Arthur stood, his cutlass in hand as the only thing he could cling to.
His eyes were tired, dark, and the knowledge that his face was still visible was enough to make him want to claw it off.
He took his cutlass and slashed across his face, to which blood formed and was transfigured into a giant red mask without much design, just a red plate which fit his face and had holes to see through.
"Alrighty, ya ready now?" Raiden asked, taking a stance with his halberd facing forward and both hands on it. He flashed a toothy grin, to which Arthur stared in response, taking up his cutlass and holding onto it with his weak grip.
Raiden took Arthur's silence as a "yes," before rushing him down, drawing his halberd back and swinging his axe. Arthur swung his cutlass in return, and the blade clashed momentarily, before his defense was totally breached.
His structure was weak when he swung his sword, as it was closer to the end of his blade than to his body. Plus, the force used in the halberd was much stronger, so his blade was knocked out of his hands with ease.
Raiden got in close and let go of his halberd, opting for close quarters combat. He knocked Arthur upside the head with a left uppercut to the chin, causing him to do several flips before his ankles were grabbed, violently thrown into the mansion.
Arthur crashed through what little was left of the wall, and slid across the floor until he came to an abrupt stop. He looked up, seeing the destroyed building as the raindrops continued to hit his face.
"Phewie," Raiden said, entering the house with both a halberd and cutlass in hand. "What a fine blade you've made, y'know that, Dragon? Is it alright if I give it a name?"
Arthur was silent, before slowly rolling over and trying to stand up, leaning against a wall for support.
"Hm… The Dragon sounds like a good name for this sword. It's your title, and it fits with my 'Dragonslayer.' Yeah, this'll do nicely."
Wielding both the Dragon and the Dragonslayer in his arms, Raiden began to walk over to Arthur with a faint grin. Arthur looked at him through the mask, before feeling a pain in his heart.
It began to swirl, growing stronger and stronger.
He clutched his chest, his eyes widening as he stumbled around, panting through his mouth as he grit his teeth, unable to relieve this insatiable pain in his heart.
The pain in his heart was not just an emotional one. It was a literal, physical—
"Agh! Soa, ah, hk—!"
"Burns, it burns, agh," Arthur let out instinctively. Raiden didn't know what to make of it, putting down both weapons and rushing over.
"You alright? Hey now, this isn't good! If you die from some other reason, how am I supposed to say I killed the Dragon? Seriously man, what the flip?!"
Arthur's vision began to go dark. and swiftly, he passed out.
…
He awoke in a hospital bed. It was, perhaps what, the second or third time this had happened?
He looked over to his right, seeing Raiden sitting down on a chair next to him.
"Heya. So, how ya feeling? Doctor said you had a heart attack, likely due to your steroid abuse. You probably would've died if I didn't take ya to the hospital."
Arthur remained silent, looking down with disappointment.
He slowly reached up to grab his hair, but it was all gone. His hands plopped down to the bed, and he leaned his head back with tired eyes.
"You're a lot more quiet now that the girls have left. Oooooh, you got a crush on one of them?"
"How old are you? Twenty-something, and you're over here saying stupid shit like crushes?"
"Gah…"
Raiden got up, and looked over Arthur.
"Heal your wounds. Meet me at this address, and I'll be there waiting for a proper rematch," Raiden said calmly, handing Arthur a pre-written piece of paper before walking away.
Arthur laid in bed, refusing to move. A nurse came by to check on him, and seemed frightened by him. It made sense, as his face combined with his body made for a frightening combo.
He slowly ate the food she delivered to him. It was hospital food, so naturally it wasn't that good. It didn't taste even the slightest bit lovely, yet he devoured it all anyways, eating each and every last piece.
Feeling not the least bit tired, he decided to go to sleep, as being conscious was pretty painful at the moment. His eyes closed, hugging a pillow as he drifted into unconsciousness once more..
The phrase "counting sheep" is not just literally counting sheep. It's an exercise in which the person thinks of as many things as they can to eventually fall asleep.
For Arthur, he reflected on the past, and the reason he wielded his cutlass. Then, the words that David told him as well.
He couldn't remember exactly what was said, only that he needed to "learn the meta, and make stronger builds." Or something along those lines, in any case.
He took that to heart, thinking and thinking of ways to overcome any weaknesses he had. Only to find…
…
He woke up to the sound of whispering, and the only thing he was able to make out was "shhh, he's sleeping."
