He is delighted by the little silverfish contorting on his hands. It is so sweet to be able to crush it!
Kill it like you would kill yourself. Again and again until you are too tired to do anything.
Growling, the zombie catches another one and equally breaks it. They don't matter at all…they cannot matter…he must be the most important being of his own universe.
He must be.
When will our "pride" paradox end? Maybe tomorrow, if we are lucky enough. Maybe tomorrow if we all die today.
Don't worry about the pain, thought. For the happy and for the sad. For the living and for the dead. Whatever and whoever you are, it is all the same, for you and me. Life as "us" is a never ending suicide act.
Life drowns itself in lava.
Their little squeaking sounds are pathetic as they agonize.
He must find a way to justify what is left of this ending.
What if there is no reason whatsoever to this? What if there isn't a good motive why he shouldn't disappear and be replaced by another one?
It happens that that he could be replaced and it wouldn't make the minimal difference too.
More agonizing silverfish are thrown in a corner.
All of those shed tears are futile.
What about the other things this world loses by him disappearing? Nothing. Players don't really care about who they slaughter. Really. It makes no difference other than your armor. You are what you "wear", what you carry and have, you are measured by your strength only. The rest? A shell for your true self.
And what is this true self?
It is what other people need in you. In this case? Armor. Iron. Things. Depending on their luck, you have no true self. You are worth nothing as well.
Isn't that wrong?
If it wasn't for the good moments, you would be dead.
If it wasn't for the terrible moments, you would be dead.
Each of them makes you. Denying the past is denying yourself, your life. And so, our beautiful suicide continues as life screams in pain, burnt to death by the molten rocks.
In the end, it all happens because you want them to happen. You depend on these happenings with every single inch of yourself, even if you don't know yet.
Our zombie is crying while crushing his dear friends.
If you want to change the past, you want to kill yourself.
Be patient, Player. We are all going with you. We aren't that alone in death.
It hurts so much to have company…
The last one falls to the ground, pure white blood and insect insides all around it. Who would it be if it never was?
What is the exact weight of being? The end is not a valid escape. Once it ends, you are no more and while you are, this life is yours, only yours, and you must bear it to the end.
There is no way to escape, dear mob. Their blood won't change your fate.
He curls up into a little ball, sticking his rotten thumb on his putrid mouth.
Their blood tastes bitter, but this is still warm.
Someone sings a lullaby far away.
I am talking to you too, sadly.