Two things come to my mind while looking at Marcus’s hulking form. For a second, my rage is forgotten.

Number one, wasn’t I supposed to fight a Foxman? And if Foxmen exist, are there Foxwomen? Or is Foxman the name of the whole species? Also, how hot are we talking? Like, big fluffy tail plus hot woman body or what? And wasn’t I supposed to fight a half-giant too? Are half-giant boobies proportional to their bodies? Look, I’m usually relatively uninterested in all this shit, but it would have made it a very interesting experience.

Number two, even if I kill Marcus, aren’t other [Archmages] still going to kill me? And what am I going to do about Stanimal? He kind of dismissed the fact that I was basically going to fight with a goddamn Dragon, didn’t he?

It’s weird how clarity hits your ass in these moments. It feels like walking in a dreamscape while awake: everything feels blurred, and the boundaries with reality are blended with the subconscious. In a way, I feel alienated from myself. It’s like I’m playing myself in a videogame, puppeteering my own life. At some point, you become aware of yourself, and when so many things hit you, you kind of default to auto-pilot. It’s hard to exemplify, but just think of the moments in your life when you are going so fast that you don’t act like yourself but like the strings that you move within yourself. You don’t have time to think things through; you just pull the strings you believe you are supposed to pull. To put it more simply, when life speeds up, you just act like you think you are supposed to.

So, while I’m about to fucking die, I realize I’m not sure I’ve been 100% myself these few days. I probably need a holiday, possibly on a tropical island where the average chest size is three times the Swedish average – and yes, before you ask, it is one of the countries that boasts about having the most incredible talent in that field. If I could just put my head between a massive pair of flesh pillows for a couple of days, I’m sure that some Freudian super-psyche would finally catch up with me.

And while I stare at the humongous body of my enemy, spiky, slimy, ugly, hulking, I can’t help but think of Greek mythology. I mean, dude, when you are about to die, and you have studied tragedy and myths… this is it, you know? This is as tragic and mythological as it gets. A big ugly Dragon that wants to kill you after you have spared the heroine’s life? That’s Lucinda, I think. Well, it’s very fatalistic. Your aides are frozen, and no one is throwing themselves in harm’s way? I mean, that hurts, doesn’t it? I get it, though. They have to be practical – all of them but Stan, really.

It sucks.

I don’t know. I kind of wish someone would fucking jump in front of Marcus. Just as a nice gesture, you know? Instead, this is so… Human. This is all so very diplomatic, so very political. So real. Wouldn’t you expect something more heroic? Something… better? I mean, this is a fantasy world. Here is where the magic happens. So, what is wrong with these people?

Dude, this is making me so angry. It really doesn’t make sense: how can people who can be anything just be so… plain? I mean, not that I’m the one to speak about this. On Earth, I was what I was. But here? Here, I’m trying. I’m making an effort. Man, if I saw something like this happen in front of me, I’d be fucking running from the battlement to fight! Is there no one with a fucking spine? Is there really nothing that moves these people to act? And look, even if the other [Archmages] or the lord of the fucking nine hells were threatening Stanimal or the others, I’d still fucking jump in!

Where is courage? Where is heroism?!

What a piss poor excuse of a magical world. And the problem is that I’m not sure I’m good enough to show these people how it should be done, how they should act. I mean, I can lead by a good example, but I have a gut feeling that I’m really going to get my ass served. It’s unsettling. Knowing that you are going to die, that is. And I’m not being pessimistic, it’s just… I don’t know. I’m still going to kill this fucking Dragon first. That’s for sure. Then, I’ll die.

I don’t know whether my personality will one day manifest itself completely, if I’m going crazy, if I’m good enough to be a hero, a [Hero], or even just a symbol or something. But one thing is for sure: I’m going out with a bang.

US of A-style, baby.

Lord Juler, at least, is taking over the controller to play the best game possible and see if we can indeed kill this fucker. Man, I’ve been swearing so much lately. It’s really true, mom, that I get rougher when you are not around.

“—and all the bastard Vanedenis!”

What? Looking at the smug Dragon, I realize I might have just missed a critical villain monologue. Admittedly, it was probably very cliché, but still. I got a bit lost, didn’t I?

I start casting my last ace when shit really starts going down.

And when I say ‘down,’ it’s not like shit’s falling on the floor.

Hell no.

We are talking about shit literally hitting Satan’s horns in the deepest recess of hell.

Do you remember how I talked about Greek tragedies not even a second ago?

Well, what’s happening right now has a specific name in tragedy. It is called…