Is this the end for me?
Why was I even born? Was there any iota of reason for my existence?
In the end, there's nothing I can do.There's nothing I've achieved.
This is the end for me. I sure lived the worst life, didn't I? I lived my life treated like rubbish.
Now I've met my demise, also like rubbish.
TWO HOURS AGO
In the dim, cold dungeon, the sound of blades echoed off the stone walls. A man, drenched in sweat, his blue hair slicked with exhaustion, roared as he swung his sword at the beast before him.
"Die, you filthy rat!" he shouted, frustration seeping into his voice. The rat-beast, larger than a man, screeched in pain as the blade struck its right arm, forcing it to retreat, wary of the next strike.
Behind the swordsman stood a woman. Her pink hair shimmered in the low light, eyes closed in deep concentration as she chanted a spell. Her staff glowed brightly, casting light on the figure at her side—a man with dirty black hair and tattered clothes. His eyes were hollow, devoid of life, as though his very soul was fading.
With a violent, breaking slash, the blue-haired man shouted again, lunging forward. His sword cleaved through the air, cutting deep into the rat's throat. Blood sprayed in all directions as the beast roared, its vision growing hazy.
The swordsman jumped back, watching the rat stagger. He wiped his brow and glanced at the woman. "Jolene, how's your spell going?"
"Almost there," she replied through gritted teeth, sweat trickling down her face.
A sigil spread across the floor, glowing brightly around her. With a final, desperate shout, she lifted her staff and aimed it at the rat. "Fireball!" she screamed.
A torrent of flames gathered in the air, launching towards the rat at breakneck speed. The fire exploded upon impact, engulfing the beast in a furious blaze. The heat was so intense it pushed the swordsman back, but he grinned, watching the beast writhe in agony.
"One and done," he said smugly, sheathing his sword. "That's my skill for you."
Jolene shot him a look, raising an eyebrow. "You mean my magic," she teased, a playful grin curling at the corner of her lips.
"Well, we both did our best," the swordsman acknowledged with a shrug.
"You're right," she agreed, smirking.
The swordsman turned his gaze toward the man standing a little off to the side. "Hey, quit dilly-dallying. You're up, you rubbish picker."
Azrael winced at the insult. "I am not a rubbish picker. I am Azrael," he muttered as he stumbled forward, his steps slow and labored. He accidentally bumped into a rock and collapsed, his body heavy and burdened.
The swordsman, Zoid, sneered. "Man, you're useless."
Jolene stepped in, grinning mischievously. "Come on, Zoid, cut him some slack. Unlike us nobles, Azrael's just a low commoner," she said with a wink, her gaze full of amusement as she stared at him.
Azrael, embarrassed, quickly dropped to one knee. "My apologies. It's just... there's a lot to carry."
Zoid rolled his eyes. "Get to appraising already, Mister Appraiser," he spat, his tone dripping with sarcasm.
"Okay," Azrael replied meekly.
He mumbled under his breath, Appraiser—a low common job.
The gods had blessed everyone with a job and a skill. Jobs were inherited, and skills could be honed. He had been born an appraiser, stuck with the same role his parents had held. A job wasn't something you could change—it was fixed, no matter how much you wished otherwise. There were higher ranks, sure.
Common.
Uncommon.
Rare.
Legendary.
Mythical.
Divine.
But for most people, the highest you'd ever get was rare, or at best, legendary. Only ten people on the planet had a divine job, and Azrael was nowhere close to that.
His thoughts swirled back to his parents—how they'd died when he was young, leaving him without a trade to inherit. He hadn't chosen the path of a noble; he'd chosen to become an adventurer instead. But here he was, stuck with the job of an appraiser, cursed to scan items and judge their worth.
With a sigh, Azrael focused his attention on the rat's remains. He used his Appraise skill and quickly jotted down the important details, his audience's irritation growing with every passing moment. Zoid kicked him in the back, an angry grunt escaping his lips. Azrael said nothing, finishing his task. What could he say? His job was the reason for all of this.
Zoid spotted something in the distance and pointed. "Hey, look, a hellhound carcass!" He jogged forward, a greedy gleam in his eyes. "Lucky! This will sell for a high price!"
Azrael hesitated, his unease growing. "Um, don't you think it's strange?" His voice wavered. "The guild said this monster shouldn't even be here."
Zoid spun around, annoyance bubbling in his throat. "Quit your yapping," he snapped. "Do your job, you trash!" He shoved Azrael forward, his strength knocking him off balance.
Azrael stumbled but regained his footing. I need this money, he thought. I need it to eat.
Jolene, ever the optimist, smiled at Zoid. "Yeah, hellhound materials can sell for a lot, right?"
Zoid nodded, grinning. "I heard the same. Let's celebrate when we get back. Rent an inn, have a drink... maybe more," he added with a lewd grin.
