The sound of gunfire rang in my ears. A stampede of heavy footsteps echoed underneath my bare feet. People ran and ran, screaming and crying as the distant blasts of an automatic rifle drew nearer. 

It was chaos, but it wasn't supposed to be this way. 

Just a few hours prior, I had set up my little tent in a secluded corner of the park, far enough away from today's festival so as to not bother the gathered crowds and the patrolling police. If I had to deal with another officer before the day ended, then it would have been time for me to pack up again and go. Apparently the homeless went against the vision of the mayor's "green and clean city initiative."

But as the gunfire drew nearer, the crowd was forced into my corner. They ran over my place, trampled over my tenth, and shoved me into the ground as their desperation to get out of the shooter's way pushed them forward. 

I crawled out from underneath their thundering feet, withstanding the pain as I was trampled upon by dozens of feet. As I pulled myself up a nearby bench, I felt the cracks of several bones and a soaring pain around my lower back. 

I wanted to scream. I wanted to shout. But my mouth could not muster the strength to speak my agony to the world. Instead, my eyes were drawn by something. A person. A little one. He was on the ground, arms over his head as the crowd ran over him without care. In the midst of the chaos, the screaming, and the gunfire, I heard his whimper.

Then I acted. I pulled my broken body from the bench and staggered towards the child. I reached him, placing myself against the rushing crowd, and held him up.

"Come. We gotta get out of here."

The child was no more than a few years old. His bushy brows were wet with sweat and his sharp nose filled with snot. His clothes spoke of innocence, and yet his eyes reflected that he was robbed of that privilege. He could not form any coherent words as he muttered and choked, tears forming underneath his struggling gaze. 

Pity and anger swelled within me as I witnessed the death of an innocent dream. I pulled him close as I looked around, searching for any sign of his parents although I had no clue what they looked like. The crowd, however, was vast, churning like a rushing flow of floodwater after heavy rains. There was no finding his mom and dad, not until everything had settled down.

I tried to lift him up, but my frail and broken body could not muster the strength needed. I cursed. The gunman was near. The shooting grew louder. If we were to run together then I'd be nothing more than a burden. A futile effort. 

"Run!" It was the only thing I could say to the child, and he looked at me in stunned silence, clearly unable to process everything that was happening around him. 

"Kid, you gotta get out of here. Go! I'll hold him off!" I shouted, causing the kid to recoil and stagger back. 

"Go!" My voice boomed for one final time before the kid finally turned and ran as fast as he could, going along with the now thinning crowd. I watched him disappear into the edges of the park, hoping that he found his parents or at least some form of safety. 

Turning around, I looked at the direction of the gunfire and saw the gunman walking towards me. An average man wearing a bloodstained white shirt and jeans. His face was plastered with a wide smile, and his eyes were that of a madman. His attention, however, was all over the place. He was shooting at everyone he could see, not caring about who it was. He shot, and he killed, leaving behind a trail of bleeding victims and bodies. 

Fear gripped at my heart as I saw that he was distracted, unaware of my presence as he shot at the crowds running away from the area. It was a chance. An opportunity to intervene before anyone else could get hurt.

But why should I? The question flashed in my mind, accompanied by memories of neglect, hate, and prejudice. This world had not been kind to me, it had left me behind, allowed me to rot, and forgot about my struggles. I resented this world. I despised everything that it did to me. 

But was it really fair for me to condemn everything and everyone? I smelled. I starved. I ached. I struggled to live each passing day after my parents were killed in a car accident many years ago. I was alone. But was that really the fault of everyone else?

As I remembered the traumatized gaze of the child I just saved, I understood. If cruelty was a choice, then so was kindness. Love was still within my heart. And if this was to be the end of my life, then there was no greater love left for me to give.

I clenched my fists. I steeled my heart. My heart raced. The pain of my broken body faded. And then I charged, roaring as I did. 

The gunman saw me too late as I lunged at him, bashing my face against his as I tried to take the rifle from his arms. He staggered back, surprised as he found himself with a broken and bleeding nose. I grabbed hold of his rifle, pulling, but he was able to regain his footing. 

We struggled, his strength against mine. As we did, I looked into his eyes. They glared back with hate and resentment. But behind it all was something else. Something I understood well. Sadness. He was crying, tears falling from underneath his tired gaze. For whom? I did not know. Maybe it was for what he was doing, maybe for himself, or for someone or something else. Regardless, he had done wrong. He had chosen wrong. 

This man, whoever he was, was in some ways just like me. A man wronged by the world. Unfortunately, he lost against the demons in his mind. That, however, was no excuse. 

There was no quarter to be given, no second chances, and no do-overs. It was now or never for the both of us. He had made his choice, and I had made mine. The struggle continued. It was long and drawn, neither of us relenting to the other as the minutes felt more like an eternity. 

But even as I heard the blaring sirens and the shouts of rapidly approaching police officers, the gunman endured, and so did I. 

