Garden Of The Abyss

Art of Perpetual Death: Dragon's Maw, Fai chose. 

Momentarily inhabiting a speed that surpassed his opponent's own, the tan, bloodied martial artist left the holds of the ground as he dashed directly towards the Argonaut--holding his hands out in front of him as if wielding a sphere. 

With a swipe of his hands too fast to see, he passed by Avdima--stopping just behind the man as he turned to witness the fruits of his effort. 

Tilting his head, not by his own choice, Avdima's neck bore an unnatural protrusion of his bone prodding his own flesh. Grabbing hold of his own head by gripping his chin and hair, a sudden tug by the man let out a stomach-churning crack as his neck was fixed into place. 

"You managed to survive that one...can't say I'm surprised."

"That was a close one--trying to snap my neck like that. Luckily, I managed to guess correctly--otherwise, I'd be six feet under. Ha-ha!"

Without any fear of the threshold of death, he found himself standing on, Avdima let out a laugh as he cracked his neck side-to-side. 

It's a style that by all means has no place existing in a world that claims to strive for peace. Gramps was reluctant to tell me the truth, but I eventually found out when I grew older; he was a mercenary known as the "Genocide King"--being hired to fight in guerilla warfare for small-time wars most of the time. 

The thing is, he fought only with his bare hands, using this style he developed from a variety of martial arts. "Art of Perpetual Death"--a disgusting style that is solely focused on killing, as many as possible--as efficiently as possible. Every single technique is delivered with the intent to kill, Fai thought. 

Following the essence of this seldom-used style, Fai continued his relentless assault--prioritizing the usage of his trained spear hands as he aimed for his foe's vitals. By this point in their battle, it was clear which side became more favored on this fateful night; blood continued to pour like a fountain from the wound inflicted on Avdima's chest as his movements became more sluggish. 

He's on a thinner rope than me right now; I can do this! Fai thought. 

Using his spear hand to aim directly for the pulsating vein on the pale and bruised Argonaut's neck, Fai found his fingers stopped in place before reaching the man's skin. 

"Huh?"

It was such an unorthodox move that it took a moment for him to process; his three forefront fingers used to form the spear hand were locked between the Argonaut's bloody teeth, who bit down on them before they could reach his neck. 

Before the strength of the man on death's door's jaws could settle in further, he pulled his digits away swiftly with a quick hit to the side of the Argonaut's head. 

"Gyeuh!"

Even with his quick decision, the skin of his three prominent fingers on his right hand was torn off; revealing the flesh beneath as blood quickly traveled down his hand. 

I'm starting to feel my body give out--I have to finish this in the next attack, he thought. 

Looking at the pale, black-haired Argonaut wearing tattered robes, the exhausted, injured man seemed to hold the same resolve. 

In the desolate, gloomy forest, the two men stood no more than four meters apart from one another--huffing and puffing as crimson liquid seemed to travel out from each of their pores. Keeping a single clenched fist at his side, Fai took in an inhale that felt as if he was inviting shards of glass to his lungs. 

Summoning forth whatever reserves of mana was left in his half-dead body, Avdima's pale skin shifted to a stressed hue of vermillion as he clad just a single fist in his magnificent darkness. 

Condense it all to your fist; harden each muscle fiber to their max, combine every drop of mana--end it in one blow, Fai thought. 

Forcing all of his strength into that one fist, his right forearm bulked up to twice the size of his left as his eyes stayed on his foe. At the sound of a single piece of sediment sliding across the peeling soil, the two warriors dashed towards one another with their life-or-death attacks readied. 

Without a single word spoken, the two powers clashed. 

Only breaths were exchanged as the gentle trickling of blood turned into a cascading fountain of the lively, scarlet substance. 

"...So that's how it is, huh?"

Speaking weakly, Avdima's soft words met directly with Fai's ears as his body slumped against the tan man's own. 

Piercing directly through the Argonaut's chest like a spear born of steel, Fai's hand met the other side of the air--having gone directly through the principal organ of Avdima. 

Still in shock at being on the victorious side of this exchange, Fai watched as the false, sable moon in the sky cracked apart as the veil faded away slowly; removing his hand from the man's chest with a smooth squelch, he watched as Avdima fell backward without any resistance to his plummet. 

As his back met the ground, the dry, brittle soil shifted back to its healthy, soft form as a crimson puddle began to seep beneath him, stretching into the dirt. 

