Feeling the sudden calm wash over me, I ducked and dove under and over the fierce barrage that Radgar threw everything into. His breath was ragged, and his eyes bulged like rubies from his cavernous sockets. They spoke of a line, of a crossing being made. Up until this point, Radgar had been kissed by Fate. As the system's wrath, he was put on a path of destruction that would build him up to be an impossible foe one day. An impossible foe meant to slay me.

The thought sent shivers rolling down my spine, joining the anticipation-fueled adrenaline that began to prick and itch on my face.

It was a shame that this was the version I was to defeat. The pup is on the precipice of becoming the lion.

With a shrug and shout, Rudgar finally brought his axe down in a large, sluggish arc. The axe met the earth and cracked it into a shower of shrapnel destruction.

Dodging quickly but still cautiously, I did not let even a speck hit me. This could be caution on my end, but it was also some attempt at battlefield psychology on the other end.

If you give an enemy an inch, they might gain confidence again at the sight of damage and rush with newfound hope.

I was to give him none of that.

Somewhere off into the distant trees, birds sang their songs of morning. The sun, which had set what felt like moments ago, was now rising. Its rays bring an opening to the morning but close to the battle.

The goblins held back tears all around. Clutching at their savage hardware, their eyes began to flow with rivers of sorrow. This was more than just an encounter, a mob to be slain. There was more to this.

What I would do now would crush people. It would send ripples down the spine of the system's story. It would become lore.

Then, before my sentiments could cloud my better judgment, I turned back and saw my dire straits. My group of men, Shadeo and Rafael, were within the hut, their eyes no longer on the battle. No doubt they had scoured the little of the forests, which were allowed to be scavenged for berries and herbs that would not heal but keep Roger alive, if not just barely.

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With a voice that seemed beyond my own, with an aura of someone more than myself, I said:

I'm sorry for this. This is the last thing a warrior like yourself wants to hear at the end of such a heated exchange.

Rudgars eyes held fire still, even if his body could no longer contain the flame. Even so, he barked back.

Don't patronize me, boy. This fight is not over, not yet. I am Rudgar, the conqueror, the prophesized ruler, connector, and bridge of the savage lands—the Uribe Sar resurrected.

To this utterance of the title, the goblins, now in a wallow of self-defeat, perked back up as if energized by the words. Some, growing confident, seeing the state of Radgar, began to eye the man with hatred oozing from their core, the side that they had never shown less their head roll like the one before.

Now, they feared not.

A slight echo began to reverberate.

You are no Uribe Sar. You are a false Sar! A liar. A trickster.

Yes, trickster.

He tricked us!!

Fooled us!

Chieftain was right; you are nothing! Trash! Trash.

The chants began to overflow the huddled group as the pressures of reality began to flow across them. Winners are anointed and praised. Losers, even if hard-fought, are shamed without remorse.

Rudgars eyes turned to meet the crowd of rebel goblins. Then, with a burst of strength, he sent a tidal wave of pure, unfiltered rage toward them.

Bending over, their hands to their heads, they began to writhe in pain. Screaming and begging, they pleaded for the merciful release of death.

Those affected slowly gathered their tools and finished themselves off, creating an image of savagery that even the shattered lands couldn't paint.

Fools, Rudgar shouted.

Only death could bring you foolish fodder close to me. Only in death are we equal. Then, turning to meet my eyes, he said.

Only in death will this end.

Nodding, I pressed into my warren, searching for the end to all that transpired. Battles, dungeons, and raids were one thing. Being removed from them and seeing them all as structured events makes one apathetic. But here, witnessing how life is affected by our events, I felt the sway of the realm, its people, and their struggles.

The least I could do was end it quickly.

Power surged around me in a tidal wave of energy. Unlocking the limiter within, I harnessed the skills of the land.

In my hand, the blade of my soul rested. Its translucent body is like a whisper in the wind. Calm was its power. Gentle was its strength. And pure were its intentions.

Beautiful, Rudgar's words stumbled from his panting breath.

Then, adding... death is beautiful.

Tears filled his eyes and rolled down his verdant skin as he added his final words.

No, not all death is beautiful. My death is beautiful.

With his words set, I lowered my blade and cut the realm in two.