0 | The Man In the Woods

It did not take long for him to realize that despite his resistance, he was stuck in an endless loop. For days on end he would toil in his garden, rest on the porch, and head inside to rest. His routine did not change since he first came to consciousness. Every movement decided before he realized he was doing on it. The man had grown listless.

When he first rose to consciousness he had felt as though he had woken up from a long slumber. He had found himself working on his garden, churning the dirt with a shovel underneath the blazing sun. He had wiped his forehead clean of sweat, when it occurred to him, he was thirsty. Yet, despite his chapped lips, his body did not move. He continued to churn the dirt and fertilizer, only stopping to plant seeds into the dirt. Although his fatigue was palpable, his stamina did not waver.

The man was alarmed. How could he not rest? Why did he not rest? His mind fumbled in confusion. He tried to scan his surroundings but was only able to see the blurry sight of a forest in his peripheral vision.

It was now, that the man really began to panic. He screamed internally at his hands and legs to stop, they did not. He could only continue his work. It was not until the sun began to set that his body stopped. He found himself walking into the slightly ragged cabin. The dingy smell permeated through the room. Despite its ragged appearance, the cabin was well maintained. He found himself cooking a stew in the cabin's fireplace, using ingredients he had grown in his garden. It was only when he was about to eat that he heard a loud bellowing laugh.

An involuntary chill went down the man's spine, but he did not move from his seat. He could only eat his stew as he heard the approaching footsteps come to his door.

"What's with this place?"

"I don't know, maybe there's a sub-quest here," spoke another man.

"Even if there is, the loot probably isn't that great either." A third man spoke. It was when he heard his voice that the man's heart began to beat erratically.

Danger.

The man had his back to the door, so he could not see the men that entered. He could only continue to eat his food.

"What the hell's an elf doing here."

"Oh shit, is she hot?"

"No dumbass it's a male."

"Fuck. Can't even have fun with this fucking thing," groaned the man.

"Well maybe because it's an elf we might find some good loot here," spoke the other man.

"I doubt it. He's only a half-elf. They're usually kicked out their clans with nothing and survive off scraps."

Sub-quest. Elf. Half-elf.

The man's mind raced as he tried to find meaning in these words.

What do they want?

He could only distinguish them through his peripheral vision slightly. One man barely reached the height of the table, he had large weapon on his back, and a long scruff beard. The other man seemed to be of regular height, he was clad in steel armor, with a long sword hung on his waist. Th last man he could not see. He had stayed behind him the entire time. He sat there as he listened to the men scavenge through the house. The sound of glass shattering, and furniture breaking filled his ears. But there was nothing he could do.

Suddenly he felt himself turn towards the man behind him.

"Greetings, are you lost?" The man almost felt his eyes bulge out as he greeted the man.

Stupid! This man wrecks your home, and you greet him!

He could only mentally chastise himself as he continued the conversation with the man before him.

"You can say that" chuckled the man before him. He was wearing a dark colored cloak, his face covered with a black mask. He had no weapons, that the man could distinguish.

"So, we just need a place to stay for the night."

"Feel free to rest here! The accommodations are humble, but there's warm food and a nice bed for yourself and friends." The man felt himself turn, about to lead the men into the next room. But before he could move much further, he felt a hot tingly sensation in his stomach.

He looked down to see his shirt start to soak with blood. He did not have any time to turn before he was knocked down to the ground.

"Fuck dude. Did you have to kill him?" The man in armor turned his face in disgust.

"I wanted to see if he'd drop anything," said the man in the cloak. He bent down and looked at the man at the ground.

He could only watch as the man seemed to tap the air as if he were pushing a button.

"Anything," questioned the short man.

"Nah, but- Oh shit? He's a prince."

Prince.

The man continued to stare at the person kneeling before him. He felt his body slowly grow wearier with every passing moment. He could tell he was dying, but despite the large gaping wound in his abdomen, he felt no pain. It was as if he was fighting off sleep instead of death.

"Wait so he's a half-elf prince? What is he doing here?" questioned the man in armor.

"It doesn't say. It looks like they scrapped his backstory. The devs probably forgot about him and left him here. He doesn't have shit, let's go."

He could only watch as the men left him and exited his home. He struggled to move but could only drag himself a foot before he began to smell something burning. He looked up to see the door engulfed in flames, slowly spreading throughout his home.

To his own astonishment, the man let out a chuckle. He only stopped as he felt a fire in his chest coil around his heart, clenching his firsts he turned onto to his back as he watched everything burn down. He no longer was able to move. Accepting his death was all that remained. His bitterness grew to emptiness.

If only I could move. I would crawl out of here and rip those men to shreds. I would-

Yet he couldn't. He merely laid there as the flames drew closer and closer. Instead, with his last bit of free will, he chose to close his eyes and accept death.