Day 7 of the 20th Astral Eclipse, 4 minutes, 35 seconds until the End.

Godfall Craterfields, The Land of Fallen Gods

The barren fields, thick with divine presence, have fallen silent, as the last major offensive against The Harbinger of The Truth of Stars has been casually wiped clean from the face of Merrow with a dismissive swipe of an exquisitely crafted warhammer large enough to pass for a skyscraper. Around me stands but a few of the survivors, none of them in any state to continue the fight.

Not that any of us could make a difference anyway.

If even the Saints and Sages fell with but a single attack, what hope have us Acolytes?

Collapsing to one knee, I fumble for the hilt of my blade, not daring to break sight of The Harbinger, floating impassively above the battlefield, it's heavy black robe fluttering amidst dense magical winds, a shifting pattern of twinkling starlight passing along the surface as though The Harbinger was merely a gap in reality, leading to the heavens above. For all I know, it could be right. Might go a ways to explaining why it seems to completely ignore most to all damage, no matter the source.

Furtively I glance at the ominous hourglass tied to The Harbinger's hip, now nearly emptied of sand,  and drag my sword up to support my weight, the mass of rare metals that's accompanied me the past 2 Real Years providing at least a small amount of comfort as I hug it a little closer.

"Hey Silver, you good? Javelin?" One of the closer survivors calls out.

The only response from the panoplast woman apparently named Javelin is pained sobbing as they clutch at the gross shattered mess that was once their left arm up until they stood a little too close to the shockwave of The Harbinger's hammer blow when it wiped out The Last Stand Alliance's main force. Unfortunately, there are no magic classes left in the area capable of fixing it. I'd offer a potion to take the edge off, but with armageddon due to arrive in about three-ish minutes, I don't think it'd make a difference. I'm on my last legs myself.

"At a loss of what to do if I'm honest," I call back, sighing, "Thirty years of work, and all for nothing it looks like. Makes me wonder why any of us even bothered, but I don't think I mind in the end. Had my fun."

The mage collapses flat on his back, waving his Astral tiered staff nonchalantly, "Yeah. Know what you mean. Only been doing this for five years though, so I can't imagine what it's like for you."

I let my head hang a bit, reminiscing on everything I've experienced. Starting the game, getting to grips with the world, meeting friends, my Guild, all the assholes as well, even. If we're talking in-game years, I've lived a lifetime of adventure, growth and conflict. To have it snatched away at the climax is bittersweet, to say the least.

With a grunt, I push myself to my feet with my sword for support, knees shaky with fatigue. With one last exhale of breath, I smile at the stranger, "The best days of my life, friend," A glance at the Harbinger's timepiece, less than a minute left "Might as well go out with one last great hurrah. Got enough juice left for a Greater Hilln's Alacrity?"

The mage chuckles, barely moving from his prone state, "Yeah, why not?"

He chugs a phial of purple-blue liquid retrieved from an inner pocket of his cloak, then waves his staff in my direction almost dismissively, "Knock yourself out, man. Buy you a hundred Astral Sagecrafted weapons if you kill it."

I snort a laugh, knowing all too well that a player on his level doesn't have the kind of scratch to buy even one. Readying my sword, I take one final, deep breath as the buff activates, my perception of time slowing to less than an infant's crawl. Grain after grain of silky blue sand becomes easily discernible in the hourglass. The anguished screaming of Javelin stretches and distorts.

Never could quite get used to this feeling. It's like I'm encased in wet cement at first.

After my senses and physique adjusts to the change in speed, I let loose a primal warcry and charge at the edge of an elevated piece of terrain between me and The Harbinger. Thanks to the buff, it takes less than ten seconds to cross the distance, and gives me enough forward momentum to leap toward the giant creature.

Activating every buffing ability I have, I swing full force at The Harbinger; Pushing far beyond what is safe for me to handle. It's not even worthy of being considered a Skill, with how many are being layered on top of each other. Just one last desperate attack, fuelled by the sorrow, joy and desperation of a life about to be destroyed.

True Strike Critical!

-1 damage dealt to The Harbinger of The Truth of Stars.

The last grain falls from the hourglass, out of the corner of my eye. Before everything turns white, I can vaguely hear the ethereal whisper of The Harbinger's voice in the furthest reaches of my mind.

"A pity..."

IdleFancy

First chapter to follow in the next couple hours. Need to get this out of my system. Letsago.