"Behold my power, mortals!" yelled Sha'Un. "You have unleashed me unto this world, and now I shall reward you all with the greatest blessing of life: death!" Sha'Un brought forth his arms, directing eldritch lightning at the heroes.

"Stand tall!" Aldrin raised his great shield to the sky, unleashing a holy barrier around the party. "Fiend! You will pay for the evils you have committed against our world--the light shall see to it!"

"Bwahahaha! Foolish Aldrin. Do you think a mere barrier of light can stop me?!" Sha'Un raised his arms as well into the air, and quickly brought it down. What soon followed was a barrage of unholy energy which rained upon Aldrin's holy barrier.

Aldrin gritted his teeth as he continued raising his shield to reinforce the barrier. With every second, the weight he felt upon his body grew heavier, and inch by inch he was pushed back. Soon, sparks of purple magic pierced through the barrier, landing along the trail of dirt Aldrin had made as he recoiled against the attack.

"This should finish it," said Sha'Un. With maniacal laughter, he lifted his arm into the air and threw it back down. An enormous rock imbued with eldritch lightning suddenly appeared, crashing against the barrier of light and into Aldrin's party.

"Gwah!" Aldrin screamed. "How--how were you able to break through my barrier!?"

"Simple: I am powerful," said Sha'Un.

"That may be so, fiend, but we are the champions of light! We shall not falter!" Aldrin unleashed from his sheath a blade made out of pure light. "This is the true power of the people: the Blade of Justice! Demon lords have fallen to this blade, and you are no different, Sha'Un!" Aldrin rushed forward and thrusted the blade into Sha'Un's chest.

"I-impossible! No mortal should be able to penetrate my armor!"

"You underestimated humanity, fiend!"

Sha'Un immediately collapsed to the ground. Aldrin withdrew his sword and his party rejoiced--at last, the demon lord has fallen! As the heroes turned their backs and walked along the trail back to the kingdom, spears of eldritch magic pierce the hearts of Aldrin's companions.

"W-what?!" said Aldrin in surprise and immediately turns around. "Sha'Un? How are you alive!? Your demonic soul should have been burnt to ash by the Blade of Justice!"

"Fool. I am no mere demon lord, Aldrin! I am the first demon lord that was born in the demonic realms. I hold supreme power and dominion over all the fiends!" This time, Sha'Un's appearance became more grotesque, vile, and evil. Four arms sprouted from his torso, and the armor that he once had is now instead raw, demonic scales which colored his entire being into ashen black.

"It's over, Aldrin," said Sha'Un as he teleported behind Aldrin and pierced his chest with his bare arms.

"I-impossible..." said Aldrin. Sha'Un threw Aldrin's body to a nearby tree.

"Bwahaha! If this is humanity's best, then my feast is guaranteed. Say your farewells to your precious kingdom, 'hero.'"

As Sha'Un began to walk towards the kingdom, a burst of light suddenly surrounds Aldrin. His body began to levitate, his chest wound sealed itself, and the Blade of Justice manifests in his hand as a physical sword. Angel wings sprouted from his back, and with one fell swoop, cuts Sha'Un in half.

Aldrin looked at Sha'Un's sliced body in pity, but much to his dismay, Sha'Un's body began to glow a dark purple, and soon the demon lord's body became one once again.

"Come on, how is that fair?" said Aldrin.

"I AM the first demon lord, Aldrin!" said Sha'Un.

The two do battle once again, and Aldrin gets a clean cut on Sha'Un's head, causing it to drop off from the demon lord's shoulders. The body stood there menacingly, and suddenly began to attack Aldrin despite having no head.

"Dude, come on, this isn't even fair anymore," said Aldrin.

"First demon lord!" said the beheaded Sha'Un.

And they do battle again. And again. And again.

"Come on, Shaun! This isn't fun anymore. You just don't want to lose!"

"Nuh-uh, you're the one that doesn't want to lose! I told you, I'm the first demon lord," Shaun protested, his shirt sweaty from all the swordfighting they've been having.

