Danny kept close to Allen, following his footsteps closely with the water on his heels.
No matter how fast they climbed they couldn't escape the reach of the projectiles, it was an endless barrage of pelted death.
Slipping and falling was no longer their biggest worry.
It was the-
Pah!
-infestation.
Danny pulled himself up and over a ledge, avoiding the worms beneath him with seconds to spare.
"Faster!" Crude struggled his words out; rushing through a veil of rain while simultaneously climbing up a slippery slope of doom did wonders to your stamina.
Allen knew what needed to be done, but he couldn't do it.
He was too young, too weak, to keep up this pace for much longer.
So Allen wondered, how was it that the boy above him could keep going?
The answer-
He wasn't.
Syllian couldn't feel his limbs, he was moving through pure instinct, the instinct of survival.
The chains rattling around his body tightened, encaging him in their web of lies and deceit.
Helen was dragging him down, every time he arrived at a point that needed him to exert more strength, he had to repeat the action twice to bring Helen along.
'She's the death of me.'
My fingers are cold, numb, and blue; it hurts
My chest burns; it hurts.
My legs are screaming in agony; it hurts.
My body is out of energy; it hurts.
I hurt.
My body is bleeding.
I'm tired, I want to sleep, I want to lie down.
I want to-
'Live.'
Gritting his teeth, Syllian charged past his body's limits, pushing it to the brink of destruction.
'I want to live.'
This is beyond bad, if I stop, I'll die.
However, it wasn't just Syllian.
Crude, Danny, and Allen were in the same situation.
This surge of adrenaline and the primal fear of death was carrying them through with a feeble string that had been taut to the brink.
One small pull and it would snap.
'Not today bitch!'
Syllian was mad, he could see his mind beginning to fall apart.
He was feeling it wobble and collapse in segments.
Syllian etched a burning grin on his face; licked his moist, chapped lips, and-
"Ha-!"
Opened his mouth.
"Hahaha-!"
He was laughing.
"Kehahaha!"
A wild, nonsensical, demented laugh.
A laugh dripping, bleeding, with extreme pain.
'It doesn't hurt!'
He pulled with his ripped fingers, with his torn muscles.
'It's painless!'
He pushed with his bleeding left leg, with the flesh within visible through his ruined pants and bandages.
'This is easy!'
His bleeding wounds were pumped with fresh blood, oozing his life out by the second.
Clang...
Syllian heard the chains once more, so he turned around to face the small platform below him and lowered his hand.
Pinching the petite palm, he smiled, laughed, giggled, even, as he pulled her up.
As he did so Syllian noticed something, his eyes were especially hot today.
'But it's so cold!'
Cackling through the rain, a weird liquid entered his mouth.
'Salt?! Did the main body of water reach us?!'
He cast a panicked look at the ocean, but...
'No?'
...it hadn't, the water was still a distance away, yet to reach the trio below.
So he looked to Helen, and with another flash of lightning, he noticed something else.
It was hard to see her, it was blurry.
'Weird.'
Wiping his eyes, Syllian pushed on without sparing Helen a second glance.
'Easy! So easy!'
It no longer hurt, he felt great!
He was even getting a bit hot!
'Since when did someone start a fire?'
---
Helen watched the boy from the side.
He was shivering, screaming to himself at times, and a twisted; ugly cackle escaped his throat every so often.
However, he never stopped.
His body was collapsing, failing on him.
But the boy seemed to never notice.
"Family..." She muttered beneath her breath, looking to the head above them.
The one looming over the waters gracefully.
The face of the Mistress of The Night.
---
Her shoulders were in sight, the final stretch was underway and the contestants were in no condition to continue.
But continue they did.
Syllian's cackles died down.
Instead, the boy was in another phase now.
He was cursing everyone he could in his mind.
'I'll kill those witches when I leave, and that man who told me 'at most it will be as hard as surviving a night' fuck you!'
'Since when was surviving a night difficult?!!'
With the end in sight, Syllian fought to his last breath.
'Wait, did he say surviving a night? Or on the streets...? Fuck! It's all the same!'
Spitting a mouthful of rainwater out, "Kill you!" Syllian slowly created a one-sided grudge towards the nameless man.
A Night?
Just one?
'Bastard this is night one hundred-!'
Syllian wasn't in the right state of mind, but even now he knew that this was very off.
'That man said it could be as easy as cleaning the streets, so how did mine end up so fucking hard?!'
Syllian cursed any existing gods, 'You cursed me first so curse you too!'
A small tug pulled on his drenched shirt; he followed the tug and turned his gaze to the vast shoulder that was mostly covered in grey 'cloth' in front of him.
The path to reach the top needed him to take a small detour; if he had the right equipment he could have easily climbed up without doing so.
Following it up, Syllian slowly returned to reality, and as he did so.
'So sluggish.'
He felt extraordinarily sluggish; like his body had been dunked underwater while dressed in clothes.
"Oh."
That had already happened.
But it was even worse.
He was held down by chains, dragged to a painful stop by the sheer weight of the steel balls hanging on the end.
Syllian didn't let it stall him.