Things were going to end one way or another, with one of us dead.

Then a shot rang out, followed by several more in rapid succession. I felt the splatter of warm blood on my face as a force propelled me backwards. A sharp pain arose in my chest, leaving in its wake a cold numbness. 

I fell against the hard pavement, dazed but otherwise aware of what had happened. I was shot, not by the gunman, but by the police. Was it accidental? It seemed like it was. Or maybe they were trying to get rid of us both. A homeless man and a mass murderer. 

The two of us were sprawled over the pavement. The gunman lay unmoving to my side, a pool of blood growing around him. His hateful eyes now stared into nothing. 

As realization dawned that I was soon to die, a surge of memories filled my mind. I relived my life once more, remembering what was once my reality, smiling and laughing with mom and dad as they took me out to my favorite ice cream vendor just down the street from where our apartment was. I went to school, made some friends, almost graduated. But they died. And now I was about to join them. 

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"The kid... there was a kid..." I managed to whisper as the police loomed over my blurring vision, their words nothing but muffled rumblings to my ear. My body was fading. I was leaving. This was the end. 

"Son... you hear me?" Came a clear voice amidst the muffled cacophony. 

"You did good, okay? You saved lives," The officer said, his blue eyes somehow revealing themselves against the blur. He had the same bushy brows. The same sharp nose. "You saved my son." 

Hearing this, I felt the coldness overtake the rest of my body. And I was gone. 

My vision faded to black. The voices stopped. The pain was gone. There was nothing now. 

I was at peace.

Or so I thought. 

I opened my eyes after what felt like a timeless eon, finding myself standing in the middle of a vast and fluffy cloud. The wind blew around me, howling in my ears as it rushed away. 

Looking at my hands, I saw that they were smooth and unblemished. Gone was the dirt and grime from the years spent living in the streets. The same was true for the rest of my body. My hair was straight and fresh. My skin was smooth. My face was unwrinkled. I was clean. That said, I still had the same ragged and dirty clothes over my person. 

"Where am I?" My thoughts escaped my mouth. 

"You are dead, dear boy," Came a voice, a deep and ethereal sound echoing across the clouds and the sky beyond, "But you already knew that."

I looked towards its source and found an old man standing beside me where they wasn't anyone before, wrapped in a long white robe that was fashioned in the same way as a toga. He had quite the bushy white beard and brow. His wrinkled skin, somehow, spoke of eons. 

My next question was then answered before it left my mouth. 

"No, I'm not a god. I'm something more, the same in some ways, but different in many others." Said Not-god, answering the unspoken question. 

"Uhm... okay. Is this the afterlife then?" I asked as I looked around. 

The old man laughed, "No, my dear boy. For a soul such as you, there is a better place waiting for your eventual arrival."

I raised a brow, confused, "Then why am I here then?" 

The old man dropped the smile from his face, replacing it with a grim expression before turning his gaze towards what was under the clouds. 

As if on cue, the clouds parted as he directed his gaze, revealing a vast landscape consumed by fire and brimstone and choked by pillars of smoke. From my place in the sky, I saw a world in flames. A world consumed by agony and death. 

"W-what is this place?" I asked, my voice shaking as I felt a rising pain in my heart. 

"A world in chaos," Said the old man, "It was foretold to them many years ago that to turn on each other was to invite the harbinger of their doom. Most did not heed the warnings."

"Can't you save them!?" I turned to the old man, horrified and confused as the screams of those below echoed into my ears like distant whispers carried by the howling wind. 

The old man turned towards me with a quizzical look on his face.

"I don't know, should I?" He asked. 

I frowned, clenching my fists as the screams grew louder and the pain in my heart grew sharper.

"What have these people done for them to deserve total condemnation?" I asked. 

The old man laughed once more, "Did you not ask yourself the same question just before your own demise?"

I paused, surprised at his point. 

"Dear boy, you answered that question and gave up your life, whispering a phrase that rang true in the halls of every world," Said the old man, "I did not bring you here so you could question me. I brought you here to question you."

The old man returned his gaze to the burning world.

"Now tell me, despite the grievous sins of this world, the hate, the cruelty, the barbarity, the horrors, the suffering, and all its flaws and shortcomings, does it deserve to be saved? Even if most would rather see it burned? Destroyed? Even if most would rather pull down their fellow than to allow any of themselves the chance of prosperity? Even when they choose to be cruel rather than to be kind?"

I looked down on the world as I digested those words from the old man. The screams grew quieter. The pain in my heart lessened. He had a point, yes. 

And it, somehow, sounded wrong to me. 

"I remember my father telling me a long time ago, before he and mother died. He said: 'In kindness, there is cruelty. And in cruelty, there is kindness' and they've stuck with me ever since, even when I forgot about them. Maybe that's why I did what I did, even when it seemed like I should have just saved myself." 

I turned towards the old man and raised my chin, firm in my conviction as I echoed the words that ended my life. "There is no greater love."

