It's sad.

Really, it's so sad.

It's so sad that it's surpassed the realm of unfunny and made a round the world trip, just to end back at downright hilarious.

All of the pain, the sadness, the sacrifice…all of it just to get to this one point. It's actually impressive, looking back at the progress they've made. Nobody else can say that they got this far. Nobody else can claim doing the things they did. But in the end, it wasn't enough.

Not even close.

As furious strides slowed to sluggish drags, the end of this long stairway came into view. It's a sight that simultaneously brings both sweet relief and intense worry. What lies at the top of these stairs would end everything, one way or another.

Just a few more steps.

He thinks back on what caused all of this. Before the invasions, before the breach. Years before he was even born. What in good God's name could have set all of this off? Could there have been something that could have stopped it— anything at all? The domino that fell and created this mess called the present—could it have been halted in any way?

Almost there.

Such strange thoughts to have at a time like this, when the future is being decided in one last clash in front of him. They don't matter—his thoughts, his daydreams, his regrets. None of them matter now. All that's left is to reach the top of these stairs and see which path the world has taken.

It's quiet. The furious sounds of blades and anger that once filled the area have stopped. The battle is over.

One last step.

What he sees is an ending.

It's not the one he wanted. Not even close.

An ending of silver mixed with red. Those silver eyes staring back at him. What emotions could they be holding right now? Despair, grief, misery, frustrations, depression…he could only guess. There was one thing he was sure of though.

The one attached to those eyes was sad. The tears flowing from those eyes that ran down her cheeks made that painfully clear. And just like so many times in the past…

…He couldn't do a thing to stop them.

A single step forward.

Two arms reach out to each other. One belonging to scared blue eyes. The other, to tearful silver ones.

Blue stays on silver, for fear of looking below them once more. A body stained in red, impaled by an unholy white, stands below those eyes, mocking him and his uselessness.

Those silver eyes are closing. The lips below them mouth words he couldn't care less about. All he wants is to stop those eyes from crying. To see them shine once more in the sun, and light up in joy and celebration. Yet he can only watch them dim in the darkness of the broken moon.

One hand drops.

Blue eyes too stunned to move can only stare, the body they're attached to not daring to budge an inch. They stare at the corpse that once housed such vibrant silver eyes. The only movement from it now is the red running down the white intruder. Dripping in blood, that white spear points accusingly at him, as if to say all of this is his fault. It holds some truth.

A careless toss.

That's all the attention the corpse gets. One shove to the side like an insignificant piece of trash.

Blue eyes move from the corpse to meet red. Merciless red pupils, surrounded by soulless black sclera, and framed by a tainted white face fill his vision.

Shock ignites into rage. Rage burns into hate. Hate overflows into wrath. Once comforting and soft blue forces itself into a turbulent sea black, begging to drag someone under and not stop thrashing until they did first. Eyes so full of emotion.

A shame they were wasted on ones absent of any.

8 steps.

That's as far as he made it before tainted white pierced his body. It didn't matter that his shield was held in front of him, or that he was wearing armor. At least, not to the dozen or so spears now digging into his back.

He was so tired. Tired of fighting his way up here. Tired of leaving behind each of his friends. Tired of moving forward.

A clang of metal signaled his dropped weapons. They wouldn't help him here. Not anymore.

One step.

Those red eyes, laughing at him. He wanted those eyes to shut up already.

One more step.

The mouth below them, one raised in a small smile, fell. The amusement was gone. But anger did not replace it. Not even annoyance filled the void. He wasn't worth an emotion. The only thing those red eyes deemed to show him now, was apathy.

One last step.

He was a foot away from her now. He could feel proud, knowing that only a handful of people ever got this close. He chose not to.

He knew.

Knew that there wasn't a damn thing he could do to stop her now. Knew that with those silver eyes now gone, nothing could get in her way. She won.

They both knew it… which was why it was so shocking to see him smile.

His once shadowed and bowed head rose to reveal a Cheshire grin. Red eyes widened at the gesture. And then…white.

Empty white.

That's all that's around him now. His last move, one forged out of having absolutely nothing left, was one that took everything away. A self-sacrificing move that not only took him, but whatever was standing around him for the next mile as well.

It wasn't enough.

It wasn't even close. He had about as much optimism for that attack ending her as he did for throwing a water balloon and expecting that to work. He knew it was useless.

But the look on her face was so worth it.

He regretted not getting the witch's full real name before he did it though, since now he couldn't curse it for all eternity. Oh well, he had at least a hundred other things he could call her, not one of them the least bit flattering. At least he could rest now. Leave the fighting to someone else for a change.

