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He’d failed, and now he would die.
It wasn’t a realization, more of an understanding. A deeply embedded certainty. He’d been tasked with destroying The Chosen One, and he’d failed, and now The Chosen One would destroy him.
His target stood before him now, armed and alert, and he was still out of sorts from the mines being set off. He was in no position to fight back. He surrendered.
Defeated in less than five minutes. Some lord.
His opponent shifted, weapon drawing back.
He cowered, drawing his legs in tight and shielding himself with his arms, hiding his face.
He didn’t want to be killed.
He was afraid.
There was a dull thud.
Halted in his quaking, he peeked out from beyond his meager shield.
The weapon was on the ground.
…what…
He looked up, into the eyes of his designated nemesis, uncertainty warring within him.
The Chosen One pointed to him, before directing his attention to the solitaire board, where their mutual creator was still absorbed in a card game.
Noogai hadn’t even noticed his failure.
He returned his attention to The Chosen One. His target’s stance was inviting, eager. Maybe a little wrathful, but not, he believed, towards him.
The message was clear.
The Dark Lord considered the situation, for an instant.
In that instant, he realized that of course his creator hadn’t noticed anything; noogai didn’t think he needed to pay attention because he was trusting The Dark Lord to take care of things.
In that instant, he realized that in offering alliance, his target had let his guard down.
In that instant, he realized that he might still have a chance at victory.
He could still be The Dark Lord.
No…he was The Dark Lord.
He could do this. He could win.
He affirmed the offered alliance.
His mark reached forward to assist him, but he waved off the offer, pulling himself back onto his feet with the assistance of the window border. He nodded, and The Chosen One returned it, before his demeanor changed as he prepared to wreak havoc. He turned, sparks igniting from his palms.
The Chosen One turned his back.
Now. This was his chance.
Discreetly, he began charging a concentrated fireball.
The Chosen one leapt out of the window, hovering for a split second in the air-
-and The Dark Lord fired.
He didn’t remember much of the actual fight.
It was chaos. It was exhilarating. It was terrifying. It was brutal. It was unrelenting.
There was a lot of fire.
He thought some of the icons might have rejoined the battle at some point, but he honestly wasn’t giving his attention to anything that wasn’t hitting his target with as much frantic force and mad precision as he could.
There was no more posturing. There was no thought spared for his ego. All of that went out the window in favor of beating his opponent down and making sure he stayed.
And, when he realized the resistance had ceased.
When the smoke cleared.
When a whole minute had gone by without combat.
He did remember what he saw next.
“…I…he’s actually…”
The Dark Lord lurched toward the crumpled form in the wreckage. His lungs felt like they would burst from his chest. Navigating his way up and over and in some cases through the rubble didn’t help.
But eventually he reached his destination. Panting rather egregiously, but still, he made it.
He nudged the body with his foot.
There was no response.
He’d done it.
“I…I did it. He’s actually dead.”
Mission successful.
“I won.”
“Whoo!”
The victorious cry just about startled him, despite it being carried by his own voice. He didn’t let it curb his enthusiasm, though. He’d earned the right to feel elated by this.
“Yes!” He pumped a triumphant fist in tandem with his exclamation. “I did it! I defeated the enemy and I accomplished my true purpose! And so early in life, too.” He allowed himself a laugh. “I hope this isn’t where I peak.”
He turned, directing his gaze to where he thought he had last seen the cursor, in case his creator had any additional praise.
Noogai seemed to be occupied with cleaning house, though. Remnants of various windows and their contents were being either refreshed or dropped into the recycling bin.
“Hey!” He waved his arms over his head. “Did’ja see what I did? You knew I could do it, didn’t you? That’s why you left it all to me. And you were right!”
The cursor paused in its efforts, before zooming over until it hovered in front of him.
Seized by a sudden impulse, he drew one arm back, wound it up, and slammed his open palm into the facsimile of a hand. The force of it almost made him overbalance, and he hurried to compensate, stumbling a little.
It didn’t phase him. “I’m the best!” he reiterated, pumping his arms again before throwing them into the air and clapping. “Yay for us!”
