>for him, the sunset was one of the most beautiful things in the whole world
>it always managed to soothe him, fill him with tranquility and peace at the end of long adventuring day
>and yet, right now Finn was anything, but peaceful
>he stood, silently and motionless, in the middle of the absolute carnage
>broken bodies, severed limbs, pools of blood and stained weapons surrounded him in the middle of once green hill, now soiled with insides of countless soldiers
>Finn himself looked no better than the land
>he was battered, beaten, tired and just plain exhausted
>he was missing his hat and shirt, his prosthetic arm was gone, lost in the battle, while his other arm was clutching his blodied sword
>his long golden hair were flattering in the wind, making him look almost angelic compared to the dead
>there was a battle, a long and grueling one
>he encoutered a great and powerful army of wicked mercenaries and black knights and challanged them, alone.
>and now the great army was nothing but a history
>their soldiers dead, commanders sliced , the symbols put to the ground, by him, single-handedly
>they all fought greatly, and yet he prevailed
>it was great, but now he felt... empty
>there was no happines or relief in his heart, not a single drop of it
>and yet, he felt something flowing down his face
>it was no blood, but tears. Tears of realisation
>today he hit his absolute high
>nothing has ever came close to this, absolutely nothing, and nothing will ever come...
>from this point onward, everything that will ever come will pale in comparison to this
>every day of his life, every fight, every feeling, every memory will be forever condemned to the painful mediocrity in the shadows of this single battle
>he looked up, to the beautiful sunset, hoping for something, just anything!
>and yet, he felt nothing.
>And so, he wept, for there was nothing left for him in this world