His eyes opened slowly, and he rolled over to his back, rubbing his eyelids as he heard soft gasps. He looked over, seeing familiar faces.
"What…" He gasped quietly, seeing his dad. And it did not just end with him, but rather his mother as well.
"How did you find… no, that's silly to ask mom, but dad…"
His dad smiled and pulled over another chair, holding a washed, assuredly tasty apple as he began to cut off the peel for Arthur.
"Well, I was able to contact her, since she's also got social media and all that. We decided to go to you, and we were pretty surprised to find you in a hospital, heh. But hey, you guys are tough, aren'tcha?"
Arthur smiled slightly, before his already red face became even more red, as he realized that his father was seeing his new self. He covered his face with his hands, peeking through his slightly open fingers to look.
"Woah, woah, what's that reaction for? You alright, Arthur?" His dad asked with a smile, still trying to comfort his son.
"Ah, my face, it… can you even recognize me?" Arthur asked. His dad shook his head, being honest.
"Nope! But you're still my son regardless, so is there anything I can really speak poorly of? Your mom warned me ahead of time, so it's not that bad," he said. Then, slowly, he extended his hand, taking a hold over Arthur's wrist.
"You can put your hands down, son. I want to see you. It's a rare sight I haven't had in many years; it'd be a shame if it was taken because your hands got in the way."
'Hah… what a way with words. Or… so cheesy.'
Arthur's hands shook, to which he lowered them, revealing that face of his.
"There, easy now, easy."
Arthur's lips pursed, and his mother finally chimed in.
"He knows about your actions, Arthur."
Arthur's heart sank, luckily not literally this time. He felt a warm, itchy sensation build up on his forehead from sweat, as he swallowed his spit and felt the lump in his throat grow.
Just before, he'd given up, and was quite miserable. However, moreso than his misery, what he felt now was worry, regret, and anger.
Worried about the response, regret over allowing this to happen, and angry at the course his life had taken which set this event up.
When he looked at his dad's face, he saw his smile disappear, replaced with a fairly serious complexion, before his dad opened his mouth to speak.
"Arthur."
Arthur was silent, before saying a small, "What…?"
"I want you to stop. No, I'm begging you to."
Arthur swallowed his spit once more, and looked down, unable to meet his dad's gaze. It reminded him of being scolded by his mother when he was younger, but this time it was his dad.
And Arthur wasn't even sure of how to respond. The reasons as to why were obviously because it was the wrong thing to do, killing a bunch of people. Of course, his dad would want him to stop—just imagine having someone like that for a son. What shame, what sorrow and what regret he would bring both of them.
His father too, was like Lucy. Eventually, he would go against Arthur. So it ached Arthur's heart even more, remembering what his father said during their meeting not too long ago.
"You… you said you'd always be on my side, didn't you?" Arthur asked genuinely, as his vision became blurry.
Being "betrayed" by everyone around him was nothing new, nothing unexpected. But he'd wished that his father wasn't one of those people as well.
He'd let down everyone around him, so this was his punishment. But just because punishment is deserved does not mean it is endurable.
He was a terrible son, a worse friend, and just the worst person in general.
Even on that day, when his father met him for the first time in years after having truly changed, Arthur did not forgive him, and he let him know that.
He'd let his friends down, killing one of them and abandoning the others, leaving them confused and hurt. Two of their friends had either gone missing or died on the same day.
And as a person, well, such was obvious to anyone who took a look at him.
So it made sense that even those who said they would always support him, would lose faith in him, and abandon him. If no one ever accepted him at a young age, just how could they continue to accept him after doing so just once?
Yet—
"It is because I'm on your side, because I support you, that I want you to stop."
Arthur looked at his dad, staring at him with raised eyebrows.
"What?"
"The road you're going down isn't right for you. Arthur, look at you, you've been abusing, haven't you?" His dad scolded.
"Well…"
"Arthur, I've seen steroid users in the gym, I know what it looks like. You're falling apart, I bet your joints ache, your heart hurts, you feel bitter and jagged all the time. And now, you got sent to the hospital because you had a heart attack at the ripe old age of 19. Your face is falling apart so badly you can't even show it to your own parents—"
"S-stop…"
Kenny, his father, finished peeling his apple and held it by the stem, offering it to Arthur, who reached for it and grabbed it, taking it in his hands.
