[ WP ] You are a minor character/nameless minion in a fictional story , during a battle between good vs bad , you accidentally killed the protagonist/antagonist . What happens next ?

Amidst the gory clash of titans, I trembled in fear. Around me the roar of warriors twice my size filled the air as their weapons clattered and clamored against metal and wood. Huge beasts of burden bellowed as they trampled the enemy and were cut down in battle. The field was awash in bodies of the slain, both sides indistinguishable in death. A wall of combatants surrounded me, parting only momentarily to show the sea of endless turmoil. The cause was great, and this conflict had brought countless numbers on both sides, but this was not my battle. 
 
 I, Sneedle, lowest of the Kemplins, barely half the height of my smallest compatriot, was not a fighter. I was always teased and bullied for my diminutive size by other younglings, and lost every skirmish. I spent my life in bruises and cuts. Cast out by my family for the disgrace of being the runt of all runts, I thought no one cared for me. But when the steely frame of the lord of darkness marched through my village, claiming to need the aid of all Kemplins, even me, I joined up for the one thing I never had, someplace to belong. I became part of something bigger. 
 
 Here on the battlefield, though, I wished I was something bigger. Barely able to old the gigantic pole arm distributed to the hoard, I could only watch in slack jawed wonder as my companions took on steel clad giants one on one, their tremendous blows sending sparks spraying. One blow would be the end of poor Sneedle, but somehow I was beneath notice, invisible in a storm of violence. 
 
 Then came the most fearsome moment of my life…the sea of swords parted and toward me stormed Reygold, the legendary leader of the Rublites. Striding in armor so polished, light blazed off every surface, he slashed his way through the combatants. His tremendous blade turned away every Krempkin lance and cleaved unarmored enemies in twain. Nothing deterred him from his target, and his target, poor Sneedle, was not wearing armor. My blood ran cold and my tiny body betrayed me. I struggled to raise my halberd, but my aching muscles only trembled. 
 
 I watched as my waking nightmare strode confidently forward. His shimmering shield discarded as he raised his mighty two handed sword, twice the length of any Kemplin. I swallowed and was prepared to meet the maker as his last stride put him within striking distance. Then with a strength of spirit twice my size, I swung back my ungainly pole arm, ready to meet him blow for blow. The halberd suddenly stopped, and so did my polished persecutor with the glossy gleam. Slowly his shouldered blade sank to the ground and all fighting seemed to pause as I watched the greatest opponent kneel before me. My heart skipped a beat as the thunk of a cudgel lightly grazed my back. Slowly I turned, surrounded by a sea of staring faces, and came face to face with Grax, the king of eternal night, propped slack armed with the head of my halberd embedded in his neck. With one swing, I killed our king. 
 
 Weapons were dropped, sheathed, and suddenly forgotten in the arms of bewildered warriors as they realized that the battle was over. The champion of the opposing army looked up at me, asking my name. I stammered in reply. He snatched me up and hoisted me high, shouting my name. The other silvery clad giants echoed the chant until all of the shining sea sounded, “ Sneedle, Sneedle, Sneedle! ” And that was how I became the greatest hero of any age by single-handedly ending the conflict of the seven nations.
