He stands at the climax; staring down the dark dragon's soulless eyes. His blade shining, the battle nearly won, the war ending. The final blow is his to take.
For an instant, reflections flood his mind.
He sees the path he's traveled. The green fields of his homeland, Lycia. The slave isles. The rolling mountains of Bern teeming with wyverns. The grand palace where it could've ended. Should've ended.
He sees the future ahead. More fighting to unite the scraps of Bern under one banner. More innocent lives lost due to one man's misguided ambition. It's going to be quite the struggle to rebuild the war-torn continent. He decides it's a just and worthy cause nonetheless.
He sees his companions; an ageless paladin scarred by a lifetime of war. A savvy veteran who has been fighting too hard for too long. His old, weathered eyes speak of joy and terror alike. Despite what Marcus has been through, the sparkle never seems to leave them.
He sees the ghost of his father's best friend in the blue hair of his daughter. Her voice, soft and compassionate most of the time. A sound to fear when Liliana got angry. It was a voice that he had grown very fond of.
He sees his childhood friends. The archer, the cavalier. Those years seem so long ago. Friendship deepened by the brotherly comradery that soldiers share. Boys turned into men by the taint of war.
He sees his enemies; a tortured king with a long shadow whose ambitions and hatred really were not his own, but rather the product of a miserable life. A man who had the world against him from the very beginning. Zephiel came out on top, if only for a while.
Roy sees himself. A red-haired squire attempting to live up to his father's legacy. A legendary sword at his side and a battalion of troops at his back. A boyish face, seemingly too young and innocent to be the commander of the army that topples empires and slays dragons.
He sees a kid with the weight of the world on his shoulders.
He swings with all his might.