The summoner, an older man with a greying beard, almost perfectly fitting the stereotype of a wise and gentle man, raises a tea pot from the table he had conjured before the battle began. Leaning forward from a deck chair too comfortable to be made of anything but magic, you raise your cup in thanks. The pair of you recline once again, observing the feats of your elvish companion.

Your stomach aches at the sight of it. In this world of magic, why would anyone wait for a human as a hero? They had one right here. Apparently, she'd been kicked out of her battalion for "disobeying orders". She said she was just too good at her job, but her superiors would never let her go alone. Something was muttered about "corruption of an arcane soul" but was brushed aside just as quickly as the arrows that had been aimed right at you. A lot of assassination attempts had been foiled by her. Afterall, you're needed. Without you, there would be no Hero's Party and a worse reputation. Without her, you'd be dead in the middle of the road. Without the Summoner, you all wouldn't be here together. On a mission to find the Throne of Great Evil.

You laughed at the sound of it at first, but you were quickly stared down. The fabled seat, made of igneous rock left behind by the last Evil Lord who perished in flames, was said to hold great power. The next Lord would be unknowable to all of this world until they finally took their place, where they would be imbued with the power of The Great Evil, bringing a thousand years of darkness. Until then, they had a plan. Find the Throne. Wait for the next Lord. Kill them before they sat down. Easy enough, especially with as many sandwiches you have packed.

You had been optimistic at the start. You didn't need to do much. Just sit back and let her do the work, but it had been so long! The Great Evil was always "coming". Always "growing". But never here! You half-wished you could just find the throne, lop off the head of whoever approached it, and get it over with. Where is it? You continue to wonder as your elvish companion finishes off the last minion with a flourish, sending his blood spraying in the dirt. You're sure as hell glad she's so capable. Growing stronger and stronger each day. With a destination of-

"So, which way next to the Throne of Great Evil?" Your elvish companion reaches down and takes one of your sandwiches, tearing into it. The sauce mixes with the blood still on her face.

Over a thousand years ago, Destruction reigned. He had done so for centuries before, since the first tear in the sky appeared. We thought he would rule for centuries more until the sun faded to nothingness. Back in a time when soldiers were more plentiful than civilians, generals rode roughshod over fertile land, churning them into battlefields. Reasons for battles fell into distant memory, laid to rest with the bones who fell for a cause they once believed was righteous. Regardless, it became war for War's sake. Those who fell did not enrich the land, but were swallowed by it. Twisted and mangled, the land leeched the life from them, the very life they stole from it with blades and axes. Neither ended up more alive than the other.

Mages grasped and strangled the Radiance, the light of the world, and bent it to their will. With the excuse of "the pursuit of knowledge," they broke the light inside each other until only Dark remained. Arcane pursuit excused all manner of atrocities, rendered useless when no one was left amongst the ashes to make use of their knowledge; only onlookers who either feared Light more, or those whose curiosity would inevitably bring their own end.

Magic wielders were not the only ones overcome with Greed. As common folk starved and the idea of nothing grew closer, they scrambled and scratched and pinched and stole. Anything to avoid the idea of nothing, despite the fact they took from their fellows who would succumb to the very thing they feared. In that time, it did not matter. As long as One had something, there was no room for concern if others had nothing.

Power did not satisfy, no matter how much the people indulged. Always eating, never full. Always taking, never full. Always discovering, never learning. In a world made by Creation, Her ideals would would be her undoing.

Boundless creation was a problem that had always existed. A neverending tide approaching with more people, more problems, more suffering than a single world should take. In shame, She stepped away, leaving Destruction to right the balance, unaware it was the part of Her that was Him, the inevitable end to Creation, which set the events in motion. It was the part of Him that was Her, the little Creation he harboured, that kept the world suffering.

He had ruled for centuries. We believed he would rule for centuries more. From the state of the historian, I could tell it did not last. Hopeful. Horrified by the past, its acts so distant. There was something that gave them hope. "What about the gods?" They asked. "They couldn't have just stood by. They wouldn't."

They didn't, I reassured them. In the earliest of days, when souls were young and innocent, there were The Children. Kissed by Creation, they did not die. They did not falter in their ideals when faced with mortal dangers. That all changed with the Rise of Destruction. Facing their own corruption was Joy, Justice, Nature, and Knowledge. When He first rose into power, they tried to fight it. Joy brought Light where they could, standing by Justice's side to illuminate the righteous path. When She Who Knows fled, it all began to fall. The roots deep in the earth had already rotted, tainted by His touch. With a world harsh and unforgiving, there was no home for Joy. With a word and a curse, they were lost. As Justice lost his illumination, his targets became unclear. No colour, only black and white. There was still darkness to be culled, anything darker than the blinding light.

There were others, thought to be saviours as first. They stepped in, granted a Radiant aura people had only seen in the blessings from above. As above, so below, as the saying goes. Whether in plain sight or in the shadows, they were always here. They always would be, in one form or another.

Something to bring the young soul before me hope: there was always an end to Destruction. It was inevitable. Corruption would end or heal, fallen seas would rise again. The gods people knew became devoted to the good they craved to see. Gathered again, ideals one and the same, they turned their focus to the centre of our continent, where His throne stood tall as the day the magma spewed from the earth. Weapons drawn, Radiance gathered, the fight of generations followed.

The historian said they knew what happened next. Destruction fell but at a cost. In his fury, Justice was poised to strike the Elder God down in the name of his ideal, forgetting about his own safety. It would be his downfall. It was the sight of her Child being struck down that spurred Creation into action. A Light so bright, so strong, it drove Her counterpart deep within his own throne, smothered by the molten rock that spewed from its peak. As the heat fled with Her leaving, the dust cleared. Destruction was gone.

I had enlightened the historian. I held up my end of the deal. As they settled, trying to commit everything to memory, they relaxed. Occupied. Unaware.

I was not blessed with a kiss from Creation. I did not exude Radiance like Her Children, but I had been granted a gift. True insight into others minds, and how they turn. How they can be turned. The inevitable and the impossible were laid plain before me, the strings of fate to be pulled by me alone. The historian never asked how I came to be down here. I told them it was a sentence, in truth, but not entirely metaphorical. After all, who would They be if the Killer of Justice did not face God-made consequences? It was humorously mortal of them to seek revenge against the one who turned and corrupted them, too. It was the godly part of them that decided my fate, sealed by the seat of My Lord.