Day Four

[Strazio Rockwell]

Exhaustion mixed with pain and injury, which slowed my travel to a crawl. The anger in my heart still bubbled and boiled, but my body was broken and on the verge of collapse. It was by sheer force of will that I was still able to move, let alone stay alive. Absentmindedly and almost instinctively my hand found its way to the crest of Darkshire and clenched it tightly. My purpose had not left me, I had managed to stay alive longer than that red-haired bastard. Now the only one left was the king of sand, and should I survive past him I could die happy.

My vision faded in and out, surely I was suffering some form of sepsis from the infection. Perhaps not, I guess I wouldn’t really know if sepsis would even be the correct word to use. Valerie had taught me an extensive amount of medical knowledge, but I was never very good at it. In fact of all the things he taught me very few of it stuck. Almost everything combat related was etched into my memory and the more peaceful pursuits were shoved to the side. He was not blind to my bloodlust, and often remarked about how my rage would blind me. On the contrary my anger did nothing but focus my resolve, it permeated every fiber of my being and turned me into the Avatar of Rage.

The road I had followed for the past mile or so started to split in twain. Paralyzed by the decision I decided to sit down for a moment and rest. The sun was rising and in a few hours the asphalt would be broiling, but for now it was still cool from the night before. The chilled asphalt felt good on my tortured skin and I could help but lay on my back. The Abyss had begun to take its grim toll on me and it refused to relent. Dammit. Why must I be so weak? I asked myself, cursing my fragile form. If this collar wasn’t around my neck I could probably push forward, using my magicks to force my body beyond its limits.

Would Dmitri forgive me if I just died here? Rumford? The Rock?

Would I forgive myself?

No.

No, I wouldn’t. Time to get up.

I hate this. I hate this pain. I hate this island. I hate everything here.

My vision focused to a pinpoint and I rolled over onto my stomach, pressing my shattered arm against my stomach. The pain hurt, but kept me lucid. This reaffirming of my willpower was a common but needed ritual, especially when I was standing on the precipice of death. So long as there was still competition I will not shed my mortal coil. I screamed and raged against the absurdity of this deathmatch. Even with the flame of rage burning in my heart, my body was still a wreck. It took me a while to find my footing, but I made a silent promise to never lay down again. If I took another moments rest I doubt I would be able to stand back up.

“Everyone in Darkshire that is rooting for me... Rumford, Dmitri” I forced myself to speak as clearly as I could, but fatigue still slurred my speech “please, believe in me. I... won’t let you down... but I need all the strength I can get right now.” Knowing that there were people counting on my victory, strengthened my resolve. The Avatar of Rage was not going down without a fight. The Defender of Darkshire wasn’t going to forsake his oath. And I, Strazio Rockwell, would not fall.