The hero was discovering what true desperation felt like. His body, once strong and unyielding, now felt like a fragile vessel, beginning to fracture under the weight of his burdens. A dark spot, barely noticeable at first, had spread across his heart, deepening into a scar that throbbed with every beat. He didn't yet realize that this growing wound would soon break his spirit.
His eyes, once sharp and full of life, had dulled, their light fading into a weary, glassy gaze. The sword he had carried for years, once an extension of his very being, now felt like a dead weight in his hands. A wave of nausea churned his stomach as memories of the creatures he had slain flashed in his mind. He had thought he was saving lives, but now, all he could feel was emptiness.
"What have I been doing all this time? What's the point?" His voice, barely more than a whisper, trembled in the still air. "Am I just some pawn in a game for the gods?"
Laftiel's voice slid into his thoughts like silk, smooth and unyielding. "Don't worry, my friend. I promised you a deal, didn't I? One that offers both salvation... and damnation." His lips curled into a smile, pity etched across his features.
The hero didn't look up. His knees pressed into the cold ground, eyes fixed on the dirt beneath him, searching for answers in the cracks of the earth. "What kind of deal?" he murmured, desperation threading through his words.
Laftiel leaned closer, his voice a soft whisper of temptation. "I will rid this world of all the monsters."
The hero blinked, his chest tightening. "What do you mean? Can you even do that?" His voice wavered with disbelief, yet the offer gnawed at the edges of his mind.
"It's exactly what it sounds like," Laftiel said, his grin widening. "I'll erase them from existence. No more battles, no more bloodshed. You'll be free, released from the chains that bind your soul. I am a god, after all—one far greater than those who gave you that sword."
For a moment, the hero's breath caught in his throat. Freedom. The word felt like a distant dream, just out of reach. His heart pounded, the weight of his decision pressing down on him. Could he really abandon his duty?
Laftiel's hand hovered before him, the offer hanging in the air like a tempting breeze. "So... do we have a deal?"
The hero stood, his movements slow and deliberate. His back straightened, his fists clenched tightly at his sides. He met Laftiel's gaze, the flicker of determination reigniting in his chest. "I don't need your help," he said, his voice firm. "I am the hero of this world. The gods gave me this sword for a reason. I'll save this world... with my own hands."
Laftiel's smile faded briefly, surprise flashing across his features before he regained his composure. He nodded slowly, understanding the hero's resolve. "Very well," he said, his voice smooth as ever. "But if you ever change your mind, just say the words, 'I want to make a deal,' and I'll be there. Farewell, hero."
The hero turned, his steps heavy but determined, heading toward whatever awaited him next. The thought of Laftiel's lingering presence gnawed at him, but he pushed it aside, hoping he would never need to call on the god again.
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