War God of the Apocalypse

 Will Wilds lay on the cold ground of the empty room, his body trembling as his breath came in short, uneven bursts. Sweat clung to his skin, and every attempt to draw air into his lungs sent another wave of pain through his chest. He clenched his teeth, trying to keep himself conscious as the poison coursing through his body grew stronger.

 "What the heck is taking her so long?" he muttered, his voice barely audible.

 The poisonous infection was spreading rapidly, taking root deep within his blood vessels and destroying them from the inside. His veins burned with every passing second, and the agony made it increasingly difficult for him to move. He tried to lift his hand, but his fingers only twitched against the cold floor before falling still.

 He had been on an expedition when his team was ambushed. The attack had come too suddenly for him to react properly, and by the time he realized what was happening, the poison had already entered his system. With no way to fight it off, he had sent a distress signal to his girlfriend, asking her to bring medical assistance and backup.

 She had received it. She had to have received it.

 Will held on to that thought as he fought to remain conscious, listening for the sound of approaching footsteps. Every second felt longer than the last, and the silence surrounding him was beginning to feel like a bad omen.

 "He's here," a voice whispered from beyond the door.

 "Let's confirm it," another voice replied.

 The old, shaky wooden door creaked open, letting a stream of cold air into the room as two figures stepped inside. Will turned his head toward them, relief flickering across his face when he recognized their silhouettes.

 "What took you so long?" Will Wilds asked, grunting between words as he struggled to push himself up. "Where's the medical team?"

 "Seems like he's still able to speak," his best friend, Jason, remarked, looking down at him without any sign of concern.

 "Yes, they did a sloppy job," his girlfriend replied with a faint sneer. "I think we should cut their pay."

 Will stared at them, confusion slowly replacing the relief he had felt moments earlier. Their voices were calm, almost casual, as though they had come to discuss an ordinary matter rather than help a dying man.

 "There's no need," Jason said as he walked closer, his boots scraping against the dusty floor. He stopped beside Will and looked down at him with a cold smile. "If he's alive, it means they're all dead. Double win for us."

 Will's brows furrowed as he tried to make sense of their words, but the poison was making it difficult to think clearly. His head throbbed, and his vision blurred at the edges, yet their conversation kept replaying in his mind.

 Pay who? Who's dead?

 "What are you talking about?" he asked weakly, his voice cracking as he tried to lift his head. "Where's the medical team?"

 His girlfriend let out a derisive laugh before walking over to him. She crouched down, grabbed his face, and squeezed his cheeks hard enough to make his jaw ache. Will winced and tried to pull away, but his weakened body barely responded.

 "Your brain really is too slow to understand what's happening," she said, tightening her grip as she looked him straight in the eyes. "Why should we waste our precious resources on a dying man? You've been a nuisance to us and nothing more than dead weight."

 Will's eyes widened, and for a moment, he forgot the pain tearing through his body. He stared at the woman he had trusted, searching her face for some hint that this was a cruel joke. But there was no hesitation in her expression, no trace of the affection she had once shown him.

 His gaze shifted toward Jason, hoping that his best friend would at least offer an explanation. Instead, Jason merely watched him with the same cold indifference, as though Will's suffering were nothing more than an inconvenience.

 Dead weight?

 The words echoed in his mind, stirring a mixture of disbelief and anger that the poison could not completely smother.

 The bunker that served as their sanctuary had been founded by him. The resources filling its storage rooms had been gathered through his efforts, often at the risk of his own life. He had fought to secure their shelter, led expeditions to obtain supplies, and put himself in danger to ensure the people around him had a chance to survive.

 Now, the very people who had benefited from everything he had done were standing over him, calling him useless.

 If anything, you two are the dead weight.

 He wanted to shout at them, to demand an explanation and force them to admit what they had done. He wanted to grab Jason by the collar and wipe that smug expression from his face, but his limbs felt like dead branches, and even breathing had become a struggle.

 "Let's go," Jason said, straightening up as though he had already grown tired of the conversation. "We'll tell Tristan Thompson we succeeded."

 At the mention of that name, Will's heart seemed to skip a beat. He watched helplessly as the two turned toward the door, their footsteps growing fainter with every step.

 The old wooden door creaked once more before shutting behind them, leaving Will alone in the dark, empty room. The sound lingered in the silence, and he lay motionless, staring at the space where they had stood as the truth finally settled over him.

 Tristan Thompson.

 Everything began to make sense. Tristan was a powerful elite with a considerable amount of resources, and he had never been on good terms with Will. Their relationship had always been strained, with Tristan possessing both the strength and influence to make life difficult for anyone who stood in his way.

 Will had been betrayed by his faction in the past and had eventually ended up serving Tristan. He had thought that, despite their differences, he could at least protect the people close to him. Yet now, his own girlfriend and best friend had followed the same path, turning against him when they believed he had nothing left to offer.

 A bitter laugh escaped Will's throat, dry and hollow. It quickly turned into a cough that left his chest burning, and he tasted blood at the back of his mouth. He tried to laugh again, but his body no longer had the strength to sustain it.

 So this was how it ended.

 After everything he had endured, after every risk he had taken and every sacrifice he had made, he was going to die alone in a cold, forgotten room. The people he had trusted most had decided that his life was worth less than the resources required to save it.

 His fingers curled weakly against the ground as he fought to hold on to the last traces of consciousness. The room grew darker, and the distant sounds of the world seemed to fade away. His heartbeat became sluggish, each beat weaker than the one before, while the poison continued its relentless march toward his heart.

 The price of selflessness is death.

 The thought settled in his mind as his vision finally began to fail. He had spent so much of his life putting others first, believing that loyalty and sacrifice meant something in a world where survival was never guaranteed. Now, with death closing in, he could only wonder whether all those years of selflessness had been nothing more than a mistake.

 His breathing slowed, and his body gradually stopped responding. The last flicker of awareness slipped from his grasp as the poison finally reached his heart, bringing his life to an end.

 Just as everything faded into nothingness, a clear chime echoed through the darkness, cutting th

rough the silence that had swallowed him.

 [Congratulations, Host. You've successfully bonded with the Herem System.]