Heroes bleed red, too.
I just needed him to remember he's not invincible, not when I'm around.
The battlefield is littered with blood. Each soul who thought of themselves as worthy was now lying lifeless at his feet while he's the only one standing tall, invincible, untouched by them all, not as the role of the hero but as the villain.
This time, the villain had succeeded.
Not the hero.
The hero of this age, Duan Wei, gasps for breath, each inhale shallow and strained as blood soaks the soil beneath him. The light that once danced in his eyes now flickers, fading into the creeping darkness.
Liang Feng only stands above him, his blackened sword now drenched in his blood, not the pure exhalation of victory but an impactful embrace of loneliness. In one swift motion, he stabs it into the floor beside him as he looks emotionlessly at the fading hero that was cemented in fate to end him.
"Heroes are always meant to win, huh?" Liang Feng scoffed, his tone dripping with disdain. "I guess fate is an easy thing to break."
As the words leave his mouth, sounds of footsteps approaching through the mud echo in his ears before they all come to a halt. Turning his attention to them, his eyes find the reinforcements for the heroes' team stopping in their tracks upon seeing Liang as the one standing and Duan being the one defeated.
Yet still none of them moved. Not a single person tried to help; they only watched.
The hero, with his blood-shot eyes, opens slightly to see them, his once hope vanishing upon seeing their hesitant demeanor after all the time he had picked up a sword and pushed past his limitations to aid them in their time of need. In his moment of need, there isn't any loyalty when he needs it the most; all he can do now is look away, accepting what's to come.
Liang's focus drifts from the crowd of unmoving soldiers to the hero they all looked up to, his tongue clicking as he sees Duan trying to hold back the hurt and betrayal.
"Look at them, hero…standing there, silent. Not a sword drawn, not a tear shed. After everything you gave up for them." Liang speaks up, somewhat pitying him. "Your strength, your years, your soul, everything given to this one cause, and still they let you fall. You weren't their hero, you were their convenience. And now, as the light leaves your eyes, remember this."
He reaches for his sword and plucks it out of the floor, raises it, and points it towards the horizon where the sun sets, hovering it over his body. "It wasn't my blade that killed you," Liang says firmly as the tip of his sword slowly decays, withering into ash. "It was their apathy, and the fates chosen for us by the gods."
Duan's bright golden eyes shone one last time like the hues of the faded sun, blood lining his lips as he cracked a warm smile.
"Now, rest knowing that the world you tried to save never deserved you," Liang concludes as Duan's body lights up with a golden light.
"I…see," Duan mutters once last time, his arms trembling as he tries to raise them to Liang. "Maybe…in another universe…" He cups his fist, the sun beaming against it. "We…would have been friends."
Without a moment to delay, the golden light encapsulates his whole body, and a golden orb rips away from his body and floats up as the rest of the dead body's souls follow behind, each a different colors and hues.
"Perhaps…" He mumbled out, looking up at the sky. "If fate wasn't so cruel."
The silence that follows is loud; the only thing he can hear is his own heartbeat, each thump like a sign that he made it when he shouldn't have. Even the blood that fills his body feels misplaced, as if instead of red warm liquid, iced cold tar was coiling beneath his skin.
"If this is what victory feels like, I don't want it." He admits, feeling the cold hands of the dead latch around every inch of his body. "Still, I don't have the luxury to feel regret." He reminds himself.
'Because in the end, I did it of my own will.' He thinks to himself, his hands instinctively moving to his chest. 'This isn't the peace and relief I was hoping for.'
"What a cruel twist of fate," he breaks out into a smile as tears roll down his face, a historical laugh escaping his lips, causing everyone to be on guard.
Before the heroes of the ages sect can act, Liang bends down, picking up the blade of the fallen hero, watching his tear-filled eyes dimly reflect off its dulled blade. Turning it by its golden hilt, he faces the tip of the blade at his chest. All the onlookers stop, faces twisted in confusion.
'In the end, fate has claimed us both. ' He thinks as he plunged the blade into his heart. 'It's not the peaceful death that I wanted, but it doesn't matter.'
'I guess I broke your promise.'
The world titles around him, time slows down, and the moment elongates. In the distance, a portal opens, familiar faces rushing out, the faces of the people he knows are a part of his sect moving to him, panic all over their faces as the world from blurry turns completely black.
In the emptiness, a voice ripples through the space, a dying promise he made to the only woman he loved. "Promise…me." Her strained tone sent him back to that very day. The day when her bright eyes lost their light. "Promise me you won't die like me…Die peacefully… It's my final wish."
'The only promise I made to anyone. The only one I wanted to keep.'
[XANTHOS SYSTEM ACTIVATING…]
[Fate's penalty!]
[Your soul has been preserved.]
<<
>>A sharp pain erupts through his entire body, forcing him to fly up, eyes spread wide open, his breath coiling into the air as his sweat trickles down his face onto his kimono, his eyes adjusting to the surrounding, which seems to be his bedroom.
"Master!" A voice calls out to him, panic noticeable.
Facing the voice, he sees the same face of one of his pupils, cladded in the Withered Heaven Sect uniform. Panic settles into his chest; he is not dead and standing in front of the gods, but still alive inside his room.
This time is different, though; hovering in golden text is a systematic interface displaying his peniality of defying fate itself.
[Remaining life span> 500 years]