For a brief moment, I questioned if I had finally gone to hell, due to the blood-red sky, screams of pain and fear, and general destruction all around.

But it fits in pretty well with what I was expecting, having seen the end of times and all, so it wasn't too shocking to wake up to.

I was still alive, unfortunately.

I wasn't quite ‘buried’ in rubble, as much as I was laying on top of it, but my right leg didn't quite agree with that assessment and decided that it would rather take a nap at the opposite angle, under a few hundred pounds of concrete.

It hurt. But not as much as it should have, and definitely not as much as my migraine did.

It was hard to explain. It didn't feel localized where it should be, it was more of a… concept of blinding pain, like my very soul had been stretched like dough. I felt different, fundamentally, but not as much as I'd like. I was still me, wholly, and regrettably.

I didn't feel much, other than the pain. It was probably shock mixed with a massive dose of antidepressants. I mean, how are you even supposed to respond to this kind of nonsense? My unprompted murder of ratbag doesn't even feel real, and It didn't make me feel all that better anyway.

A nearby scream broke me out of my musing, and I turned my head lazily towards it, still splayed out atop the rubble.

A girl was running in abject terror, in that sort of horror movie fashion where they can't resist turning around to spot their pursuer, scream, speed up, and do the same thing every 10 seconds or so. She was bound to trip over a corpse or rebar at this rate, and she didn't need the constant checkups anyway.

That was because the creature was somehow even louder than the screaming woman, though that might have something to do with being five times the size. It wore a loincloth of sorts, and held an axe above his head, waving it around like a zippo lighter at an 80’s concert. Its face was like a pig's, and its skin was green-

It was a fucking orc, okay? I know what an orc looks like. There was no meaning in pondering the reality-shattering revelations that a fictional creature was before my eyes, as I was rather past that. I was distracted by something a bit more important.

When I laid eyes on the girl, I could see…well, for the lack of a better word and understanding, her soul. It was an essence, nested within her body. I could see her age just as well as the clothes on her back. Her temperament as easily as her blonde hair. But most importantly, her strength. Or lack thereof.

As if the universe was conspiring to prove my conjecture, she took that exact moment to trip, sprawling face-first over a leg sticking out from the rubble. Instead of attempting to get back up, she just turned around and screamed even louder at the approaching pigman, who snorted in what I can reasonably assume was amusement.

This would have been a good time to do something. Maybe throw a brick, scream to catch its attention, something of that variety. But I didn’t.

She was a solid 30 feet away, but the blood splatter reached me from all the way over there. My grey suit was peppered in bits of blood, flesh, and bone shards. More than it already was.

Right then, I wouldn't have had time to help anyway. I wonder why piggy decided to use the flat side of his axe instead of the perfectly sharp blade, but I suppose he just wanted to extend the splash zone. The blondie was pulverized, and the little wisp of ‘soul’ disappeared into nothing.

The orc snorted/chuckled again, then abruptly turned its head, locking eyes with me.

Well, ladies and gentlemen. It was fun. So ends my mental account of the end-times. Perhaps an orc archeologist will recover my bones and pose me in a museum, to be laughed at and poked at by dirty little orc children until something else comes along and commits another bout of genocide.

A fitting end.

I gave my leg a few courtesy tugs and immediately gave up due to the pain. I wasn't going anywhere. The orc was approaching me, menacingly, and flipping its axe over in its hands, presumably deciding if it was going to go for a crush or bisection.

It didn't take long for it to reach me. It loomed like only a creature its size can, its fat green ass weighing down the rubble around me enough to shift the rock that was currently causing me immense pain. It decided on the sharp end, after much deliberation - probably its maximum amount - and raised it above its head, like a lumberjack eyeing a particularly smooth cut of lumber.

And what do you know, your life does flash before your eyes right before you die. I thought it was an exaggeration, but here I was, watching the most pathetic slideshow on the face of the earth. From my dead parents to my deadbeat step-parents, to my shit minimum wage jobs, to a useless degree, to a dead-end office job.

There were things in between. Romances. Interests. Dreams.

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But they didn't matter. They were fleeting and empty.

If there's anything good I can say for my life, it was that I got to live the dream of beating my own boss to death before I died, which was quite possibly the highlight of my entire life. Many office workers shall look upon my legacy in envy, wishing they could be so bold as I.

And I suppose there is something to be said for dying via getting cut in half by a monster, as opposed to a hernia from overworking myself. Pretty fucking rad, if I do say so myself.

But despite the apathy, despite the grim acceptance, the empty feeling that pervades my very existence, I'm man enough to admit the truth, in the end.

I wanted more. I want to live, yes, but not like this. I want to live at the top. I want to walk down the streets and be the center of every gaze, filled with envy and hatred. I want to be the man at the tip of everybody's tongue. I want to be a mover, a shaker, a player on the stage of the god damn world.

But it wasn't to be. I never got the opportunity. And now, I never will.

The axehead came down. But it didn't reach. It was rudely interrupted by a young-man-shaped cannonball, slamming into its side. The axe went wild, downwards swing interrupted by the powerful impact, and barely flying over my head. The sound it made as it cut through the air would probably stay with me for the rest of my life.

