Short Story: Shadow of Oneself
Shadow of Oneself
Disclaimer: This was actually what I wrote the day before the exam. What I actually wrote must’ve been a bit different.
Hercul’s task was simple: eliminate the one known as the Destroyer of Nations, Harbinger of Catastrophe, Ruinous Creation, Annihilator Valaksar. Sent as one of The Association’s greatest heroes, the others had already separated from him to scour the above-ground labyrinth as fast as possible. The ancient structure easily surpassed the grandest cities in size and yet copied the aura of a shy child, with only its entrance peeking out of a gargantuan mountain that housed the rest of the building under its weight. Crooked dead vines and eerie silence sprawled across the colossal stone doorway which displayed an innumerable number of routes that led deeper into the maze. The floor had long since been displaced and broken by nature’s wrath.
Hercul stepped foot into the only corridor they left him – the largest one that ran dead-straight forward. Jeepers, he thought, unsheathing his sword. Vines seeped into the hallway and hugged the bland walls as if their lives depended upon it. The stillness soaked the atmosphere and almost screamed at him. He only heard his calmly pounding heart and the scraping of leather boots on stone. As Hercul dredged deeper within, decay grew more prominent. Jagged stones poked from the ground, pleading for an unsuspecting traveler to dare walk through here. After having walked a few miles in, the creepers begun to recede. Intricate patterns appeared on the previously bland walls, swirling across the stone walls as if they were stormy ocean waves frozen in time. Somehow, a hidden source of light illuminated the labyrinth equally on all sides. Hercul found no source; the maze seemed reluctant to give its secrets away.
After traversing the unnerving labyrinth for what was half an hour but felt like an eternity, Hercul heard something. A constant faint beating, slow yet commanding, demanding attention. It thumped directly in opposition of Hercul’s own heartbeats. This might be it, Hercul thought as he marched onwards. Annihilator Valaksar had completely disappeared from the radar of The Association for seven years now, damaging not even one city since. Of course, they assumed he was developing a scheme so sinister that it could destroy anyone with the ability to defeat him, thus allowing him to conquer the entire world with no restraints. So Hercul had to assassinate Valaksar. Simple.
As he progressed through the hallway, the steady thumping grew, coercing Hercul’s heart to do the same. Ahead, the gloomy tunnel atmosphere lifted, and a more natural light shone at the end – so Hercul ran, leather boots punishing the cracked indolent stone beneath. He bolted outwards and – He gulped. Organic light flooded the impossibly huge room he was in. The ground beneath was perfect marble, a district-size concentric shape where its centre held a small object, too far for Hercul to properly see. Was that a chair? Golden towers pillared upwards around the marble’s edge. It suddenly occurred to him that the mountain did not house the labyrinth. It was the labyrinth.
The pulsating beat pounded against Hercul’s eardrums with a tormented rhythm. However, it felt more resigned than anything else. Hercul approached the definite chair at the center of the marble and… nothing happened. No ominous aura that The Association suggested, no cursed screams, nothing. Just the omnipresent beating of something. The shape of a man formed in Hercul’s vision, and Hercul surged in anger and bolted towards it in a two-handed stance with his sword. The man was wizened and old, locked in chains of pure gold that ran to the marble. The man turned towards the approaching swordsman with haunted eyes that told of rueful tales. A deep scar ran down his aged face. Hercul leapt, sword in hand.
You are a worthy vessel. Become the champion of Valak. Your hatred is mine. The nightmarish ooze erupted with insidious laughter as it overtook the majority of Sar’s mind.
Hate me for all you have.
For what I have done.
Your hate, my strength.
With one swift strike, the monstrous reign of tyranny that lasted five decades ended. And with that, the last vestiges of a long-since broken man with it.