You’ve never understood, guy.

  The entire world before my vision turns black and white from the intensity of the rising mountain of energy between us. At the twilight spot where the heavens twinkle for just this single second, in this tiny fragment of the world where the rising dawn and the setting dusk crash together in an explosion so bright, so jubilant, so radiant. Just for an instant. Just for us. Just for me. Just for him. Our worlds collide like two oceans crashing together with mighty waves that fall deeply into each other, the waters mixing and surging and swirling and sloshing as the convex whirlpool of our existences rages on. The black-water churns in my eyes.

  Thrashing currents lash out around us, filling the air with a light so bright that I might as well be standing inside of the sun itself. All I see is the blurry, blacked out silhouette of the man in-front of me, the radiance of the shining light is so intense that his dawn obscured features might as well be scribbles on a sheet of paper.

It’s okay though, that you don’t understand. Life is a journey, you know? We’ll pick up the pieces along the way. I’ll pick them up for you, since you don’t have hands. I do it for you, after all.

The hero and I press into each other and then, everything goes quiet.

  Time seems to have stopped, as if all of the magical energies coming together here at once simply overwhelmed the very concept of it. As if it were too much for the universe to handle all at once. But maybe it’s just me. Maybe it’s just my own brain. After all, isn’t that where our perception of time is rooted? I wonder what it looks like for him. For him. My eyes catch his cape billowing wildly behind him, the fabric suspended in mid-air as if frozen in place. I bet mine’s doing the same. So cool!

  But my eyes return to focus as time seems to drag on once again, as the energies of the black-water flow through me once again, as the world returns to life once again and I look into his eyes, seconds before the whiplash is to come and I tell him, I let him know. I want him to know. I want him to see. I want to see his eyes when I tell him.

“YOU’RE TOO LATE!”

His face shifts into an expression that makes me very happy.

The world explodes as the bubble breaks. As the hum, as the droning of the energies becomes too much, too loud, too strong. It breaks. It’s ruining it. IT’S RUINING I-

  We both fly back as the crack of thunder shines out, as if the voice of a god were splitting the world in twain with a single deafening shout and I curl up as I fly, my hands clutching my eyes to hold them tight as the light swallows everything. As it burns away everything. As it makes it clean. As it makes it pure. Ah…

It’s so warm.

I smile as I catapult over the ground, my bones cracking in all manner of direction as I launch across the bloody meadow, coming to a sudden stop, as my back smashes against a tree, ripping its meaty roots out of the dirt.

My eyes scan upward, seeing a flicker of movement and I see two blue-birds flying away, towards the distance, just as the wave of energy comes to an end here. I’m glad things worked out this time, Mr. Blue-bird.

The droning buzz of the energetic wave grows quieter. The blinding light begins to fade. I sigh, that felt good.

Looking down, I look at my body. It’s entirely pulverized. Bones rattle around inside of my metal gauntlets that lay limply on the wet grass. The fingers of my gauntlets filled with a fine powder. My spine, wrapped around the tree, is shattered. My legs are broken. My skull is cracked in half.

Heroes pack a punch, guy, tell you what.

I finally got to do it. I finally got to do it though. Did you see? Did you see? I finally got to fight the hero. To really fight him! Ah! I’m so happy!

That piece of shit.

  I narrow my eyes. I finally got to fight him and I’m so happy that I finally got to wipe that dopey, vacant expression off of his stupid, perfect, hero face. It looks a lot better with a bloodied nose and a cracked jaw. I’m so happy that he finally got to experience some real pain. That he finally knows what it feels like.

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

I hate him.

Dungeon, pull me back up. Put me back together. I’m not done yet.

I hate him.

The world returns to light, revealing nothing but a cloud of smoke and rubble filling the air. Dirt, or more aptly said, ‘dirt’ rains down from above, falling after being propelled by our fight. By our attacks. By dirt, I of course mean meat. It’s a meat-floor after all.

I scan around, looking to see if it’s here. If it survived. The true sub-boss of floor eighty-nine. The one that only appears after Miller dies.

I don’t think it did. I think we avoided it twice now. It probably got swallowed up in the blast.

Good riddance. I hate it too.

You don’t need to see it, guy, okay? And especially not you, eyeyoume, with that weak stomach of yours. What? No, I understand you think you can handle it, but you can’t. Trust me on this. It’s not that I don’t believe in you, it’s just that I know -

I know -

I know -

The cloud dissipates as the last of the incredibly dense magical vapors fades away, drifting off into dark crevices, nooks and crannies.

Something snaps in me, as my bones are pulled back together. As if the hand of god were grabbing me, compressing the pulverized fragments that are me back together. Pressing its fingers against the dents of my armor to pop them back out into place.

We aren’t done yet. Magical energies course from my eyes as I see. As I see. As I see with a TWINKLE in my heart that silhouette standing far in the distance. That silhouette rising back up to his feet.

