He accepted it, finding himself in that rundown cafe with his friend sitting right across from him at the only table left standing. Even as he sat there, his foot constantly tapped the floor with his heart thumping inside of his chest with a burst of anxiety.
It felt as though a million scars were etched across his body; torment left fresh with remnants of phantom pain. Finn was left trembling even in that quiet cafe, not knowing why he felt so scattered.
"You don't have to hide it," Damian said.
"Hide what?" Finn asked, rubbing his own leg in an attempt to stop his constant fidgeting.
The man of salt-and-pepper hair looked right at him, "You're hurting really bad, aren't you? I'm not the brightest guy, but even I can tell."
"Hurting? No...I'm fine," Finn said, lying right through his teeth. "I think I'm just tired, that's all."
That's right; he was simply exhausted. Sitting there, he felt that weariness through-and-through.
"That's right. I'm tired. It's fine if I go to sleep now, right?" Finn asked, resting his face against his hand. "I've fought long enough, haven't I?"
Just the thought of continuing to draw another breath sounded too tiring. The young man simply wished to crumble away, no longer having to think–no longer having to remember.
It sounded pleasant, in an unpleasant world.
"You can do that, if you want. I won't stop you," Damian told him with a warm smile, leaning his arm on the table. "You don't owe it to anybody to keep it up any longer. It's your choice–that's the beauty of it."
"My choice?" Finn repeated.
"Whether you want to lay down and die, or keep on fighting and maybe, just maybe, find something worth living for," Damian clarified. "It's your decision. I can't make it for you, but I can ask you this: why did you struggle all this time if you were just going to accept death?"
The question was drowsily heard by the exhausted man, who rubbed his own face tiredly as he posed it to himself, "Why? I don't know. Why did I?"
"I can't say for sure. I can tell you why I kept going, though, Finn," Damian told him. "I held out hope. Hope that there is still a chance for humanity. Believe me, I understood how messed up the world had become. But, I still believed that there was a path–that somehow, someway, humanity would persevere."
"Humanity...You're sounding like that old guy," Finn replied tiredly, leaning over with an exhale.
"Oliver had the right idea, too. It might sound far fetched, like the sort of pipedream only a kid would believe in. Still, we all have to believe in something, don't we? Otherwise, what was any of this even for?" Damian told him. "What about you? Can you believe in something like that?"
For a moment, the young man sat there with his head down, struggling to even find a reason to so much as keep his eyes open.
Finally, Finn answered, lifting his head to look at the friend of his, "Something like that...I don't think I can. But, I can believe in you. If that's what you chose to trust, I'll follow it, too."
"That's good enough," Damian said with a smile.
The reliable man in armor stood up from his seat as Finn watched his hand befall his shoulder with a reassuring pat.
"Thanks, Damian. I think I can do it now," Finn said, rubbing his tired eyes of their expired tears as the expression devoid of hope was gone, instead holding a fragile smile.
A playful nudge of the broad man's fist hit Finn in the shoulder, accompanied by a proud smirk from Damian, "Seriously, what would you do without me?" The warrior jokingly said with a shake of his head.
"Just keep quiet and watch me. I've got this," Finn assured his friend as he stood up from the chair.
The moment he rose, the comforting scenery was torn away as he found himself resuming the torment he was engulfed in. As bullets pierced his body, knives skewered him, beasts consumed him–he cast away all of those fates, looking past the illusions.
"Come out and fight me already. I'm sick of playing your games," Finn spoke out, standing his ground amidst the flickering wounds that appeared and disappeared on his body.
All of the concurrent glimpses into death faded as Finn was left returned to his normal state, though standing in a peculiar setting; a stretch of blackened soil, with mountains that resembled wailing faces surrounding the clearing.
It was right across from him that he found the being, though unrecognizable from its previous forms, was the very wall that stood before him.
Resembling a human skeleton with far too many joints, yet encased in a layer of clear flesh like that of a jellyfish with tendrils cascading down its head like dreadlocks, it stood–"The Furthest From God."
"An error has been made in my approach," it said with a surprisingly soft voice, hardly leaning on masculine or feminine. "Attempting to break your mind has only led you to strengthening it more in response. Perhaps that isn't quite it. Fascinating–you are truly disconnected from your sense of self."
