Mergoloth held a knife to his own throat. With a trembling hand, he pressed the blade and swayed it, slicing his skin ever-so-slightly. Drops of blood slithered down his throat and dried at the seam between his neck and armor.

"Why?" he screamed at the top of his lungs, and the stone walls of the throne room wavered and cracked. "Why do you forbid my death?"

His expression shifted from hatred to repentance. He hauled the knife and collapsed to his knees. With a quick motion, he held a gloved hand to his heart and muttered, "This is a prayer to the Three Gods, Vilkor, Vanazar, and Vaeros. Forgive me for yearning for death even in its most disgusting, unworthy form. Forgive me. I will not succumb to my thoughts. I will ignore them. I will die an honorable death, not one that comes by my own hand. I will sit with you in the Brimming Halls. I will not be weak. I will not falter."

Mergoloth moved his hand from his heart to the stone floor. Then, he mumbled forgotten words under his breath and traced the names of the Three Gods across the stone.

"I pray this prayer reaches the Brimming Halls," he said and the names of the gods burst afire on the floor. "For I fear there is no one who can gift me a worthy death. For I fear my might has reached bounds no other being can reach. For I need guidance, temperance, and patience."

A sigh followed as he rose to his feet. On cue, the gates of the throne room grated open and a small, hunched figure stepped in and faced Mergoloth.

"You can speak," Mergoloth said.

"They're ready, Your Endlessness. They've killed Bamoth. Gruesome death, but a worthy one."

"Did they struggle?" His words came out with a hint of worry.

The servant nodded. "They struggled oceans, Your Endlessness. They barely survived."

Mergoloth stood in silence. The air grew heavy and tense. The walls trembled again and their fissures deepened the longer the words lacked.

"Your Endlessness?" the servant said, stepping backward.

Mergoloth drew a deep breath. "They are not ready. They are too weak. Bamoth, who was said to be the most powerful being roving the world, knelt the moment she felt my presence. I could have killed her with a single word."

"Yes, Your Endlessness, but the enemies are growing older and Bamoth was our most powerful minion. There's no one else we can send. They won't get stronger--"

"They are not ready!" Mergoloth shouted and the thundering roar of a collapsing palace followed.

A storm of boulders fell upon them. The servant was reduced to a pool of blood and crushed bone but Mergoloth remained unscathed, for every rock that touched him broke and turned into sand.

After the noises settled, he swung his hand in an upward motion, and the endless debris encompassing him disappeared into the sky. He walked then, and he did so for thirty days. Not a word was uttered throughout the journey, not a sound was heard.

Mergoloth came to a halt in front of three adventurers, who, upon seeing him, unsheathed their swords and surged towards him to commence a flurry of attacks that lasted for thirty more days. For the entirety of the bout, he remained stone-still against the battering of swords and spells. He never moved nor retaliated. He didn't even flinch.

But when exhaustion embraced the adventurers, he shed three silent tears. "You were my only hope. My one and only hope." His gaze strayed to the stars then, and with a shattered voice, he screamed, "Why are my prayers not heard? Why am I left without aid? I yearn to die a worthy death. I yearn to reach the Brimming Halls. I--I yearn to be gone. Why? Why?"

The adventurers attempted to escape as he spoke, but after ten steps, the cracking of bones thundered through the night. All of them collapsed like ragdolls to their death, for Mergoloth pulverized everything inside of them with a single word.

Mergoloth broke into laughter. His tears turned into plumes of smoke. "I understand now." He looked at the sky again. "Vilkor, Vanazar, Vaeros you hear me. You have always heard me. Every single word I spoke you heard and you ignored them, for I am your worst mistake." His grin widened. "And because of that, you fear me. For I can murder all of you. You fear me and so you hide from me in the Brimming Halls and fill my head with the importance of honor in death. There can not be honor in death, for death is the destination not the journey."

Mergoloth stopped to laugh a deranged laugh. "I see now. I see clearly." His extremities trembled with delight. "You may prohibit my entrance to the Brimming Halls, but I will tear the gates down with a word and devour each one of you across all eternities. You made me, and you made me only to bring me suffering. It is time for your punishment to come. It is time for you to suffer the suffering I felt.

"Tell me, what can a God do against a Mergoloth?"

With that, Mergoloth unsheathed the knife from his waist and sliced his throat.

-----------------------------

/r/AStoryToRuleThemAll

I have been alive for three hundred years and out of those three hundred, two hundred and seventy years only revenge has been on my mind. I need to kill a God, I will kill a God and I will make him suffer. He took them away from me, he took my family away, I have been all alone and no one can understand that.

But there is a catch, he is hiding from me, he knows what is coming. So I need to die first in order to get to his realm. But the one that gave me this power has cursed me, I can only die a worthy death, trust me I have tried everything.