Or at least, to whoever the hell was left.

He didn't care anymore. He was dead. The only thing he cared about now was if he did enough good in his life to not go to the spooky place with all the fire. If not, at least it would be warm.

Whatever.

It's not like he could do anything now, regrets withstanding or not. All that's left is to fade into oblivion. Closing eyes was his sign to whatever watching force or deity that he was ready.

It was time to let go.

Forever in an instant.

That's how long he waited. Not passed on. Not fade into nothingness. Not return to life's origin.

He waited.

…

…

…

WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK!?

He may not have any experience dying before, but he was pretty sure waiting in an endless sea of white wasn't exactly what the afterlife was supposed to be. If it was, then he was going to punch the next thing with corporeal form he saw, whenever that would be.

Seriously, there was literally nothing else around him while he floated in this…this…nothingness? Ether? Light?

Gods he was gonna lose his mind. That is, he would have if he hadn't already done so and gotten bored of it.

Hallucinations were only amusing until you realized you're talking to yourself, and plotting the destruction of your enemies gets really old when you know you have no way to enact your plans. Oh yeah, he ran the gauntlet of insanity to its end only to circle back to boredom.

The worst part was not even knowing how long it'd been. Seriously, for all he knew, he lost his mind and found it again all in the span of 10 minutes.

Was this some sort of test? Did he have to pass some sort of trial, or experience some sort of epiphany about his life? Because this was getting old.

He meditated. On literally anything and everything he could think of: aura, his reason for fighting, the true role of grimm. Hell, he even contemplated the purpose of each of the colors in the world.

He already went through his life in precise detail several hundred times. Scanned every event, reevaluated his decisions, and even thought on what would have been a better choice.

And he accepted his choices like any wise man would have wanted him to.

Why wasn't that enough?

He already went through hell in his life. Spent who knows how long here in this purgatory. Did everything he could possibly think of to warrant an invitation to heaven. What was left?

Was he supposed to stay angry? Was he supposed to regret everything? Was he supposed to curse the world he left behind and demand a second chance? To challenge the universe and whatever higher power was in charge and demand better for himself? Because that damn well seemed to be the only answer left.

…

Fine. Have it your way.

Taking a deep breath, he paused a moment to ready himself. Then…then he let loose the longest and most profane string of curses he could think of.

Swearing that would give him his own hit rap album. Complaints that would make a child seem humble. Insults that would have any atheist bless his soul.

He screamed them all at whatever the hell was listening in this white space. Screamed them until he ran out of things to say. Screamed until he finally hunched over and let out a sigh. Not because he ran out of breath—he didn't have a real body for that—but because he was done.

This was it. He ran out of options after this. There was literally nothing left he hadn't done.

Still looking toward his feet, he closed his eyes.

He waited, maybe a second, maybe a century.

And then he opened his eyes.

He looked at his hands, clenched them a few times, and realized…

Nothing had changed.

He was still in that endless expanse of white he'd been in for whatever amount of time already.

Oh. Oh, that was it. He'd had enough. Enough beating around the bush. Enough of holding his reward. He inhaled again; ready to unleash another verbal assault on his maybe watcher, coupled with some limb flailing to boot. Ready… until he paused at the sight.

Have those 2 doors always been there?

He blinked, mouth still agape and poised for another tantrum. Closing his jaw, he walked over to the doors.

To his left was a pure white, handsomely crafted door suited for some kind of fairy tale castle throne room. It was huge, easily being as tall as 8 of him standing on each other's shoulders, and half as wide.

It didn't have any handles, but it was split at the middle, meaning he'd have to push his way in. As he stared at it, he could feel nothing but peace radiate from it.

Now if this wasn't the door to heaven, he didn't know what was.

But experience taught him to consider all his options before making a decision, so he held off on choosing this door and looked to the other.

It was old. An aged and weathered wooden door that was growing it's own life. Green moss lay on it's top and at it's feet. A few flowers and weeds decorated the thing too. The golden doorknob was chipped in both paint and structure. All in all, it wasn't that impressive. What was interesting though, was the feeling he got when he looked at it.

It wasn't peace. It wasn't any one thing really. It was a whole host of emotions, ranging from rage, to happiness, to fear, to joy, and, most of all, hope. It was…weird.

It was as if one door promised an end. A happy end at that. The other promised something else. Something more. Something like…like an entire story.

Like another chance?

He couldn't help but laugh. So this was what it came down to: Heaven or another chance at life. It was an easy choice, really. Only a downright, brain-dead, complete and utter idiot would choose wrong here.

So he made his choice.

And smiled to himself as he pushed the door open.

He really was an idiot, wasn't he?