It spoke as though this were all some sort of game, studying the young human's behavior with an inhuman curiosity.
'C'mon!' He urged his body, commanding all of his strength.
As he brought it down, the heavy blade struck the translucent horror through its shoulder, digging right into its torso. Still, such a blow that would bring a man to the threshold of death–
"Ngh!..." Finn winced through clenched teeth.
The morphing entity unleashed the see-through spikes from its body once again, this time catching the young man. Finn was stuck there as his body was gored, feeling an immeasurable pressure piercing his chest, along with one of his legs.
It seemed to have skewered one of his lungs, as the act of drawing in a breath incurred an excruciating pain.
This was death; a concept he was all too familiar with by now. That chilling emptiness was so close now he could kiss it, tasting that bitterness on his lips as blood leaked from his mouth.
He was forced to stare into the hollow eyes of the nightmare; those sockets that bore no life, nor any mercy–only an existence born to spread torment.
The hold on the axe was relinquished as the pierced man instead gripped the weapon he still held in his left, raising the ebon dagger. Even as he brought it up, the morphing horror didn't move its head away from staring right at him.
"You believe you're invincible because death can't reach you," Finn weakly gasped with the little air he could suffice with. "But, it's right here–in this blade."
He brought the blade down, guiding it dead center into the skull of the manifestation of the fallen. Dipping through the gelatinous, translucent flesh that shrouded its skeleton, the dagger struck true with its aim.
However, that wouldn't be enough for the entity that eluded death. That was, if the young man hadn't garnered a sense of death for himself.
["The Art of Dying"] [59:59]
A glimmer of darkness; the veins in his body blackened for that singular strike. Onto that which was unfamiliar with complete cessation, he forced that concept upon it through the dagger he stuck into its head.
"Huaaaaaah–!" A shrill noise escaped the jaws of the horror, as though the very souls that ignited its dark existence were escaping its form.
In that moment, there was a feeling of excitement that he had forgotten of; a sublime joy upon vanquishing the enemy before him. He dug the dagger as deep as it could go, so much that he cracked the accursed skull through the sheer pressure applied.
It was remembering the torment it put him through, the tiring night he had endured of pain and loss; a comeuppance that was much deserved.
["!MAJOR THREAT SLAIN!"]
["F!%$s G0%# defeated."] ["Anarch Coins x10,000 obtained."]
[Experience points: +100,000]
[Level twenty-six reached!] [1100/32500]
[Assimilated ability from [//!&*# $!#%]: "Dreamwalking"]
[New Skill(s) Obtained: "Blade Warp" | "Intoxicating Fumes" | "Greater Gale Blessing" | "Greater Agility" | "Greater Stamina"]
As the rewards of his victory were displayed to him, the foul scenery around him crumbled away with a single blink of his eyes. There he was, standing on the rundown streets of the south korean city.
He struggled to keep his eyes open as the great light met his vision, bringing him to shield his face from it. As the sun rose with its soft rays casting away all manners of darkness from the cityscape, a sense of utter relief filled him.
Against his skin, its warmth felt as though he was caressed in a blanket, enough so to make his exhausted self tempted to simply fall over and sleep on the asphalt.
"I did it, Damian," Finn quietly said, looking upon the majestic dawn.
With the deed finished, the adrenaline that had kept him going was gone like the wind. In its absence, he felt the sheer exhaustion that plagued his body; his muscles were sore, his joints stiff, and his consciousness flickering.
Still, he hobbled down the road, moving one foot in front of the other without much of a goal in sight.
'Charlotte...I still need to find Charlotte,' he tiredly reminded himself.
Though that resolve stuck in his mind with his steps that were slow and dragged like that of a mindless zombie, the limitations of fatigue caught up to him at last–
"Ah–" Finn quietly let out as the asphalt suddenly approached him.
He face-planted into the street as his consciousness finally gave into the exhaustion, not even feeling the fall as he passed out without a moment needing to pass. It was a much needed rest, perhaps not in the most optimal of locations, though he welcomed it.