Imagine my luck when these so-called Heroes started appearing twenty years ago, I forgot what it is to have hope again and they have awakened that feeling inside of me. But they were weak, I fought them and let them beat me, but that was not a worthy death, the curse would not let me die. So for the past twenty years, I’ve created a guild, a guild of bad people with bad intentions, but I don’t care what they do and achieve, I have an ulterior motive I need them to make these heroes strong. So that’s why I’ve been helping them, financing all of their stupid ideas and plans and it has been working, heroes are becoming strong, they have to in order to defeat my guild and new heroes have been popping up left and right.

Soon I will have my worthy death and in death, revenge will be mine, Qhaxtis I am coming for you and everything that you have created.

​

If you like this story you can check some more on my sub r/LukasWrites

"Sire, I have a question about the Heroes?"

Deicide tilted his head, not moving an inch off of his throne.

Blood dripped from it, burning, the blood of the god of fire.

"Well, you see, ... shouldn't you go kill them yourself?"

Deicide raised an eyebrow. The lesser demon jumped back in fear, but calmed down noticing no disturbance of the area.

"Are you saying my army is insufficient?"

The demon gulped.

"I'm just saying you are very powerful, much more powerful than the Heroes, and sending champions of our army that are slightly stronger than the Heroes doesn't seem to end up working, ya know. They, er, y'know, have a habit, of doing that annoying thing, where, heh, they work together, get stronger, and beat the enemy. At this rate, even thought they could never get as strong as you sire, perhaps, they could be stronger than the rest of your army."

The demon's frantic hand gestures were only one out of many symptoms of his fear.

"I would sure hope they could get as strong as me. That is the point, after all."

The lesser demon blinked in confusion.

"Sire?"

"The gods were selfish. Stagnant. Remaining in their old ways, treating us mortals like ants. The Heroes... They've changed. They grow stronger by the day. And not just in body, but also in soul. My body has grown much stronger too, but my soul... My soul is very weak you see."

The Demon King gave a mechanoly look.

"A better man would not have murdered seven gods just to prove a point. A better man would have tried to reform them. A better man would not try to create peace through fear."

The look faded, and Deicide appeared to smile.

"And so, if those lovely selfless Heroes managed to grow as strong as this weak soul, and beat me, wouldn't that be a good thing? A peace brought about by justice, rather than by vengeance? A world with no need for a Demon King. A world with no need for gods."

Deicide stood up.

"A world where mortals can choose their own destinies, and defend them. A world where mortals can work together to create peace. Don't you think that would be a wonderful world, Smist?"

Smist jolted up, hearing his actual name.

"I don't really get what you're on about sire... but it does sound nice."

"Well, leave the philosophy to this old fool. You go send Champion of the Dark Realm Wrathge to fight those Heroes. He's about a Level above them."

And so, the Demon King stood back on his bloody throne. Waiting for the day his reign of deicide would be ended, and the day mortal kind would prosper.

If you want to please criticize my writing. I’ve only recently started and am trying to improve.

I train and nurture strong humans, give them a grand power to train, I breed them in camps to make them as strong as possible, but still most can’t even beat the weakest of hellhounds.

Of course there have been some great warriors, maybe one in 100 are able to survive escape my armies and survive on their own. I send weaker warriors to fight them. That kills most but the strongest grow even greater in power. 1 in 1000 of those make their way to me. Only a handful of those have remotely been a challenge for me to kill.

But all that I ever wish for is one of those warriors to succeed in their quest to kill me. I’ve done so many unspeakable things, caused an innumerable amount of death, tortured so many souls, crushed so many dreams. I can’t let it phase me or my status could fall apart, but I’ve lived an awful life.

And here I am again. Another “chosen” warrior confronting me.

“I will kill you if you try this” I couldn’t be bothered at this point in my life to initiate the fight. It was too regular of an occurrence.

“Why do you do this to people? Torture and hurt them? You gain nothing from it!” He said that as he lunged towards me. I held out my hand to block him, and, to my surprise, he actually pushed me backwards.

As he pelted me with attacks, I began to fight back. After all I had to in order to truly die. I expected him to die after a few hits, but the fight continued. It kept lasting longer and longer, and by the end I was on the ground crying. The man was on the ground from exhaustion and his injuries, and I was dying.

“Thank you” I said.

“What?” The stranger responded

“Thank you. For killing me.” I said

“You… wanted me to kill you?” He said with a rasp in his voice

“I’ve lived for millennia, you’ve lived for a mere few decades. Death is a blessing after all I’ve been through” I said solemnly

“Why didn’t you just end it yourself? You could’ve gotten what you wanted and not killed so many people, my family, nearly the whole human race!”

“That’s unimportant. Before I die I have one thing I have to tell you. I will bestow you with my powers of the gods. You must protect the land and lead humanity to prosperity.”

Welcome to the Prompt! All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.

Reminders:

>* Stories at least 100 words. Poems, 30 but include "[Poem]" >* Responses don't have to fulfill every detail >* See Reality Fiction and Simple Prompts for stricter titles >* Be civil in any feedback and follow the rules

🆕 New Here? ✏ Writing Help? 📢 News 💬 Discord

I am a bot, and this action was performed automatically. Please contact the moderators of this subreddit if you have any questions or concerns.

[removed]