17. My Death

Fear.

The fear of death.

It crept in like a shadow, slow and suffocating. Seiito could feel it, gnawing at his mind, curling its icy fingers around his heart. The cold truth slithered through his thoughts: death was inevitable. It would come for him, as it did for everyone else. But somehow, it felt like death had chosen him specifically. Mocked him.

Why me?

This question burned in his mind, searing through the remnants of his once-kind soul.

Why was I the one to suffer? Why am I the one they belittle?

Seiito had always known he was weak. The weakest of them all. No power, no talent, no blessings. Just an empty shell of a "hero" who couldn't even protect those he cared about. He had watched as his classmates—strong, brave, untouchable—had grown into their roles, their powers blooming like flowers under the light of their potential. But him? He was nothing more than a shadow trailing behind them, forgotten, ignored.

Why wasn't I like them?

His body trembled, the pain in his chest now a distant, forgotten thing. His hands curled into fists, nails biting into his palms as he fought the wave of bitterness rising within him.

Why was I the punching bag? Every blow, every insult, every sneer had chipped away at his spirit, leaving him hollow.

The memories flooded back, each one sharper than the last. The mockery. The ridicule. His classmates, the ones who should have been his allies, his friends, had never seen him as one of them. He was a burden, a joke, an afterthought in their eyes. The "weakest hero."

And they're right, a part of him whispered. You are weak.

But another voice—darker, sharper—cut through the self-loathing.

Why should you accept that? Why should you let them decide who you are?

Seiito's eyes narrowed, the dark thoughts spiraling further. For the first time, anger began to boil in his veins, a fury unlike anything he had ever felt before. His breath came in ragged gasps, the heat in his chest growing, twisting. This wasn't the usual sadness or the quiet despair he had learned to live with. This was raw, unfiltered rage.

How dare they?

How dare the world, how dare the gods, how dare they—my so-called "friends"—decide that I was destined to be weak? To be discarded? How dare they leave me to rot here, alone, in this abyss? Why had I always been the one to suffer? Why hadn't they?

HOW FUCKING UNFAIR!!

His fists slammed into the cold, hard ground, a violent outburst that echoed through the darkness. His breathing was labored, his pulse thundering in his ears. Anger consumed him, swallowing every other emotion, leaving only hatred and resentment in its wake.

They don't deserve to call me weak. They weren't any better than him. They weren't special. They had just been blessed by circumstances, by luck. It wasn't their strength. It was something given to them.

And it was something that could be taken.

Seiito's lips curled into a sneer, his eyes flashing with newfound resolve. He wasn't going to be the weak one anymore. He wasn't going to be the victim. If the world wanted to crush him, if his so-called friends thought he was beneath them, he would show them.

He would make them regret it.

The kind Seiito, the one who had once cared about protecting others, about being the "good" person, was slipping away. He could feel it—his heart, once filled with warmth and hope, growing cold and hard. There was no room for kindness anymore. Not in a world that had shown him only cruelty. If he were going to survive—if he was going to make it out of this abyss—then he would have to be something else.

Something darker. Something ruthless.

They'll see. His mind was sharp now, focused. They'll regret ever underestimating me.

In the suffocating blackness of the abyss, something within Seiito shifted. His heart hardened, and the boy who had once longed for acceptance now sought something far more dangerous: revenge.

Let them call me weak.

I'll show them what real weakness looks like.

Seiito stood up, his movements deliberate, his mind sharp with purpose. He began to search for materials. He had read about most ores and their respective uses, and he knew how to craft a makeshift bomb with the right piece of ore.

He was just scared of blowing himself up before, now he didn't care anymore.

He walked through the cave-like labyrinth, his eyes scanning the walls for a specific crimson hue.

Draknarite.

A volatile, crimson-hued ore that pulsated with unstable energy. When mined or disturbed, the ore could emit bursts of heat and light, causing catastrophic explosions. Its destructive power was so feared that even seasoned miners avoided harvesting it without magical barriers or protective gear. Draknarite was often sought after by powerful warlords and alchemists for its ability to be refined into devastating explosives, but handling it improperly could lead to disaster.

Disaster was exactly what Seiito wanted. All he had to do was throw the ore at his enemy, and it would explode. He had to be careful, though. Mishandling it could make it detonate prematurely. But simply holding the ore wasn't enough to trigger an explosion—it had to be struck with force.

Tch… I wish I was a synergist now…

Seiito's mind drifted, a stray thought pulling him back to a certain protagonist from a light novel he once read.

Didn't his hair turn white?

He let out a bitter sigh, gripping a handful of his own damp hair and tugging lightly as if expecting the color to change. But no such transformation came—just the same messy, brown strands that clung stubbornly to his scalp.

He glanced down at his torso, and what he saw made him wince. His ribs pressed visibly against his skin, and his stomach was sunken—his body withered from weeks of scavenging nothing but wild mushrooms. He ran his hand along the sharp ridges of his frame, grimacing at how hollow he had become. The person he used to be, the version of himself with soft edges and fat to spare, felt like a distant memory. Now, he was a shadow of that person—teetering dangerously close to becoming a skeleton.

He should've felt something positive. Wasn't this what he always wanted? To shed the weight, to be lean? Yet, there was no satisfaction—just an aching emptiness, gnawing away inside him. What good was losing the fat if starvation was the price?

