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It had been his decision to make.
He could have said no.
She tried to warn him.
He didn't listen.
And now here he was.
This wasn’t how he wanted to die- he didn’t want to die at all-!
There was still so much to do! Now, in the tournament- back home-!
But anyone could tell it was too late now.
Villager’s mind was racing, his body shaking as he desperately tried to get free of the trap he’d inadvertently set off. He’d been so focused on the floor- he hadn’t even thought about the godforsaken wall.
All of this was far beyond his skill set in this retched place. There was a lot he could do. A lot.
Navigating a hall where literally everything was designed to kill you was definitely not included.
With as hard as he tried to free his arm, it felt like it was going to tear off. And yet, considering the sounds coming from above him, he did not want to find out what happened next.
Panicked tears came faster than he would have realized, and it was then he heard someone shout his name.
Fox.
Their team’s leader.
Why had they even split up.
The child had looked up just in time to see the pilot try to move forwards, Fox having not registered how terribly dangerous and stupid it was.
Funny enough, it wasn’t even him that paid the price.
Fox activated his reflector, something that if it had been even a second too late would’ve resulted in him being entirely impaled with arrows.
However, the shrill, horrific wail that followed right after made him realize what exactly he’d just done.
Link and Alice were pretty much out of firing range, and a stray arrow or two could be manageable in dodging.
Kirby and the Pikmin were even farther away from the deadly chaos.
Villager? He couldn’t move.
Some would say that when something that's normally quiet screams, it makes the scream itself all the more frightening.
They wouldn't be wrong.
In the grand scheme of things, Vill really hadn’t much experience with pain. Matches could end up hurting a bit every now and then, but everything was dulled to a large extent.
Back home, the worse thing he'd been met with were the bees, and even that could be healed in mere seconds by medicine.
Needless to say, he was completely unprepared to deal with the many, many arrows now littering his small body.
The pain that came with it was indescribable. Dizzying, nauseating, it completely took over any sense of rational thought or comprehension. If the others had done anything else, he wouldn't know. He was no longer aware of his surroundings, or otherwise.
There was nothing that could even be done now.
Blood. That was something he had become far more acquainted with since they’d begun this awful journey.
He’d tried so hard to ignore it, to not think about it, just like with how many of them had already died at this point.
Now the red, metallic substance coated him, running down his skin, staining his clothes and puddling onto the floor as he involuntarily slid downwards.
Why hadn't he stayed.
Why hadn't he listened to her.
When had Isabelle ever been wrong?!!
He’d brought this on himself, really. He’d failed her, the Hands, everyone they’d already lost up to this point...
Such depressing thoughts to have made it past all the disorienting pain.
Especially with them being his last.
When the axe came down from above, it was more of a mercy than anything.