The Last Demon's Champion

It should have been over. The stink of burning flesh and ashes shouldn't be coating his body and filling his nose as this once strong and proud man ambled past the burnt and sundered bodies of his friends and comrades. That this exchange cost the demons greatly made no difference, there was no winner here, no victory to proclaim for either side.

Aegan, the Great Sage and last of the summoned champions of this world cast his one remaining eye over the sea of corpses (what was left of them) spread in every direction and could only wonder "where did it all go wrong?". The remains of two mighty armies sprawled out both before and behind him, most thrown visibly backwards from the enormous blackened crater that divided them, like rag dolls that had been thrown by some enormous child's hand leaving their bodies battered and broken.

One side was human, with armor shining here and there in the slowly fading light, many of their faces still caught between surprise and horror. At the foreground of which were the remains of 9 mighty heroes, armor that had once glistened white and gold now filthy and broken, as their bodies lay twisted on the ground.

The last stand of this generations mighty heroes only barely holding back the tide of darkness that had meant to sweep across the world. One looked up at Aegan, his hand stretching out in a plea, before falling back into the dust his eyes unseeing forever more.

"You have failed…" Came a harsh whisper from across the vast crater that still burned along the edges, the flames devouring both plant life and bodies with equal ferocity. The speaker, a once great demon lord of the 13 Rulers, knelt shaking with his body appearing to slowly turn to ashes and fade away before Aegan's very eye.

At one time just moments ago an imposing creature, standing at 10 feet tall with bulging muscles and a magical presence that seemed to darken the light of the sun itself, it now had not even the strength to stand. Its last act appeared to be of spite, throwing Aegan's failure in his face with a pained yet cruel smile.

"You gathered your champions and met us here, yet we still have four remaining. Demon lords who have powers far greater than we and yet here you stand, alone. The last of the human's champions…" Its words were broken off by a hacking cough that accelerated its body's collapse, a whole arm drifting into the air, joining the ash and dust that lay strewn across the battlefield.

"I only wish I could be there to see the light fade from your eye as we take it from you. Your last hope… is… already…" With more hacking coughs punctuating the creature's final words, it fell forward and crashed to the ground, its remaining body cracking and appearing to vanish as it lost its form and became nothing more than another lump of ash coating the bodies of its brethren.

Aegan cast his eye around the wreckage, as the Demon breathed it's last. At the very limit of his vision he felt a shadowy presence, hidden in the dust and ash billowing in the air. It disappeared as quickly as he felt it yet a cold sweat began to trickle down the back of his neck turning the accumulated dirt and ash into muddy filth dripping down the inside of his once imposing golden robes.

Wasting no time in understanding the creature's final words he shook his head and began to cast his teleportation spell back to the capital. Yet even as a bright light engulfed him and his form faded away, allowing the crows circling high above to finally swoop down and feast, no longer fearful of the injured yet mighty hero's presence his thoughts circled like a song on repeat.

"Where did it all go wrong?"

...................

King Allaan, ruler of a nation that although mighty, had declined rapidly in recent years paced back and forth in study. As flickering torchlight illuminated the deep creases worn into his face over the years dark thoughts and worries swirled through his mind. Clad in a deep crimson robe, he had continued to wear his crown in the hopes he would momentarily be welcoming back his army like hero's, secure in their victory. However, like all his subjects, he too had witnessed the explosion from miles away, its light piercing into the heavens like the sun pushing back the encroaching night.

At first applause had echoed through the streets and hope shined on every face at the thought that maybe, just maybe, the war with the vicious Demon Clan might finally be over. Yet minutes had turned to hours passing by and no word had been carried from the battlefield. Soldiers standing on the parapets of the castle and along the city walls became tense and fearful. The few remaining citizens walking the streets began jumping at shadows, thinking every stray cat or echo down an alley was a forewarning of the Demons coming to claim their souls.

Allaan was once a vibrant young man and his body still held the promise of a warrior's body from his youth. Yet age and many years of statecraft instead of time on the battlefield had allowed his body to decline, his hair changing from deep black to a silvery grey at his temples with the stresses and weights of leadership. As his pacing grew to a fever pitch a hurried knock sounded on the oaken doors of his study.

"Come!" He ordered briskly.

A butler in red and silver livery opened the door, his face pale and panting displaying his fear as he had run as fast as he could to share the news.

"My lord, Sir Aegan has returned!" he hurriedly reported trying to catch his breath.

"Take me to him, now!" The king replied already making for the door. The butler attempted a half bow and ran back in the direction he'd come, down the hall and towards a vast staircase, the king a half step behind him. As the butler lead him through the castle the King quickly realized with fear that instead of leading him to the main antechamber the butler was taking him towards the healer's wing and hastened his step overtaking the man in a half dozen strides.

Stepping through the large double doors the King was met with a beehive of activity as white robed Healers ran this way and that, grabbing towels, blankets and water while the rest hovered around a bed a few rows down, magical light reflecting off the grey walls and outshining the nearby lanterns with a mystical radiance. Allaan hurried over and was stopped a few feet away by a fierce looking elderly man, his body held up by an ancient looking staff with a brilliant crystal atop it which was quickly shaken in the kings face.

"No further Sire, he's been badly wounded and any questions you have will have to bloody well wait until we've stabilized him!" The elderly Healer said sternly.

"I need-"

"We all need information but if I let you interrupt now then he won't last the night!"

Consternation crossed the King's face as he warred between his need for information and his champions safety. After a short time, his champions safety won out and the King backed down sinking heavily into a nearby chair. Seeing the fight fade out of the King the elderly healer turned back to the process at hand, healing the battered man lying on the bed as he shook in pain.

Allaan watched as the process went on for hours and hours. Healers swapped out for one another and passed out on nearby cots, utterly exhausted. It wasn't until the early hours of the morning as the sun began to rise that the process was completed. As the rest of the Healers began to slowly stagger away, the elderly Healer turned to the King and said "He's finally stable, he needs rest now, but you can ask your questions when he wakes" then left the exhausted King and Champion to rest.

Many more hours passed before Aegan stirred, the King quickly jumping to his feet and reached his bedside grabbing the man's hand.

"My lord…" Aegan croaked out his voice parched and worn.

"Aegan, what happened?" The king whispered quietly while gesturing to a nearby servant to grab some water. The man brought a cup quickly and held Aegan's head up to sip the water carefully, ignoring the coughing and splutters that occurred. As he gently lay his head back down, Allaan squeezed the Champions hand a gently repeated his question.

"What happened?"

Aegan coughed harshly a few more times before resting his remaining eye on the Kings lined and worn face.

"I'm sorry my King but they are dead, all of them…"