Day Four

[Strazio Rockwell]

How was I still alive? That man hit like a freight truck and sent me flying through the air with one punch. Maybe it was some sort of divine intervention? Unfortunately there are no gods here in the Abyss so it was more than likely a perverted twist of fate. Still, my body had not failed me just yet and my willpower was still indomitable. Slowly I limped towards my fallen foe and grabbed the metal shield from the ground. Carefully I untied the sling around my neck and let my shattered arm dangle. Using the shredded cloth from the sling I tied the shield to my broken arm, pulling the knots tight. The pain was almost unbearable, but I could handle it for one more fight. I chuckled softly as I picked up the gunblade and swung it a few times in the air. A shield and sword for the knight of Darkshire, how fitting.

The smoldering remains of a monarch glinted in the sun a few feet away. Cautiously I limped towards the golden armor shards and burnt chunks of flesh. I wanted to smile, I wanted to laugh after all I had made it... Right? Gilgamesh was dead and through sheer persistence I managed to outlast the golden king. Why wasn’t I happy? My heart felt hollow, the rage was gone and in its place was nothing but a deep lachrymosic feeling. Almost as if guided by a ghost I knelt down and picked up a small golden shard of armor, it was still warm to the touch. Why couldn’t I be glad that I had outlasted him? Why did my personal victory feel so hollow?

I tried to say something -- a curse, a condemnation of the abyss -- anything, but my jaw was shattered and I couldn’t move it well enough to form words. He didn’t allow his subjects to carry him here, he fought alongside them like a proper king. Through all the arrogance and pomp at his core he was here for his people and his kingdom. Was this why I couldn’t feel good about outlasting him? Or had the Abyss swallowed my ability to feel joy?

This place sucks.

With a heavy heart and a mind of lamentations I turned from the king’s corpse. The game wasn’t over, no there was still a final battle to be had. My hand clenched around the shard of armor before casting it to the ground. There was no way in hell that I had come this far to lose. With sword in my hand and shield strapped to my arm I limped to face the upcoming battle. Damn my melancholy and damn my weary bones, I had to push forward. The Defender of Darkshire would never fall and the Avatar of Rage would give no respite. Until my body wasted away to dust I would never stop fighting.

Fuck this pain.

Fuck this island.

I came to win.

I will finish this.