Doomed to Die in 3 Minutes

The Dancing Fool

I count down the remaining seconds. “20… 19… 18…” It triggers him to hit me harder. He’ll die if he can’t kill me. Well, I don’t even know if it’ll cancel the spell but he has to try and well if I was him I’d probably do the same. My face feels like s**t. I’m covered in blood and sweat but damn isn’t this satisfying. “Is that all you got? Do you even really want to live?” My voice is hoarse and my words come out weak but they cut through him like a dagger and I’m loving it. Seeing this i***t go crazy with every taunt is priceless revenge.

“14… 13…” His punches get faster and harder but his aim becomes shakier. “Shut up! Just shut up! Shut up and die! Why won’t you…. Just die like everyone else!? Stop defying me! No one defies me! No one defies me and lives! They die! Horribly! Each and every one of them and so will you!” He hammers away with massive guillotine-like motions with his arms and hits me full force with his fists at the same time, a gorilla full of primal aggression. I wheeze and gasp for air but I endure it. I keep smiling and force out a few more words. “Yeah, but not me… 10.. 9…”

He gets off of me. Okay, he figured it out. He was so blinded by rage he didn’t realise. Just punching me isn’t enough… and his aim this whole time was just ever so slightly off, I put a layered illusion over my body. It was the thinnest overlay but he was panicking too much to notice until now, his hits were about half an inch too shallow and a few tiny hairs breath away to the side. Repeated punches to the face can be fatal of course but there are far quicker and more efficient ways to murder a man.

He stands up coated in sweat and raises his right leg. He’s aiming to break my neck and windpipe with a single stomp. He laughs on the brink of madness and victory. He thinks it’s assured now. He wins. He survives. I die. What an absolute dumbass. I roll out of the way with all my remaining strength and tumble away. His foot eats dirt. His face is astounding. He doesn’t quite understand or know what just happened. He can’t process it right away. 

“6...5...” He rushes over like a bat out of hell while screaming. “You liar! You said you’d take every last attack! What about honour!? You promised…!” I cackle like a witch at his accusations. “Have you ever kept your promises to the people of this city? What honour do you have? Did you expect me to keep a promise to scum like you? 4…” 

I jump up and land on my two feet. My body feels like its made of lead. I don’t care. I push through the pain and turn around. I begin to run and he howls inexplicably as he chases after me, he’s a stampeding bull now but that doesn’t matter. He has no time left. I book it and he has no hopes of getting to me and he knows it. “3...2…” I hear a shrill shriek that chills my bones come from Phonom as he realises he’s doomed but he has to try anyway. He leaps and stretches his right leg out, hoping to land a flying kick at the back of my neck. I go limp and drop my body to the ground yet again, it’s especially easy since I have near nothing left in the tank myself. I just have to let go and yell the last number at the last second.

“1. Game over.” I hear another body collapse behind me with one last gargle of life. I win. I win again. Somehow, I did this stupid hero s**t where I put myself in harm’s way and I won. I actually can’t believe it. Why do I do this to myself? Am I just dumb or have a death wish? Or do I like playing this role way too much? I start to hear it. Cheering. The same type of cheering that Alisa had received when she arrived. Adoration from every single person. From children to the elderly. Tears of joy. Happiness in its purest form. Ah. I get it. It’s this. I’m a junkie for this. A complete addict to this. The roaring passion of the captivated crowd. 

I may no longer be a paid stage actor but this part of me hasn’t changed. As much as I tried to deny it or be ashamed of it, the truth is I want to bring a fantastical show to a loving audience and keep them entranced with the idea that good win triumph over evil. That’s the type of man I am. Whether on the stage of my own creation or the stage of life. I cough out some blood. Damn, working yourself to the bone for something you love hurts quite a lot… so why does it feel so good? The sounds of cheering grow softer as I close my bruised eyes. I’ve gotta stop this. It’s going to be the death of me but something tells me that’s not going to happen. I’m a fool who loves to dance before the public.

I hear three sets of footsteps walk towards me. The voice of an older man, ah this is the client who tended to my wounds after fighting Yarul. “Good. You’re not dead! Thank the gods. I’ll treat your injuries so just hang on, alright?” A warm light. Healing magic. There’s quite a lot to deal with. He’s pretty good but he’s not an expert. If he can just patch up the worst of it that’ll be good enough. My natural regeneration should do the rest. 

“So, this may not be the best time Lady Alisa but… would you do me the honour of marrying me?” What the hell are you doing Vis? Now? Here!? When you’ve known her for all of five minutes? “...I’m grateful to you for bringing me back and all but I don’t know you, and, no offence I prefer men who fight their own battles. Especially ones that keep going even with the deck stacked against him. That’s how you show you have a brave and just heart.” Alisa leans down by my side and whispers. “Keep up the good work, handsome.” Urgh, look, what is with the women in this world that they start liking someone they just met? Is it just some shitty genre thing the gods did or are the women of this world that badly treated that they flock to the first guy with even one redeeming feature? Seriously. Screw it. I’m going to fall asleep and deal with this s**t later.