Conqueror

On the tallest mountain, in an isolated island, stood a figure. He casually stood at the peak but the aura he was emitting, although forcefully suppressed, was cold and overbearing.

Hundreds of gold-gilded mirrors were floating around the man and in each shiny surface flashed a scene of what was happening around the world.

The man watched with indifferent eyes and unfeeling conduct. It has been a while since he last meddled with the affairs of the mundane world.

A familiar figure suddenly flashed in one of the mirrors. The image was barely a glimpse but the man saw it with full clarity. His eyes glazed over and his mind was transported back to a time long ago.

The man was once a being from another world. The third son of a very rich and influential man. He grew up in luxury, adored by his siblings and protected by his parents. But despite all these, he was bored. He was not a bad man, nor was he spoiled or a wastrel. But he was disdainful of the world and was detached to it all.

By some odd twist of fate, a miracle or bad luck, his soul was pulled to another world. A world where money held no sway, where only the strong could talk and only those with the toughest fist could spare reason.

This new world suited the man's taste to perfection. How could he not be delighted? He could finally see and prove what he was worth.

The man was a firm believer of proving one's value through one's own strength. In his previous life, he had the unlimited advantage of wealth. People flattered him not because of himself but because of his family's name and influence. His genius and brilliance were dulled by the low expectations brought about by his luxurious birth.

But here, on this new land, the man was born without a penny to his name and without the luxury of an influential family. His needs would have to be gained solely by himself, using his own two hands.

The man's journey was wrought with endless trials that, at times, almost cost his life. He met and defeated countless rivals, had numerous fortuitous encounters and accepted dozens of legacies.

Although his journey was tediously long and arduous, the man remained true to himself. His cunning personality allowed him to retreat and advance depending on circumstance. And his compassionate nature afforded him fairness, to repay good with good and evil with evil.

The man ventured through the land full of enthusiasm. He celebrated each day as if it was his last and continued on his glorious journey one step at a time.

To some, the man was a benevolent god who advocated justice and protected the weak, a glorified hero. But to others, he was a vindictive demon who did not suffer losses and would avenge even the slightest offense.

The man's unfettered and straight-forward disposition endeared him to his allies while his wicked tendencies made him a nightmare to his foes.

This world is a world of slaughter, an endless battlefield where only the strong survive. The man's path towards hegemony was paved with countless fallen bodies of enemies. His hands were stained with blood but his conscience remained clear. He could kill a thousand evil men but he would never touch an innocent. This was the man's core principle, a rule that he lived by.

The man spat out a mouthful of blood as another familiar face flashed through one of the gilded mirrors.

Throughout his long life the man met countless people but only cared for a scarce few. Seeing them now, alive and thriving, brought back memories that roused emotions he thought were long gone.

'Ah!' He thought calmly as he fell to his knees. 'In the end, I am still human…'

Dark clouds gathered above the kneeling man. Thunder and lightning flashed as the wind howled in agony. The tempest raged for a full day and night but once it ceased, the beautiful rays of the sun cut through the thick clouds.

The gold-gilded mirrors began to shatter. Its broken pieces floated with the gentle breeze like grains of fine sand. What a beautiful sight!

Who would have thought that on that day, the supreme master had died?

The man revered as a god died a quiet and simple death, succumbing to the backlash of his unsurmountable strength.

To his last breath, the man remained peerless and unbeatable. He conquered one world and left it with no regrets.

At the same time, in another world, lightning and thunder raged like tigers and dragons, heralding the arrival of its conqueror.

The end… or is it?