'Purpose,' it's a word many try to explain, a word many try to understand. But to me? I don't believe you can describe it, find it, or truly know what it is inherently.

  The only thing I can say is this. To have a purpose is to exist, and to exist is to have a purpose. You will continue to exist because of purpose, whether you achieve it or not doesn't matter, all that matters is that you continue.

  Experience failure, pain, regret, hate, sadness, love, joy, and happiness. Experience all that can be experienced. Don't give up in times of pain or suffering, no matter how long it takes you have a purpose big or small. Thanks for reading!

  "Shit! What the hell!" Uriel looked over his shoulder while running away.

  The monster chasing him was a Bilt, it wasn't anything special in fact it was common. But to his dumbass it was a monster beyond imagination.

  Uriel's left leg had deep gouges, the wounds stunted his strength and speed making him slower. A broken sword in his right hand, body clad in light, black leather armor made for speed rather than durability.

  Uriel ran through the cave injured and tired, adrenaline and training was saving his ass.

  The cave was dark and barely lit, jagged pieces of Angel Metal were sticking out, illuminating the dungeon. He was scouring the cave for exactly this.

  The Bilt that he was being chased by looked like a big, rat demon. It was an unholy beast of the lowest Rank and Trial.

  It had dark grey and black fur made for blending into the surroundings.

  Bilts had a terrifying height unlike most rodents.

  This one was a loner, and it so happened to stumble upon him. Uriel's mind raced with many scenarios, ones with him living, but mostly with him ending up dead.

  Uriel turned the corner on the right. 'I'm almost there!' He remembered how to get out, but that wouldn't really matter since the Bilt could still chase him.

  Uriel realized he either killed the Bilt, or died to it, and he wasn't one keen on dying. 'This won't work, shit, I have to fight it!'

  Stopping and turning around Uriel wasn't far away from the Bilt, so he had merely seconds to block its attack.

  He raised his broken sword in a last stand of survival thinking internally. 'They better give me a raise after this!'

  It lounged at him, aiming for his head, making disgusting snarling sounds. A, "Squee!" came from its deformed face.

  He barely deflected it.

  Sparks flew as his sword was thrown, flying across the damp, mossy, rocky floor. Clanging filled the dungeon.

  'Shit, my sword,' His hands flew backward. He looked around, he saw a piece of broken Angel Metal lying on the ground.

  The Bilt slid to the right after being deflected and made a low guttural sound, eyes blazing with hunger and fury.

  Uriel grabbed the broken Angel Metal, it had a sharp end to it. It glowed whitish yellow, illuminating his field of view.

  "Damn it, I'm too tired for this shit," he panted heavily, blood still coming from his gouging wounds, the iron smell filling his nostrils and throat.

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  Uriel's leg faltered, almost giving out. The Bilt noticed and lounged at him, aiming for his head. 'N-no, work, work, work! Please work, leg!'

  The Bilt came on him, clawing. Its maw opened, teeth snapping inches away from his neck and face.

  He pulled his head back to dodge it.

  Razor-like claws nicked his lower stomach and face, blood flowing out of the shallow wounds.

  A loud and sudden crack filled his ears, blocking out every other sound for an instant. His ribs were being crushed by the weight, he needed to act, or he would die so quickly he wouldn't be able to do anything.

  'That fucking hurts! Agh, my ribs are being crushed,' He struggled with the Bilt, minutes felt like hours.

  Uriel knew this was his last chance of survival, with the last bit of strength he had, tears falling at his predicament.

  He raised the broken Metal, stabbing the ceiling of the Bilt's mouth; it needed to pierce its brain to kill it.

  That was the only way to, the mouth was the only entrance.

  "Ahhhhh!" he roared with the last of his strength. The sharp Angel Metal plunged into its skull, hitting the brain. The Bilt's eyes went dead instantly as its brain was pierced.

  It fell to the ground dead, the Angel Metal was still stuck in the roof of its mouth. He let go of the makeshift weapon, a shaky, shallow sigh followed.

  He was relieved he would survive, to live another day, to still have the chance to achieve his dream. 'I'm alive.'

  His pupils dilated, eyes widening as he felt something in his stomach.

  Both hands instinctively went to pull whatever was inside him, it was the Bilt's claws, barely piercing but it was enough to cause damage that could kill him.

  Uriel lost, even though he killed the Bilt, he still lost. He was going to die alone, furious at himself, at the world he lived in, at his own weakness.

  If only those idiots didn't send him here alone while they gambled, drank, and had fun with the women in town, he would have survived.

  Uriel pulled out the Bilt's claws, blood came out in profuse amounts, guts almost spilling out.

  He swiftly put his hands to his stomach to prolong his death, agony like none he had ever felt swept over him in droves.

  He shivered, sweat dripped like he was in the northern unholy lands.

  His vision blurred, coming in and out of focus.

  "Damn it, damn it, damn it," the words barely came out in a forced whisper, his eyes dimmed as he was fading away into death's embrace.

  He was dying. 'It's so cold, I'm so lonely, save me, please? Someone please save me, I'm scared.'

  Nothing could save him now.

  But no such miracles had ever occurred for him once in his life.

  The death of his family, the blood and intestines of his parents painting his young world red after a rampage of Unhold beast.

  His childhood friend, they promised to marry when of age, but was hanged for something she didn't do.

  A curse, the one that attracted the Unholy beast.

  And his life as an orphan, till he was taken in as but a mere object to use.

  Blood gushed from his stomach even more, he choked on his own blood as it filled his lungs and throat.

  He closed his eyes, ready for death.

  He heard footsteps, they were light but authoritative, he looked up, as his body laid on the ground, he saw, heels?

  Why were there heels in a dungeon? And who was wearing them? His mind raced with these thoughts, forgetting he was dying.

  His adrenaline pumped faster, hope sprung into his heart, mind, and soul.

  Was someone there to heal him? Was someone there to at least bandage him up and bring him to a healer?

  His left hand clawed at the ground as gurgling sounds came from his mouth, he had hope again, hope he would survive.

  Instead, the person with the heels said, "Ugh, so there's scum dying here." Her tone conveyed a sense of uninterest.

  His eyes widened a little as fear crawled through his body, he managed to barely speak up.

  "W-wait, h-help me, please," his voice was desperate now, blood splattered onto the ground from the edges of his mouth.

  She turned back to him and said, "Why are you asking me for help?

  I'm not able to help dying scum," she sighed, and continued, "It's just not part of my job description, I'm not a healer," her voice was normal, too normal, as if his death meant nothing.

  Uriel seethed with pain, regret, burning rage, and fear of his death.

  'What?! You won't help me?! Why? I'm dying, yet you'll leave me here?!' His throat was filled with blood.

  Uriel knew he was going to die now, body losing heat, mind drifting away, all while she stood there looking down on him like he was a roach clinging to life.

  He spat out bitter words as his final, clawing at the ground as dirt embedded itself into his nails.

  "You bitch, why won't you help me? Is it because I'm weak?" his voice seethed with rage, trembling as his hands fell to his sides, guts slipping out without anything to stop them.

  Tears ran down his face as his eyes closed, darkness seeping in like a disease.

  "Death, it's weird you know? It's something humans can't comprehend, yet they know so much about, yet so little."

  The unknown voice was soft and calm, like it had seen and experienced death many times over.

  Uriel was floating in unending darkness, yet it wasn't dark, there was nothing, yet everything. What had he become? What was that voice? And whose voice was that?

  He called out, "W-who's there?!"

  The voice replied casually, "I'll save you."