Hah! Serves you right! I laugh, as the hero rises back up on the far side of the crater that separates us, his cape in tatters. The dungeon-floor below is simply gone. The meat in the impact site is simply gone, leaving only a spherical hole that digs deep down into the rock.

My bones snap, as I am pulled back upright. As if a red string of fate were attached to the top of my skull and pulling me back into the air like a marionette.

  A ripple of energy shoots through my feet, running up through my body, sending my arms out to the side in a waving motion as the bones are pressed back together. As the ashes and the dust that is me is pushed back together. It won’t let me die. Not like this. Not this easily. It’s had enough. It wants me gone. It hates me. It hates me. It’s a strong, true feeling and I respect that.

My hand hovers out to the side and the lance flies up off of the ground, pulled together back to my body as if it were an organic part of me, as if it were no less than my bones, than my heart, than my eyes.

I step forward, lurching, possessed as I glare at the silhouette walking my way with the true emotions of a hero.

The metal tip of my lance strikes down against the edge of the crater as I stare across it, as he makes his way to the other side, sword at the ready.

It’s not hate, though I feel it in my heart of hearts.

We both leap towards each other, the battle isn’t over yet. My eyes shine bright, but so do his.

It’s not for love, for the sake of protecting something, though I feel that in my soul. That desire. That need.

Screams ring out aloud, mine, his, as the metal of our weapons meets again. As his sword screams, as the lance screams.

It’s not for desire or for greed or for any want of escape, for any want of death or of victory.

We plummet down, falling into the hole below as we swing, striking and grappling at each other in mid-air. I’m a lancer, so I have an advantage in a free-fall. But he’s the hero and has unearned, nigh-godly powers. So fuck him. FUCK HIM.

Metal screams as we plummet.

It’s not for any of that.

It’s simply for this.

In this second. In this moment as I feel my heart beating -

We crash into the rocks below, blue dust flying out around us as our impact disturbs the deep-set roots of the rot beneath us. The roots of the fungus that are spreading so far, so unseen, consuming all of the magical energies of the dungeon as they have been this entire time.

It’s too late. It’s too late.

He grits his teeth as our faces press forward against each other once again, as our weapons lock.

It’s for this. For this. For this thing I believe in. For this TWINKLE I feel in my heart, for this strong feeling I have when I fight. When I fight, I move. When I move, the water doesn’t stagnate. If the black-water doesn’t stagnate, the rot can’t get me.

That’s what I believe in. That’s what I’m fighting for. That’s what my CONVICTION pursues. Movement. Flow. Energy. Life. Never stop.

We both jump back and then dash forward, as our strikes ring out dozens of times over and over and over.

I’m never going to stop.

  The blue dust shifts and worms, as the roots of the fungus rearrange themselves. As the bleeding, scorched ends are sealed shut and they diverge, growing into different directions. Reaching. Reaching for the magical energies that stream out from us both. Reaching for our eyes of which only mine can see.

“Don’t you get it?!” I yell at him with eyes that twinkle. “The seal is broken! It’s broken!” I laugh, cackling as we clash again. I yell. “It’s over! You’re too late!”

I lift my other hand and swing a punch towards him and he does the same, our fists colliding with each other’s bodies once again as we both fly back from the force.

I catch myself and so does he and we return to the middle. To the fight. To where we belong. This. This is it. This is all there is.

“You’re too late to save anybody!”

He lifts his sword back again as the hero’s bell strikes out once more and I do the same. I’ll tear him down to hell with me, I’ll destroy him so utterly that when I die, that I’ll claw and drag his eyes with me to the void. I’m not going back alone.

The bells toll as the wills of our benefactors prepares to meet once again between our vessels.

Ding.

“I’m not going back alone!”

Ding.

“Do you know how long I’ve been here?!”

Ding.

“Do you understand what this is?!”

Ding.

“DON’T YOU SEE?!”

Ding.

“LOOK AROUND YOU! LOOK AROUND YOU!”

Ding.

I hate him. I hate him. Why can’t he just open his eyes and see like I see. Why can’t you all just see what I see?! I’m done with this. I’m done. I’m done playing with the hero. I’m done playing the hero. I’m done playing this game. I’m sick of it. I want it to end.

Ding.

I want it to end.

Ding.

So I’m going to make it stop. I’m going to make all of you stop. I’m going to make you all see.

Ding.

Whether you like it or not. I’m going to drag you up into the light of the world above and make you stop. Whether you like it or not.

Ding.

“ANSWER ME!”

DING.

Something lurches below us, as the blue-rot, as the magic consuming fungus spreads, ripping the stones apart as a hole begins to form. As something begins to press itself out, something wet, something that reaches.

The bell strikes twelve and midnight comes as the world erupts, as the dungeon shakes down to its very core.