This Story Ends

With his body hitting the floor, holes dug deep inside and cuts aplenty, the Demon Lord falls.

A tall, skinny, almost bone like body with muscles that looked like bunched and knotted vines twisted around a metal pole. Nine short horns adorned its visible skull, along with what looked like rose thorns poking out of its flesh every inch of its body. As well as what can only be described as a look of pure craze, and fear plastered on his face.

In what was once a grand grey and black throne room, home to what was considered the most powerful being in this world, debris, dust, and blood was thrown everywhere.

Around his fallen form lay one un-moving body, thrown to a random corner with their limbs twisted in one way or another, and four others.

Two men in their early 20s wearing battered rags with holes aplenty and breathing heavily stood still with a look of complete surprise on their tired faces. The smaller one of the group, a plain looking girl in the later half of her teens holding what looks like a broken wooden cane was sitting down, her knees buckled in hopelessness.

Between the three tired "heroes" and the fallen Demon Lord stood a man a full head taller than any of the others present. Wearing a dark black leather looking battle suit and a cloak. No exhaustion could be seen on his withered face, just a look of disappointment of having seen the latest batch of "recruits" to the Order.

V-42, or as he refers to himself as Wrack, was a man who looked like he was a mercenary who spent his whole life in battle. No scars adorned his grim face but just a look from him causes people to think that he has stared death in the face countless times and just simply shrugged it off. With white hair almost covering his red eyes, he stared at the falling heap of what should have been a powerful foe. Wearing a black suit of metallic looking fabric with small pockets adorning the majority of the space visible and an assortment of blueish needles on the side of his belt, he towered over this lifeless body.

Around him, dust was still falling in the air from the battle that had just finished moments ago, as well as several floating black daggers circling him like an autonomous robot. After kicking the head of the lifeless "Lord" with his metal soled boots to make sure there was nothing more he turned to the three remaining "Heroes" who was left. While the daggers surrounding him slowly fixed themselves in the many straps that adorned his clothes under his cloak.

"Do you know why you have failed this mission?" He asked with a placid tone

The remaining three, looking down at the battered floor, could not help themselves from looking back at their journey so far. One filled with much excitement, fun, and what they would hope to be a romantic story.

"You thought this was like any other story didn't you? One where no matter what happens you can get stronger and survive by merit of resolve alone." He growled.

"But there is no God here that gives you a special power, a System, or helps you when you lose. Like you hear in those old stories. Remember the power you have is what you worked for or was born with" he finished saying as he looked in the direction of the failures.

The two men continued to look down at the ground feeling more dejected and worthless the more they listened. "How naive could we have been?" they thought. While the female mage of the group even began to cry.

With a short sigh, Wrack continued "Well anyway, other than the loss of number 846, the rest of you remain unharmed. You will be sent back to the academy till your next test in another world in 8 months, so be prepared to fight, or flee. Now line up."

The two men slowly stashed their weapons away before helping their comrade up from the ground.

The three shook their heads after listening to their guardian's harsh remarks. They quietly exchanged looks among themselves knowing that what he said was exactly right, thinking being a hero was just all fun, games, and adventure with just little danger. With a renewed sense of realism fresh in their minds the three said in an appreciative tone "Thanks for saving us, Sir"

With but a quick "Humph" Wrack extracted a remote out of a pouch on his army belt and pushed the big red X button on it. With a few second delay, a gleaming portal of blue light was opened in the destroyed throne room.

Out of the portal came a short girl with black hair in a military style uniform, along with a pair of guards made of muscle and what looked like three brain cells between the two of them.

After coming out of the portal and observing the ruins she now found herself in, she looked at the man in front of her who called her here, and then to the three would be heroes.