The Hero stared, his eye twitching and struggling to maintain his composure. He was too tired, too hurt, too beaten down at this point to fully express his unbridled rage.
They had searched for so long, fought, struggled, tried desperately to figure out where the last chosen could be. Now, after all of their hard work, after everything they had sacrificed and fought for, here he was. The scribe that had been following them around like a pathetic puppy this entire time, desperate to prove himself worthy of being amongst the Hero and chosen. All along he had been one of them, yet Searle had been too stupid to realize it. If the world didn’t depend on all of the chosen being together, he’d have cut the fool down himself.
But, finally, they were all together. All of the blood, tears and pain had been worth it. Finally they would save the world.
------
“Damn it, Searle, get out of the way!” the Hero yelled, but it was too late. The fool had, once again, tried to interfere in affairs he had no place in. The shield wielding chosen had the common sense to at least look ashamed when he stepped aside, but it was too late.
The teleportation circle was still lightly smoking, moments before fading away. If they’d just been a few seconds faster, they would have stopped the Demon Lord. Instead, he had gotten away. The Hero let out a furious, violent scream before slamming his sword down, cleaving through the stone that had once stored the circle.
“We’ll get him next time,” Hardwin said, walking up behind him and patting him on the back. “Searle was just trying to help. He--”
“We don’t need his help,” the Hero yelled, making all of the chosen cringe. They needed to attack, not protect. They couldn’t destroy all the threats that encircled their world by guarding it. They had to destroy this monster before it was too late. “Come on, since the Demon Lord has escaped, we still have to deal with that hydra. A shame we couldn’t put an end to this ONCE AND FOR ALL!”
So close. They had come so incredibly close to finding out what the Demon Lord’s plans were. To putting a stop to him, ending the cultist threat entirely. Now they were right back to square one.
------
“I volunteer,” Searle said, making the Hero roll his eyes.
“Searle,” the Hero said, trying to keep his voice calm. “You can’t defeat it.”
“There’s a good chance none of us can,” Searle said softly. “But I can hold it off. I can give everyone the time you all need. Please.”
“No,” the Hero said. “I’ve made my choice. Korgron, Andreas, Chase, Thalgren. I know you can do what needs to be done. You don’t need to kill it. Just hold it off long enough so we can end this.”
Searle stared at him, but didn’t say a word. The hurt in his eyes, though, told him everything he needed to know. The chosen would get over it, he was sure. They all would. Once the world was saved.
------
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The Hero stared at the dark, red sky. How had it all come to this? They were all gone. The gods. The chosen. All that remained now was Hardwin and Searle. To think he had trusted the chosen of the shield for so long. His eyes narrowed on the tall, glimmering figure at the top of the steps. Where once human features had stood, now the man had thin, protruding horns, his skin tinted a dark, violent red. Just like the flames of the Inferno God. The flames of anger and hate boiled within him.
Between them stood dozens of demons, their caged beasts of war waiting to be released. “WHY?!” the Hero yelled at the new Demon Lord. Behind him he heard the rallying cries of those few who remained on their side, the few remaining forces he had to command.
Searle stared down at him, but didn’t speak. Instead the traitor slowly turned and walked back into the building, leaving his minions to face them.
“You coward!” the Hero screamed before running forward, his sword lifted high. He’d kill all of them. He didn’t care, not anymore. He’d save this world even if he had to do it coughing up blood the whole way.
------
The Hero stared at Searle, one eye partially closed from the wound over his eye, his left hand hacked to pieces and his leg heavily bleeding across the ground. But, finally, the last of the demons had been slain.
When he walked into the chamber, one final time, his eyes fell on Hardwin’s body, collapsed on the ground. His sword held in Searle’s demonic hand.
The rage, the hatred, all of it burned within the Hero. He had to end this once and for all. He would mourn Hardwin after everything was over. When he stood on top of his ruined, destroyed world.
He’d mourn so, so much.
“Why?” the Hero asked, staring at him.
“It was my chance to be the hero,” Searle said, as if that explained everything. As if that explained anything.
The hero stared. Be the HERO? All of this was out of some pathetic sense of jealousy? He should have known. Searle truly was the chosen of light.
The new Demon Lord.
------
“Wakey wakey!” a voice said.
Slowly his eyes opened and he stared up into darkness. He seemed to be laying on some kind of stone platform. Had it all been a dream? Perhaps a prophetic vision?
“No, no, I’m afraid not. It all happened,” the voice said, now almost sounding sad. Or at least a mockery of sadness.
He sat up quickly, panic burning in his chest. He then saw the source of the voice. A small hooded figure. “It did? But how am I alive?”
------
Joan’s eyes slowly opened and she stared across the room in the light of the slowly rising sun.
Searle was already awake, sitting by the door. He had his shield in his lap and was rubbing oils into the leather strap. It was a waste of time, a sword with the finest enchantments couldn’t hope to split it and nothing could make that metal break. But of course he did it, because that was who he was. The most diligent in many ways. Chosen of the light. For good and ill. Unfortunately for her, most diligent in this case meant she ended up having a constant nursemaid watching her every move, just in case she slipped and got a scraped knee or something.
Slowly she reached out for the small book, the dwarven security tome, resting by the bed.
“You’re up?” Searle asked without looking up.
“Yes,” Joan said before pulling the book to her and sitting up. She pulled out the key from under her pillow to unlock it. “Had a dream about the past. Well, my past.”
“Our future?” Searle asked.
“Hopefully not. I did learn one thing, though. Well, learned something in this life I wish I’d known then,” Joan said before taking the pen from the inside of the book and beginning to write.
“Oh?” Searle asked. “What did you learn?”
“Jealousy sucks.”