I’m surrounded by this endless abyss. Looking at a black so black that I realize that this must be what death is like, but I won’t be able to think. Be able too think, move… Breath. The blackness disappeared, and the cave I was in appeared. With the rotten corpse and horrific screams filling my ears. For an unexplained reason, through my eyes… eye the cave was shaded in this monochrome except for the blood. For the blood kept its dark rose-red color. While I search for the screams, the puddle of blood splashes underneath my heels.

  The dreadful cackling from the goblins rings throughout my ears.

  Their noise surrounded me, but I was unable to see them.

  The blood ever grows underneath me.

  While I continue the search for the horrific truth, shadows jump at me, taking slashes at me. Hours and hours of me getting cut down by these little shadows but never falling. The cackle of these beasts' voices echos throughout the cave, always too loud. The smell of death and the deafening screams have driven me to the brink of madness.

  Blood up to my ankles drags my feet.

  My knife was chipped and then destroyed.

  My gun had run out long ago. I had used the shell of my pistol as a weapon, but like everything else, it shattered.

  With mere fists left to defend myself, I know that I shall perish within this hell; the only regret that I hold is not saving the torturer being.

  As I walk through my final moments, I see my lifetime full of color and music.

  And the black and white and the gray…

  A shadow readied its blade to slit my throat…

  It jumps right at me…

  I wake up.

  When my eyes opened, I found Miyamoto standing over me; he looks pissed.

  "You're a damn fool who couldn’t follow his own damn plan.” I punched up the language, but he sure as shit was pissed; he just doesn’t swear too much. “I don’t know where the hell you were.” I told him. I couldn’t stop myself from going in, and I wasn’t sure where he was.

  “Well, you still went headfirst into hell without any help.”

  “The King of Hell can’t be afraid of his domain.” I smile with this crude human demeanor that man uses to show… something.

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  He stared at me, dumbfounded, and rubbed his eyes out of frustration.

  “You’re going to help me up?” I reach out my hand, and he returns with his own, but he did it without a word.

  It was a clusterfuck of a plan.

  Miyamoto also said that the kid who was riding a dog was with me the whole time I was out, and the only reason she left was because Celeste started cooking the T-Rex for everyone.

  “Was there any treasure in there?”

  I took a long swig from my flask. “If there is, I don't want it.”

  The two of us agree with our eyes and talk no more of the matter.

  Walking over to the huddled masses forming around a giant pot, the mage claims she carries around with her. In my tiredness and hunger, I didn’t care enough to ask why she was carrying such a thing around or how.

  I just perch myself on a tree log.

  The mage passes out bowls of T-Rex soup. Reminds me of eating Irish and beef stew back in the day. She got to me after a bit, and she thanked me for my help.

  Help!

  I didn’t help any man, woman, or child.

  By god, what the fuck did I do?

  See a woman raped, bodies piled, child… child.

  And this blood in my plums.

  I was feeling rather awful being all covered in blood, and I was worrying about my bullet count.

  The only thing keeping me alive.

  Just about used up.

  I’m about to be shit out of luck.

  My knife was coated with the blood that I spilled to save lives.

  I clean the gore onto the grass; it's important to take care of your weapons. Keep care of the blade… blood is rather corrosive. Looking at my blade, I stare into my past and felt the bitter bite of my past wounds, located on my upper arm. Even though the blade wasn’t the same, it was still made to do the job.

  Taking a hit out of my flask, I try to drown my mind in the bottle like any sane man. This flask hasn’t been any less heavy since I got to the place. I have no clue why that is or what is in here, but as long as it does the job, does it really matter?

  The kid riding the dog sat next to me.

  She hasn’t said a word since we met.

  I don’t know what she saw in that fucking cave, whether it was mass killing or brutal torture, but for now, she can sit next to me.

  I pull out the cigarette pack.

  Still unsealed.

  When did I stop ten years ago or was it eleven? It was too long ago to remember when, or I was too drunk to fully recall, but what's important is that I stopped. I carried this last pack around because when I finally kick it, having an old friend, however much of a bastard it is, doesn’t seem too bad.

  I pull out my Zippo, flick it open, light the flame, and hold my hand near it. Even though I stopped doing all this stuff a long time ago, my mind sometimes wanders back to it. The grooves are cut in the mind from adolescence so the fool that I am still draws from the same wall that that little shit built.

  Who is it hurting anyway?

  As I move my hand close to the flame, the kid grabs at my arm. Her eyes were filling up with tears and fear while she shook her head with the force of a V2 rocket.

  “All right, kid, I’ll put it out.” It was all fine, and I wasn’t going to do anything to myself, and I promise the kid I would never hurt myself.

  I took another swig due to the blatant lie.

  I never had trouble with lying, but doing it to a traumatized kid was a low I never thought I would reach... If I want to be the Devil, I’d have to meet all the requirements. If I want to spiral, I shouldn’t bring anyone down with me.

  The dawn was broken, and it bathed us within its light. After everyone finished their stew, our march to the next town began.