"No, I won't stop, Arthur. I'll always support you, no matter what, which is why I can't sit here and let you continue in good conscience," he rebuked.
His dad's eyes turned glossy and he blinked a bit.
"I finally get to see my son after years, and even if you didn't forgive me back then, you still were open to continuing to talk. You were the light of my life when I was at my lowest, and now, just when I get to see you again, I find out that you're abusing and going on a suicide mission against the entire world."
"Y-you don't, you don't get it, dad," Arthur interjected. "I only have a month left to live, ever since I started! The world of dragons hurt one of the only people who've ever loved me, so what else can I do? I want to let them know that they can't keep doing this, that it's wrong, that there are consequences to their actions—"
"That's not it, Arthur."
"Huh?"
"I understand why you did it. But even if I understand, I can't support you continuing to do it, because I know it's ruining you. For that goal, you've thrown away your life on a chase, but just listening to what your mother's told me, it's made you miserable."
"But, but what else can I possibly do!? Even if I am miserable, even if it kills me, what else can I possibly do? My life's already a mess, I've already ruined everything, so all I can do is keep doing what I've been doing. I can't back out now, I can't live a happy life, I can't do anything!"
He continued.
"So why should I stop!? Just because it's the wrong thing to do? Just because it makes me miserable? Who cares about my life, what does it even matter whether I suffer for less than a month? It doesn't matter. Nothing matters."
His dad looked shocked.
"Arthur, you…"
Arthur glared at his father, giving him a sharp, disdainful look.
"What!?"
His dad sat back in his chair, looking at him with astoundment.
"You really are clueless, huh?"
"What? The fuck do you mean?"
"You dumbass, what're you talking about, 'wrong thing to do?' Yeah, it's probably not the right thing to do, but that's not why I want you to stop. You say 'it doesn't matter' like you don't have people who get sad when you're in pain all around you."
"What… No, you don't, you don't understand, it doesn't matter! Who cares if people get sad when I'm in pain—"
"I do! Your mom does!" His dad loudly exclaimed, looking at his ex wife and his son. Having jolted from his seat in that fit of emotion, the man quietly sat back down, forcing down the saliva in his throat.
"You seem to have made a friend with a lady named Lacie, or something—"
"Lucy."
"Ah, yeah, her. And those friends in your college, if they were real friends, they would hate to see you so miserable. Arthur, you do have people who love you, you do have people who hate to see you in such pain. That's why we hate it when you plunge yourself into such misery for no good reason."
Arthur was made silent, and he wiped the sweat off of his face.
"If you were in pain because you were grieving, I would understand, and I'd be here with you through that. I'm fine if you have your anger, your desires for revenge—I get that, I would never say you shouldn't feel that… But this is pointless misery."
Arthur looked down, feeling as helpless as he was when he was a kid. Or perhaps, as helpless as he always was.
"I'm not saying this to get you down. So don't get trapped in your head thinking, 'oh, look at what I've done, I'm hurting them, I'm so awful.' Arthur, I'm not saying you've gotta be happy all the time. Sadness is normal, it's human. But Arthur, what I'm criticizing is a life decision, not an emotion. You're free to make mistakes, you're still young, but this is a hard one to come back from."
He continued.
"You said it yourself, you've only got one month left. But that's exactly why I don't want you to spend it in such pain. I'm not getting mad at you for being miserable, I'm mad at you for being mean to everyone who does care about you by hurting yourself without reason. If life hurts you, that's one thing. But it's entirely different if you're the one hurting yourself."
Arthur, not wanting to respond, looked around at the white room they were in, the dull colors.
"I'm on your side, Arthur. I want you to be happy. So please, abandon your goal of hurting everyone, and have a new goal, of being better and happier."
The words Arthur heard, the words he internalized, the words that spoke to him, the words that he rejected, the words he accepted, all of those words, were strung about before him.
Once again, he was faced with yet another then-and-there decision.
For Arthur's misery, just like with the other decisions he could have made, he made a poor choice.
He looked at his dad, said a small "Thank you," and got out of the hospital bed. His heart still ached, both literally and figuratively.
Even the honest pleas of his father would not reach him. Falling deeper into despair, deeper into the abyss, deeper and deeper, sinking and drowning—
He ran away, leaving behind an uneaten apple.