Hero King Masaru wept.
He thought about how he had bequeathed unto his best four companions all he knew over the past 10 years.
He thought about how he had tirelessly served his country and all of humanity in countless wars.
He thought about how he had even left his hometown to fight in the planar war against the demon race, only to return to the smoking, destroyed remains of his village.
He remembered how he swore to defeat the demons at all costs.
...And he remembered how he and his sworn brothers had promised to always guard each others' back. To go through thick and thin together; to face life and death together.
To live and die as one.
So why, then, was he in such a situation?
He gasped in pain, unable to breath anymore.
He craned his neck as he lay on the ground, struggling to look one last time at his ambushers.
He saw a regal-looking man with a crown laugh at him, mocking and triumphant.
He saw his three brothers, sorrowful expressions on their faces, but with eyebrows furrowed in determination at their choice.
And he looked at the bloody hole where his heart used to be.
Even as his physical heart was ruptured and destroyed, so too his emotional heart was broken, ruptured beyond repair.
But he struggled with all his soul to utter his last question as he slumped down beside the corpse of the golden-haired and red-eyed Demon God who he had slain.
"Why.....!?" The handsome black-haired man asked in agony, gasping.
Then his hand that was pressed against the gaping hole on his chest stiffened and went limp.
His life and consciousness faded away before he could hear the answer he desired.
Even as a red-eyed, impossibly handsome purple-haired man appeared from a teleportation portal to stand beside his former companions.
The purple haired man, Demon King Lucavi, laughed merrily then clasped hands with the Human Emperor Tyranus. The two smiled cheerfully - as if they were long-lost brothers.
"I'm sorry, Masaru..."
One of his three former teammates, a golden-haired man, spoke as the other two men behind him looked on with pity, but without remorse at their action of betrayal.
The leader of the vile traitors looked exactly like a prince charming from the fairy tales, a knight in shining armour going forth to slay the evil dragons. He spoke with clear, limpid blue eyes and a perfect face devoid of guilt as he stood over the Hero King's body with closed eyes - as if holding a final vigil and paying his last respects.
Then the valiant knight opened his eyes, fiery fervour mirrored within, then spoke.
"The Hero King isn't needed anymore..."
* * * * *
'Is this... Death?'
'So there truly is no afterlife... Only... Nothingness...'
'Oblivion...'
His consciousness floated in the void.
It was completely silent.
No whooshing of winds swirling around him or angelic voices, nor were there any sinister demonic crackles.
It was also not black, but a deepest shadow, a grey so dark it might as well have been black, for though there were shadows, there was no light anywhere.
Except for two flickering motes of light.
Himself.
And one more beside him, a familiar light of the soul that he had fought against countless times over these years.
Demon God Glados.
In the still and black surroundings, he heard a whispered voice.
Then in the darkness, the mote of light beside him seemed to glow even more brightly, as if burning up all it's remaining light to make one last ditch effort.
"Pitiful man... Be reborn... And exact our revenge on those who have schemed against us...!"
A fragment of light darted into his body, then the void around him was split, revealing a black hole even darker than the darkness around him. The spatial crack began to swirl like a whirlpool, creating an almighty, irresistible vacuum that sucked him in.
And he was swallowed by the endless darkness.