It felt like opening an oven, staring into the bowels of iron encasing and trying to see if you had burnt your dinner or not. 

Its more like a desert during a heat wave.

Though Ansel had never been to a desert to prove his point, so he'd just need to hope the comparison was reasonable.

Breathing was uncomfortable. The sweat on your skin just another layer of clothing at this point. 

huff huff

It was painful to breathe in. It made his head swim. The ache in his bones pleading him to sit on the cracked concrete that radiated a dangerous heat. 

What do I…. What do I do?

All this time Ansel had dragged himself through hell, fought and lost only to have to fight again. He watched the people he cared about die, or worse. He staggered, was betrayed, starved, and suffered all this time. 

For what? To do what?

I'm going to die.

He wanted to say he was scared. To say that the thought of dying drove him to new heights and he persevered once more but the truth was that he wasn't scared. He was bitter. So damn bitter. 

Ansel grit his teeth, the dried blood on his lips cracking and his fingers digging into the dirtied pant leg he leaned on. He had never felt so bitter before. Angry. No, enraged. He had worked his ass off to survive. He had made what felt like every wrong choice. Only to die because some sick twist of fate decided it. 

A scream sounded and was soon followed by more and only then did Ansel snap back to his senses, dulled by exhaustion. The heat was rising, the sky painted a deep red that glowed a blazing orange only to be shadowed by a form vastly larger than the city he stood in. 

Great wings took up the clouds, and a body of flame the horizon. This was the final disaster this world would see.

At least I can say I made it to that I suppose.

It was a pointless thought though. He didn't want the least. He wanted-

"Gah!- Geh"

Ansel felt his throat tighten. The oxygen in the air burns away with the rest of the atmosphere and finally he falls to his knees, his hands sizzling at the touch of asphalt but he couldn't feel the pain. Instead the searing agony in his lungs consumed him and he felt his vision start to be swallowed by black. 

To die without even a fight. Without even running. Without struggle. If only-

If only-

If only he just had-

One more. Just one more chance. 

If only he had one more chance then he wouldn't-