Once upon a time, a long, long time ago…

People lived in prosperity…

Stars blessed every corner with warmth and eyed over tranquil nights.

Children played freely in the meadows as their parents happily watched over them.

Fields burgeoned with golden grains as laughter traversed the morning dew with the sweetest songs.

But this age of serenity and peace did not last long.

From the darkest depths of the forgotten abyss,

From the deepest shadows of the netherworld,

From the hearts of hell,

The Demon arose.

Unlike any imperceptibly strong and cunning.

His sole goal to destroy the world.

The overlord of all the demons.

The Unfallen One.

The Unbridled One.

The One Who Beckoned Destruction.

The Demon King.

Darker than the starless nights—

The King brought forth an era of terror that blackened the heart of the land and dyed its surface with unceasing rivers of blood.

The armies swept through the villages to demolish innumerable heritages and cultures.

They left behind a trail of sundered destruction.

Homes burned to cinders.

Fields trampled and left barren.

The world infringed with the cries and the perished sights of the innocent.

What seemed was all was lost…

Yet when hope was at its lowest, on the verge of being begone, and people on their knees, all giving up without trying to resist,

The Hero sparked their vain hearts.

The flames he was brimming with lighted all the other torches.

Together, they all stood against The Demon King once again.

Yet they were no match.

The Hero lost.

The Demon King destroyed all who dared to relent.

People were given two choices—

Submit.

Succumb.

Yet, The Hero refused to give up his light.

After venturing through insurmountable challenges and fighting the King’s lackeys, he stood against The Demon King once again.

The fight lasted long, seemingly unceasing.

The Demon King rampaged, ravaging an overwhelming number of people.

No one stood a chance, and none could withstand the ferocity and evil.

All but The Hero.

He alone stood, alone, he withstood.

His ever-burning light was inextinguishable.

As he lifted his sword, which carried the fire and the lives of his fallen comrades, he pierced The Demon King.

The Demon King perished, and with him, all the evil was gone.

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All he left behind were empty promises of his return.

The Hero, weakened by The Demon King, forever closed his eyes and lost his glister, lying on the mound of the corpses of his countless comrades.

The Hero too perished.

The Goddess of Life exclaimed.

“Oh, hero. Oh, hero. You have saved the people of this world. But how regretful, now that you are dead.”

The Hero, though, was not sad in the least.

He bowed to thank the Goddess for all the powers she had bestowed upon him.

“It is of no significance. My companions and I will always live in people’s minds. Our heroic tales will be retold from one to the other forevermore.”

“The memories will live forever and never perish!”

“After all—”

…

“Boring!” the girl grunted.

The figure shook his head. “Let me at least finish—”

“No!” the girl moved the rook piece on the board. “Check.” She then glanced at the figure. “Just focus on the game. It’s so boring playing with you. You talk boring. You are boring. This tale is the lamest I’ve ever heard. Why all the hype if it ends up being such a disappointment?”

The faceless figure moved his pale hand. “What did you not like about it?”

“Everything! From the beginning to the end. Oh, I did skip the end. Still, you get the point.” She raised her hands. “You just preach kindness. But in reality, your hero would definitely lose. Just think about it. Any rational person would mop the floor with this hero at their first encounter. How did he survive the first fight against the demon? I call it bullshit!”

She continued, “This is an average tale of nobody rising from the lows to defeat an evil tyrant who rules evilly and threatens to destroy the world. You should have told me this when I was four. You say this is just the summary?”

The girl attacked with her pawn. “Let me guess, a commoner is pulled out of nowhere, has potential innate to his being, has to best not only others but also himself and be reborn anew, has deities assist him at every step of his journey whenever he fucks up, has lots of women dallying around him, yada yada yada.”

The figure of a man progressed with the figure of a knight to protect the bishop. “Children usually admire The Hero. It is rather The Demon King who is unreasonable for wanting to destroy the world for no apparent reason, no?” he asked.

The girl paused for a bit, lost in thought.

She moved another pawn. “How do you know? Don’t get me wrong, the demon is as much of a loser since he eventually lost, but he must have had a reason for doing what he did.”

The figure lifted his head as if piercing the girl with his gaze. “Why would someone be so obstinate in destroying the world? What is the justification for killing countless children and people alike? Care to enlighten me?”

She shrugged. “I dunno. I’m not the destroyer of worlds. I just want some cake. Everybody dies. It doesn’t matter whether it is in someone’s hands or disease. They all die. So why would I care for the death of the people that I don’t even know? Also, didn’t the hero kill the bunch of demons too? But why ponder? I don’t even care.”

“I am just a toy, a disposable one, divested of will, bereaved of voice, deprived of a sense of self, and cast aside by the world.” Tears lingered in her eyes.

Sona shook his head as he sighed deeply. “Still, The Hero was much more admirable, in my opinion. Not because he saved many lives.” He moved his bishop to escape the possible fork.

“Admirable?” the girl watched his faceless face.

“Yep. What do you think would make one a great protagonist?” he asked.

She wiped her eyes. “Protagonist? I don’t believe in such things. Life is unfair, and certainly, there are chosen and forsaken ones, but in the grand scheme of things, all are equal in death. Your life ceases, but life itself, the universe, carries onward.” The girl moved her rook once again. “But if hypothetically there were to be one… I don’t know.”

The entity captured a pawn. “The Hero is a protagonist. Not because of his selflessness or kindness, and certainly not due to his smarts, as he was stupid and dense. The Hero was a loser. He lacked in many ways.” He spoke as if reminiscently.

“So what is the difference, exactly? Why is he the protagonist? What is the difference between somebody like him whose name will be up till the end of times and a side character devoured by the passage of a generation, forgotten by the world, me?” she asked after pondering about her next move and then shifting her queen to the other side of the board.

“It is the ability to stand up!” Sona said as he moved a piece. “Check.”

The girl lowered her gaze. “How lame.”

“Listen well,” Sona followed. “No matter how many times The Hero fell, he would always get back on his feet. He fell yet immediately rose back. His losses were only feeding his strength. The Demon King was unparalleled. He would never lose. He was indomitable. But how many of us can truly tread the path of life without faltering? We all fall despite our reluctance. In the end, even The Demon King himself fell.”

The girl silently watched the man speak.

“Remember, Monica, no matter what hardships you go through, there is always a way out. Don’t let hate and spite cloud your judgments. Don’t hate yourself. Don’t hate the world. Just like the evil, the good also spreads. Just like the hate, the happiness also spreads. So, instead of giving up on your life, try to brighten it.”

He patted her head. “You should go and report it tomorrow. That is the only way out. Please, Monica, don’t mistreat yourself. Don’t let others mistreat you. The world doesn’t hate you.”

The figure shifted his gaze and pointed at the miniature sun. “There’s always hope. Monica—”

“There’s no Monica.”

The voice was coarser, not the one that a child would give.

“Checkmate,” she said.

The man tilted his head toward the girl, but the young girl was gone. Instead, there was a young woman with raven-black hair.

She conjured up a black Starbucks Americano in her left hand and an old German cigar in her right. “The Hero? Being just a human, he would suffer, cry, and regret. Yet, instead of learning to avoid the fall, he put all his effort into standing back up.”

Her listless eyes were barely blue. They watched the sun the man was pointing at.

“One just stood at the pinnacle.

The other never ceased to rise.

Thus, the pinnacle was breached.”

Monika puffed on the cigar.

“I remember this well, Sona. You etched it into my mind.”

Her face was devoid of any emotions.

“Or should I rather call you the Demon Lord of Nonexistence?”