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Argenti let out a deep, tired sigh, his breath escaping his throat like fevered, uneven gusts. With every ounce of strength he had left, he fought to steady himself, teetering precariously from side to side, his blood-soaked spear offering him silent support. His heart threatened to jump out any minute from just how much effort it was taking to keep him alive.
The deafening silence that followed was as uncomfortable as the symphony of hisses, the clash of steel, and the ghastly sound of flesh giving way. Although Argenti was used to silence, this time it offered him neither solace nor any respite. Instead, it brought nothing but a hollow emptiness that gnawed at his very soul.
Stiffly, Argenti moved over to the giant but already lifeless, non-breathing carcass lying in a pool of its own blood, which was still steaming. He heavily sank to the ground, leaning back on the corpse. The smell must be horrid; yet, Argenti found himself barely feeling — or registering — any of it. Perhaps his nose was broken. His whole body hurt.
He tried his best to force himself to stay conscious, to keep his eyes open as he glanced around wearily, searching for something. All he found before him, however, were lifeless trinkets, glittering gold, ancient artifacts, and assorted odds and ends. He couldn't help but wonder: what was it about these objects that was that irresistible? Could these — along with the lust for power — truly be tempting enough to abandon the very core of one's being, one's honor, one's principles, and the bonds one forged with one's comrades? Would any of it truly be worth of sacrificing one's very life?
Couldn't something else — anything, anything but this — become an anchor firm enough for his dear friend? Couldn't someone, anyone...
Well, as evidence showed, nothing could. Not anymore, that was for certain.
“Oh, Frederic,” came a pained whisper from a wounded heart. Argenti's eyes welled up, and his lips tightened as the hot tears streamed down his cheeks, mingling with the dirt and dried blood smudging his face. His body trembled as he clung tightly to the spear shaft in his shaking hands. “Why...” did it have to be this way?
Once a formidable hero Argenti was proud to have as a friend, now reduced to a perished monstrosity who had no answers for him. No soothing words, either. He couldn't even... bury Frederic — or whatever was left of him — properly. Just like during the war on his homeplanet. Ah. Argenti felt a wave of nausea washing over him.
He had no idea how long he remained frozen in that desolate space, weeping. Eventually, however, exhaustion finally caught up with him, draining him of any energy left to shed even a single tear. And then, finally, he succumbed to the sweet oblivion of unconsciousness.