Zeke wavered.

  He’d lost count of the number of Tempest Lords he’d slain, but he knew the figure had to have reached four digits. Maybe five. Along the way, he’d discovered a couple of important facts. First, he didn’t really need to breathe, as he’d found after spending hours beneath the waves. Like going without food or water, it certainly wasn’t a comfortable experience, but it was something he could endure.

  After all, he was well used to discomfort. He could live through almost any level of torture and come out the other side of it ready for a fight. So, going without oxygen was neither easy nor pleasant, but he could handle it all the same.

  A good thing, too, because it hadn’t been long before the water levels rose so high that, if he wanted to continue his quest to kill the Tempest Lords, he had to do so while submerged.

  The second thing he discovered during his quest was that those Tempest Lords varied greatly regarding their comparative levels of power. Some were as strong as any creature he’d ever fought, and killing them had been an epic ordeal that took days of constant struggle to manage. However, others were similar to the first. Those only put up a nominal fight and were easily overcome.

  And there were plenty in between as well.

  As he’d already acknowledged, the number of Tempest Lords that had fallen was lost to him. Indeed, the only way he knew to continue was to sink into his familiar trance-like state as he half-swam, half-bounced along what had become the seafloor as he destroyed one crystal – and its occupant – after another. It was a Sisyphean task of the highest order, and yet, Zeke had no ideas on how to break the loop.

  While fighting, he remained wholly focused on his task, but between those battles, he let his mind wander. Inevitably – given the situation – his thoughts eventually settled on a novel idea. The task of destroying the crystals and killing the Tempest Lords really wasn’t so different from the grind he’d experienced since being reborn in the troll caves. Even then, he’d bounced from one fight to the next, all in service of a singular goal – escaping the system of tunnels and caverns. Some battles were much more difficult than others, but he’d overcome them with similar grit and determination to what he now depended so heavily upon.

  Was that just what life was? Struggling from one even to the next, all in the hopes of accomplishing some imaginary goal that, ultimately, didn’t matter to anyone but him? On Earth, it was defined as success. Acquiring money. Being respected. Maybe starting a family and being loved. But were those goals any more real than getting the next level? Reaching the peak of a realm?

  What’s more, was there always going to be another goal waiting for him after he managed to finally reach the last? Or was there an end waiting for him somewhere down the road? And if so, what did that look like?

  Peace, perhaps?

  Could Zeke handle such a thing? He might not have begun his life as a man of violence and action, but it had become his defining characteristic. In retrospect, his every decision was driven by his desire to perpetuate that cycle. He wrapped those choices in pretty reasoning about morality and saving people, but at the end of the day, he just wanted to fight another battle.

  Always.

  Forever.

  On and on until the end of eternity.

  What kind of a life was that? Certainly, he enjoyed the thrill of a fight. The positive reinforcement of victory and progression helped as well. Yet, would he look back in a thousand years and only see an expanse of blood and slaughter looking back at him? If so, wouldn’t that make him a monster not unlike those he usually hunted and killed?

  Once, back on Earth, Zeke had heard his friends complain about the mundanity of modern life. The requirement of working their entire lives, day after day, all so they can retire some day far in the future and live a few years in peace. It was a dire notion, and one couched in existential dread.

  Back then, it was easy to dismiss. He had purpose. Goals. But now?

  Reaching the next plane was an end, certainly. But it was not the end. Doubtless, once he reached the Ethereal Realm, he would be tasked with fighting Oberon’s enemies. Or perhaps he’d need to set himself against Shar Maelaine and her like. Even that wasn’t the ultimate goal, though.

  After all, he’d briefly witnessed the eternal battle between good and evil, and aside from being overwhelming in scope, it had functioned as a promise of more of the same. Despite the power levels on display, it was just another fight.

  And despite Zeke’s doubts and introspective tendencies, it excited him in a way he couldn’t really articulate. But then, he realized why it drew him so strongly. The battle seemed eternal to him. That was how it had been described, at least. To a man whose life had become characterized by fighting, that was enticing enough. However, even more inviting was what it represented.

  If he won, then that would be the end.

  It would be an ultimate victory. Did it matter what else a win might signify? Not really, if Zeke was honest with himself. He might purport to care about how it would affect all the lower realms – maybe it would establish them as paradisical heavens where everything was perfect – but in the end, that was not a goal that motivated him. Instead, the win itself, the battle it would take to achieve it – that was the draw.

  Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

  And he knew that made him abnormal. A psychologist like Abby might diagnose him with any number of disorders.

  But he didn’t care about any of that.

  His lust for battle was more important to him than fitting in with everyone else. He still had his loved ones – Pudge and Talia, Tucker and Adara, even the kobolds to a certain extent – but at the end of the day, they all played a secondary role in his life. His true reason for being – and his defining characteristic – was the fight itself.

  Or maybe it was better categorized as a need for struggle. Perhaps the introspection with which he was currently engaged came from the lack of difficulty. He’d reached the peak in more ways than one, and though his path through the various levels of Hell – so far – hadn’t been easy, it felt more like he was just going through the motions. Ticking off one box after another as he overcame foes that should have been deadly, even to him.

  Yet, they weren’t.

  And that lack of dire consequences was enough to send his mind spiraling into self-appraisal and, ultimately, doubts.