The old man smiled, seemingly pleased by my answer. "Then, will you show them?"

I blinked thrice, "What?"

"I'm giving you the chance to live again, to have a second chance to live a life worth living. However, it comes with a heavy burden." The old man said. 

"And that is?" I asked, intrigued and somewhat concerned. 

"You must save this world. Wield the sword. Be its hero."

"A sword? Wait, I don't even know how to fight!" I protested. There was no way I was going to survive, nor did I think that I was capable of saving an entire world from its own destruction. 

The old man raised a brow, "But that did not stop you, did it now?"

Then he continued, "You will not be alone. You will have allies. You will be blessed with boons. But most important of all, you will wield a sword. It will guide you in your journey, but you must learn how to guide it in return for you to succeed in your task."

"But... to save an entire world? That's... that's insane." I said, terrified at the idea. 

"It's your decision. Regardless of what you decide to do, you will eventually pass through the Halls of Eternity and rest in the afterlife prepared for a soul such as yours. It's only a matter of taking it now, or later, to achieve something grander."

It became obvious to me that this old man, this entity, was trying to convince me into taking this burden. It wanted me to save the burning world below, promising me an afterlife by the end of it all. 

I wanted to declare that he was bullshitting, but how? I was in the clouds, looking down over an entire world with a being who was, for all intents and purposes, a diety of some kind. Was I hallucinating? Maybe, but why then did everything feel too real? Everything was solid. Everything was...

"Am I really dead?" I asked, and received a solemn nod in return.

"Can you pinch me? Just to make sure."

"I'll do something better."

A surge of pain seized my chest and I was left on my knees, gasping and shaking.

"Okay, okay. This is real." I said, wheezing.

"Then..." The old man dragged, expecting, "Will you do it?"

I looked back at the old man as I stood back up. His eyes, they looked... desperate. Understanding bloomed when I realized. I snorted in mild amusement.

"How many have refused your request?" I asked. 

"Many," Said the old man, "And many more failed in their task, forgoing their oaths. You may already be familiar with the reasons why."

"The worst of humanity pushed their fellows to slaughter one another. The best of them do their best to stop it." I said, remembering the kindness I have received throughout my short life. There were many instances now that I thought about it and it pained me to realize that I forgot about most of them. From the old couple who often gave me some of their meals whenever they saw me rummaging through their rubbish, to the young daughter of a single mother who gave me some of her cookies when she found me begging for scraps at the local bakery shop. 

It was easy to remember the pain of cruelty and to forget the cheer of kindness. 

"Maybe becoming a hero wouldn't be so bad," I looked at the sky above, towards the shining sun, "Maybe I can do some good. Or die trying."

"And so you shall, Maxis Everworth," Said the old man, "But as much as your noble sacrifice moved my heart, another premature death may not be the solution this time around." 

"Probably not,” I agreed, “Though I don’t think I will be doing this without help.”

“Indeed.”

“You care about this world, even at its worst." I said.

The old man smiled, "We must care for those we love, especially at their worst," He then raised a hand over my face, "Thank you, and let us meet again after your work is done."

"One more question before I go,"

"Yes, dear boy. They will be waiting for you to come back home."

Hearing those words, my eyes welled up with tears. A surge of pain seized my heart, but it was the good kind.

"Farewell." Were his last words to me. 

Not knowing what to expect, I simply closed my eyes and waited. The warmth of the sun then disappeared. The howling wind quieted. There was nothing for a moment, only silence. 

Then my eyes opened and I found myself standing on the foot of a barren hill, shrouded by the shadows of dark clouds hovering in the sky above.

However, a ray of sunlight shone through, pointing towards the hilltop. A sign for where I should be, as if something was waiting for me there. 

I walked up the hillside, glancing at the dead grass and dried soil. A cold and bitter breeze brushed against my skin. But something else caught my attention as I crested the hill.

There was a skeleton there, half-buried into the ground with most of its bones broken and protruding from the soil. Judging by how clean the bones were of any flesh or dried blood, the skeleton had been here for years. I frowned at the sight, but I did not linger long.

Beyond where the skeleton was, on the very hilltop where the ray of sunlight shone down, was a sword poking out of the ground, its blade half-sunken into the earth. The exposed part of the blade glowed white as I approached, almost shimmering as a low whining sound buzzed in my ear. 

I drew closer. The whining grew louder, but it was not to the point of bursting my earrs with pain. It was like a low hum. A distant call from a place unseen. Then I realized what this meant. The sword called for me.

I looked around and saw nothing but a barren and desolate landscape. A plain of dead grass and wilted flowers and shrubs. Forests of bald and gray trees. A sky choked by smoke and ash. Aside from the skeleton on the hill with me, there was nothing else of note.

"No greater love." I said as I stood before the sword. I then placed both my hands around the handle, felt a surge of unfamiliar energy course through my veins and into my mind, and pulled.