Raiju sat alone in the recluses of his temple, seated upon his grand stone throne. He waited, as he had for ages. He waited for the one who would prove him right in his defence of the human race. He sat back at rest with his eyes closed. This was the only thing to do really when He couldn’t sleep or do anything else to pass the time. His posture was relaxed, one hand resting against his cheek, propping his head up as he leant to the right, legs crossed, the other arm resting upon the stone armrest of his throne. He held a pose of complete calm and authority, a lord in his castle, a king on his throne. His imposing figure sat with an air of calm, his strong build carrying a youthful, but powerful appearance, with a toned and lean figure.
The throne room was truly something to behold as he sat motionless within it, no movement, not even insects about the wreckage that lined the halls of his temple. Such wreckage consisted of the various hundreds of thousands of failed attempts to end Raiju’s life that had occurred over his immortal days, skeletons and rotting corpses in broken armour strewn about the floor and against the walls, most having died instantly from single blows, but some having survived long enough to crawl into sitting or foetal positions before they passed. It was like looking at a museum, or perhaps more accurately, a tomb.
Broken weapons, torn cloth, damaged armour, relics of bygone era all rested in the chamber, alongside a vast amount of treasure, offered to the one who sat upon the chamber’s throne. Last ditch efforts to survive the wrath of the demon lord, it was pitiable how so many had pleaded and bargained for their lives, even using the lives of allies as bargaining chips and tender, yet they all died the same in the end, and joined the ranks of the dead within the throne room.
Several weapons stood beside Raiju’s throne, some even placed upon the walls or stabbed into the stone floor, memorials to the ancient heroes who had chosen the wrong path, all legends in their own rights, with equally legendary armaments. Alas, no matter what relic it was, what ultimate weapon was brandished at him, to Raiju, it may as well have been trying to fight off a lion with a toothpick, as evidenced by several of these ancient weapons carrying cracks and dents along edges, or being rent in two altogether.
Raiju let out a long sigh, slowly opening his eyes, their venomous purple, serpentine irises gazing through the curtain of his golden blonde hair. The pupils scanning about the room as he slowly changed position, sitting more upright as memories of the countless battles fought in this room flooded back to him, a symphony of screams, and a clarion cry of countless warriors charging to their dooms. It was all the same to him, he had seen the worst and the best sides of life, that was the truth, and he knew exactly who had come to him over the years, and their purposes, by the remnants scattered about his home. He slowly looked over to a suit of gold armour, still lustrous in the dim purple light of the room, illuminated by burning violet flames in sconces on the walls. Ygmar the Glorious; that was the name of the owner, who had died in his gauche apparel near instantly, evidenced by the clean hole burnt through the lower chainmail that once covered the abdomen. Raiju’s gaze wandered to a skeleton with a destroyed ribcage, garbed in a tattered silk kimono, it was the remains of Kenbusho Igamaru, a legendary samurai who had been assured of his skill and certain his blade Sakegari would be the sword to slay Raiju. Oh how quickly that fight ended after Raiju had kneed him in the sternum, collapsing his chest near instantly.
Raiju slowly got to his feet, stretching his arms into the air, and letting out a long yawn as he brushed his golden blonde hair from his eyes, looking down at his own attire in mild annoyance. Time was not kind to such things as fabric, as his clothing could attest, a moth eaten green and purple robe, formerly a simple but elegant ensemble, now hung from his form in tatters, partly due to the passage of centuries, and partly due to the various attempts to slay him.
“Well…suppose nobody will be coming anytime soon, may as well get a change of clothes and see how the place is doing…” He mused to himself, gently working out some tightness in his neck, before walking towards the main doors. He began reaching a hand out to the gilded golden handle, just before the entire ebony doorway was thrown off its hinges, the twin ebon doors smashing against his form and bouncing off like shattering rubber, leaving a mildly peeved and unamused demigod standing in the smoking doorway, looking upon the home invader that he lamented the timing of.
“Demon lord Raiju” came a booming voice from the smoke. “Your reign of terror ends today!” came the voice again, as a large man in armour appeared, a great sword in one hand and a concussive explosion spell in the other. The warrior was tall and broad chested, his appearance befitting of an alpha male or knight, clad in silver armour, practical and sturdy looking, but still regaled with some semblance of décor to befit the paladin’s status.