"Fai."

With little strength left, Fai could only focus on regaining his breath into his lungs as he dropped to his knees in front of the man, "Yeah…?"

"I'm glad. Even if it was only for the final moments of a short-lived life, I was able to be myself."

Avdima's words came between sharp, painful-sounding breaths as each time his chest expanded with each inhale, further blood sprouted from his wound. 

"Fai Meng."

"Yeah?"

"I have no right to ask this as an enemy--but as a rival in life, may I make a request?"

As only their exhausted breaths were heard in the silent forest after this question, Fai accepted this with his silence. 

"Remember the name "Illya". With me gone from this world, nobody else will." 

It was a strange request, but from the sincerity in the bloodied man sitting so near the empty abyss that was death--Fai slowly nodded his head, "Alright." 

"Thank you…"

With a smile coated in crimson, Avdima finally closed his eyes as the fluctuations of his chest came to a steady halt--his breaths falling silent as his movements ceased. 

"...You were a hell of a guy, Avdima."

Only able to hold one eye open as his left eyelid became swollen and bloodied, Fai smiled before hacking up a bit of crimson of his own, almost falling over as he barely caught himself. 

"Looks like I don't have much longer myself. I wonder if we'll end up in the same place…That'd be awkward."

As he attempted to relieve the growing, near fear of death--his pitiful laugh was only a temporary relief as tears strolled down his cheeks all the same. 

I did it. This time, I didn't have to watch anyone else die before me, Fai thought. 

Sitting on his knees with near-zero strength left in his limbs, he could only watch as a grandiose spell suddenly stretched itself across the entirety of the valley. 

"...Huh? This is...Beatrice's magic?"

The familiar feeling of that ancient magic returned some of his fleeting consciousness as the vibrant light of this spell felt as if it was taking hold of him before suddenly--he was dragged into its effect. 

In his previous breath, he occupied the war-torn forest, in the next exhale--Fai found himself still sat on his knees, this time on the heated surface of a desert. 

"A warp spell…?"

The body of Avdima wasn't brought with him, making the man look back as he saw a familiar building--tucked between two massive pillars of split mountains, a sleek building built of mystical silver occupied the empty, remote land. 

"The Hollow Foundation...I see how it is. She used a spell to transfer all of us here; not bad, Old Hag."

Chuckling to himself, more blood escaped his throat as his breathing became more rugged. Attempting to move, he could barely flick his fingers as he grunted. 

"No good, huh? Looks like this is where I'm dying then...in the middle of a desert, alone...Good grief." 

Resigning to this fate as he looked up at the starry sky as the tears of this recognized end traveled down his cheeks--something passed by his gaze. 

Clinging to his body clad in sweat and blood were strands of familiar golden hairs, parting from his body and seemingly coalescing by guidance of unfelt winds. Squinting his eyes, he closed them as a harsh radiance temporarily flashed--opening his eyes once more to witness a small, short of stature creature in front of him. 

It was a monkey no larger than a wild dog; exhibiting unnaturally golden-fur as it bore the form of a northern pig-tailed macaque with a slightly bigger size, looking at the man with silent, beady eyes. 

"Wukong…? Is that you?"

Without receiving an answer, Fai could only watch as the small monkey grabbed hold of the man much larger than itself, holding him up on its back as it began to carry him with slow, steady steps towards the distant building. 

"...Wukong, you can't...You'll perish, for real! I'm a goner anyways--so save yourself!"

There was no response garnered from the resolved ape as its strength unfit for its size brought the half-dead man forward on this hot, lengthy road ahead. 

Each step came slow and strained, but the eyes of the golden-furred entity never wavered. At this point, the divine spirit was nothing more than a mass of spiritual energy, clumped together messily and loosely like a ball of snow--even the passing winds challenged the integrity of the spirit by this time. 

Still, with the man who sat on the threshold of death upon his back, Wukong traversed the path ahead; a road filled with blistering heat. 

Succumbing to the exhaustion of his war-torn body, Fai's eyelids came to a close as the last thing his eyes met with were the golden tufts that carried him forward. 

It was the final impossible task bestowed upon the Monkey King, an arduous journey witnessed by no one, a struggle fought only by his last will. 

Amidst the remote, isolated desert, Sun Wukong breathed his final breaths; leaving this plane not as a wandering spirit, but as the hero of a man who no longer was his master.