz stepped out of the darkness, revealing his curly hair, emerald eyes, and unshaven beard.
— "Am I supposed to remember something?"
— "Perhaps I've changed since our last time. No longer so weak, so young and innocent. You know Leonardo... he looked at me with eyes like yours before I crushed his head with a rock. But in the end, like any man, he feared death and begged for his brother."
As if the realization finally hit, Olete pointed a trembling finger at Gantz.
— "You! You are that disgusting cursed one! Still alive? No matter. I will finish what that useless Leonardo didn't."
Olete waved his hands. A flow of magic surged out while Gantz remained still, his long overcoat inches from touching the floor, eyes empty, just waiting. The flow of mana weakened as it moved toward Gantz before liquefying after passing through Gantz's body.
— "What the—" Olete recoiled, his forehead furrowing with expression lines, his lips tightening, and his hands clenching into fists; his nails were about to pierce his skin.
— "What did you do?"
— "You know, I thought so many times about what to do with you, how to kill you. But now that I'm here, I think I have an idea." He took off his coat and placed it on a nearby chair, then his shirt, until he revealed his muscles sculpted in hatred while uttering each word slowly.
— "I believe the best way to end our impasse is to kill you in the most personal way possible—feeling your flesh, your bones, and your blood being crushed, ground, and splattered by my fists!"
GANTZ LEAPT TOWARD OLETE.