Here I sit. Twirling the crown of the supposed king of Hell with my middle finger.
"When I first stepped into this 'battlefield,' I expected a challenge.
They said 'The only way out is by taking the crown from the Head of the King.'
When I showed up, they ran.
They cried to those above for an answer. Their incompetence cost them a favor. A favor that was not enough.
So they ran.
They begged for more power—enough to hide their incompetence again. They smiled with tears of joy running down their face. All for it to mean nothing in the end.
One thing I've learned during my journey through this supposed Hell is that there is no need to worry about people who are fearful of you. Even with a power boost, it's temporary. Without you, they would have never received it."
I say this to no one in particular. Getting up from the broken thrown I toss the crown aside. It disintergrates into nothing as I walk into the portal that leads back to the Void.