So, maybe a minute. Two minutes tops.

The pig squealed in confusion, while the young man swung the rather sharp piece of rebar like a baseball bat, aiming vaguely towards center mass of the orc, which responded by raising its axe on reflex, catching the swing with the wooden haft. The crash of metal on wood was impressive, and I could tell the strike had far more force than a human being should be able to output.

So, still stuck in position due to my definitely destroyed leg, I took a look at my dear savior.

I was…enthralled by what I saw.

There aren't words to describe it. It was intricate, it was beautiful, and it was endless. Like an empty mold, begging to be filled with something, anything. It was passion, it was spirit, and it was potential.

I could see red energy coursing through his core, spreading through his nervous system, muscles, and brain. It pulsed and flexed with every movement in a beautiful dance of power and efficiency, beyond my understanding and yet so simple at the same time.

The kid tried to follow up, but the rubble shifted due to the impact, causing both combatants to fall over. The orc slid down the pile while the kid fell beside me, tumbling to avoid impaling himself on rebar.

He was exactly 18 years and three months old, if I was seeing things correctly. His hair was as pitch black as his eyes, and his body was skinny and well-trained. His skin was somewhat tanned, though his Asian features led me to believe he was naturally pale.

His expression was....off. Disturbingly placid, as he glanced over the corpses to land on me. "Are you alright?" he asked.

I shook my head. "Nope."

"Okay. Do you have something to help me kill this thing?"

"I can supply a healthy amount of moral support."

He scratched his chin. "Not very helpful."

"So I've been told."

An interesting kid, to be sure. It was as if he was made for the world we now found ourselves in. Calm, collected, strong. His...soul? Core? Whatever it was, interested me.

The orc was climbing the hill of stone now, making a variety of angry noises. The kid rose to meet it, holding his rebar like a sword, extended in a solid guard.

The orc raised its axe, and I could see it. A downward swing, like it was chopping wood, straight and direct, using all the muscles in its body. Its twisted heart pounded at an average of 173 bpm, fueling the odd muscular system in its body. Interesting, how the fat stomach is actually pure muscle, giving the illusion of vulnerability. Funny, how its brain had less neural activity than your average crow.

The kid dodged to the side, bracing the rebar against his arm, letting the blade grind away from him as sparks flew. The axe smashed into the rubble, leaving it wide open, and the kid prepared a stab, committing fully to it, expecting it to end the fight.

I could see the mistake he was about to make. It was a simple one. He assumed a fantasy creature's heart would be in the same place as a human's.

"It's right above the stomach!" I yelled, and the kid corrected his aim in an instant, deciding to trust my advice. The sharpened rebar cut straight through its midsection, spewing blackened blood at an incredible rate. The creature squealed like a pig to slaughter, dropping its axe in surprise and pain. It fell to its knees.

The kid kicked it while it was down, slamming his boot into its chest. It fell on its back, and the kid leisurely picked up the axe that was the size of him. He stared at it lovingly for a moment, running his finger along the blade, before hoisting it above his head, mimicking the same vertical chop that the creature attempted.

I could see fear in the orc's eyes, glistening softly, accompanied by fearful whimpering.

That didn't save it from the axe head cutting its entire upper torso in two. This time, there was far less spray. Too bad I was much closer.

I whistled. "Jesus Christ, kid."

He turned to me, not bothering to wipe the blood off his face. "Thanks. That knowledge is valuable. How did you know?"

I shrugged as best I could from my position. "Fuck if I know. Magic, man."

The kid looked at his hands. "Magic indeed. I'm strong now."

"So I've noticed. Can I get a big, strong man to help me out of this rubble? If I'm going to die, I'd rather it be in glorious battle, and not exsanguination."

Wordlessly, he walked over, gently setting the axe down before using both hands to pull the rubble off, which somehow hurt more than it being there in the first place. With a grunt, he flipped it over, where it tumbled down the little hill and landed on the blondie's corpse from before, crushing it into an even finer pace.

"That's a bad wound," he said.

"No shit," I retorted.

And it was. It bore a striking resemblance with the aforementioned blondie. Definitely beyond saving.

Well, I certainly couldn't walk. Most of me wants to kick back and wait for something else to come kill me, but the rest...well, it's intrigued.

"So, kid, do you mind bringing me along?"

The kid looked thoughtful. I could tell he was legitimately considering leaving me here to die.

But not for long. "Sure," he said, leaning down and offering his hand. "Intel is vital for survival."

Well, I suppose that's a more reliable reason than altruism. I took his hand, and he lifted me up effortlessly, wrapping my arm around his shoulder.

"Any directives?" he asked.

Directives. What a curious choice of words. I felt like the kid wasn't accustomed to making decisions. He just acted on instinct. Perhaps he wasn't truly thinking of survival and was instead just going through the motions, waiting for an opportunity to present itself.

A rookie mistake. Opportunities must be made.

"Yeah," I said. "A tourniquet, and a name."