Helpless, I hung on the wall, my body battered, bruised and broken. I was flickering between deciding on what's real and what's fake. I was on the edge of death, and the feeling did not seem to appeal to me.

Each breath I breathed were nothing more than shards of glass slicing through my chest, scraping the very centre of my heart. My mind became suddenly aware of all types of pain that I had felt abandoned in the last moments, and all I could do was wait out the inevitable.

The world around me began to dim. Reality faded away, but I tried to hang on to its edge, fighting for my life. It turned its eerie eyes to me, abandoning what I proclaimed as the perfect being.

Blood seeped through my eyes, nose and ears; gushed from my mouth and chest. Any slight motion from my arms to detach myself from this sword would kill me, and that was on the basis that I could move.

It was a reminder of my end in such a pitiful way. The end was near? I couldn't believe those words were coming out of my mind.

In my final moments, my remaining senses were on a bear hug choke hold with my existential crisis. I had realised surviving was beyond my capabilities, so I guess it was time to take a look at my pathetic life.

I was never the man blessed with riches. I lived within your absolutely normal, typical family class. We never lacked, which I was glad about. But, to make up for my family’s incompetence, I was a man of supreme talent. I was a genius in anything I did, and I knew I was the one to raise up my lineage to greatness.

I would never say Zyron blessed me with the gifts I had. It was just a latent seed that bloomed overtime. If he did want to bless someone, he could have blessed my mum and dad with wealth incomprehensible. He could bless them with the joy and happiness they always longed for, and not the spirit of an uneasy mind which had to rack up their brains for a means to get me the best and nothing but the best.

Why should I be grateful to that son of a dick? I had always been a proud dude— never wanting to believe that my life was under the control of a sick being, that I was different from the rest of my opps, that I was more than just a pawn in Zyron’s twisted game. But now, as death cast its dark shadows upon me, I felt that pride once hailed as unbreakable beginning to crack.

The recesses of my mind were unstable, my memories flooding back as swift yet as clear as possible. I could see how my life had really been played by Zyron’s controller, and how oblivious I was to this fact. But, that one constant vision, the faces of those who had fallen before me, mere pieces in Zyron’s elaborate game, kept tearing away into the conscience I never thought I had.

Had everything I had done in my life, everything and everyone I had fought for, been just a part of Zyron’s amusement? Was there no meaning, no true purpose, other than to entertain a cruel god?

The thought of it all, of my life being this miserable was suffocating. It was a weight I had never held before. I could believe that I, Jaxon Storm, the invincible, the untouchable, was nothing but a toy— a plaything in the hands of Zyron.

My pride blinded me to the truth, and now, at the end, I could see it for what it truly was: a curtain, a veil that had shielded me from the terrifying reality of my own insignificance.

The world around me shifted. The cold, oppressive darkness was replaced by a serene, ethereal, holy light. I found myself standing in a vast, open field, the sky above a vibrant blend of colors, like a sunset that stretched on forever. The pain was gone, replaced by a strange sense of peace.

For a moment, I wondered if this was the afterlife, a final reward for all the suffering I had endured. Was this the end? Is this where I'm taken?

“Jaxon.”

This voice… This voice that called me… it was so familiar. I turned, and then, I saw her.

Shayna, with her flowing hair and soft smile, stood before him. She was more beautiful than I remembered, her presence a balm to my tormented soul. Suddenly, I felt his heart ache— not with the pain of my wounds, but with an emotion I had long tried to bury: love.

This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

“Shayna…” My voice trembled, barely above the sound of a whisper.

She approached me slowly, her eyes filled with a sorrow that mirrored the anguish in my heart. “Jaxon, I’m so sorry…” Her voice was soft, almost as if she feared breaking the fragile peace around them.

“Why are you apologizing?” I questioned, my heart tightening with every step she walked closer to me.

“I couldn’t follow Zyron’s command,” she confessed, her voice breaking. “I was supposed to betray you, to lead you to your death. But I couldn’t. I left hints that even a typical mind of a human should be able to ignore but you didn't. I… I love you, Jaxon.”

Her words struck me like a blow to my dick... Pause.