The cursor hovered another moment, before jerking in what could be generously construed as a nod. The Dark Lord’s responding nod was much more enthusiastic, he thought, but oh well, a cursor could only be so expressive. He was sure noogai was celebrating on the other side of the screen as much as he was.
His eyes fell on the body again.
Hm…cleanup…
As noogai returned to his drag-and-drop tedium, The Dark Lord began identifying some of the more effectively burning material in the ruins and unearthed what he could. He tossed as much as he could find into a pile, before clearing the immediate area of the remaining debris.
Now, how was he gonna construct this thing?
He didn’t actually know how to build a pyre, but he figured just making sure it was structurally sound enough to not collapse under the deceased in the middle of cremation would be good enough.
It was nearly complete (by his estimations (guessing, he was completely guessing)) when the cursor drifted close once more.
It hovered over the makeshift pyre, before clicking on one of the pieces and attempting to drag it away.
“Not yet,” he chided, grabbing the kindling and tugging it out of the cursor’s grasp. “It’s not ready. You can throw it away when the funeral’s done.” He made a shooing motion at the cursor, before replacing the pilfered kindling…or, actually it might be better here…
The cursor was getting all up in his face. He staggered back, before huffing and spreading his hands in confusion. And maybe a little irritation.
“What?”
The cursor zoomed rapidly between the pyre and the body, before hovering expectantly in front of him.
“I know you know what a pyre is. It’s appropriate, isn’t it? And I don’t just mean because of the fire; bold, dignified, ceremonial without much effort, and okay maybe it’s partially because of the fire.”
It tried to grab part of the pyre again.
“Stop, I need that,” he scolded, yanking it back more harshly.
The cursor rose, and he thought noogai was finally leaving him be, but it returned just as he was igniting the pyre, and this time it had brought the recycling bin with it.
It set the bin down right beside the body, and immediately left to pick up more of the wreckage.
“…you…think I should…”
He looked at the body.
He looked at the bin.
“You want me to…”
He looked at the body.
He looked at the pyre.
“…for real?”
He looked at the cursor.
He looked at the body.
He shrugged.
“Well,” he mumbled, “alright, then.”
He plodded over, intending to just scoop it up, but it was all twisted and weird-looking. So he took a moment to straighten out the limbs and adjust the head.
(Sure, it was just gonna go in the trash, but…)
He’d zoned out as he did this, and when he refocused, his eyes found themselves on a slightly singed, but mostly intact and mostly blank, document.
(…this was the reason he was created.)
He found himself standing up and making his way over to where the document lay, draped somewhat stiffly over the rubble of the Word window.
(He was the best, obviously, but if he was created because of this guy, then he had to be pretty great too, it just made sense.)
He found himself gathering the document in his arms, and retracing his steps with whatever he couldn’t keep a hold on trailing behind him.
(He deserved a proper sendoff. If noogai didn’t want the pyre, this was at least better than nothing.)
He unfurled the document, smoothing it out as much as he could as it settled onto the cleared surface.
Maneuvering the body onto it took some awkward shuffling, but was accomplished swiftly, and it wasn’t long before he had effectively swaddled his rival’s form in the white sheet.
He pulled back, paused, sighed.
Then, scooping his arms underneath the mass, he lifted it up bridal-style and made his way over to the bin.
“Sorry it had to end like this, Chosen One,” he eulogized, aiming for mockery and not quite reaching it. He peered over the rim of the bin, grimacing in distaste. He banished it hastily.
"Guess this is it." Holding his arms over the edge, he leaned forward, lowering the bundle as far as he could. "Sayonara."
It still dropped, the last small distance. There was a dull thud.
He didn’t look away for a moment, not until more garbage dropped in from his peripheral vision and the noise of it hitting the inside wall of the bin startled him back into awareness. Pulling his head out of the bin, he looked around.
The desktop was clear, noogai’s cursor hovering placidly near the center.
“All right, we did it!” The Dark Lord enthused, recovering some of his earlier energy. He stepped away from the bin, and the cursor returned it to its resting place. “Back to normal, good, good.”
He looked around again.
He looked at the cursor.
“So what’s next?”