[center][h1]Tom Fruz[/h1]

[b]His Grave.[/b][/center]


They were losing.

It did not take the eye of a tactician to see that the fight was an untenable one. The battle against the three enemy Servants was at a tenuous point, and the return of the other two kings and three new Servants would ultimately be a tipping point as the physician gained more allies in his crusade against his Servant. 

As much as he hated to say it, despite his faith in “Hercules”, the side of him that kept him alive, that screamed at him to grovel before his debtors, that had him slip through alleyways, avoid the wrong ones, all to live to another day, that side of Tom Fruz told him there was no surviving if he stayed. That there was no victory. That there was no chance at grasping life. A miracle could not be spent if he did not win it. A miracle could not be spent if he died.

His eyes met his Servant’s. The revival from the point of death worried him. Not simply because the difficulty he held in continuing to keep Commodus supplied with mana, but the fact that the confidence of the great Hero had been shattered. The greatest technique was thrown aside, and struck back at with a deadly blow. 

The glowing seals on the back of his hand itched. He wanted nothing more than to have both of them escape. To leave. To strike back at another time, when the world had fallen apart and the Hero could be victorious.

[url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-_wKk3RIsv8]However, he could not run.[/url]

He would not spit on the dream of Faker. He would not tarnish the glory of Hercules in this manner.

They had resolved to die, the two of them. Faker, in his nature as the one who would bring about ruin. Tom, to escape his fate.

      [sub]Commodus[/sub]
But The Hero would not accept that. He had ordered Tom Fruz to live.

[B][Descent of Mankind's Once Dazzling Star][/B]

And Faker made a gamble.

…

Tom Fruz dies.

[center]???[/center]

Life is suffering. Life is despair. Life is pain.

There is no escape from the cycle of torment. There is no wiping clean the curse that is your own Karma. 
		         
You can not escape sorrow. You can not escape torment. You can not escape loss.

You, Tom Fruz, branded with [Debt], cannot move forward. Your chains are binding. Your Fate is sealed. 

The starting payment is five. Life debt, health debt, freedom debt, fame debt, fortune debt. 

Pay the debt of birth. Pay the debt of seeing. Pay the debt of hearing. Pay the debt of survival. Pay the debt of luck. Pay the debt of kindness. Pay the debt of happiness. Pay the debt of existence.

paypaypaypaypaypaypaypaypaypaypaypaypaypaypaypaypaypaypaypaypaypaypaypaypaypaypaypaypaypaypaypaypaypaypaypayPayPayPayPayPayPayPayPayPay
PayPayPayPayPayPayPayPayPayPayPayPayPay[B]PayPayPayPayPayPAYPAYPAYPAYPAYPAYPAYPAYPAYPAYPAYPAYPAYPAYPAYPAYPAYPAYPAYPAYPAYPAYPAYPAYPAYPAY
PAYPAYPAYPAYPAYPAYPAYPAYPAYPAYPAYPAYPAY-[/B]

{The Core breaks.}

-̸̞̼̊ṕ̵̬͜͝A̴̡͉̝̗͌̋ŷ̵̰͙͎͙͌͛Ą̴̮͈̈́P̵͈̀̽͠͝Y̷̨̝̘̦̎͒̏͝P̸̡̬̻͒ȧ̷͔̣̥̑y̸͖̝̤͗͗̒͠a̶̫̫͐͛͝P̵̢̼͓͌̋͆͗͜á̶̯͛͑y̵̧͕̟͔̿̕-̴̟̠̲͑̄̄

{The Origin shatters.}


-̵̡̯̤̹͈͓̫̻̿̿p̴̡̛̳͈͌͊͆̐͒̆a̷̧̫̣̖̗̳͓͈̝̟̝̺͗̋̊̃̐͋̕͝Y̶̻͇͇̦̣͕̗̲̩͑̈́̊͊͜͜͠͠p̶̞͉͍̰̼̲͘Ả̵̢̦̹͍̥͖͇͔̤̰̟̲̈́͠Y̷͍͗̾̑͑͆͊̉͝ā̴̢̧̮̳̻̗̣̙̼͓͈p̴̨͖͍̳̤̥̜̾̏̔́͜͜Y̴̧̡̡̪̣̺̞̮͉̪̍͝a̴̛͔̟͆̆͗͑̇̕͝p̷̛̛͕̬͐͊̈́̀̆͐̅͠a̸̡͉̫̘̐̃̈́͂̀͝y̸̭̤͖͈̣͇͌́̿͆̊̍̃̃͠͝p̴̝̿̍̏͌̄̚͠͠͠a̴̧̢͈̰̬͚̬̤͈̻̹̎̎̐ͅY̵̟͓̏̔̚A̶̼̭̞̰̋̌̓̃͆̕͜P̸̛̘̖͎̣̞̦̏͊̇͠a̴̮̝͛͆̾̚͝͝y̷̡̢͓͇̦͈̝͈̰̗̜̎̓́̓̅͌͗̿͆͗̂͜p̷̻̦̘͍̦̪͖̠̏̈͝à̶̧̭̼̤̩͕̩̎́̍̉̀͜͝͠ͅy̸̛̰̅̓̈́̈-̸̢̖̑̄̈́̍̉̎͒̈́̍̕͝


{The Curse is wiped clean.}

P̴̛̟̰̈͒A̸̡̦̮̲̟̻̐Y̵̻̙͖̰͛̊.̷̛͈͚̞͓̟̬̫̙̅͆͐́͊̌

[quote]Live, boy.[/quote]

PAY DAMN YOU-

“No.”

…

You must pay.

“No.”

YOU MUST-

				      [sub]default[/sub]
“In fact, I think I’ll simply refuse.”

[CENTER]--------[/CENTER]


Tom Fruz dies.

[url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_ScOWN1vzZo]But he refused.[/url]

[s]Tom Fruz falls.[/s] He stands up.

[s]Tom Fruz closes his eyes.[/s] He upholds his promise to Commodus.

[s]Tom Fruz dies.[/s] Tom Fruz lives.

The pain is crippling. His core was ripped to shreds, annihilated thoroughly enough to remove his very existence.

Yet, he held on. He would not die, because he refused to do so.

The miasma of ruin breaks him. It breaks him, and he cannot rise. But he does so anyway.

He steps forward. 

That which defined him, which gripped his life without end, he confronted. Yes, it was the fog of decay, that had promised him nothing but suffering, that he had been too weak to do naught but cower before.

Ruin-

-is seized by his own hand. 

No more. Never again. He may have said those things once upon a time, but now he [i]lives[/i] them. He will not be struck down by this. He will take charge, of his Fate, of his life, of this all. To call such things impossible is sane. 

But the realm of sane men is not the realm of Heroes. It is not the man who gives up that becomes greater. The words of Theseus ring through his heart. 

“COMMODUS!” The roar is felt by all, ringing in their very bones. Tom Fruz looks upon his Servant. They both understood. 

He raised his bare hand high. The glow on his hand brightened-

Before fading to a dull light, as Tom lowered his arm.

“You are a Hero, Lucius Aelius Aurelius Commodus.”

The enemy approaches.

“Now, shine.”

[@Over Illusion]