There were many ways for the conversation to proceed but this was not the way that anyone predicted. In front of their eyes was their defiled god and their scorned beauteous Demon Lord. Why did it seem that they were in the wrong?

"What words do you wish to speak with me now, black heart?" the words came out in a snarl. It came out as a growl. Nothing more. The hero looked almost ready to snap. And at that moment all who heard these two knew that their hero, their light of hope had been broken, the deaths of all that had been dear to him had broken their hope. There was nought left in their noble hero. The blade he held lit up with the magic of its own and the wielder of the blade readied to launch the final assault on the Demon Lord.

"Come now, we don't need to resort to name-calling or violence, do we? We are made of better stuff than that. You and I are made better than the others. Of course, tell me, Hero, you chose your role not for ridding this world of tyranny but rather because, two of us may not exist. Is that not so?" The man in black spoke a little lower as if they were two co-conspirators talking to each other.

"Die," the hero screamed out as he charged with the blade of light. The blade cleaved the space where the Demon Lord had been standing just a moment earlier. The entire space was filled with light and the area was turned into something finer than ash. However, the Demon Lord hadn't been slain. He stood a foot away and he still seemed to be as serene as ever. It was as though that instantaneous movement had been nothing for him.

"Now, now, I know you. I know your heart and mind far better than any mortal. I know you'd not like to admit it. But I know that you decided to fight me simply to remove an eyesore from your view. I sympathize. I truly do. You have to understand though that I cannot simply lie down and die for you. I am, after all, a man in the end and I cannot let myself be killed so easily. Yes, I am still a man despite what you think. And yes, you are less a man than me after gaining so much from so many, you are a chimaera at best, in the guise of a man. I know this because I would have taken your path if I wasn't strong enough already. But the fact remains, I am more human than even your lowest friend."

"You are no man. You are here as a shadow to the light of man. You are a demon hiding in human skin waiting to throw away the guise you wear, you are the reason for so much ill in this world. Our world suffers because of you. You are the monster that makes it required for me to take up arms. In the name of my soul, blaze." The last was an incantation for a flame spell. The fires began to burn from the feet of the Demon Lord and they were arcane in origin and nature. No water, no sand could ever douse these flames.

"Come now, flames? Do you think flames will halt me? Do you think that even the harshest flame can even singe me?" He seemed to be incredulous now. Only now did he get angry. The flames that spread from under his feet simply vanished away like a candle's flame. The hero seemed to be surprised now.
"You fool. Who do you think made up the tale of that worthless blade? Who do you think knows the best of the attributes of the spells that make up this world? My kind, naïve young hero, my greedy, lost and confused hero, I am the one who holds all of the pieces in this world. For example, my dear hero, I'd say goodbye to your left hand if I were you."

The Demon Lord waved and an obsidian throne formed from the ground. He sat in it. The hero seemed to be still for a moment and then the words of the Demon Lord came true. The left hand of the hero simply burst in a spray of blood and flesh. He still seemed to look spotless as the blood didn't fall on his body. "I didn't let the blood fall on your spotless armour. Appearances are important in this world and the others. Now that you have loosened up a little, let us talk now. Have a seat. You will not bleed anymore. Don't worry. Death for you shall not be that dishonourable"

He waved again, another throne, this one made of white rock, marble or so it seemed. The hero collapsed into the chair. The bright blade clattered to the floor of the balcony where they two stood now, moved from the battle by the arcane powers of the Demon Lord. The people did not want to see this anymore but they were transfixed.

It was a balcony as the magical screen stretched now to let them see more. From this place, it was obvious what had happened. The entire free army was burned, only grotesque charred bodies remained of what had supposed to be humanity's best hope for freedom. The armies of the Demon Lord withered away to almost nothing, the few that remained were now even slinking away into the shadows of what remained of the stronghold of the Demon Lord.

"What do you want with me, black heart?" asked the hero and he spat those words out from clenched teeth. His left hand throbbed rhythmically. He looked at the stump of his hand. No blood came out. He could scarcely believe it. So at the end of it all, words would determine the end of all.

"Nothing my hero. Nothing at all." He seemed bemused as he spoke. "I merely wanted to talk." He laughed as if speaking to an old friend after a long time. "It has been a while since I needed to speak this language. Speaking to trolls and kobolds isn't the same as human speech you know. So now, tell me my hero, is failure quite so bad? I failed many times, many, many times before I got to where I am. You may have heard the old tales of the strength of the old heroes. You may not believe it but I was the one who carried out all of those tasks. You see, my hero, the world needs no heroes. I learnt that the hard way. I struggled, failed, fell, bled and died a thousand deaths. Tell me, why do you think that I am here as the enemy of all that live?"

"Because you are evil. What other reason is required for you to have?" venom dripped from the voice of the hero. It was strange. The people that saw the hero saw the hero more like a weak man rather than the god they had expected. The Demon Lord seemed to be far more of a noble presence than the hero. It was difficult to hold hope now. Already the hero seemed beaten. The great blade of light already cast away like so much dead weight didn't even seem to shine even with the dull sheen that old weapons seemed to have. It was like the hero itself, dead and appearing like a lump of steel and nought else.

  "Not being quite so clever now, are we? My dear hero," said he with his voice dripping with an emotion which could almost be similar to what one lover may say to another. "My poor, poor hero, I have led the armies of men, I have led the warriors of the light and the dark, there is no race, no demon, no god I have not led or beaten into the dust of the land under my feet. I have fought the darkness for long centuries before you ever rose. Then I realized, the people of the world do not need a hero. They need someone to hold the darkness at bay. They need the dark. They need the dark to live. I am that person. I am the darkness that they deserve. I serve humanity. Is that so difficult to understand?"

 "It is. You have destroyed a major part of the world and you say that you do this for us. There is no way that you have done for all of us. You must have done this for your own joys. I know you far better than most. I have followed your trail and to beat you I learnt of your methods. I know far better and so your reason will not be because of your kindness. You have done this all for something else. You may claim many things but the one thing that you may never claim to be is to be an altruist."