Raiju caught all of this in the first few seconds of the encounter, his eyes scanning over the man with a mixture of annoyance and resignation, his tattered clothing making the Demon lord look as though the spell the paladin used was effective. Of course at this stage he couldn’t care less about the paladin, sighing as he rubbed his temple and resigned himself to one more kill to add to his horde.
“Welcome adventurer…to your doom…” he said, the knight’s confident gaze riling him up somewhat as he took a step forward, the knight pompously readying his great sword. “Twill not be my doom villain, but YOUUURS!!” he said, clearly having a penchant for the dramatic as Raiju counted down the seconds in his head before this buffoon revealed his title and various pointless achievements to him.
“I AM LORD BARTLETON THE SECOND, AND I AM HERE TO CLAIM YOUR HEAD IN THE NAME OF THE HIGH KING OF BOLEDRA!” He proclaimed, before holding his gilded great sword high above his head, it's gold and silver blade sparkling as Raiju wondered just how much actual steel and not fancy décor made up its length.
“Oh well, that’s nice…” Raiju said, before seeing the warrior; gods it fucking pained him to even consider this dolt a warrior, taking his sword in both hands and readying a mighty swing, the blade arching towards Raiju’s neck as he boasted.
“NOW FEEL MY WRATH!” He bellowed, as the great sword struck Raiju square in the neck, and promptly snapped in two, roughly two thirds down the length of the blade, before further fragmenting into innumerable tiny pieces, much like its owner’s ego. All the while the demon lord simply watched the broken steel clatter to the floor, before a dry smile curled his lips.
“Oh the pain, what wretched agony you have dealt me ‘stalwart hero’” He mocked, holding up a hand to the man and putting the other, palm up against his forehead, as though pretending he may faint. “Oh…well maybe I am exaggerating a little bit…” he admitted, looking at the warrior, who staggered back, sweat drenching his formerly fancy blonde hair.
“A-U-UH-A-AHA! YOU HAVE FALLEN FOR MY DECEPTION, I WAS MERELY WARMING MYSELF UP! FIEND, YOU SHALL PAY FOR DESTROYING MY LEGENDARY BLADE, GILDON!” He said, about to continue before Raiju raised a hand and cut him off.
“-Waiiiit, wait, wait, wait, wait…’Gildon’…? Your swords name…was Gildon?” he asked, looking at the idiot warrior with a mixture of confusion, abhorrence and bemusement. The warrior looked rather taken aback by the question, arching a brow.
“Y-Yes…tis the blade that has claimed a thousand heads, slain demons far and wide, You shall pay for its destruction, for it was a blade most prized by my family!” he claimed, before readying a fire spell in both arms, having dropped his treasured swords hilt, and then blasting Raiju with enough heat to char the walls black and melt the stone floor before him.
Black smoke filled the corridor before Bartleton straightened up. His pompous grin returning as he laughed heartily, hands on his hips basking in his victory. “HOHOO, VICTORY IS MINE!!” He boasted, laughing and grinning. “AND NOW, THE LOST TREASURE OF THE DEMON LORD, IS MI-!”
He stopped, his pompous grin frozen on his face as sweat built again. Amidst the smoke stood a figure, Bartlet on gawking as the smoke cleared. The red hot glow of the molten floor illuminated the demon lord in a foreboding light, his eyes fixated upon Bartleton in a way reminiscent of a predator eyeing up a kill.
“That wasn’t very nice…” he spoke calmly, almost sleepily, despite the red hot magma boiling at his feet, which rest upon a single tile untouched by the flame spell.
“I do believe you’ve killed my shirt…” he said, his thumb pulling up what was left of his upper body garb, hanging limply from his left shoulder in a sindged mess. Slowly, he took a step forward, the magma before him hardening an instant before his foot made contact, each step making a small path towards the now mortified paladin, who couldn’t even scream in fear.
“Stop…Stop this…! STOP! PLEASE NO, I BEG OF YOU, I BE-!” he couldn’t finish his plea, as Raiju willed life into the lava at his feet, which had lashed out in an instant and coated the knight’s body completely and utterly, in a statue eternal. Raiju stood before his new lawn decoration, admiring his handiwork as he gently traced a finger around the tortured expression still frozen upon Bartleton’s petrified face.
“Oh how I love garden gnomes…” he mused, placing a pointed red hat on the statues head, before strolling past it and leaving the corridor silent once more.