The Wish to Die

The last thunder struck and the downpour stopped in an instant.

The citizens gazed upon the clearing dark clouds with wonder.

As the blackened clouds dispersed, rays of sunlight pierced through them, shooting down on the kingdom.

In a few seconds, it was as though it never rained. As if the rain had not only just stopped.

A horned red creature, in chains and tethered to a pole, started to laugh out loudly as his golden eyes that glowed as he looked at the sky began to dim.

****

The kingdom of Agagorth, the twelfth kingdom chosen for the execution of a perilous demon.

A demon that had ravaged the world. A vile being called the Demon King.

A demonic figure with two reddish-black horns, a blood-red body and three golden eyes that were situated normally with the third at the centre of his forehead, all glaring and darting around. He knelt while being tied to a long pole and surrounded by a group of knights.

SPLURT!

His blood splattered about, adding to the pool of blood that he was kneeling on.

"Ahh," his deeply masculine voice purred.

His expression was certainly shocking for someone who was undergoing what was tagged the most painful process known to man.

The knights who had staked him with their swords and spears began to shift back from the being.

The being didn't cry out in pain or beg for mercy.

The demon enjoyed the torture or at least looked like he did.

The demon relished the sharp pangs of pain that pulsed through his veins from the tips of their blades and spears.

He stuck his tongue out and moaned with excitement.

"He's truly a demon," one of the knights said, his voice quavering terribly from fear.

After years of chasing and seeking out the Demon King, they were finally able to capture the vile evil who meted out chaos in the world.

The demon played the world like it was his toy, destroying and recreating it again as he deemed fit.

When asked by the Council Of A Score Of Kings to state why he targeted humans and life in this world.

The demon merely chuckled and gave the cockiest answer ever uttered by a convicted person that was sentenced to death.

"It's fun," he said to them without any sense of regret or remorse in his voice.

As a result of his disrespect, he was sentenced to death but yet nothing could kill him.

Today makes it the twelfth year since he was sentenced to death.

For twelve years, this demonic being has been going through different methods of execution.

He had been burned by fire and hot oil flames.

He had been drowned.

He had been tied to both horses and bulls to be torn apart and yet the ropes snapped every single time.

He has been crucified, both upright and upside down.

There was no manner of execution that had not been used and yet, for twelve years, they had all failed.

Every single one of them.

Today, he was being stabbed multiple times by the strongest knights of the twenty kingdoms.

His eyes were pierced.

His guts were gashed.

His heart tasted the sharpness of their spears.

His liver was torn into two.

And yet, this demon still lived.

Moaning at every torture and mocking them to do more than they were already doing.

How did they even manage to catch such a creature in the first place?

The answer was as simple as anything.

He let them.

The Demon King had grown tired and bored of this world and needed to have more fun.

His life in this world was becoming repetitive and boring and as such he surrendered himself to the humans in this world.

"Hahahahaha!" he laughed boisterously, "Are you tired already? It's just been a month since you guys decided to use this method again... for the sixth time. Come on, knights. Get up."

He turned to the knights that surrounded him, looking them in the eyes and laughing.

"Ser Grimm. Come on, I thought your sword was called the Demon Slayer. Hahaha! Yet for twelve years you haven't even scratched my horn. I'm sure my own blade could cut a loaf of bread cleaner than that scrap of metal. Pathetic, Ser Grimm... pathetic."

He turned to the next one, a bald knight with a thick black moustache whose armour shone the brightest among the rest, so slick that sunlight reflected off of it.

"Even you Ser Hathor. Tch, the Great Bald Knight. You've sweated so much from stabbing me that your head now glistens more than your armour."

He turned again, trying to get a glimpse of all of them.

"Well, if Grimm and Hathor here couldn't scratch me, you lots can't do anything. What a pathetic bunch. So much for the world's strongest knights."

The demon laughed as he mocked them. Every word from his mouth pierced the twenty knights more than their blades pierced him.

His words were sharper than their spears and cut deeper than their swords.

They lowered their heads in shame, having suffered great disrespect to their reputation and name in front of the people.

"Well, I'll let you all save face and allow myself to die."

His words sent shivers down their spines.

The knights were shocked by the marrows.

Why?

Why would a demon like him do that?

The Demon King for that matter.

The worst of the demons recorded in their history.

The Lord of them all.

The Demon King was known for his pride and pomposity.

So why in the world would he let himself die for the knights to maintain their reputation?

These twenty knights knew that something else was up but they could do nothing about it.

They didn't know what it was. They couldn't say for sure. Their judgement was made solely from the kind of reputation the Demon King had.

"Hehe, well if you don't like the deal then we go another twelve years. Maybe this time, fifty years by then I would have been taken around the twenty kingdoms at least twice. I have all the time, you know."

The Demon King might have been the hostage physically but he was the one calling the shots of the two factions—himself and the twenty kingdoms.

He had all the cards and was dictating the game.

"So do well to notify your king."

****

Not long after the Demon King had given them hope, hurried footsteps raced on the way to the King's chamber.

Without waiting to be announced, the knight burst into the King's Royal Chamber.

He was the knight among the twenty that belonged to the Kingdom of Agagorth.

Ser Hathor Baldwin, the Great Bald Knight.

The King was stark naked with a damsel slurping on his schlong with passion as the King moaned with pleasure.

The knight's sudden entry surprised them and the maiden jumped off the bed and hurried to cover herself with a blanket.

"Who dares to disturb my alone time!" the King raged as he climbed down from his bed, covering himself with one of his robes.

"Forgive my intrusion, Your Majesty."

The King paused seeing that it was his most trusted knight.

If he had been any other person, his head would have already been brought back on a gold plate within minutes.

The King tied his robe in place and ambled closer to the knight.

"Ser Hathor?" the King called as he watched the lowered bald head shimmer under the light of his chamber.

Ser Hathor raised his head and made eye contact with his king.

"What is it?" the King asked.

"The Demon King has agreed to die."

The King staggered backwards, nearly falling over on hearing the news.

"What! Are you certain of what you speak, Ser Hathor?"

Ser Hathor lowered his head again. "On my honour as your anointed knight, Your Majesty."

A smile broke out on his face along with tears that streamed down from the corner of his eyes.

"After twelve years," the King thought to himself.