"I've killed you like fifteen times and you've always had an excuse! You just said you had a philoshoper's stone or whatever that prevents you from dying and I have to find it! That's not fair at all!" said a frustrated Aldrin.

"Yeah, Shaun, we've been dead for like thirty minutes now and we kind of want to play a new game now," said Mike.

"You guys are just sore losers!" said Shaun. "You're the sore loser!" retorted Aldrin. "I'm going home," said Aldrin as he dropped his wooden stick.

"Me too," said Mike, and soon everyone else followed.

Shaun stood there as he watched everyone else walk back, only for all of them to go back tomorrow to let Aldrin have his turn of being a Gary Stu.

Aleanor gripped his sword tighter. This was it. The endgame. The last fight against the all-powerful evil that had befallen this land.

The fate of the world now laid in his hands.

If he should fail, all hope for his country would be gone. The people ensalved. The king beheaded. He himself would face a horrible end if he were to survive the fight defeated.

He would have to make it. All depended on it.

With a deep breath he stood and passed the gate. Above him the ceiling of the great, white hall of rose to the sky. Pillars of marble and gold stretched like the stems of mighty trees and an eerie silence filled the air.

At the end of the hall stood the throne of the dark lord. Black ebony with streaks of silver and gold. Sparkling in a beam of light from a painted window far above. And there, on the throne, sat he himself. The dark lord.

Veiled in a cloak of white that flowed around his shoulders, silver armor shining in the sun. A great sword rested on his knees.

When he stepped closer, the king begun to speak:

"Aleanor. So you have come. Do you not know what fate you will bring over the world? Do you not understand the graveness of your deed?"

"I have come, lord, to banish the evil that befell these lands and to bring back the light to the world. No more shall the people suffer under your rule!"

"Suffer?" The dark lord scoffed, " My people do not suffer. They thrive under my rule! There are no more beggars on my streets. There are no more hunger, no more wars, no more unfair death in my lands. They have elected me king. They chose me to do good - And I have!

Who has brought the famine into my lands, if not your armies? Who has brought death and destruction to my flourishing cities, if not yourself?

Look at your kingdom and ask yourself: What misery is there, that couldn't have been ended by peace. What unfairness is there, that couldn't have been brought to an end by a fair ruler? What war lingers there, that hasn't been started by your king?

How much good has he ever done? How many people has he helped? I have not wished for this war and am grieved by the death it has caused. And I would not wish to fight you, if you hadn't come here yourself."

"Liar", Aleanor hissed. But it was true. He had seen the lands of this king and they had been fairer than his own. Happier. Richer.

Maybe he was the bad guy after all.

"You see it now, don't you. He has used you, my son. Manipulated you, like he has everyone else. Believe me, when I say he is the true dark lord."

The king smiled, but it was a smile without joy. "Lay down your sword, kid. Too much blood has been spilled already."

Slowly - gravely the king stretched out his hand to welcome the other. Aleanor stepped forward, tears in his eyes.

"But what about..." he hesitated. "What about the villages you have plundered? The cities that have burned before your army? The people who have died from your sword? The men you have tortured? What about them?"

The king slowly shook his head. "There are no wars without bloodshed. Where an army lies, villages will burn. That is the rule of war, my son."

Aleanor stepped back, drawing his sword.

"Then I won't bow to you! My kingdom might not be the bright land I always dreamed of - but yours aren't, either. There is no such thing as good and bad in this world. I realize that now. But it is still better to fight and die for the country I know, than to live as a traitor to my people. Draw your sword, king! Let's end this war."

The king rose to his feet, anger in his voice: "You fool! I have offered you peace, but you have chosen death. So be it! Die"

Swords clashed. Eyes filled with fury met each other in fight. The king was strong, but so was his enemy. Aleanor fought valiantly, but in the end he succumbed. A mighty blow flung him to the ground. The air was pressed out of his lungs and - for a moment - he didn't hear nor feel anything.

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