Writing Prompts: The Hero defeats The Villain in a single blow. When questioned about how they became so powerful, The Hero explains the terrible struggle behind grinding for XP.

I discovered an old Reddit account I had for posting stories and writing prompts was somehow still active and decided to raid it for some of the older stuff I wrote while trying to get better at writing.  There isn't much but here is what there is...

It was with a mighty blow Ser Blaonwen A'lbaop struck down the evil despotic Henry Ford, ending the villain’s reign over his fair land. There had been much misery under the rule of the dictator and the country had borne the brunt of it since the mad man had attained his power. Striped of their natural habitats and pursuits both man and animals had run wild, grown cruel and twisted. Worse dark creatures from desperate planes of reality had smelt the stench of corruption and been drawn to the place, further destroying the very atmosphere and tainting the people with an oppressive aura.

Now that the head had been slain, the rest of the beast that was choking the life out of the realm had gone quiescent. Dark roots persisted as evil does not ever dissipate without leaving its mark or furnishing a method by which a resurgence could occur. Things would be better now, but it would take some time before the land healed sufficiently to be able to return to its slumber. There was a wildness to the natural world that would be retained for some generations and the dark creatures still infesting the world would need to be hunted down one by one, no quarter given. To do otherwise would be to allow a foothold...

But it was nevertheless brighter in the sky now that the villain had met his end. The air had lost some of its sharpness. As he passed by them in the woods, a tired Blaonwen A'lbaop noted that the eyes of the animals no longer glowed red. The few that he could see, most of them had run off before he crossed their paths. Without the taint the wildness was there but tempered by fear of man.

Striding towards the faint sounds of jubilation off in the distance our hero spotted the hazt yellow glow of torches and a slight scent that could only be malted hops greeted his nose. It could only be an Inn! A quaff of beer would be an excellent way to recuperate and relax before undertaking to push forward towards the ancestral lands of his people.

Staggering in to the throng of jubilant townsmen he made his way to the bar and called for the innkeeper's best. It was the sound of his hoarse voice seeking to be heard over the din that caused the room to suddenly realize the cause of their celebration was in their midst. As one every man in the building called out to insist the privilege of buying the stranger's beverage was theirs. With a hangdog smile barely tugging his lips upwards the hero just nodded gratefully and accepted.

Some time later a much more comfortable man had been soothed in the inn's private bathes, had eaten his fill of the inn's stew, and was seated at the center of all attention relaxing with the warm warm feeling of alcohol sitting in his belly. With no further excuses to delay, he told all who listened of how with a single blow he had saved the land from predations. Far from being satisfied with his short tale, people began to pelt him with questions, seeking to know the source of his strength. At long last Ser Blaonwen A'lbaop could take it no more and erupted:

"Strength?" said he, "You seek to know the source of my strength?"

As he watched the many heads in the room nod intently and heard a rumble of agreement from all the assembled personages he spat back at them--

"As I have said previously I am one of you, though from a far off village that no man now living would know the name to. When I was a young lad of nine I saw my entire family murdered and the village burnt to the ground while I cravenly hid myself in the woods helpless to defend or avenge myself. I vowed that day I would become strong!" He declared to his enraptured listeners.

"I was already learned in the ways of a hunter in the woods, but what had been child's playing became my schoolhouse. I deliberately hunted the wolves not for sport to tease or taunt, but with murder in my childish heart and an aim towards increasing my strength. For every beast I slew my strength grew. After some time at this when the most mad dire wolves growling at me with spittle laced fangs was as the beating of a bowtruckle I moved on to imps, then goblins and trolls."

The hero paused to take a drink from his cup before continuing as his previously enraptured audience seemed to sway slightly with nervous energy. He then continued his tale:

"Once the blow of even the meanest troll was as the glancing strike of a baby I began seeking out the soldiers of the Despot and engaging them in battle, until I could put them down like the unworthy dogs they were. In all this years had passed and I kept fighting, growing my strength, improving my stats. After some time even the soldiers were no match for my prowess but still I continued to seek them out and attack them for the pitiful amount their defeat could improve my stats until today when my stats had aligned with the magic number 9999 and under this number I knew I could defeat that villain once and for all. It was no small thing to gain this strength, I had to grind at it until everything which could stand in my way was dust."

Except when he had concluded his tale, the room was empty. The listeners realized that the hero had in his blood lust gone insane. The soldiers he had callously called dogs had been conscripts. Yet no one was strong enough to stand against this "hero" so they had all slowly faded away during the telling of the tale.