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--donation bonus (day #10, post 3/5)--
“You bastard,” said Geoffrey. “Are you not even going to say anything? After everything we have been through together?”

He had no desire to respond. It seemed too respectful.

Geoffrey gave a hoarse laugh. “What if I told you... that I wouldn’t hurt anyone anymore? In fact, what if I even agreed to help you? I would... I would listen to you--do anything you say.”

Hector’s eyes bulged, and his mouth twisted beneath the helm. He could hardly believe how much those words angered him. He’d tried to remain calm throughout the fight, to not let anything Geoffrey said get to him, but this--this was ridiculous. An appeal to his better nature? As if there was anything which could convince him. After all the murders. All the lives destroyed. All the families.

The motherfucking arrogance.

Rage came rushing back to him, blindingly strong. He almost couldn’t even hear Geoffrey’s next words.

“If you just--kagh--just spared my life... I would do that. Yeah? What do you say?”

“Fuck no.” Hector raised the wall between them, completing the box. He touched the metal with both hands. He could hear Geoffrey shouting from inside.

Hector skewered the box with a dozen metal pillars, all focused with his soul. Geoffrey’s agonized cries still rang out. He added a dozen more. The noise stopped.

He opened the wall. There lay Geoffrey. A crumpled heap with metal bars stuck through it, piercing the chest, neck, skull, stomach, every limb multiple times. The last bit of red shadow shriveled up and evaporated into nothingness.

He stared at the body, waiting, half-expecting it to spring back to life and attack him again. He kept waiting.

Geoffrey was dead. Finally.

Hector breathed. He could only feel so relieved, however. This was not just the proof of Geoffrey’s death. It was also the proof of his father’s. And as that sunk in, as the urgency and adrenaline of battle wore off, Hector slowly broke down.