Jolene chuckled, shaking her head. "Zoid, you naughty boy." She wrapped her arms around him, her body pressing against his. Zoid's grin only widened as he took advantage of the moment, his hands squeezing her rear. She gasped, but then whispered, "Not yet. Calm down. After the raid, I'll make it all yours."
Zoid grinned at the promise. "Looking forward to it."
Azrael, feeling utterly disgusted by the display, quickly finished his work and stood up, eager to leave the awkward scene behind. But when they ventured deeper into the dungeon, he found himself trailing behind.
Ahead of them, Zoid spotted another hellhound carcass. "This is unbelievable!" he exclaimed. "It's like we've hit the jackpot!"
Azrael felt a rising dread. "This doesn't make sense," he murmured. "This path... it's supposed to be one-way. Why are there so many hellhounds here?"
Zoid dismissed his concern with a wave. "Quit whining. Let's get moving."
Azrael clenched his fists, frustrated, but he had no choice. They pressed on, deeper into the dungeon. Soon, they came across more carcasses—hellhounds littered the ground, their bodies strewn across the path like discarded trash.
Zoid's greed blinded him to the danger. "This is a goldmine!" he shouted. "We're going to make a fortune!"
Azrael's voice quivered with fear. "Zoid, this isn't right. Who killed all these hellhounds? And if they were adventurers like us, why didn't they collect the materials?"
Before Zoid could respond, Azrael froze, his heart racing. Behind them, a deep growl echoed from the shadows.
Zoid, sensing something was off, turned around. Jolene's eyes widened in terror. "What is that?" she whispered, her voice trembling.
From the darkness emerged a pair of glowing red eyes—then another—and then dozens more. The beasts stepped into view, their massive forms sending a chill through the air. Zoid's face drained of color as the growls grew louder.
He turned to Jolene, his voice shaking. "Can we fight them?"
Jolene's fear was palpable. "I'm not sure we can even take one. We... we need to run."
Zoid laughed, a wild, manic grin spreading across his face. "Run? No way. We're not going down that easily." His eyes glinted with madness. "Jolene, can your mana reserves produce a paralysis spell?"
Jolene, desperate, nodded. "I can try."
The hounds were closing in fast, and Azrael, realizing their only chance of survival, began to turn and flee. But it was too late.
"Paralysis!" Jolene screamed, her staff flashing with energy. The spell hit Azrael, freezing him in place.
The beasts, however, had no interest in the paralyzed man. They pounced on the two adventurers, their jaws snapping as they tore into their flesh. Azrael watched in horror as Zoid was dragged away, his screams fading as the hounds devoured him.
The paralysis wore off. Azrael scrambled, but one of the beasts bit down on his arm, tearing it off in a single, savage motion. He screamed in agony, but with what remained of his strength, he grabbed a rock and slammed it into the skull of one of the hounds. Blood splattered, and the creature collapsed.
But it was too late. Azrael's strength faded, and the beasts returned their attention to the scattered meat.
With a final, desperate scream, Azrael turned and fled. He ran, stumbling over rocks and debris, but when he reached the entrance, his heart sank. The gate was blocked. He was trapped.
"They've blocked the exit," he whispered, panic creeping into his voice. "They're trying to trap me here... Damn it."
With no choice left, Azrael turned toward a small tunnel near the entrance, blood dripping from his shoulder where his arm once was. He crawled through, each step heavier than the last. The tunnel seemed endless. But then, he reached the end.
A cliff.
A dead end.
His breath came in ragged gasps as the growls of the hounds grew louder behind him.
"They're coming," he muttered, his mind spiraling into madness. If I go back, they'll eat me alive. If I go forward, I'll fall.
His fear morphed into bitter laughter.
"Ha... haha... hahahaha!" he cackled.
Whether I get eaten by hellhounds or fall off a cliff, I'll die either way, he thought, tears streaming down his face. It's because I was born an unlucky appraiser. I wanted to break free, to survive... but in the end...
Azrael took one last step toward the edge.
There's nothing I can do.
Suddenly, everything stopped. And a sickening sound was heard
Plump
His world faded. and next thing.
Azrael opened his eyes, his head pounding. He was lying in an unfamiliar place—moving wheels and a busy road. A horn blared, and a woman appeared before him. She was beautiful, with slender legs and shoes like nothing he'd ever seen before.
Her lips were red as she bent down to his level, her voice soft and kind. "Is this the afterlife?" Azrael mumbled, stunned by her beauty.
She laughed, her gaze full of confusion. "Maybe I should take you to the hospital. Don't worry about payment; I'll cover the damages."
She extended her hand, a smile on her lips. "I'm Lyra Evercrest. And you might be...?"
Azrael opened his mouth, but no words came out. He didn't even know his parents' name.
What happened?