The clashing of metal rings out, echoing into the air of a massive throne room. Tiled with fine marble with clearly no expenses spared. On the walls are paintings of couples in regal attire. A series of portraits of both Kings and Queens over the years. Continuing all the way until some are tilted, and some have outright fallen onto the floor. Frames broken from the impact. Even further, some have scorch marks or are outright destroyed.
Another clash sings out, and the dust clears between two human figures. One stands tall over the other. One man and one woman. The man has a long mane of crimson red hair flowing down his back. Unkempt and wild looking. Standing at a clear 6’2” tall (188 cm.). Dressed in bits and pieces of heavy armor in select areas, such as the torso and shoulders.
The other is a woman, standing at a much more modest 5’1” (155 cm.) and adorned in full-body plate armor from head to toe. Both are wielding large and extravagant weapons. The man holding a large two-handed flanged battle mace that looks like it’s made out of some sort of black gemstone, while the woman is holding a sword and shield, shining as if made of platinum.
The two dash forward and clash once more. The man winning out in raw power and sending the woman flying away. He bellows out proudly with an arrogant tone.
“Hero! You will have to do much better than that! I have not even begun to fight! Don’t tell me you thought my campaign ending has made me go soft?”
The woman stands up and collects herself quickly, gritting her teeth. She starts to speak out calmly, not replying to the man.
“Oh Goddess, please grant me the strength I require to put this villain down in the name of justice. He is my most fearsome foe, and my strength is not enough.”
The man smashes his massive mace into the floor, leaving a crater behind in the marble. The sheer weight of the mace holds it in place as he releases the handle to applaud the woman.
“Yes! Yes! Just like that. Call upon the Goddess! Bear your all against me! She will answer your prayers. She always does. Rise to the challenge as you always have!”
The man grips the handle of his mace again and readies himself as a beacon of holy light pours down from the heavens, flowing over the Hero’s body. With renewed vigor, she draws her blade and launches herself towards the man at extreme speeds. Covering the distance made from being blown away in a mere moment. Pointing her shining sword at the man’s face and thrusting forward. Her blade slicing through the air so quickly that the surrounding air is visibly distorted.
The man catches the blade, his hand having changed into that of a dragon’s claw. The red scaly hand gripping the blade unharmed. Stopping the Hero in her tracks.
“Excellent. I will also bear my all against you, Hero. I, Zilmarn, the Crimson Cataclysm; shall honor your journey with an end that will be written and spoken of for eons!”
Zilmarn lifts his foot and kicks it at the Hero’s torso. She narrowly avoids a brutal injury and blocks the blow. Sending her flying across the room once more. Gripping the handle of his mace and easily swinging the oversized weapon around. Still holding the platinum sword of the Hero in his hand. He slowly approaches her. Letting out a deep exhale from his mouth. Black smoke billowing out as a dim glow of flame can be seen in the back of his throat.
Stopping just short of the Hero, he throws his blade at her still recovering body. Having just regained her footing.
“Rise, Hero. I hold no contempt for you. You are but one of many humans I will have slain. I disbanded my army, and came and sat on the human throne. Waiting for you to come. Impress me in your final moments so that your tale is not an exaggerated one.”
Holy energy flows out and back into the Hero’s body, almost like the energy itself is breathing. It grows brighter as she stands firm, picking up her sword and glaring at Zilmarn through her helmet. She readies herself and charges at him again.
The echoes of metal and scale ring out into the empty throne room. Scorch marks litter the entire area, and soon the marble floor can no longer be recognized through all of the soot and ash. The battle rages for an entire hour, until finally, the Hero lines her sword into an upward angle. Lunging it upward so that her blade is delivered underneath the breastplate and into the torso. The flesh splits and the sword is plunged straight through Zilmarn’s chest. Poking out of his back several inches. The bloodied blade nearly camouflaged inside of his crimson hair.
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Zilmarn takes a deep breath and looks down at the triumphant Hero. She has a glare that could render any person to their knees. Her previously shiny and pristine armor has been stained with soot and now blood. Select small pieces of her armor missing, having been lost during the hour-long final battle. Zilmarn looks at his mace and tosses it aside. It glows bright orange and then vanishes into thin air.
“Excellently done… Hero. You have landed a fatal blow against me. Without healing, I will surely die. Even if I am healed, the injury may still kill me. You have done… all that I have wanted.”
The Hero looks perplexed. Zilmarn stands up straight with the sword sticking out of his torso still. Buried to the hilt inside of his chest. He gives a single wave of his hand and his armor is removed. Leaving him in dark clothes, his shirt split down the middle to reveal his muscular form. He turns his back to the Hero and approaches the throne once more.
“I have waited so long for this, Hero. After my campaign had ended, my work in this world was completed.”
The Hero follows along on foot, still confused, but listening.
Zilmarn approaches the throne and sits down with a heavy sigh, the blade still stuck in his chest. Having left behind a trail of blood on the floor with each step. Progressively getting worse. Once fully seated, Zilmarn grips the handle of the blade and pulls it out of his torso with a heavy grunt. Tossing the blood-covered blade back to the Hero. Speaking up with a smile as he leans back, his breathing growing heavier.
“The last dragon in this world has been slain. Not a single one remains. Not of any color. With my death, dragonkind is extinct. For a decade, I roamed the land looking for any others… to no avail. I was all alone.”
Zilmarn’s head tilts as he leans on the throne for support to keep himself upright.
“I will never apologize for the things I have done, and the lives I have slain. I have no remorse. Those who I deemed guilty, perished. That was my quest. My duty. And once it was finished, I waited for one to come and close the book.”
He gestures to the hole inside his torso. Finally, the Hero speaks up.
“You are finished, Zilmarn! With this, my duty to this world is complete and I can finally return home! Peace will wash over this land like a great wave and in time, you and I will be forgotten.”
As the statement finishes, a beacon of holy light falls onto the Hero’s body. Her body begins to glow and dissipate. Zilmarn smiles again and takes a deep breath through his nose.
“I’m counting on it.”
He leans back completely and allows his head to look up to the ceiling.
“The deal was struck, Goddess. I hope a few decades hasn’t harmed your memory! Send me to the world of the one who has slain me, so that I may begin anew!”
The Hero scoffs and looks away in disgust.
“The Crimson Cataclysm, calling for the Goddess of all things? I never thought I’d see the day. She would never strike a deal with a villain like you!”
A second beam of light comes down and covers Zilmarn’s body, who also begins to glow. The Hero is visibly shocked and stunned by this. And in her mind, she can only think “Why?”.
Zilmarn smiles and looks at the Hero with a smug grin. His blood continued to pour out, having covered the front portion of the throne between his legs.
“See you later, Hero. If we meet again, let’s try to keep things a bit more friendly.”
The Hero stomps her foot and yells out.
“I refuse to accept this! You cannot come to my world! Goddess! My world is even weaker than this one. We do not have mana. We do not have magic and sorcery! We only have technology! This villain will bring untold suffering!”
Zilmarn shrugs with a grin and gains a cocky tone in his voice.
“Sorry Hero. My deal was made way before yours was. I got seniority on you~!”
He laughs out through coughs as defeat marks his true victory, and the two bodies vanish into radiant white and yellow dust. Plucked from this world and teleported away. Both being sent to Earth. The Hero’s home world, and the Dragon Lord’s new home.