CHAPTER 12:- THE BRINK OF OBLIVION

As the katana presses against his throat, Calon's world narrows to the icy bite of steel and the weight of inevitability. He's going to die. The thought pounds in his mind, louder than the sirens. His breath comes in shallow gasps, and a chill settles over him that no amount of light or warmth could dispel.

NO!!

The word burns through his mind, defiant and desperate. He clenches his fists, his body trembling as he tries to push back the tide of despair threatening to consume him. He doesn't want to die- not like this, not in a cold, desolate warehouse with no one to care, no one to remember..him. He had dreams, plans, even if they were small and fragile, he always told himself that he would settle down and give up the mercenary life...but. DAMNIT.He was supposed to survive, to make it through another day, another fight.

But realiy is merciless.

The blood pooling beneath him, the unbearable weight in his chest, the pain radiating through every nerve - it all screams the truth he doesn't want to face. He's dying and there's nothing he can do to stop it. His defiance cracks, splintering like glass under too much pressure.

"No...no..this can't be it..." His voice is barely a whisper, trembling and uneven. Tears well in his eyes, blurring his already hazy vision. His hands twitch, clawing at the ground as if he can somehow anchor himself to the world, let him hold on just a little longer.

" I-I don't...I can't.." The words tumble from his lips, broken and incoherent. His chest heaves with ragged sob, the sound raw and desperate. The tears fall freely now, mixing with the blood on the cold concrete floor.

He doesn't even know who he is talking to - maybe to himself, maybe to the shadow user standing above him, or maybe to the universe itself, as though begging for some cosmic reprieve. "Please... someone...I don't want to go...I'm not ready..." The weight of his failure, of his morality, crashes down on him, and Calon sobs harder his body wracked with shudders. His tears pool beneath him, his voice breaking into incoherent mumbling, fragment of thoughts that lead nowhere. He tries to think of something- anything -to cling, but all he feels is the cold, creeping void swallowing him whole.

And for all his defiance, all his struggles, he can't stop the raw truth from breaking through. Reality is cruel. Death is final.

Calon breaks completely, his sobs echoing through the empty warehouse. For the first time. He doesn't care who sees or hears. He is not a fighter anymore, not a survivor - just a man terrified of the end. He cries out to no one in particular, his voice trembling and weak, his words lost to the void.

Above him, the shadow user watches in silence, the shadows covering their face as always with no telling what expression they have on right now. They lift their blade ready to deliver the final blow-until a sudden sound,faint but distinct, cuts through the tension like a knife. Footsteps. Calm, measured, and unhurried.

The shadow user glances, towards the source of the sound, and is shocked, their katana lowering slightly, because what steps into the light is a small boy.