Within a dense forest, lit up by the blood red glow of the four moons that towered over it.
A young man was fighting an assortment of monsters, monsters of different shapes and races, all united against the young man, by the common spark desire in their eyes.
Eager for living flesh,
Eager for the nourishing vitality of a beating heart,
The swarm of monsters drowned him in a somber assembly, made out of their own rotting corpses,
The swing of the boy's sword from side to side, his desperate attempt to stay alive was all for naught, for his death was already predetermined, by the choices, cause and effects taken to get here.
The boy's final plea,
A cry for help!
Was muffled by the rotten bodies of the monsters that sought to take his life, but even if it weren't, no one would come to his aid, as even the most ferocious of beasts during the day were nothing more than scared puppies in the night.
Under the combined weight of the myriad of monsters, The boy couldn't breathe any more, his face grew pale, as his heart took longer and longer to beat, the formerly thunderous heart beat, now quieter than a pin drop in the silence of the night.
When the young man's heart stopped beating, the horde of monsters, stopped swarming him, as if they had gotten what they wanted from him, his life.