Self-Proclaimed God

Quaff on the blood of your brethren for you are but pawns in a game of my construction. I am the ruler of this place, this country, this world! Do not bore me; keep entertaining me as you are, you tiny humans.

They fight and fight, the swords clashing, their arms dancing (when they're attached). Oh-ho, it is entertainment at its finest. The richest of wine could not satiate the thirstiest of men when compared to having the honour of watching this madness.

Did I start it? No. The humans did. They always do, and they always will. The battle of two armies, of two opposing kingdoms. They had never gotten along. They never would. Either one thought they were better than the other, and then relations crumbled. The rotten peace they had had to fall sooner or later.

Little do they know, my tower watches their struggles as it stands over the field of battle and the sea of war. I can watch their moves, I can see them. It took a while, but their generals have stopped the fighting. For now. Even through the blood-soaked grass, and the ocean of splintered wood, they have found a moment to talk. Impressive as it is, one side will buckle. So rarely do humans find a level where both parties can coexist.

A bang of blunted wood echoed as it rammed against the door of iron.

What's that noise? There must be something downstairs. But I must watch the humans tear each other apart. My guards will entertain any would-be visitor. Ha-ha. Maybe I will grace the winner of this battle with my presence, and the chance for them to kneel and join my service. Of course, I'd keep the disgusting humans far from me and have them protect my tower at the lowest level. Many from the latest batches seem to have ran away or disappeared. They are so unreliable.

Another bang, louder than the first. And another.

Are my guards truly so inept at keeping the noise down? I have thousands, so I know silence is impossible. But, truly, such a loud bang? Must I intervene in the actions of the insignificant?

Their footsteps echoed on the cobbled stairs, spiralling up and up. The party formed of two kingdoms were ready for the final confrontation.

What is this? What party?

The heroes appeared. The leading Hero and his party stared into the face of the gaunt, bearded man. Grey beyond his years, and insane beyond even more.

No... No. No! There are no heroes here. You are sheep bleating to the commands and whims of a god. I have the power. You will kneel. You will obey!

"You are nothing but a trickster, a tyrant, a self-proclaimed god," said the Hero. "Your time is now. Your dying day has come."

You think you have the power to stop me? Laughable! Heh-heh. You truly know nothing-

The hero, with his sword, Bloodbane, stepped forth, under the protection of his cleric, and the backup of his guardian and mage.

No, he didn't! Stop this madness! I am your god. I have more power in my finger than-

The hero's blade pierced the so-called-god's heart, if there even were any organs to qualify as such. He had expected a rough, drawn-out battle, but the end had come for the one who had caused endless misery. Perhaps too quickly, but an end all the same.

This can't... I won't fall... Not to tiny humans... Not to you... Not... you...

*

Author's notes:

I read Paul Stewart's entry to an unofficial challenge hosted by Belle, and I thought why not give it a go. I've never written an unreliable narrator before, and to be honest I'm not even sure if I've done it correctly. But I had fun thinking up and writing the story. Thank you Paul for bringing the challenge to my eyes with your excellent piece, and thank you Belle for the challenging prompt.

Belle's challenge:

Paul's story (recommended for a good and interesting read):