It was the only way. He had to make him dead and silent. Only then could he leave this place.
He waited. Nothing. He was angry, very angry. He had to kill the dwarf. His hands shook. He screamed his rage at Drud.
The dwarf continued to not move. Aerak shouted as loud as he could. “You idiot! Have you heard nothing I’ve said? Can’t you see how difficult my task is? Can’t you see what I have sacrificed for this? Open your damned mouth! Open your damned mouth! If you can’t understand me, then listen to my hammer. Listen to this great hammer of a hero slam against your skull. Listen to its clangs and raps and loud noises, and don’t you dare move! Oh…”
He dropped the hammer and shrugged his shoulders. “Haha, you are so perfect for your part.”
He looked around the area and knew he had made the last of his mistakes. He had killed his friends. He had made Terek a mute. He had failed. He was lost to himself. He had failed.
He was alone in his failings. But he could finally see all of his failures made clear. He had failed in every way he could come up with. He had fallen to desires he could not fight. He had failed the cleric, and it would haunt him for life. He had failed Terek, and his life would forever be hated in the eyes of his friend and brother from Eros. He had failed Drund, and his life would forever be wasted in a pointless death. He would never be a hero.
He had failed Aerak. He had missed the chance to make a hero out of him. He had made an empty mistake. He had failed a destiny not given to him. And he was going to live with the pain of this mistake.
Aerak searched his mind and his emotions for any clue as to what he could do now. Perhaps a solution would come. Maybe he would discover some extraordinary answer that would make this work somehow. Maybe he would find a trick to reveal a last avenue of success.
But nothing came. He was alone with his failures. He was left with no other options. No matter what he did, he would never be a hero.
With a growing sense of desperation, he turned to his only option. He would have to fight. He would have to continue to fight. He would have to try. He had know history. And he knew the story came to a horrible end. He knew the story had a horrible end. The end was here and there was no way around it, no way to avert it. The story had to end, and he was coming into the end.
He knew he would have to die to make the world know a mistake. He knew he would have to die to save Aerak the hero. He knew the hero had to live and know peace.
He knew the story of Aerak. He had to know him, to see him, and to understand what was great about the hero. The hero had to live on. That was the only way he could help.
He sat on the ground. He waited as long he could. He would wait for the pain to give him the strength to continue to fight.
The pain did not come. He did not die. He did not die. And his nerves began to return. He had a plan. He finally understood his plan. He listened to it. It came to him with a great clarity, breaking free from the clouds of darkness that was clouding his mind.
He was willing to do anything to save his hero. He would fight. He would die for the hero. He would do more than die. He would die in a worse place. He would die in a worse place.
He sat on the ground. He still had strength. He could sit and think. He had no concern. He sat there with no thought of the cleric. He just sat there. He would need to fight again, and he had to summon the fight. He would need to fight. He would fight for his hero. He would fight again. He would fight for his hero.
He sat on the ground and felt like he was being punished for a crime. He had performed his crime. And now he was being punished for some great offense. He did a great thing for the hero. He did a great thing for the hero, but the world had left no room for the reality and the hero was gone.
He had to fight. He could not leave the hero to die. He must destroy the darkness. He must drown in the world of darkness and darkness itself.
But he still had the fight. He could fight again. He could march into the darkness and slay it. He could not let the darkness win. He could fight again. He could be a hero and fight heroically. He was not a hero before. He was not a hero, but he could be one now.
He wanted to fight. He wanted to be a hero. He wanted to die as heroically as possible. He did not think he could die without being heroic. He could throw his arms in front of the sword of the cleric. He could stand up to the cleric and die with the sword against him.
He sat on the ground. He had already died. He knew that death was not the end. His time was not up. He had not met the poem’s conclusion. But he would fight for his hero. He would fight for himself. He would fight for his hero again.
He stood up. He grabbed the sword of the cleric and he tugged it to him, until it was next to him. He reached into the armor of the cleric. He pulled out a great piece of metal, a gigantic piece of metal.
He roared, and he swung the great metal bolt like a great sword. He knew he would use this against the dark priests. He knew he had to crush their souls. He knew he had to punish them and kill them. He knew he had to do whatever it took to give the hero his ending.
With his great weapon in his hand, he bowed to the cleric, and Aerak walked into the darkness again.