The Cost of a False Savior
The taste of copper and ash filled my mouth.
Damn it.
To think I would die like this. Crawling in the dirt, bleeding out, having achieved absolutely nothing. Worst of all, I had been hunted down and broken by someone I once considered a comrade. Someone the rest of humanity worshiped as a living god, a saint, a hero.
I never trusted him. Not really. But in a world where the government collapsed, civilization crumbled, and monsters ran rampant, people desperately needed a savior. When he stepped into the light, draped in glory, humanity blindly fell to their knees. No one would have believed me if I told them the truth—that the "Protector of Humanity" was a fraud. A monster masquerading as a miracle.
Now, my vision was fading. My heart thudded a slow, ragged rhythm against my ribs. Even my own body, forged through a decade of hell, was finally abandoning me.
"How long do you plan on running?"
A booming voice shattered the quiet
How long are you going to struggle? Just accept your damn fate!"
I didn't need to look back to know who it was. That smug, arrogant tone belonged to the world's golden boy. The damned bastard blessed by the constellations.
When the system arrived, he was handed everything on a silver platter—supreme magic, flawless combat talent, and the backing of powerful cosmic entities. I was given nothing. No constellations looked at me with favor. No holy relics fell into my hands.
But I didn't let that stop me. I dragged myself through the mud, trained until my bones cracked, and carved my way through this apocalyptic hellscape with sheer, bloody willpower. I paid for my strength in flesh. I lost my right eye to a demon's curse, and my shattered left arm had to be torn away and replaced with a crude, heavy prosthetic. I fought twice as
as hard just to reach a fraction of his power.
And yet, it wasn't enough.
A sudden barrage of magic tore through the sky, lighting up the ruins around us. Lightning and fire rained down. Even though my instincts screamed and I somehow managed to roll and evade the direct blasts, the shockwaves blew me forward.
My legs gave out completely. My stamina bar flashed a hollow, empty gray. I crashed heavily into the dirt, coughing up a fresh wave of blood.
Heavy footsteps approached. I looked up through my one remaining eye to see him drawing his blade. The pristine, glowing metal caught the dying light of the horizon. He stopped right in front of me, looking down as if I were nothing more than a stray dog.
"I will spare you," he said, his voice dripping with mock pity. "But only if you swear an oath to become my loyal servant."
I gathered the very last of my strength, looked him dead in the eye, and spat a mouthful of blood onto his polished boots.
"Fuck off."
His expression didn't even change. With a swift, effortless motion, he unsheathed his blade completely. A cold flash of silver cut through the air.
As my vision spun and the world rapidly plunged into pitch-black darkness, a final, bitter thought echoed in my fading mind.
I accept my death... but this isn't what I wanted. If I could just do it over again...