I fell to the ground, and the guard started laughing. "See what happened, you foolish rascal?" Then he came rushing over, wanting to kick me. The voice in my head said, "Damn him! Dodge her quickly and grab the sword before he kills you!"
Then, at the last moment, I gathered all my dodging strength and thrashed about, my body aching terribly. Then the guard slammed his foot against the wall and winced. "Damn you, you rascal! I'll kill you instead of cutting off an arm!"
I was in pain, my body aching, but I had to reach the sword. I tried to push myself with all my might until I could stand, and slowly I walked towards the sword. But as I got close, the guard grabbed me and punched me in the face. "See, you rascal! You're going to die today!"
Then I fell to the ground beside the sword. I tried to reach it with my left hand.
The guard noticed my attempt and said mockingly, "Don't even try, you rascal. You can't do anything with your strength."
Then the voice in my head said, "Go on, take him and cut him down quickly."
But, ironically, I was exhausted and couldn't do anything except take the blows from him.
As I was being hit, I thought to myself, "I don't want to die. I didn't travel and go on adventures... At least I don't want to die in this cursed place. Damn it, damn it."
I cursed it bitterly and cried profusely. I screamed loudly, "I don't want to die! I don't want to! I want to do something for myself! I don't want to die a despicable pickpocket, just an orphan boy..." The guard was surprised by my screams and started laughing at me, saying,
"Hahaha! I've never seen a poor, wretched wretch like you before. You're ignorant. No one has the right to dream except the strong, and you're too weak, you rascal. This is your limit. This is your end."
Then the guard picked up the sword from the ground. I lay there, my blood streaming down, blurring my vision. I could see nothing but red, but I could make out the guard.
Then I heard the sound of his sword scraping against the ground, reaching me.
"Now your end is near, you scrawny boy."
Then the voice in my head said, "Do you want to live? Do you want to be the strongest? Do you want to determine your own destiny? To create something of yourself?"
I heard his voice and cursed myself. "I'll keep hearing this voice until I die. I'm truly pathetic, but I don't care if the world sees me as a demon or a bastard. I just want to live. So please, yes, I accept. Please, if you're real, help me." I spoke, my voice broken with sobs and screams. The previous screams had been just voices, but I begged and hoped they were real, or I would die, and I didn't want to die looking so pathetic.