In the heart of a desolate, otherworldly realm, a lone man faced the embodiment of evil itself—the Demon Lord that had tormented the world for centuries. The air crackled with dark energy as the two adversaries circled each other, the very ground beneath them trembling with the weight of their attacks.
The man, fueled by a combination of ancient martial arts and an unyielding spirit, adopted a defensive stance. His eyes, pools of determination, locked onto the malevolent figure before him. The Demon Lord, towering and wreathed in sinister shadows, unleashed a guttural roar, the very sound echoing through the dark abyss.
With a burst of agility, the man lunged forward, his fists a blur as he unleashed a rapid flurry of punches aimed at the Demon Lord's midsection. Each strike carried the weight of generations, the collective suffering of a world oppressed by darkness. The Demon Lord, however, absorbed the blows with an ethereal resilience, its laughter echoing and making the man feel just the slightest bit inadequate.
Clenching his fists with fury, the man transitioned seamlessly from punches to kicks, his feet a whirlwind of strikes. He targeted the Demon Lord's limbs, seeking to cripple the malevolent entity. But the Demon Lord moved with an otherworldly grace, deflecting and evading the onslaught with supernatural speed.
The Demon Lord teleported a few feet away and crossed his arms. "Come on, I have waited so long for this! Don't tell me this is the best humanity has to offer," he shook his head in disappointment. "Are you really the hero that will kill me and, oh, free this poor world from my clutches?"
The hero ignored the playful banter and instead steadied his breath. For that monster, it might be just fun and games, but for him, this was a fight to the death, and failure wasn't an option. He couldn't afford to dirty the memories of his fallen comrades. He sacrificed so much, and his goal was just there; all he had to do was win this final fight, and then everything would be better for everyone else. He didn't care if he were to die to achieve it; there was nothing left for him anyway.
The demon lord clicked his tongue in annoyance. "There you go again, going all serious on me. What, too good to answer to little old me?" He started picking his teeth. "Sixteen years waiting for the chosen one, the star in the sky, the champion of the realm and world savior... some prophecy it resulted in being."
The hero stayed silent while ignoring the mocking. "How boring. You ended up being just their ultimate doom, mistake after mistake, slowly losing your forces to this majestic Lord, crying yourself to sleep like a little brat. You even managed to break the holy sword. The world ran out of luck when you were born, it seems."
The hero calmly locked eyes with the Demon Lord. This was the monster that, one day, brought the whole world under his heels, conquered the great empire, ravaged villages out of pure boredom, and even killed a deity. Now that he was in front of him, he could only lament not training hard enough when he was young, being a foolish kid with a head full of sugar and rainbows whose goal was just to save everyone. No, he should have trained with the goal of destroying this guy. Who cares about the how? All he managed to do all this time was, as that guy so graciously pointed out, weaken humanity even further.
Everyone was blinded by the prophecies, unable to listen to logic and see that following the words of a moron who hadn't even picked up a sword before was plain madness. At least none of his friends were here to see him; they would surely strangle him for daring to piss on their memories by getting lost in regret in the middle of a fight.
With a sudden surge of aggression, the Demon Lord lunged, and the hero met the attack with swift, precise strikes. Hands and feet blurred in a dance of combat, a symphony of martial prowess against the otherworldly menace. The hero's strikes were like thunder, and for a moment, it seemed victory was within grasp.
Yet, the Demon Lord, an ancient entity of malevolence, grew bored with the simplicity of the duel. With a malicious grin, it unleashed a torrent of powerful magic, the very fabric of reality warping in response to its dark will. Arcane bolts shot through the air, forcing the hero to abandon close combat and dance through the onslaught.
Undeterred, the hero evaded each magical assault with acrobatic grace. The very ground trembled under the might of the Demon Lord's displeasure, but the hero pressed on. Each magical wave was met with a counter—a roll, a leap, a quick strike to redirect the energies. The hero was determined to end it all today.
Initially amused by the hero's audacity, the Demon Lord grew impatient as time went on. Bored of waiting to see what else the hero had to offer, it decided to unleash the full force of its dark magic. Arcane energies crackled in the air as the Demon Lord's eyes glowed with an otherworldly intensity.
Flames erupted, ice shards rained, and shadows coiled. Battered and bruised, the hero drew upon an inner strength. Energy coursed through their veins as they closed the distance once more, dodging and deflecting the onslaught with righteous fury, for it was these spells that had killed so many innocent people.
These spells... they are what took them away from me!" Now furious, the hero grabbed one of the dark orbs and crushed it with his hand, ignoring the searing pain that such an action brought. He was slowly losing himself in anger, filling with energy familiar to him—the same he lost when the holy sword broke. But all he cared about was revenge.
In a burst of raw power, the hero's fists and feet became conduits for the anger of the Demon Lord's victims. A flurry of strikes, infused with an energy that defied demonic magic, landed on the Demon Lord. The air crackled with tension as the hero's relentless assault began to take its toll.
"You... bastard!" The demon tried to grab the blurry punches but was rewarded with a kick to his face that smashed one of his horns to bits before receiving once more a barrage of punches.
With a final, resounding blow, the hero delivered a strike that sent shockwaves through the Demon Lord's form. The lair echoed with a demonic roar as the once-mighty entity crumbled, dissipating into the ether. The hero stood amidst the dissipating magical energies, panting but victorious.
"Finally... after so long... I won." The hero looked around as the dark dimension collapsed, bringing him back to the demon lord's castle. After everything that had happened, he was feeling drowsy, his body in extreme pain, and completely exhausted mentally. All he wanted to do was close his eyes and let darkness take him... forever.
Which, considering the cracks forming on his hands and feet, was likely to happen. His only regret was never really being able to save anyone; he failed so many times that instead of a hero, people should have called him an avenger.
He could finally understand the pain and misery people went through after being hit by the demon lord's darkness. His flesh was slowly disintegrating and turning to dust. This was the ultimate dark magic, the destruction of all life, the antithesis of holy magic, which was creation and rebirth.
What happens when the purest of holy energy combines with the darkest of energies inside someone is yet to be seen. 'Glad to have the honor of witnessing it firsthand,' he thought sardonically before passing out.