This is the way I pray
by LazerTH
The stone façade broke apart, and Zakum was defeated for the millionth time. He was getting really tired of getting his ancient demonic rear kicked by a bunch of kids whose lifespan on this mortal coil could be measured in double digits.
"If only I could escape again," he rumbled to himself after the adventurers looted his treasure and scampered off to divide the spoils. But he could not escape again; he had been sealed once more, irrevocably, by the Harlequin, that dark master of the forbidden runes. He was sealed in this torturous prison of stone, fire and metal, his spirit bound to the Zakum Tree that dropped its deadly fruit, the Eye of Fire.
Every day, he was summoned by adventurers whose numbers overwhelmed his arcane magic. Magic! Reduced to a flailing magician! How he longed to hold his axe again! Every day, they broke him to pieces and looted his remains, and every day, the forbidden runes inscribed upon his body by the Harlequin regenerated his stone prison. It would go on day after day after day, destruction and rebirth, each 'death' as painful as the last. Occasionally a stupid adventurer or two would wander inside, curious, and he would feast upon their souls, but they were as drops of soothing water in this everlasting lake of fire.
"Freedom," he prayed to whatever god would listen.
And that day, a god replied.
"Zakum," a voice purred in his ear. The demon started from his deep brooding.
"Who speaks the name of Zakum?"
"I have many names. Do you know what it is like to be in Paradise, and then be cast into Hell?"
"Hell? Heaven? I was once king and god over this mortal world, only to be cast down to this infernal prison!" Zakum gnashed his rocky teeth.
"Close enough," the voice murmured, "I offer you that freedom again, if you will serve me."
"I serve neither mortal nor god!"
"I will not be denied."
The Presence opened its mind for but one second to Zakum, and what the immortal demon felt in that instant shook him to the core.
Darkness. Darkness more terrible than Zakum's mind had ever dreamt or imagined. Zakum may have lorded over the single world of Maple, but this terrible Presence seemed to touch every sphere in the universe, seeping into every crack of the cosmos, enveloping the stars themselves in its shroud. But even more horrific than its infinite darkness was the insurmountable fury and hatred boiling within this Presence. It was a loathing that grew and grew, made eternal by its eternal separation from the divine source of its birth. It was this hatred, borne in lonely exile, which shocked Zakum to silence.
"However," the deceptively calm voice interrupted Zakum's astonishment, "It seems you prefer enslavement. Very well; I shall leave you."
Zakum felt the Presence recede, and cried out, "Stay."
"Ah," the voice chuckled, "So you are desperate."
"I will… serve you," Zakum bit out the words, wrenching servitude from his twisted soul, "Only free me, so that I may rend the heavens and the earth in vengeance!"
The Presence laughed at him. It was snide, mocking, making him, the mighty Zakum, feel small.
"Your obedience is welcome, little demon. Messenger? Free him."
A tremor shook the foundations of the dungeon. The ceiling split apart with a resounding CRACK the same time the lava and rock below Zakum heaved upward.
El Nath's volcano erupted Zakum in a terrific spray of magma, a display befitting his return. As the demon fell, the Surge and Seal runes imprisoning his true form faded away. So great was the eruption that Zakum hit the ground just outside El Nath. His true form, unbound by Harlequin runes, was a humanoid of angelic stature; well over thirty feet tall, with flames for skin and smoke for clothing. His eight arms had fused into two, and now they reached inside his body to pull forth his dread double-bladed axe, its cruel edges forged from the very fire of his being. With his awesome weapon slung over one shoulder, Zakum breathed the wintry air of freedom, and as he exhaled his fiery breath turned a few houses to ash.
"With my freedom comes the freedom of my minions! Let chaos rage through the lands!" Zakum thundered, casting a summoning spell.
888
Mike was dozing off on guard duty, as usual. Since he could remember, not one monster had bothered to emerge from the fetid depths of Victoria Island's dungeon. The only things that came in and out were adventurers seeking their fortune or looking for good training grounds. Despite this, Mike had to stand in front the dungeon all day and all night, wearing full plate armour in the sweltering heat between Perion's valley walls. The fire boars roaming the area ignored him, since he had been standing there before they were born.
Over the years his nose learnt to ignore the foul stench of his sweat rusting the armour he wore. He had no wife to complain about it, nor did he have children to look up to him, wishing they could be cool like their dad, trapped in a pressure cooker of his own bodily fluids.
But, a job was a job. He had nothing better to do with his life.
