A Villians Journey

"There weren't always dragons in the Valley."

I smile, blood coating my teeth, "4,689"

"Why are you counting?"

"9,560," this is always quite fun.

"What are you doing?"

"10,905"

"What's going on I don't-"

"-don't understand? That one makes 22,345. You'd think you guys would think of something original every now and again. It's truly not that hard, yet it's the same thing over and over. If I didn't enjoy the predictability I might have been bored by now." I smirk at the Heroes expression. It gets them every single time. I truly don't understand. Every single monologue contains the same repeated lines, the same last words.

"I-"

"What? You're confused? You think you're the first person to seek me out? I have killed thousands of people just like you. You aren't special, you are nothing to me. Now I am polite, so would you like to state some final words?"

"Polite? YOU MURDER PEOPLE?"

I sigh as I push my sword through his chest, "I don't just murder people, I hunt them. You are nothing but prey to me, fun playthings. Also 67,890 times people have chosen those final words. Even in your confusion you are not unique, and you will die. Not a hero, not a villain. Just someone who tried, and ultimately failed." I must say the prey is getting easier to catch, and messier to clean up after.

My cave is covered in blood. Though it makes me euphoric, it isn't very hygienic. I miss when heroes wouldn't continue fighting with missing limbs. How they would take the loss and gather their things, write a few letters while they bled to death. Ask me to deliver them, when heroes still had common curtesy. Though I do always find it fun to watch them struggle to cast with a singular arm. Or perhaps balance while they swing a great axe with only one foot. All is possible, if their limbs weren't actively bleeding out and they took the proper time to relearn. I do enjoy that hardly anyone ever retreats. I suppose the idea of honor has changed within the century I have been here.

"Master?"

"Ugh, yes Grub whatever do you need?" I saunter to my throne and rest my hands upon my temple.

"If your busy I can always come back my Dark One," Grub kneels as he says this. Like most of my minions he is entirely devoted to me and only me. He relies on me for everything. Food, shelter, clothing, purpose. He is a minion after all. Sometimes having thousands of expendable dark soldiers under your control is fun, but most of the time it is just annoying.

"Can I tell you something Grub? You know I didn't even have to turn into my full form this time! Hell, I didn't even sprout fangs or wings! I just bit into people with the blunt teeth, and quite honestly no one stopped me. It's almost as if they have no will to try anymore. I mean the least they can do is put in some effort!"

"My lord, do you speak of the hero-"

"OF COURSE, I SPEAK OF HEROES GRUB. WHO ELSE COULD I SPEAK OF? NO ONE ELSE SEEKS ME OUT ANYMORE! CONQUORING VILLAGES IS POINTLESS, THEY DONT EVEN BOTHER TO FLEE OR BEG! THEY JUST SIT SILENTLY LIKE LIKE LIKE..."

"Like perhaps they're too fearful to speak sir?" Grub is still kneeling face to the floor. I know he is right, yet I'm not proud of it. I used to dream of a day I could invoke so much fear. Dreams aren't supposed to come true.

"Your right Grub. I apologize for my outburst. I'm just so unbelievably bored. I mean killing is still as fun as always, but it lacks flavor. It's just the same thing every single time. I mean last week I started counting everything, the number of times a phrase is said, how many times a pose is made, how long it takes for the average healing spell, how many clerics dye their hair, how many heroes pray before death, everything. I still love being a villain, but I just don't feel like my hearts in the game as much anymore."

"Your Darkness, if I may speak out of turn, I am unsure to of what that is like. However, my favorite sandwich has always been pig intestines with a smidge of garlic. Or at least I thought it was, until yesterday."

"What changed?"

"Nothing as far as I can tell. It was the same pig intestine from the same barrel from the same seller. I have no clue why when I bit into it, I found myself wishing for something more. Perhaps your heroes are like my sandwich?"

"Whatever have you done to fix this problem Grub?"

"My Darkship, I am terribly sorry, but I have yet to think of solutions. I haven't had lunch yet."

"Ah I see. I order you to take your lunch," The soulation to my problems couldn't have been something less time consuming? Like perhaps taking the heart of a chosen hero?

"O-of course darkness, I shall hurry at once." With that he stands, bows, and sprints as if his life depends on it. I suppose it does.