Drowned in thoughts—about Shimmer mostly, but the kingdom and all other threats were also apparent—the Champion trudged down the long hallway in search for an answer. Some sort of direction to follow. Despite him marching forward, it felt like he was going nowhere. An endless maze surrounded him. No exit, no entrance, just a corridor with countless twists and bends in the path. A labyrinth.

Though, when the bodies ahead appeared—now with a few spectators stricken in either sorrow or disgust—he was reminded. He did have a path when he first came here. It was so clear and simple: kill. Kill for the sake of Good, his kingdom, and for himself. He was killing Evil. There wasn't anything wrong with it.

"Ah! It's here!"

The spectators all ran away, some even tripping over because of how frantic they were. The Champion didn't move a single muscle; he just watched them run until they disappeared. His gaze shifted down onto the bodies. He had shot one of them with his crossbow.

SNAP.

As he had broken the neck of the other.

The sudden recollection struck an urge inside of the Champion. He clenched his right gauntlet at his side and huffed. The deed was done. He had no reason to stay. He had to go forward. When there were no directions or a clear path, he just had to go straight ahead. That was the best option every time.

She's not dead, she's not dead, the Champion repeatedly thought, while he stepped past the bodies. He could not stop the shaking. Even though he knew it was fake, and that he wasn't responsible, he couldn't push the possibility of it out of his head. Sometimes, he could picture himself doing the task—he was moments away from killing her a few times, anyway.

Whatever bandits that were once around had already left. The building was silent with an eerie echo in the air. It had been abandoned. Who would want to stay in a place ravaged by a mindless beast?

When the exit appeared in the distance, when a strong breeze greeted him, the Champion could tell night was approaching. The coolness of the atmosphere, the darkening of the once-strong curtain of light—it was telling of a transition. He had no idea he was in the place for so long. Eternities? Or just a few brief moments? It was hard to differentiate, for the massacre was a blur in his mind. Shimmer's death, however, felt like a whole lifetime.

"I cannot possibly lose this kingdom," the Champion murmured, as he finally stepped outside. "It'll always be mine. Nobody can take that from me. Nobody at all!"

He laughed to himself for assurance, only to cast his gaze upward. There was no sun in sight. It had already dropped to the very bottom of the sky, to the depths of nothingness. Without spotting anything but a rosary sky, he lowered his gaze. Jewel spoke utter nonsense when he claimed to bring Shimmer's corpse here. The Champion had actually believed it out of pure desperation. Not seeing either of them did little to relieve him of his guilty burden.

"I can't possibly lose her, either..."

With a weary sigh, he hoisted his sword over his shoulder and proceeded on. He didn't know where to go, or when he should arrive at his destination, but he believed guides would appear along the way. Either they be bandits killed at his hand or otherworldly beings, it didn't matter.

The Champion went straight ahead until coming to an abrupt halt. Peering left and right, he had only one option: right. Already, his path had been made. All he needed to do was follow it.

As the sky fell further to the dark's control, with very little signs of opposition, the Champion stiffened at the increased weight on his back. Shadows were beginning to pile on top of him, taunting and mocking him. He had to ignore them, only to be faced with the most annoying of the bunch.

"Did you know how foolish that was?!"

The Champion shrugged, not bothering to look at his brother.

"I don't wish to speak to you at all," he replied.

Corpses littered along the street straightened out his path. The raven was first, already soaked in black and red blood along with feathers. That pathetic coward was soon after. It was truly saddening his final wishes would go unheard. Nobody would uphold them. Not even the Champion, who had little incentive to carry out another man's revenge.

"You completely ruined any chances at all having an alliance with the most potent and loyal group you could ever dream of existing!" Jewel exclaimed, which made the Champion snort.

"If they were, then I wouldn't have killed them so easily."

"That's besides the point—"

The Champion coolly glanced at Jewel to wipe whatever facial features he had on him, except for a pair of narrowed eyes.

"There is no point."

"Meh," Jewel grumbled. "Well, yes, there is none. But you didn't have to completely ruin your future of seizing this land by all of its reins!"

"I don't need anyone," the Champion decided abruptly, and looked ahead. The destroyed barricade was in sight, still on fire from the punch it had endured earlier.

"It's obvious you do, though," Jewel declared, as close to his slithery whisper as possible. A sinister smile was easily detectable from the voice alone. It was enough to make the Champion stop just before passing through the smoke curtain only a few feet away.

"No, I don't," the Champion repeated himself, though his form began to waver. He already knew what Jewel was going to say. He simply couldn't counter it. He could rack his brain in all directions, with all the force he could muster, but nothing would appear to save him. He knew he was at a loss.

