“Your reign of terror ends here!” I sneered at the man who thought he was a hero across from my squad of elite killers. There were no such things as heroes.
“And you think you can defeat me. What are you? A hero?” I asked with ridicule.
“Yes! Even if you kill, my spirit will continue on, Gregorovich! You and your demons will not stand against righteousness.” What foolish words. Only power and the willingness to use it mattered in this hell. My men shifted restlessly but didn’t act. They were too well trained to disobey, and experts at killing. If there was speaking to be done, they knew I would handle it.
Finding the most brutal and dedicated killers and taking them under my wing had allowed me to form the core of my Demon Army. It was just a name, but a name that struck fear into the hearts of all. Already, the great Indian Sultanate was bulking under my probing attacks. But there had been a consistent thorn in my side that was going to be put down once and for all. Everyone called him Hero. Preposterous!
There were no such things. Even if there were, they were just helping a corrupt entrenched rulership suck the lifeblood of the people out. The people needed a strong guiding hand that focused their efforts. My guiding hand. My years in the gulag taught me much. One did not call it prison, like cushy American prisons. A gulag was a Russian prison, a hard prison, for hard people like myself.
Still, some pre-battle banter against the man who had killed many of my Demons would allow my other forces to move into position to attack various cities.
That was why I had dared to venture out myself. I was no weak leader hiding behind my armies. I would still let a few of my demons go first but strike the killing blow myself.
“I need no name. I have no name. I am the Hero that wields the Sword of Ascalon. The one sword that shall defeat the greatest of evils and save us all, as it has been foretold.” That was interesting, and I would be taking that weapon for myself. The blade was massive, stretching the height of a tall man. It had a golden sheen to it. The energy swirling around it was impressive. Someone clearly used a power-point to boost it up.
But it was just a weapon at the end of the day. A weapon was only as good as its wielder. “And who foretold this?” I asked, trying to get more information out of this idiot.
“A true vision gifted by the Sword of Ascalon itself, the hand of destiny guides me.” I didn’t want the sword as much anymore. It clearly drove whoever picked it up insane. The fact this hero didn’t recognize that he was about to die, clearly showed the sword was doing something to his brain with all the energy it was giving off.
“Kill him,” I said loudly. The so-called hero brought up the Sword of Ascalon and a golden glow formed around it. The beam attacks my men launched at him washed over the golden glowing shield that enveloped the man, destroying the ground around him, but not penetrating.
That was within my expectations, since I knew of that ability. The beam attacks finished, and the hero shot forward. Passible skill, but clearly too weak. My front-line demons unleashed short range skills, but the hero dodged around them, struggling to stay ahead of them with his technique. He was clearly new to his stats. His stats were high since those decrepit fossils had invested into him.
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That was when the mental attacks struck. Powerful mental attacks. That was the secret I had against people who were troublesome. So, few invested enough into Mind and Aura stats to counter high level mind attacks. The hero stumbled and went to his knees. It was over.
“Ascalon, the hour has come!” the man shouted. The sword glowed even brighter. My men kept up attacks, but they were dispersed, not even blocked. The Hero’s eyes were glowing bright gold. I quickly began going through the hand signs and footsteps to boost my innate defensive skill, my trump card.
“Null Shield Disperse Angled Reinforce Null,” I quickly chanted as I pushed all my considerable energy into the skill. Even then, the sense of danger kept increasing as all my demons’ attacks failed against the increasing golden glow.
“DISRUPT ALL!” The entire world seemed to split as the glowing hero swung the Sword of Ascalon. Up was down. Down was up. The amount of energy was overwhelming and blinding. The power of the attack rushed around me for a split second.
It was over. I was gasping for breath. My innate defensive skill had barely held. There was nothing but splotches of blood and viscera across the broken ground along with destroyed clothing and equipment. That was complete and utter bullshit!
I looked at the hero in fear. But the glow had faded, and they collapsed into dust. I spat to the side. A suicide attack. Well, at least I got the sword. A small consolation after losing a good part of my core demons. But it didn’t matter. I could recruit and train up more. With this hero dead, there was no one left to stand against me.
The Sultanate was finished. I walked forward across the torn of up ground towards the sword. I froze as it suddenly rose up into the air. What? It then shot away into the distance. WHAT?!
I collapsed to my knees in despair and shock. All of that and it just flew off. I closed my eyes trying to hold back tears of despair and frustration. What horrible and stupid person had created such a thing? It was obviously based on the story I had heard in hindsight. It was both monumentally stupid and clever at the same time.
Only a power-point could create such a thing. Ask for a weapon that would go to the next person to earn a power-point, but before they claimed it. A magical sword after a tough battle, people would think it was a reward. So, they would pick it up. Then their mind would be messed with by whomever created the stupid sword in the first place.
Then they would pick a power-point to empower the weapon. It had three power-points invested into it at the very least. Now it would soon have four power-points and another person to carry it around. Utter despair griped me. I had won the battle, but the war was lost.
NO! I was Gregorovich! I never gave up. I stood up, my gaze hardening. I had felt despair many times before. But I refused to be forgotten once again. If another hero came, I would just kill them. Over and over, it did not matter how many times I killed them, I would keep killing them. Until there was no one left to claim that sword.
Or I would convince the person who claimed it to work for me. Eventually that would work, if I just killed enough people. I was good at killing. I spat to the side once again. The sword may have been powerful, but it was still just a tool.
I looked at the carnage and broken equipment and shook my head. What a waste of manpower. While there was always more. Perhaps I would send out small children and beautiful women next time. A hero couldn’t just kill the innocent, could they? I never used human shields before. It was a stupid tactic that I killed other people trying to use.
Life was cheap. The only thing that was cheap around here. The lost points hurt more than anything else. I turned away and began moving back towards my mobile command. The Indian Sultanate would not hold, even with ten heroes. Such a person could not be everywhere at once, which was why I had devised this strategy to split my forces and lure them out.
It had worked, just not in the way I had hoped. But that was life. When life gives you shit, you use that shit to grow some food to survive.