Random stories

*Never be at the mercy of a Good Man, for the Good Man will slay you without a word.*

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Desitorus III stood aghast as his lair and castle lay in ruins, rent asunder by the Hero; stone and wood shredded to strands and ribbons, and his minions and supporting servants liquefied as the power the Hero had tapped into showed upon his face.

Desitorus made his face a mask as he feigned indifference under the now very real fear that wound its noose around his pounding heart. As he stared into the Hero's eyes, his own heart actually stalled for a second, stumbling back to its normal rhythm.

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*The Evil Man, should he have you at his mercy, will brag and gloat. He will indulge his inner monster, who wants to show you how much* better *he is than you are. He will think of all kinds of unimaginable tortures, providing all kinds of opportunities for escape or success in foiling the Evil Man's plans.*

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As Desitorus faced off against the Hero, their blades clashing in a masterclass of one-on-one combat, the pearlescent scythe against an onyx halberd, the sounds were only heard by the two combatants and the Divines who had wagered on the outcome. And as the clash continued beyond what Desitorus thought would be an easy victory, and into the realms of minutes, he knew that even his stamina reserves would be exhausted.

But he made the critical mistake of speaking as the minutes of nothing but metallic scrapes and heavier breathing took hold.. "You should have been powerless against me. I killed your friends. The Prophecies all claimed that the power of Friendship would destroy the Demon King."

And as he finished the last word, Desitorus miscalculated, angling his halberd just too much, and the scythe cut through the shaft cleanly. And *then* he looked into the Hero's eyes again.

And what he saw was a desolation far vaster than worlds colliding; a void so desolate, that his emotions crumbled under the searing weight of the Hero's desert of despair and dispassion; an ocean so full, that a man could die in a thrashing curse in its depths.

And for a moment, he understood the completeness of his error. For he had still been destroyed by the power of Friendship - just not as he had intended.

The scythe severed the body into its parts as the Hero calmly dismembered Desitorus in a series of three strikes.

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*Never be at the mercy of a Good Man, for the Good Man understands the nature of evil, and its use of lies and deceit. So he strikes without rancour, and without passion. For passion lies worst of all.*

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Submitted by mischaracterised on Fri, Apr 21, 2023 to /r/WritingPrompts/

The prompt

Knowing the hero would call upon the power of friendship to win against them, the villain simply killed all the hero's friends. What he didn't expect is what the power of grief looked like.