After a long journey, aided by the friends he'd met along the way, the knight of Almira arrived at the Demon Lord's castle.

He slew the fearsome werewolf that guarded the gate.

He cut down the cunning necromancer who ruled the first floor.

He defeated the temptress succubi who swarmed the dungeons.

He slew the vile avatar of Death that held the key to the keep.

He cut down the traitorous witch that blocked the doors.

And arriving at the throne room, he was met with the king of lies himself; the dark deceiver, the lord of flies who had plunged the continent into chaos.

The tall, thin, pale man, cloaked in black and flowing like an oil slick, stood, deathly silent, looking down on him.

" Demon Lord Vasyra! I am here to defeat you! Do you have any last words? Any remorse? Any tears to shed for all those who you've unjustly killed?!"

The demon lord held out his arm, and chanted in Aetheric. A black sword burning with blue flame appeared.

" ... It is such a shame that humans idly waste their lives," he said, quietly, his voice like cold steel. " I almost pity the mortal illusion of grandeur."

He began to walk forward.

" Come, hero. Savior of your people. Show me that fleeting, insignificant thing you call justice."