  Those thoughts dominated his mind as he killed yet another Tempest Lord. This one had been a veritable king among his kind, but Zeke had managed to slaughter him all the same. Perhaps if he’d been at full power, the battle might have gone differently, but like all the other Tempest Lords, this one was weakened from his long captivity.

  And Zeke didn’t crave a struggle enough to let the man recover.

  After all, a good fight was desirable, but he wanted to escape the tempest more than he wanted to engage in a back and forth with a powerful foe. His discomfort dictated that much.

  So, he swam forward, battered by enormous waves that, even as deep as he was, sent him spinning across the seafloor. Every two steps forward – metaphorically speaking – was characterized by at least one backward. The result was that his progress was slow, but after his arrival, he’d been forced to ride the waves for an untold amount of time. So, even if he’d gotten a short break while exploring the ruins, getting back into that frame of mind wasn’t particularly difficult.

  Over the next few weeks, dozens more Tempest Lords fell before him. Some, he killed by smashing their heads open with his hammer. Others, he ripped limb from limb with his bare hands. Still others, he fought via a battle of attrition, wearing them down until they could no longer defend themselves.

  Those were the most satisfying, but none of the fights sated his lust for battle.

  But then, what could have been months later, Zeke realized that he’d once again become sidetracked from his true goal. Escaping the circle of Hell and continuing his descent had become secondary to his quest to destroy every last Tempest Lord. His endless lust for battle had derailed him.

  Frustrated, Zeke tried to overcome it. He attempted to force himself to find another way. But whether that was due to a failure to search out a different path, or if his need for battle was too strong, he always returned to fighting the Tempest Lords.

  It was so much easier.

  Then, an indeterminate amount of time later, Zeke noticed something interesting. And in his battle-addled state, concerning as well.

  The waters had begun to recede.

  He rode the wave – of both the sea as well as the powerful need to continue the slaughter – until, at last, he stood on dry land.

  Zeke looked around, unsure what to do. There were no more crystals in his line of sight, and even after another week of searching, he found nothing but the shattered remains of those prismatic prisons and the broken bodies of their former occupants. The white sun continued to blaze overhead, having long since returned the desert to its former level of dehydration.

  Zeke sank to his knees, bereft of the purpose that had driven him for so long.

  Then, the earth beneath him shifted. Sand scattered, swirling in an unseen wind. He looked up to see, almost a mile distant, something emerge from the black sand. At first, Zeke had no idea what it was, but it soon resolved itself into a hand, though one so massive that Zeke had difficulty wrapping his mind around it. After the hand came a wrist, then an arm the size of a skyscraper. Bit by bit, a figure revealed itself. Tens of thousands of feet tall, it defied all notions of reality.

  As it emerged, Zeke studied the figure. It was a man, dressed not unlike the Tempest Lords he’d spent countless days killing. Though this enormous figure differed in a couple of key aspects. The size disparity was the most obvious, but his robes were also quite a bit more elaborate than the attire worn by the Tempest Lords. In addition, he wore an elaborate headdress that reminded Zeke of the mask of Tutankhamen, with flared sides – he remembered from his history lessons that it was called a Nemes, and it was a symbol of divine authority among Egyptian pharaohs.

  In a void that set the whole world to shaking, the creature rumbled, “You present a difficult conundrum, little cambion.”

  Zeke very nearly launched himself at the mountainous creature, but as lustful for battle as he was, he didn’t have a death wish. That thing was beyond him, and there was absolutely no mistake about it. So, he harnessed his better judgement and resolved to simply listen.

  “Do you know that these tests require energy?”

  Zeke realized after a few moments that he was expected to answer. Instead of shouting, he trusted that the thing could hear him regardless of his volume. So, he spoke normally when he said, “I did not.”

  “At first, I thought you had set out to overcome the trial by draining its power. However, now I see that your lust for battle simply outpaced the flow. In short, your efforts have made it inadvisable to continue feeding power into this test. You may proceed to the next level, where you will become the problem of one of my…colleagues.”

  At that, the ground once again rumbled, and the sand split, revealing a stairway leading downward. Zeke couldn’t see past a couple of feet.

  But he didn’t take the offered path out. Instead, he asked, “You’re just letting me go?”

  “As I said, powering this test has become a losing proposition. It simply is not worth it to wait until you one day find your way to the proper means of passing.”

  “Wait. I have questions.”

  “You will receive no answers. Proceed or die. Those are your choices,” the creature rumbled. Zeke had no doubts as to whether the huge, god-like man could make good on that threat. By comparison, all of his power was nothing, and he knew that if he fought, he would be squashed like a bug.

  Even so, he was tempted.

  Very, very tempted.

  However, for once, he managed to clamp down on his desire for battle and embrace a more rational stance.

  With that, he nodded only once before descending the stairs. Still, he couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed. Certainly, he’d spent months battling through the Tempest, and he’d managed quite a lot of valuable introspection along the way. He felt that he better understood his own motivations, and he knew himself a little more than he had before falling into that sea.

  Yet, while he’d managed to ignore the more carnal facets of his lust, he certainly hadn’t pushed past the battle-focused parts. And because of that, he felt he’d missed the point.

  More, he couldn’t help but wonder what puzzle he’d missed out on solving.

  Regardless, he did take some pride in how he’d conquered the circle of Hell. He hadn’t solved any great mysteries, but he’d broken the system. And that was satisfying in its own way.