He was lonely, extremely so.
In his forest, there were no sounds to accompany him at all, no green plant, no animal, no life. Everything was dead around him. Dark, dry, and dead.
Because he was breathing.
The forest had been called the dead forest. No living thing could be found on its whole perimeter. A perimeter that was constantly increasing.
Because of his growing powers.
There was a violet-like miasma leaking out of his enormous body, a poisonous miasma that brought many heroes here, to kill the damned demon lord.
The ground was pitch black, the trees had long lost their foliage and were just empty trunks, hollow shells that strong wind sometimes crashed. If he lifted his head, the sky was always murky and lifeless. A thick mist from which the sun rays couldn't pierce. Never a bird to be seen, let alone sing him anything.
He had no name.
No one ever called him. Or maybe he just couldn't remember. Only if been branded demon lord counted. It didn't. Not for him. He was no one’s lord. No one was here to answer his calls, to return his voice, or to engage in a conversation with him.
In the forest, which ground's darkness was blackening even more as long as he was alive, only a small part was what he had claimed. And where he lived. A cave. Quite small by his estimation, a labyrinth by the humans'.
Here, in this cave, he laid for more than a decade now. Quite tired to still be alive. Feeling less and less the desire to fight for it.
The more time passed by, the more his powers were increasing and the more the miasma was leaking out. Some humans who came here prophecized that he was going to be the reason their world would end. So, for the greater good, he had to die.
The world didn’t need him. Didn’t want him.
He couldn't remember at which point he stopped being a regular demon and became what he was now. It hadn't always been like that. He knew it hadn't, or maybe he just thought... It was so long that his memories couldn't be trusted anymore.
He had gone as far as he could though, had tried to further himself from their civilization. How was it his fault that their own growing population was forcing them to broaden their own borders and clashed with his?
Wasn’t he the one supposed to be angry? For all his trying in staying away, it was still they who came, wanting to invade the place he could call his own. They wanted to live? Then they should just stay away!
Footsteps resounded in the hollow silence. A powerful opponent came again. This one was stronger, far stronger than the previous ones he had fought in the past. However, contrary to the past, the desire to live didn't reside in him anymore. Thus, he didn't move, didn't feel like it at all. He looked on, as the most powerful one charged on, breaking the lawyers of defense barrier that reside in the cave. Didn't move still, as the cave's automatic defense mechanisms were being defeated and destroyed, his home ravaged. The walls were trembling and breaking under the multiple holes they suffered.
The group of five intruders emerged victoriously and finally entered his personal chambers where he sat on his chair. The so-called demon lord had a smile on his face as his blood-red eyes landed on the sword the leading man was holding. He was quite familiar with the weapon. In his decades of life, it was the only thing that successfully managed to wound him, breaking down the barrier around his body and entering deep in his flesh. He could still feel the pain of those yesteryears' scars.
It was a peculiar weapon, indeed. Each time he killed the one wielding it, the sword would glow and disappear, only for him to see it again in the hands of the next person coming to take his life. The enchanted holy sword, this time, however, felt like it had bathed with tremendous energy, for it was pulsating fiercely as though calling for blood. His blood. Could the weapon be holding grudges for all those defeats it suffered at his hands, he wondered fleetingly.
The light coming from the sword kept on growing as if wishing for him to do the same, to fight back. The weapon, he knew, had a will of its own and was wishing for a fair fight. But then again, why should the demon lord respond to its caprice?
His apathetic eyes looked on, as the three men and two women surrounded him, casting immobilization magic while at the same time trying to deal with the miasma that was weakening them. The closer they got from his body, the thicker it was after all, thus, all the more dangerous. The barrier around his body repelled their attacks. Some of them flew and landed a few feet away, heavily wounded. It was a protective mechanism, the demon lord needn't controlling it directly for it to work.
Still, he didn't use that opportunity to get rid of these intruders, instead, he let them the time to collect themselves. He looked on, as four of them passed their remaining mana to the leader. Said man then stood to face him with determination in his eyes and a certain stubbornness as though he didn't care for his life so long as he successfully conducts the mission he had been given.
The demon lord didn't move still and his lips lifted a bit. The power residing in the sword grew as the man injected more mana into it, but the sword itself seemed to dim rather than shine. It was unhappy.
Who cared to play with a sword spirit? Without any intention to do anything other than sit, the demon lord actually welcomed the assault and let himself be impaled by the enchanted sword. With his death, the miasma slowly started to disappear.
The whole country rejoiced. The hero killed the demon lord.
Ah, he thought, with his last breath looking at the now dull holy sword, 'let it be known that it was a suicide'. Though no one heard, the holy sword appeared to lose more and more of its shininess.
As his mind was fading away to be forever gone, the demon lord actually caught far away sounds of someone crying for him, begging him for forgiveness. It was good, he thought, someone was actually going to miss him. He wondered who.
His body went cold, life leaving him, nonetheless, his heart was lighter than it had been his whole centuries of existence.
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