Fall of the Demon Lord

“It’s been two centuries since our lord and savior had fallen, hasn’t it.”

The left hand, an arachne, currently not in her full form, was pouring wine into a glass. After savouring the rich aroma, sitting on her small couch, she took a small sip.

“Many years of commanding the backlines, meaningful indeed.” The puppeteer, previously right hand of the demon lord, was standing at the window, looking out into the treacherous seas and billowing storms. “I sure wonder who shall take the throne next.”

“I’m tired of war, and fate, and the stories, curses of the gods.” The arachne nonchalantly voiced her thoughts.

“But Silvia, don’t you think it’s a great story?” Some puppets magically appeared in his hands, and he played them with finesse.

“The demon lord, tramping over men’s land. Silvia, of the Hearing Walls, standing by the demon lord’s left. Yth, the Puppeteer, standinding on the right. And suddenly, one boy stood up, a boy with great power, defeating the king of demons, and his great army of death.”

“Who’s side are you on, Yth. Besides, it’s not like Lord Tartatus wanted to start that war.” Osiris Tartarus, the previous demon lord. A lich, who, although ruled with an iron fist, cared for his subordinates just as much. Leading his undead army, along with many other races of demons, he invaded the lands of men, unwillingly, but diligently.

“Indeed, he did not. Fate is cruel to its defiers.” The puppets disappeared in a small puff of smoke. He remembered the day, clear as crystal. The hero, with his sword, Arias, had arrived in the throne room. Lord Tartarus had forced both his hands away with a teleportation spell. Facing the hero alone, he fell, silently, accepting his fate.

