It had to be.

It had to.

The others gone, or so he hoped. He couldn’t be sure. He had to stay alive.

Sure. He could have waited for them, not rushed ahead, not let himself be. It wasn’t for them that he fought; it was for himself. The temple fell to pieces around him. Crushed; killed; didn’t matter, he had to fight. He had to make sure no trace of Idura’s evil remained, even if... even though he died trying.

He trusted fool’s luck, but he clung to no illusions about where he was, what happened around him. Right now, he wanted to die on his feet, die fighting.

But it wasn’t like that. It wasn’t honor or pride. It was Idura.

He had to be beaten.

So Dekar had to win.