The End
The villain Ahmed stands before the band of heroes, his eyes filled with contempt.
His visage is a fearsome one. A hand of skulls that whispers and chatters of abhorrent deeds to ears so daring as to listen in. In his other arms is a book that turns its own pages, ink swimming among the pages on its own - divinity contained and made into a tool. His figure is cloaked in brilliant red cloak - stained by a dozen slaughters, the suffering dealt out suffused into the very fibres. A fiery woman stands behind him, ready to pounce at the prey before her. Some… thing, only 'human' in form if even that. A monster of ash and flame that calls itself Tatiana.
“So you worms arrive at last, crawling to the feet of your Crimson Emperor. Do you think you-” - the heroes attack before Ahmed can even truly start his monologue.
The battle fought is a hard one. Every nightmare the heroes could imagine is brought to life, puppets of the Crimson Emperor before them. Even the very stones and skies of Khotru come to the villain's aid to try and swallow his enemies whole. A simple mistake is his downfall; in arrogance he tries to capture the most fearsome of the heroes who had a hand divine. A quiet buzz from behind him is the only indication that something is wrong; he turns to see Ed’s mouth uncovered, the rope hanging off to one side, covered in a swarm of bees. And then Ed speaks, a single word: “Burn”. Ahmed opens his mouth to speak, ‘Waterproof’ or ‘Counter’ or anything of the sort - and a knife goes through the back of his neck, cutting off the sound, clutched in the hand of Ed’s final soldier. The Antagonist ends in fire, reduced to ash and cinder.
The villain dies.
Long live the villain.
The villain Gragen stands before the band of heroes, their eyes filled with contempt.
Thin wiry, yet no less formidable for it. Their eyes are thinned and cold, empty of any empathy or pity. They feel for naught, they care for less. A dozen cities felled by quiet changes in dark rooms where decisions are made. A million lives extinguished as they nudged the world to war again and again. So now they stared at the five before them, a mere pen in their hand. Yet they had nothing to fear. For they had come to know that the pen was mighty and all could be drowned in ink if they so wished it.
“So you've come at last. I have little time for you, so we'll-” - the heroes attack before Gragen can even finish their short monologue.
The fight is short, over in moments. The speed of one pitted against another. A single word is spoken. A single word is left unfinished.
The villain dies.
Long live the villain.
The villain Sheika stands before the band of heroes, her eyes filled with contempt.
Her body a tapestry of scars and travesties she would not soon forget. A leg and an arm gone, and for what? Simply because she wanted to make a world, because she was willing to forge one even if everything had to be erased for it. She couldn't help but smile at the fools before her. A dozen times they tangled, a dozen times she managed to escape, a dozen pieces of her they had taken. Oh, but she survived each time, she learned each time. They thought her doomed, but she was far from that.
“So, which part will-” - the heroes attack as Sheika deftly dodges, having expected this interruption.
The battle is long and many souls fall to ruin amidst the chaos. The villain brings with her not only ink, put also paint. The heroes couldn't have known, yet they push on anyway. Friends are turned to irreconcilable enemies. Monsters beyond imagination come to life. The very room begins to breathe and swallow these tragic heroes. Yet they prevail, even if only one hero is left standing.
The villain dies.
Long live the villain.
So many times repeats the cycle.
A worn and old thing, run ragged by the ravages of time.
And worn things break.
And but a single break is needed to break a chain into eternity.
At last, the villain wins.
The End.