“The gods play cruel games…” The puppeteer continued to glimpse out into the sea, his gloved hand balling up into a fist, remembering all too vividly.

~~~

“Legion One has fallen!”

A skeleton rushed into the throne room. Kneeling, he announced the defeat of his comrades.

“What! Impossible. I had made sure that-” Lord Osiris stopped the puppeteer with a hand. “Is there anything else to report?” He questioned the skeleton messenger.

“Yes sir! The legion was defeated by a small army of the United Factions, led by the-”

“Reporting! The Second Legion was destroyed by the pyromancer army of the United Factions!”

“How is our great army being destroyed so quickly! What blasphemy is this!” The puppeteer couldn’t contain his anger. “Ever since that hero had appeared, we had only been having defeat after defeat!”

“It is only natural. The… Hero, is a supernatural being, in human skin, if I may.” Lord Tartarus slowly said. The lord made a gesture to the messengers“Both of you are dismissed, you are allowed to flee. Go!” The skeleton messengers bowed and were out of the castle soon after.

“Yth, do you know the story of our first ancestor?” The demon lord asked the puppeteer.

“The forgotten deity, banished for his opinions on the creation of the world, was punished to an eternal game of fate, and all of his decendants are forced to participate as well.” He knew the story all too well, for the demon lord has told it during speeches to his armies many times.

“This is us complying with fate, all will end when the time is right.” Lord Tartarus got off his throne of skulls, and strode towards a window. Looking out, he saw fire, smoke, blood, and a wasteland of withered trees, long dead in the wide, toxic lands. He watched as his armies were taken apart, unit by unit, legion by legion.

The door to the throne room opened, a tall woman with a silky, white dress walking in. “Silvia, welcome, I suppose you have news. Although I can guess.” The demon lord mused. “All battlefronts have been annihilated, my lord, along with much of my kin.” She spoke, monotonely. “What are your orders?”

The demon lord studied her eyes, and slowly, he gave it. “Tell every last living soldier, they are to retreat, to flee, and never step foot in this land again. The demon lord has fallen, and they are to be free, to do anything they wish. My undead will hold the United Factions off, it should be enough time for them to run.”

“... “ The spider was reluctant. “Orders received, I will inform my kin immediately.” She closed behind her as she strode to her spot beside the throne, as the demon lord’s left hand.

“Both of you are allowed to retreat as well, I will face the hero, Ryuuto Fujiwara, myself.” He told them, still standing at the window. The demon lord was prepared to face his destiny, to die in battle against the forces of good, and be forgotten in time.

“I refuse.” Both hands spoke in sync. They looked at each other, surprised at their synchronization. “My life, has been yours ever since you picked me up from the harsh streets of mankind.” The puppeteer started. “If not for you, I would have rotted away inside that cage as a child, never to know the pleasures of living, do great things…”

“My kin have served demon lords since the beginning of history, serving as their eyes and ears, and their various other needs.” She fidgeted a little when mentioning the various other needs. “If I die, it will be here with my lord, and if fate allows, we will be replaced. Another arachne, another demon lord.” the spider spoke her thoughts as well.

“How I am blessed, to have such loyal subjects, in this cursed world…” The demon sighed. “Well then, since this will be my last moments. I suppose it’s time I told someone.” He walked back to the throne, his two hands wondering what he had to say.

He took off his crown, symbol of the reign of the demon lord. “I am not, the real demon lord, in definition.”

Both the puppeteer and the arachne were shocked to hear this. “What do you mean, not the real demon lord, sire?” Yth didn’t understand what the lord was talking about. “This is no time for jokes, my lord.” Silvia’s voice was still monotone, but her face says otherwise.

“I don’t blame you…” Lord Tartarus inspected his crown, a ring of black, with linings of gold and small red gems in each segment. “Many years after the death of a demon lord, a hundred, maybe two hundred years. A ritual is held. A tournament, to see who is worthy of the crown.” He remembered the three great houses that had competed to win the crown. Lucifer, Diabolica, and his own, Tartarus.

“As you can see, I had won the tournament. I split mountains, parted seas, rose infernos, felled enemies. And, the instant I touched this crown, I knew.” He held out his crown, for whoever to see. “This crown, this symbol of power, rulership, it was not real. Someone already had it, someone ancient, powerful.”

“Someone was already fighting fate, with all their might.”

Then, the door burst open. The hero rushed in, with his sword.

“Wretched Demon Lord! I have come for your head, prepare to die for your sins!” The hero shouted across the room, the blade of his sword Arias facing Lord Osiris Tartarus.

“Rude. Have you never heard of… knocking?” The demon lord stopped his subordinates, who were already preparing to retaliate. “Is this how they educate the common folk of men, hero?”

“You, who have taken the lives of many, and you talk to me about education. Blasphemy, outrageous, have you no shame on what sins you have committed?” The hero paid no heed to the demon lord’s words, and declared his righteousness.

“Indeed, I believe I need not, such things.” The demon lord got off his seat, and slowly walked around the room. “A long time ago, there was a boy, who was… different.” The hero turned to face him, waiting for him to attack.

“One day, many humans had found this boy, and put him in a cage.” The demon lord slowly continued. “They used the boy, to make money, lots of money. They gave him water, dirty water. They gave him food, moldy from time. Whenever the boy did his job poorly, they would beat the boy, calling him a useless mouth to feed. Whenever the boy earned a fair share, they would still beat the boy, and fool around with the money they had taken.”

The hero believes the demon lord was buying time for something, something malicious. “What are you waiting for-”

“BUT!” Osiris shouted, cutting off the hero’s words and continuing his monologue. “But. One day, one unlucky day. The demons had come, and they ransacked the city. Houses burned, people died. The men were having fun around with the money they had earned using the boy. When they saw the demons, they ran, leaving the boy to die. The strange boy, the different boy, whom humans had used like a tool, and thrown away at their expense.”

This was the story of Yth, the puppeteer. He was forced to perform, and made a lot out of it, which the slavers had taken away. He was surprised that the demon lord had told his story to the hero.

“What do you wish to gain, for telling me this.” The hero questioned the demon lord.

“Well, you see, and I see. I see, that you humans, are no better than us, worse even. Your churches are frauds, abusing the name of the holy one for their greedy gains. Kings, rulers, they oppress the common, and exterminate them when they rebel.” The demon lord explained. “Your mercenaries and adventurers and anyone who has enough power, will use others to gain merit at their sorry expense. Used like slaves, tools! To be thrown away. You, men, have no loyalty, lawless.”

“Enough of your excuses, lay down your life now, and I promise it will be swift.” The hero gestured with his sword and pointed the tip and the demon lord.

“You seem to not know your place, hero. Take a look.” The demon lord stopped at one of the windows. The army of the United Factions were outside, waiting to charge into the castle and ready to take the demon lord’s head off. He swiped his arm, and the ground outside split, devouring many of the knights who couldn’t get out of the way. Their screams and shouts could be heard from all the way up the castle. As the knights fell into the seemingly endless chasm, skeletons and undead started to climb up, pulling more unlucky soldiers down and ambushing the rest.

“All these men, good or bad. As long they stand on the wasteland, they are at my mercy. And you, boy, should listen to what men who have lived long, have to say.

“You coward, using dirty tricks!” The hero exclaimed.

“I think not, that they are dirty tricks. What about your ‘holy’ magic, fatal to my undead soldiers. It seems dirty, to me, to be able to destroy my comrades so quickly.” The demon lord retorted.

“You dare sully the name of god?” The hero accused.

“No, I actually do believe they exist, and respect them greatly. In contrast, my earth magic surely doesn’t seem dirty to me. Men, monsters, and all living beings, will eventually return to the earth, and nurture other forms of life. Surely, the god of nature would approve, just as lost souls would return to the sky. Do you? Dare sully the name of mother nature.”

“And what about the skeletons, if you believe in the holy word, you should let the dead rest.” The hero inquired.

But Osiris Tartarus already had an answer. “There have been accounts in history. A goddess, a goddess so merciful and kind. She believed that all men, good or bad, child or elder, they deserved to have a second chance, to live again. But, the goddess was not very powerful. She was weak, a minor deity, and could only bring their souls back into their bodies, already rotten. When the poor undead tried to visit their friends and families, they were called monsters, evil abominations, and were then again killed, by the hands of whom they had called their friends and family, much to the sorrow of the kind, merciful goddess.”

The demon lord soon returned to his throne of skulls. Still standing, he continued to speak to the hero, looking at not particularly anything. “You know, I’ve always wanted to try giving up my throne, after I have fulfilled my task, given to me by fate. Hmm… retirement, you’d call it. Retirement after years upon years of destruction.” He then looked the hero in the eyes with his hollow ones.“But, I think that’s enough talking, if you want my head, so be it. I shall gladly accept my fate.” He lifted his hand in the air.

“Another trick up your sleeve? It will not work against me!”

Snap!

Two teal magic circles appeared, under both the arachne and the puppeteer. It was teleportation magic.

“Wait! No! Sire! Let me help-!”

Yth had been forcefully sent away.