This world… was mine.

Collapsing to a knee, the last warrior of a dying world digs the tip of his sword into the earth. Its blade is scratched and dented. Beaten and blunted. Though his armor fares no better. Chunks of scrap metal are all that remain from the plates that once remained. Dragging himself towards the last and rotted tree, this last knight’s sword is now but a cane to help an injured man rest at the end of the world.

It was to be mine.

Gazing up at the heavens, the man watched as the sun rose and set across a broken sky. The moon could be seen in all its different phases as the sun shone at the same time. To him, it was like he was in the last church. It was all so beautiful. The sky resembled that of a painted glass window, but it saddened the knight to be the only one left to enjoy it. He gasped for air as he bled from the left side of his body. His last battle had left him mortally wounded, but he’d long since lost his ability to feel pain. And as his energy dwindled, the knight’s arms dropped to his sides. If this was to truly be the end, it would at least be a beautiful one.

Yet to be felled by a mere branded…

Then his eyes fell downward as the light in them began to fade. How long has it been since this nightmarish journey began? How many days? How many weeks or months? Perhaps it was now years or decades. The constant struggle for survival against unimaginable horrors, divine and wretched, were the only clear memories he recalled anymore. Legions upon legions of monstrosities and abominations would be killed and slaughtered, only to be resurrected by god-like beings drunk on corrupted power. But now, with everything crumbling to dust, it didn’t matter anymore.

I curse you… I curse you, foul undead. Foul walking corpse! Foul flesh never to be embraced by the earth you walk upon!!!

For now, the knight wished to recall those he’d once called “friend” and “ally”. Their faces had long since faded and blurred in his mind. Legendary titles and deeds were now all but vague references to people that had sacrificed themselves in hopes someone would carry hope to the end. Fellow saviors were forced to embrace the tarnished divinity of fallen gods, so those that remained could use their blood and sacrifice to forge ahead. And it was all in effort to slay the now dying eldritch god that lay in the dirt before the knight. Its countless eyes staring and burning with hatred at the man who brought it down to the earth.

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I curse you to never know true peace!

The nightmarish god spoke directly to the knight’s mind. Unholy fury burning with every word. It had once looked down on the world, on the branded, on the one creature to dare challenge it. And now, the former god was dying and forced to gaze upon a son of man as though they were equals.

I curse you to forever be bound in your flesh! To never know the embrace of death!

The old god spat curses as the knight. It wanted its hatred to be known. And yet, all the knight could do was smile. The knight was barely conscious as the light in his eyes quickly faded away. But the eldritch god would not take this final insult to the abyss. Using what remained of its body as a medium, he would cast one last spell. One last branding. One last curse.

With this I mark you to be beyond the reach of time. Never again will your soul and body find solace in life or death as I burn the last of my existence upon you. You shall wander the void as a living corpse until the day I rend all you come to covet piece by piece! And only once I’ve destroyed all you have come to love again shall I turn my wrath upon you! Then shall you die by my hand! This I curse you with, foul child of man!

With this, the fallen god was reduced to ash and dust while the knight lay akin to a broken doll against the tree. And as the world fell apart, it would take a final action of its own. The knight was all that would remain of this world, and it wished to grant its last savior a blessing. Cradling the knight like a mother would its child, the world used its remaining strength to aid the knight.

It could not undo that which the eldritch god had, but it would try to afford some comfort for its last child. With its final breath, the world healed what wounds it could and separated the curse placed on the knight so it would at least never corrupt him. The knight would still be immortal, but at least with this the eldritch god wouldn’t be able to take its revenge so easily. And with this, the world shot the knight out into the vast void. It watched with a bittersweet happiness as it cracked and split into nothing. The darkness of the void consuming what remained.