He walked through the plains of ash, surrounded by the pillars of char jutting out from the dead earth. Dressed in torn clothing stained with blood, and carrying a bowie knife he noticed a lone horse. with the stench of sulfur burning his nose he approached the ragged mare, noticing three others dead to its left.
as he drug himself on the horse it shuddered, even though he was famished and slim, the horse still struggled to carry him. heading forward through the clearing it limbered, pushing forward the man knew the horse had little time left as the ashen ground became black sand, the horse fell, unable to go any further. He abandoned it without another thought.
As he continued on through the scorched desert, flames began to rain down from the sky. This was met with only a grunt from the man, he kept walking through this pandemonium, stepping through blood-soaked sand. As he reached the top of the highest mound of sand and bone, he spotted another.
The other man, clothed in ratskin and brandishing a short sword of steel, held a crown of smashed emeralds and tarnished gold in his hands.
Spotting this, the man began to rush his opponent, the other man braced himself in preparation but was too feeble to withstand the charge, dropping the crown as he was tackled by the man.
They rolled down the mound in battle, punching and kicking to the bottom. They both grasped their weapons and stepped back, a space opening between them. neither man spoke a word, silently a challenge was raised and accepted, they charged each other.
The man furiously attacked his opponent, swinging his bowie knife wildly, colliding with the sword and barely scraping the opponents arm. this dance continued for some time, tumbling and skirmishing on the dying earth, they fought.
Finally, after some time, the man plunged his knife deep into the opponents chest. The opponent, in a final act of defiance, thrust his sword through the mans gut.
Standing and once again ascending the mound, bleeding from his gut but victorious he smiled. Reaching the top, he picked up the crown and placed it upon his head. He looked upon his kingdom, righteously granted by the crown. He saw the flames raining down, the clouds of ash shifting across the wasteland. As he gazed into the sky, he saw a faint light, the sun, blotted out from the destruction around him.
Falling to the ground as his wound began to overtake him he shouted to a dead earth:
“behold, I am the king of kings, ruler of all that is and all that will be, all shall bend to me”
He was all that remained.
Finally, as he stared into the blotted sun, his breath grew rasp, then cut. With his final breath the horse also passed, but the earth remained.
His corpse lay, ruler of all and commander of none, the world had ended, and he never knew.
submitted by /u/PhantomMeridian
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