Years ago, his brother Luke expressed a desire to travel, but to this day Luke remained where he was, guarding the Henesys dungeon entrance, conning warriors into getting him all sorts of expensive, rare stuff in exchange for his old junk helmets! Mike could care less. What was Luke going to spend money on, a shiny new suit of armour to rust in? A new pole arm, perhaps? The man slept on the job all day, just like his brother Mike, both made sleepy by the heat. At least they had perfected sleeping with their eyes open, so that Dances with Balrog and Athena Pierce suspected nothing.
In exchange for the scorching sun, the moon brought a cold night. Mike was too busy nodding off to notice the pebbles dancing underfoot while every fire boar in the area fled, leaving the dungeon entrance in utter blackness. With the swiftness of a storm, the Junior Balrog, accompanied by stampeding underlings, charged out of the dungeon. Mike heard the inhumanly heavy footsteps and, thinking a Drake had strayed from its dinner table in the dungeon below, adopted an aggressive stance, spiky polearm quivering in the frosty air.
"Who goes there!?"
A Taurospear hefted its much, much bigger spear and poked the helmet right off of Mike who stood there blinking stupidly in the darkness.
"Huh? Who did that?"
The Junior Balrog huffed out one flaming breath, allowing Mike to see the large collection of dragons, minotaurs and the Balrog itself standing around him.
"Oh shi-" was all Mike could manage before the Balrog swung its claws at him, shattering his heavy armour like glass.
888
Junior Balrog and its entourage trampled the defenses of Perion, sending Blackbull and Ayan scurrying for cover while Junior Balrog rained flaming rocks from the sky, turning night into hellish day. Drakes chased Mr. Wang through the streets, scattering his precious storage items. While Arturo and Sophia barricaded the door to their potions shop, River and Harry, the weapon and armour store proprietors, came charging out of their shop wearing the special armour everyone who visited them could look at but not touch. They hacked and smashed Drakes into the dirt, much to Mr. Wang's relief. Meanwhile, Mr. Smith and Mr. Thunder, using the massive upper body strength of their blacksmithing trade, held their own against the giant minotaurs with great sweeping blows from their gigantic sledges. Dances with Balrog, of course, was facing the creature he was named after.
"I defeated you in the past, and I can do so again," he boasted, hefting the fearful Gaea axe behind his grinning demon shield. Junior Balrog snorted, and cast Meteo.
Dances with Balrog was struck square on the noggin by the space rock. He wobbled a bit.
"You dishonour yourself with a sneak attack!"
In response, Junior Balrog cast another Meteo that hit the same spot. A lump was forming through the proud warrior's oily black hair.
"How dare you!" he said, though slurred, "My father and his father before him would never tolerate…"
Hailing from the depths of space, another rock scored a bull's-eye on Sitting Bull's lump (that was his nickname, since all he did nowadays was sit around waiting for someone to pester him about job advancement). He was staggering, now.
"You fowr d'mon! Ah'll kill you…"
A fourth blast from outer space, and the concussion was deep seated, forcing Dances with Balrog into unconsciousness despite his bravado. The Balrog snorted a second time and trudged off to find something else to crush.
888
He watched his hometown burn. From his vantage point on the highest crag short of the Warrior Temple, Manji watched the flames rise. Through them he caught glimpses of sweat steaming off the hardened, but tiring muscles of the blacksmiths as they crushed one minotaur after the other. River and Harry had taken shelter with Mr. Wang inside Arturo and Sophia's potions shop, so the Drakes were trying to butt in through the door. But what made him more furious, made the bile rise to his throat, was the sight of the Balrog stomping through his town.
To the surprise of adventurers and NPC's everywhere, Manji took one flying leap off his cliff to land at the feet of the Balrog. Neither visitor nor resident of Perion had ever seen Manji so much as turn his head to look at them. The reticent hermit now stood there, wood weave hat bowed as usual, but this time one slim hand was upon the hilt of his katana.
"Living my life was not hard enough. The memory of you burns me alive inside. You took everything away."
With a contemptuous snort, the Balrog called Meteo from the heavens.
It missed, burrowing into the ground, leaving ashes in the air. The Balrog opened one glowing red eye in surprise. The little samurai was not standing where he had been a half-second ago…
Manji was floating above him, katana buried hilt-deep between the astonished and staring eyes of the Balrog.
"I watched the light die in my hero's eyes, and now in memory of him, the great hero Tristan, I will watch the light die in yours."
Manji tore his vengeful blade from the Balrog's skull, and the ensuing spurt of black blood stained his kimono as the Balrog fell dead at his feet with a great crash.
When Manji approached them, the dragons and minotaurs smelt the Balrog's blood on him, and they fled, leaving Perion to burn, leaving the fire smoldering in Manji's eyes.