Victor huddled in the dark corner of some long-forgotten convenience store chain, as monsters prowled the streets outside.
He didn’t know if there were any people left in the entire world, let alone in this husk of a city. And even if there were still other people out there, what were chances they would stumble across him, scared and alone, huddled in the dark.
Yet the hope of rescue was the only thing he had left to cling on to, his party had been wiped, picked off one by one. He had only survived due to the one skill that had kept him alive all this time, running.
He shuddered as a breeze came through the cracks, brushing against the filth he had smothered himself in. He had to mask the scent, and the only thing he had access to in his little space was himself, and his own fecal material.
Hopefully there wasn’t a demonic dung beetle nearby.
How long had he been here? He had survived for twenty years in this hellhole, yet these moments felt even longer. Every noise was a creature clawing at the walls, every growl was a monster finally catching his scent.
This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.
He was going to die here, like everyone else, like the rest of the human race.
So this was how it was going to end? The last of humanity, sitting in the dark in its own filth?
It was kinda funny in a way, that he was the one that would survive. The most pathetic of his entire group. The one ready to abandon them all at a moment's notice, but the one who they had sacrificed themselves to save. So that at least one of them would survive.
Victor began to cry, he was pathetic. Why did he live? He didn’t deserve to, he didn’t want to.
He didn’t want to live. At least not like this.
Laughter? He had started laughing, he didn’t know why, or how he was still able to. But this was it, the end of his story. Standing back up on two feet, dried, brown flakes drifting off his skin.
“Equip: Sword of Ashes, Armor set 1,” His body was bathed in light, his weapon and armor appeared with him.
He was done running, he was going to fight, tear his way through. Let his last moments be in glorious fanfare.
And with that, he charged straight through the wall into what remained of the world.