A man trudged down a snowy path, his movements sluggish and labored, swaying from side to side. His body felt on the brink of collapse, yet he persisted, each step pushing him forward, though to where, he wondered. This question echoed in his mind repeatedly, each time yielding a different unsatisfactory answer. The biting cold had seeped through his clothing long ago, embracing him like a bitter mother. He sought to affirm his existence, to demonstrate his vitality by challenging the constraints that bound him. Though he knew this uncharted path would likely lead to his demise, he pressed on—not out of apathy, but out of sheer defiance. He craved to experience the pain and vulnerability of his humanity, to endure the physical sensations his body could offer. His mind had suffered enough; now he sought solace in the rawness of physical sensation.

"Come!"

In an attempt to shout, he murmured weakly, his lips cracked and tongue parched. Was he summoning death or life? He couldn't tell, but it hardly seemed to matter. Life and death blended into one in his mind at that moment. His legs trembled, struggling to lift a foot from the deep snow and push forward. His right foot was nearly frozen in place, weakened by the biting cold and the long journey. As he gazed upward, he saw nothing but clouds and fog, no sky, no sun -- almost as if he were abandoned by the world.

"In seeking lif..."

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The man struggled to speak without coughing. Collapsing onto his back, his dry throat pleaded for silence, but he persisted.

"In my pursuit of life, I stumbled upon death. I pondered whether in seeking death, I might have found life, but it seems both paths merely lead to the same end – death."

To whom was he speaking? To the fog concealing the world? To the clouds mocking him from above? To the heavy snow anchoring him to the ground? To the god he doubted existed? He didn't know, nor did he have the strength to care. Yet, he cherished life and always had, despite the hardships. Even now, he felt the urge to cry and to laugh – to weep for the sorrow of departing life, for the agony endured, and to chuckle at the inexplicable wonders of existence. Was the fog outside, or was it within his mind? Was the cloud above him or veiling his eyes? Was the snow beneath his feet, or was it nestled in his heart? He didn't know.

In the midst of nowhere, a man lay frozen in the snow, his eyes brimming with hatred, his smile radiating love. Yet another child of hope was lost to the snares of confusion.

…

Two slimy beings stood before a screen, observing the man's demise in the snow.

"Moloch has triumphed over this planet," remarked one, to which the other quickly replied.

"Let's depart. The barrier will fall in 10 years, and then we can obliterate Earth."

The spherical object, hovering beyond the Oort Cloud, disappeared into thin air.

…

A man, partially buried in the snow, suddenly twitched. He opened his eyes and vomited a large amount of blood. He had never felt so invigorated and alive.

"I'm not dead?"