The last one standing
The shadows wandered in the valley. Dragons painted the skies red with their breaths. Bodies scattered throughout the field in an even manner.
His sword was soaked in oily, purple blood. Even for him it was hard to imagine that he had been able to make his way through so many enemies. But the cost had been too great.
Everywhere he looked, he found fallen comrades. Some were even missing their heads. Some had only one limb left behind, like an arm or a leg. Even the Elf King and Princess Ladi lay fallen on the battlefield lifeless. This was the worst possible fucking scenario.
Everything had gone to shit. There was only one thing left to do. He held his sword firmly. He still had strength in his arms. Even his sword was sharp.
He looked forward, far away there he was. A colossal beast, nine feet tall. I would bet on cutting off the head, though this was a difficult decision to make. The thing had four fucking heads.
Fuck it all, he thought. He started to walk. His body felt heavy, but somehow he felt good enough to fight. He was getting more and more momentum, until without realizing he wasn't touching the ground anymore, he had jumped into the thing.
In the middle of the air, there was nothing else that was worthwhile. It was him, his blade, and the colossal monster.