The boy trudged through as he aimed for the grand finale.
---
Staggering over the edge, Syllian finally arrived at flat land.
Thud.
He dropped to his knees.
Smack...
And planted face-first into the wet floor, embracing the success with wholehearted glee and a hint of pure joy.
Yes, joy!
Oh, so much joy!
Absorbing the steamy waters beneath him, he felt like the grand finale wasn't so grand now that he was here.
It was more warm and cosy than grand.
The noise of flesh smacking into water sounded beside him, Helen plopped herself on the shoulder of the Mistress as well.
Was she tired...?
Syllian didn't think so.
Was she copying him...?
Maybe?
Syllian had no idea what was going through her mind.
Right beneath the two figures, Crude, Allen, and Danny were about to arrive.
And it looked like the world had cooked up a pleasant dish as a gift for their accomplishment.
It comprised of squirming black flesh.
More specifically, flesh that enjoyed shooting through the air; flesh that decorated the sky with glorious, pitch-black paint.
Dozens of projectiles fluttered their wings, leaving behind trails of disorientated rain.
The countless worms squeezed together within the miniature tentacles, squirming in a chaotic pattern as they awaited their arrival.
Splattering across the grey stone, they broke free of their cacoons and twitched their little sensors in search of prey.
Crude and Allen jumped to the side, simultaneously avoiding certain death. Crude's face was packed with uncertainty and fear, but Allen's...
Allen's was silent, calm...
Peaceful.
On the other hand, Danny wasn't so timely with reactions. He was too worn down by his injuries, they looked lighter at first glance but were much more severe than you'd think.
His organs were heavily damaged.
Allen sustained more superficial injuries in comparison.
Crude reached his hand out towards Danny, wanting to pull the man back and away from the worms.
Pah...
A projectile slammed into his abdomen.
Danny shakily looked down, it was a slow, agonising gaze.
He was too tired to feel the full brunt of the attack, too sluggish to comprehend what it meant at that moment.
But the accompanying pain instantly told him everything he needed to know.
Crude painfully watched the excruciatingly vivid sight, as the worms slowly consumed the man from the inside out.
His screams outshone the crashing waves and incessant rain.
His nails scratched his face, pulling apart layers of skin and muscle until eventually-
Splat.
-Danny dropped to his knees.
Worms exploded out of his mouth, flushing out the man's innards alongside them as they consumed the man completely in one fell swoop.
It wasn't over yet, though.
While Crude lamented over his friend's death, he had forgotten one crucial point.
This was a barrage of projectiles, not one.
Catching a flash of darkness in the corner of his eye, Crude's mouth screamed open while he tried to throw himself away.
Alas...
Syllian and Allen watched it slam into his open mouth.
Watched it break apart into thousands of pieces.
And watched as it rapidly consumed his tongue, throat; as it punctured his larynx from the inside out, and ate out both eyeballs in one gruesomely disgusting sight.
Until the projectile burst out the other end of his throat the second after, severing his head cleanly.
Smack-
A dull, thwacking noise echoed amidst the deafening roars of thunder.
His head rolled down the side of the mountain, smashing apart into a mess of flesh and bone.
All of their efforts.
The ruthless struggle in the siege of The Adler, the ensuing climb on the cloak of the Mistress of The Night.
All of it for nothing.
Their lives had been snuffed out in a single mistake.
There was no exaggerated fantastical turn of events that led to their deaths, nor a heartbreaking betrayal.
Crude and Danny survived the worst of the worst, struggled up the cloak alongside Syllian and Allen, and were the few to make it to the end.
Yet in one, brutal moment.
They died.
They were unlucky.
So, they died.
They were weak.
So, they died.
It was as simple as that.
Life was complicated, consisting of countless events that contained hundreds of ups and downs; family, friends, careers, so much joy and so much sadness.
But in the end, death was so simple.
Syllian turned his gaze back to Allen who still remained slightly below him but just in reach of his arms.
He reached out his hand to Allen, "Grab!"
Allen flicked his head up at Syllian, and reached out his hand.
Smack!
Firmly clasping each other's arms, Syllian started pulling; blood began spilling heavily from his nose once more.
He was dizzy and faint but didn't stop pulling.
"Argh-!"
Pulling with the final hints of life remaining in himself, Syllian grunted and growled past everything.
Until finally-
Rolling backwards, Syllian held firmly onto Allen's arms, squeezing out wheezing, pained breaths.
-he pulled him up.
Lying down half-dead with Allen's hand firmly clasped, he cackled slightly and said:
"I- Cough! -said I'll save both of you..."
Syllian found his eyes constricting, growing darker and darker with each moment.
Heaving air into his lungs, he choked out a few words in between.
"...but I'm a hypocrite so- Cough! -I only saved one."
Smiling to himself, Syllian peacefully embraced the darkness.
Satisfied with his measly achievement.
Spurt...
Until he noticed it.
Spurt...
The odd sound of liquid squeezing out.
Spurt...
And the weightlessness of the arm in his hand.
Syllian's smile froze as he slowly tilted his head towards Allen.
Or.
Spurt...
Where Allen should have been.