A faint growl rumbled in his gut, a cruel reminder that hunger was a constant companion now. He needed food. Real food. He craved the taste of meat, the way it could nourish him, fill the void inside. But down here in the labyrinth, there was no such luxury—just the monstrous beasts lurking around every corner.

His gaze flickered to the Draknarite embedded in his pouch. I could use it to cook a monster alive with the explosion.

The temptation gnawed at him, whispering promises of an easy hunt. But as his fingers hovered over it, hesitation gripped him.

Eating a monster…

The memory of that white-haired protagonist resurfaced, and Seiito swallowed hard. He recalled how that character had nearly lost his life after consuming a beast—a brutal, agonizing process that left him teetering on the edge of madness. Even if he managed to slay a creature down here, was it worth risking the same fate? What if the monster's essence poisoned his body? Or worse—his mind?

He leaned back, closing his eyes for a moment, trying to push the thought away.

"Where's that damn condensed holy water when I need it?" he muttered under his breath, half-laughing at the absurdity. If only he had something—anything—to wash away the filth inside him. A divine miracle in a bottle, just like in the stories.

Seiito exhaled sharply, the cold air biting his lungs. He clenched his fists, nails digging into his palms until it stung, forcing himself to stay grounded. Giving in to hunger, despair, or hope in fairy tales wouldn't save him.

And yet, he couldn't shake the feeling that if he didn't find a way soon… his body wouldn't be the only thing that starved. His soul was fraying too—bit by bit, slipping away into the abyss.

Seiito clenched his jaw, his teeth grinding with frustration. Enough. He was done thinking, done worrying about consequences, and done pretending there was another way. Hunger clawed at his insides, a feral ache that threatened to swallow him whole. He needed to eat—and it didn't matter what.

"Screw it. I'll eat a monster. I don't care anymore!"

The words echoed in his mind, a decision born from sheer desperation. His rational thoughts splintered, crushed beneath the weight of starvation. Whatever consequences came, he'd deal with them later. Right now, he just needed food. Anything to fill the empty, gnawing void inside him.

With that grim resolve, Seiito began his hunt, clutching the Draknarite in his hand like a lifeline. He scanned the dim, twisting corridors of the labyrinth with a predator's gaze, tracking the beasts he knew were lurking. The monsters here weren't ordinary creatures—they were killers, forged in the depths of this cursed place. But so was he.

As he moved deeper into the labyrinth, his eyes caught sight of a gathering of monsters. Orcs. Elite goblins. Wolves.

They were huddled together in small packs, scattered across the cavernous expanse ahead. His heart pounded, adrenaline flooding his veins. He knew the potency of the Draknarite—it wasn't just a grenade. It was a weapon of annihilation. Precise. Devastating. And, if used correctly, it could wipe out everything in its blast radius.

He crouched low, the cold stone pressing against his skin as he assessed the targets. The wolves prowled at the edges, their ears twitching at every sound. Goblins snarled and argued among themselves, brandishing weapons that glinted in the dim light. Further back, the orcs loomed—hulking brutes with muscles thick as steel.

This was his chance. If he planted the Draknarite just right, he could take them all out in one go. Monsters, meat, survival.

His hands trembled, not with fear but with hunger. This was it. No more hiding. No more hesitation.

With a grim, determined breath, Seiito grinned to himself, a twisted resolve settling in his heart. "You'll all feed me tonight."

Seiito pulled the Draknarite from his pouch, his fingers tracing the jagged, molten veins embedded in its surface. It thrummed in his grip, a dangerous heartbeat of raw power. One throw. One blast. One chance.

He steadied his breath, feeling the weight of his decision press down on him. There was no turning back now.

With a fierce flick of his wrist, he cocked back his arm and launched the Draknarite into the air. It arced high above the monsters, spinning through the darkness like a falling star. Time seemed to slow as Seiito tracked its descent, his pulse syncing with the explosive core inside. Just a little closer… right into the heart of them.

KABOOM!

The world shattered. A deafening roar ripped through the labyrinth as the Draknarite detonated, unleashing a hellstorm of heat and pressure. The cavern shook violently, the force of the blast ripping through stone and bone alike.

Seiito's smirk twisted into something feral as the wave of destruction spread outward. Monsters disintegrated into chunks of flesh and sinew, limbs flying like grotesque confetti. Goblins were obliterated, orcs reduced to charred husks, and wolves—caught mid-leap—burst apart, leaving nothing but scattered fur and blood. The sound of tearing muscle and shattering bones filled the air, mingling with the shockwave that flattened everything in its wake.

The carnage was absolute. The monsters' remains littered the ground like discarded meat, splattered against the walls and pooling in grotesque puddles.

Seiito stood at the edge of the destruction, panting, watching the aftermath unfold in eerie silence. He felt no remorse. No hesitation. Just cold, bitter satisfaction. His lips curled into a grin—twisted, exhausted, but triumphant.

"That's right. Feed me."

This wasn't just survival anymore. It was his defiance against fate, against weakness, against everything that had tried to break him. If the world wanted to starve him, it would learn that he could feast on its monsters. And if he had to blow the entire labyrinth apart, piece by piece, he would do it.

Because he wasn't going to die here. Not yet. Not today.