The Final Day

He watched the creature collapse into a mangled mess of fur and flesh, quietly breathing out before he continued along. 

["All I have to do is survive. That's what I've been doing–it's all I know now."] 

Between flickering into warm memories and being thrown back into the reality he faced, he simply marched along, taking small rests, and continuing to move. It was difficult to keep track of any time as he simply survived, hardly "living"--only pushing along in order not to die. 

Using his blades to cut through anything that stood his way, he was a machine; unable to part with any thoughts towards just what he sliced through. 

On and on this went until–

["One day remaining."] 

He found himself greeted by that message while lying on his back as rain pattered against his face. In the flatlands of mud, he laid there without a thought, feeling exhaustion coursing through his body, yet he didn't focus on it.