"You may be invincible and have no need for anyone else to save your hide." Jewel wagged a finger in front of his face, like a ticking clock. "But... but... you do want somebody. Now, you don't need her by any means. She's not essential to your success. No, not at all!"

He slipped to the Champion's side, seemingly reducing his height to make his brother feel like the dominant one. The one in charge.

"So... why? Why do you want her? Hm?" Jewel cracked a wicked grin. "The looks? I wouldn't be too surprised at that—she's much better than any other human... or..." he spat, "dwarves. Ugh! I wished my eyes were truly gauged doing all those times I had to look at those filthy abominations!"

"I..." the Champion sputtered for an excuse, rather an argument. Shimmer bore a color no others could possibly dream of having, but that was not the main reason.

He could win all the battles, vanquish all Evil, but for what? For whom? For why? What was the reason? For himself? No. He seeked glory and fame, but that came out of others. It was always about the greater good—about others. He could kill everybody in the world and then sit on a mound of corpses and ashes. He would sit there and stare off into the horizon, thinking:

What was the point?

With nobody to come home to, nobody to tell the news of his victories, there was nothing. Victories without recognition were worthless. Strength and leadership without those to admire it were useless.

To be a hero entailed an audience. That was the main perk of it.

"I need an anchor," the Champion spoke quietly, setting his gaze ahead. The flames cracked and burst without reason. Without a set pattern. It was one of the many forms of chaos. "I need somebody to tell me if I'm in the right or wrong—if the path I've chosen is correct. I need assurance... I need a definitive step to success—"

"I am your anchor!" Jewel snapped. His form rose high to the sky to create a colossal monolith of a shadow. If it fell, the Champion would be killed, like an ant being stepped on.

"I know the path you need to embark on. I know what needs to be done. I know how best to defeat your enemies and trap them in corners. I know everything there is to know!" Jewel's eyes widened to match his gigantic size, yet there was no mouth to accompany them. It was a raging storm now taken form to display its true, primal anger.

"You aren't the one," the Champion muttered, then finally stepped forward to cross the line. Smoke already began to obscure his vision. "I don't trust you at all. You pull tricks. You speak lies. You are truly a serpent wrapped around my mind, suffocating it with your nonsensical influence. To manipulate me as your puppet."

Once he stepped onto the other side, the Champion shook off the grim essence glued onto him. The path ahead was a steady line of darkness. He had already chosen it the moment he stepped through the barricade. The moment he cast off Jewel for who the trickster really was.

"I've strayed off the path for far too long," the Champion muttered. Above, he could finally see the full moon, basking in all its glorious moonlight. A true champion in ethereal form, perhaps too egocentric and boasting for anyone's liking to care at all for it.

"But I will seize the throne once more, if anyone had dared to take it from me. All opposition will be crushed." He clenched his right gauntlet, his armor beaming in the moonlight that acted as a spectacular spotlight. "Then, the invaders will be crushed. I will seize their land and take it as my own. They will all bow before me before the sun can rise to save their pathetic, sorry hides."

His gaze suddenly became glassy with some amount of sorrow as his right gauntlet loosened its clenched state. It fell limp at his side.

"Who will support me?" he whispered, as his focus fell to the street right in front of him, where his moonlit boots appeared in and out of sight. "After all the bloodshed, all the conquering, who will flock to my banner? Who will clap for me? Who will stand at my side until the very end?"

He shook his head in remorse.

Nobody would stand by him. The people hated him. His enemies hated him. Nobody in the world had any reason or care to side with him. Not the humans, dwarves, elves, orcs, even worthless undead. They would bat not an eye at him, for he was a monstrosity.

But he had hope that somebody would bat an eye at him. Somebody grateful, somebody understanding enough to know his position. Somebody that knew how he felt towards them.

"For the ruthless coup d'etat against the tyranny of Evil, for the bloody massacre, I will do it for Shimmer," he decided, huffing in acceptance. "No matter if I never see her again. No matter if she despises me. Forgets me, even. All that matters is the task."

He clenched his right gauntlet with immense strength as he hunched over. Flames burst out of his visor with smoke rising upward. Black blood poured out of his gauntlet from how hard he clenched his fist. When he suddenly jerked his gaze ahead, he scanned the tall outline of a castle ahead. Guards stood by the gate with lanterns illuminating them. He could already tell they weren't expecting any visitors.

"And that the task is complete," he whispered, then marched forward with the flames and smoke fading.

He had a throne to take back.