Titanframe Re: Genesis-Chapter 12: Righteousness

What did it feel like to fight against a sea of enemies?

Grey hadn’t known before either. They made it look so valiant in the movies. The hero would take down one enemy after another, and then suffer an arrow from afar. He would grit his teeth, ripping it out and growling at his enemies as he took down more.

He’d suffer more and more wounds until he had sweat too much, bled too much, given too much.

And then the light in his eyes would dim.

Maybe he’d have one more burst left in him. Or maybe he would die right there, standing on his feet, dozens of arrows in his body and not a single scar on his back.

In real life, it wasn’t like that at all. Even when you were fighting people who weren’t all that familiar with battle, it seemed.

You’d first run into a wall of lined spears. You’d try to make a path through, but these people weren’t extras on a movie set, they were enraged bastards who wanted to protect their own lives too.

They would push back and you’d find yourself skewered through from six sides at once, what was left of your inner organs becoming a lumpy smoothie even the most ardent of kale-loving stay-at-home moms wouldn’t be able to stomach.

It was all so very heroic, indeed.

’Well... at least I still have my impeccable sense of humor...’ Grey thought to himself as six spears stuck out from his body, the light in his eyes slowly starting to dim.

In those last moments, though, he heard the distinct sound of footsteps. Then he barely caught sight of them.

His head was ripped up and he saw the face of a handsome young man he didn’t recognize. He had olive skin and dirty blond hair that made him look like some sort of Roman demi-god.

But that wasn’t what annoyed Grey. It was that self-righteous look, the sort politicians that would stop at the municipal level had. All that ambition, and yet lacking the skill or structure to get to the next level. A little intelligent, but not enough. A little skilled, but too arrogant to maximize it.

He had seen too many of these people.

"That girl didn’t deserve what you did to her." Joaquin repeated. "I may have used my reward as the first to arrive in the city, but it was well worth it to deal with a scumbag like you."

Grey didn’t even have the strength to keep his head up. Even his body was being supported by the weapons running through him. But luckily for him, Joaquin was doing the heavy lifting.

With the last bit of energy he had, Grey spit, a gob of blood and loogie landing smack dab in the middle of Joaquin’s nose.

For a moment, there was silence. Joaquin didn’t react violently, he hardly seemed to react at all. He stared into Grey’s dimming eyes and then raised his white-gold spear.

It was the last thing Grey saw.

—

[You have died. Better luck next time. Oh wait, there won’t be a next time. Toodle-oo.]

—

**

Grey shot up, his eyes opening wide. He breathed heavily, pressing a palm to his chest, and then quickly to his neck.

"What the hell—FUCK! OW!"

His eyes suddenly opened wide, the déjà vu hitting him even fiercer than the first time.

Everything felt like it was happening in a wild blur, and then he was suddenly standing in a familiar tunnel once again.

Grey stared ahead blankly, a subtle wind brushing against the fur-lined collar and tickling his jaw and cheek. The sensation woke him up just the slightest bit and he snapped out of his daze.

’What is going on?’

Did they send him back in time again? But why?

Something wasn’t adding up. If they just wanted to repurpose him as an extra, why did they keep putting him into the same storyline? And why would they try and kill him off so easily?

This time, he had died even faster than the first time because the gates closed. Last time that hadn’t happened.

Whoever that pompous bastard was who killed him seemed to have implied that it was because of a treasure of his? Something he got for being the first to arrive at the city? Did that treasure allow him to control the guards or something?

Why would you give something so broken to a contestant?

Grey couldn’t let something like that end up in someone else’s hands, but how would he clear this place fast enough so that didn’t happen?

"What am I doing..."

Grey paused, shaking his head and sighing. He was already thinking about how to play the game better, but should he? He felt like he was trapped on a hamster wheel.

Grey closed his eyes. ’You’re not going to quit after just two times, right?’

He clenched his fists so hard he nearly drew blood.

Taking deep breaths, he slowly settled himself down until he came to a conclusion.

Keep going. No matter what, keep going.

"Sometimes you just have to piss on your own grave."

Grey turned around. Rather than coming the same way he had come before, he rounded the back, finding a familiar nook and then sitting in it.

He waited, his ears twitching continuously as he tried to pay attention to every little sound. Slowly, he peeled his fur-lined collar off, wrapping it around his wrists.

Then he heard it. Footsteps.

They were incredibly soft, and they didn’t come with the same chittering that would have come from the goblins.

Grey crouched on his toes. The nook was open and wasn’t very large. If the one approaching took a wide enough angle, they’d be able to see him from at least two or three meters away, so he had to be ready.

He pressed his back toward the direction they were coming, counting the steps silently in his head.

BANG.

Grey shot out the moment he saw a shadow, his fist colliding against the head of a man.

Ray wasn’t expecting something like this at all. His sword was long and heavy. Pointed out in front of him, he didn’t have the space or momentum to swing it toward Grey.

His head was spinning by the time he hit the floor, but Grey’s fists just kept coming. There was no attempt to take Ray’s weapon at all. Instead, Grey wailed on him from above, no amount of blood that coated his fists or face seemingly capable of making him stop.

Every ounce of rage and frustration flooded downward.