I was surrounded by an 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.

The blackness disappeared, and the cave I was in appeared.

With the rotten corpse, and horrific screams filled my ears.

For an unexplained reason, through my eyes the cave was shaded in 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.

While I continued the search for the horrific truth, shadows jumped 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 echoed throughout the cave, always too loud.

The smell of death and the deafening screams have droven me to the brink of madness.

My knife was chipped and destroyed, and 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 fist left to defend myself, I know that I shall perish within this hell; the only regret that I hold was not saving the tortured being.

As I walked to my final moments, I saw my lifetime full of color and music.

A shadow readied its blade to slit my throat…

It jumped right at me…

I woke up…

When my eyes opened, I found Miyamoto standing over top of me.

He looked pissed.

He told me I was a damn fool who couldn’t follow his own damn plan. I punched up the language, but he sure was pissed; he just doesn’t swear too much.

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 smiled.

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

“You’re going to help me up?”

I reached out my hand, and he returned with his own.

But he did it without a word.

It was a clusterfuck of a plan.

I forgot how we’d tell each other when we were done. Neither of us knew how many goblins were in the camp. All in all, the plan was pretty shitty, but it went as well as the rest.

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 agreed with our eyes and talked no more of the matter.

Walking over to the huddled masses forming around a giant pot the mage claimed she carried around with her.

In my tiredness and hunger, I didn’t care enough to ask why she was carrying it such a thing around or how I just perched on a tree log.

The mage passed 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.

I felt rather awful being covered in blood, and I worried 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 I spilled to save lives.

I cleaned it on the grass; it's important to take care of your weapons.

Looking at my blade, I stared into my past and felt the 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 tried 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 pulled 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, 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 pulled out my Zippo, flicked it open, lit the flame, and held my hand near it.

Even though I stopped doing stuff this long ago, my mind sometimes wanders back to it.

Who is it hurting anyway?

As I moved my hand close to the flame, the kid grabbed at my arm.

Her eyes were filling up with tears and fear while she shook her head with the force of a V2 rocket.

I told the kid that it was fine and I wasn’t going to do anything to myself, and promised 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 wanted to be the Devil, I’d have to meet all the requirements.

If I wanted 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.