Love? Shayna had loved me? The idea seemed impossible, uncanning to say the least. It was a cruel twist of fate.

But as I looked into her eyes, I saw the truth of it. She had loved me— perhaps even more deeply than I could have realised along the lines of it all. I could see the eyes of help from a situation she thought I could control when he talked on the highway, but I guess I couldn't live up to your ideal end, could I?

“I didn’t know when it happened,” she continued, her voice heavy with emotion. “I didn’t want to feel this way. It was stupid, wasn’t it? Loving someone like you. I knew it was just a fantasy, that we could never truly be together. Zyron… he would have never allowed it.”

My mental and emotional resolve shattered, the pride that had once defined me crumbling into dust. I had always believed love was a weakness, a distraction from my goals. But now, as I faced my own mortality, I realized how wrong I had been. Love wasn’t a weakness— it was the only thing that gave my life any real meaning. The feeling and sense of urgency to protect those I hold dear to me: my family, my friends, Shayna. It was all there before me and I couldn't even realise it until the very end.

“Shayna…” I reached out to her, my hand beginning to vibrate in some sort of nervous fear. “I… I loved you too.”

The words were barely audible, but in that moment, they were the most honest thing I had ever said within the span of the time I was born into this world. The realization hit me like a tidal wave, washing away the last remnants of my pride. I had loved her— truly, deeply, and irrevocably. And in that love, I found something I had never expected: peace.

But peace is a bitch, isn't it? The one phenomenon that could never last for eternity.

I reached out to touch her. She reached out to touch me. Tears trickled down her eyes, and I wiped it off, mouthing the words, ‘save those tears’ to her. I gently grazed my hand on her face, slowly having a feel of her cheeks and her body. I held her waist, and she held my body.

As we went in for the action that was to solidify what we were meant to be, our lips about making contact, the vision of Shayna Garcia began to fade, our lips just barely grazing another.

The warmth of her presence slipped through my fingers like sand.

“No, no, no.”

Panic surged through my being, desperately trying to hold onto this final connection, but it was too late. The afterlife, if that’s what this was, was slipping away, leaving me once again in the cold, harsh reality of my dying body.

My breath came in ragged gasps, the pain returning to me with a vengeance. But this time, there was something different— a hollow emptiness where my pride had once been. I had lost everything— my strength, my control, my sense of self, and all that remained was the love I had denied for so long, a love that now, in my final moments, was all I had left.

Tears streamed down my face, mixing with the blood on my cheeks. I wasn’t crying from the pain, nor from the fear of death. I cried because I had finally understood.

I had lived my life as a pawn, believing I was more, that I could rise above Zyron’s control. But in the end, I was just like everyone else— lost, confused, and desperately searching for meaning in a world that offered none.

And yet, in that realization, there was freedom.

As the last of my strength faded, I closed my eyes, letting go of everything— my pride, my pain, my fear.

I embraced the darkness, not as an enemy, but as a final release. The residues of Shayna played on in his mind, a reminder of the love I had found too late.

“I’m sorry,” I proclaimed, my voice barely producing a sound reminiscent of the sound of a breath. “I’m sorry…”

At the climax of my life, a voice reached out to me. It was hers, and she forced upon me a will.

“Jaxon Storm…” Shayna called out to me, her voice echoing. “Even if it's impossible to, even if you can't, live on… for me.”

Her final words echoed within my body, reverberating in my mind, striking at my soul, and surging artificial heart beats to my hollowed being.

I let out a final smile, and it seemed I had found that inner peace.

But, in the epic climax of my fall, a dark chuckle opened my eyes to a new reality. This presence was as ominous as the taxes of the devil I had been told. For that brief moment, I caught a glimpse of ‘him’. I had stood face to face with Zyron.

“Jaxon Storm,” Zyron called out to me, his grin as malicious as Loki. “Welcome to your last ride.”

Suddenly, a voice overridden my thoughts, and a system took control of my sense of vision. All I could see was a tab.

[Live on, Rebel. To defeat a god, and become the lord over all things concerning life and death you have to become god himself.]

[Are you ready?]