𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝔽𝕠𝕣𝕖𝕚𝕘𝕟 𝔽𝕝𝕒𝕞𝕖 剣楽面性 : ᴅᴇᴍᴏɴ ꜱʟᴀʏᴇʀ 𝕩 ʙʟᴀᴄᴋ ᴏᴄ

ℂ𝕙𝕒𝕡𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝟙𝟘: "𝕄𝕪𝕣𝕠𝕟'𝕤 𝔽𝕚𝕟𝕒𝕝 𝕊𝕖𝕝𝕖𝕔𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟 ℙ𝕥 𝟚"

NIGHT 5 of the Final Selection

By the fifth night, Myron was a mix of exhaustion and raw determination. Each encounter with demons had been a test of his strength and willpower, pushing him to his limits. The memories of the fallen participant and the horrors he had witnessed haunted him, but they also fueled his resolve to survive and honor their sacrifices.

The forest was cloaked in darkness, the only light coming from the pale moon overhead. Myron moved cautiously, every sense heightened, his sword ready in his hand. The silence was eerie, broken only by the occasional rustling of leaves and distant, unidentifiable sounds.

As he made his way through the dense trees, he stumbled upon a small clearing. His breath caught in his throat as he saw another figure lying on the ground, covered in blood. Myron's heart pounded in his chest as he approached, fearing the worst.

"Please, not again..." he whispered, his voice trembling.

As he got closer, he realized that the figure was still breathing, though barely. The participant's eyes fluttered open, filled with pain and fear.

"Help... me..." the person gasped, their voice weak and desperate.

Myron dropped to his knees beside them, his hands shaking. "Hold on, I'm here. I'll do what I can," he said, his voice filled with determination and urgency.

The participant's wounds were severe, deep gashes that bled profusely. Myron tore a piece of his kimono and pressed it against the worst of the wounds, trying to stem the bleeding. His mind raced, knowing that they needed more help than he could provide.

"I... I can't die here... I have a family... I need to get back to them..." the participant whispered, tears streaming down their face.

Myron felt a lump in his throat, the weight of their words pressing down on him. He had to do something, anything, to save them. But he knew that without proper medical attention, their chances were slim.

"Stay with me, alright ? You're not alone," Myron said, his voice breaking. "I'll stay with you."

The participant's eyes started to close, their breathing becoming more labored. Myron felt a surge of desperation. "No, please! Stay awake! You can't leave like this!"

But the participant's strength was fading fast. Their grip on Myron's hand loosened, and their eyes finally closed, their chest rising and falling one last time before becoming still.

Myron stared at the lifeless body, tears streaming down his face. The forest seemed to close in around him, the darkness becoming suffocating. He had failed to save another life, and the weight of that failure was almost too much to bear.

"I'm so sorry... I'm so sorry..." he whispered, his voice choked with grief.

He stayed there for what felt like an eternity, his mind numb with sorrow. But eventually, he forced himself to stand. He had to keep moving, to survive, to honor the fallen by making it through the Final Selection.

As he continued through the forest, his steps were heavier, his heart weighed down by the losses he had witnessed. The night was filled with the echoes of his past failures, but also with the determination to make it through, to ensure that their sacrifices were not in vain.

Myron's journey was far from over, and the challenges ahead were daunting. But with each step, he reminded himself of the promises he had made, the people he needed to protect, and the strength he had gained through his training. He would set his heart ablaze and fight with everything he had, for those who couldn't, and for the future he was determined to build.