What's a Hero to His Enemies Children

What is it to know or to be known? What is it to love, or to be loved? Why can I know someone I love, but not someone I hate, and why can I hate someone I love, but not someone I know? In this world, understanding is all that separates righteousness and well-meaning from malice and ill will within the hearts of men. It is all that separates peace, and its counterpart, the great origin of the falling of many peoples, strife. The concept is simple, yet most people have just one hang-up. One question on their minds that no one seems to be able to answer.

How is it that you begin to understand?

…

“The sun fell 42 years ago, and with it, the stars fled, giving way to a darkness unending, fought off with only the flames scorching the Earth as war waged on between men, and the ungodly beast who announced themselves as Demonia Draturi during the first invasion.

As their armies advanced, their slaughters became bolder with each passing day, and soon, their brutality followed suit, increasing exponentially as they gained further confidence from the lack of resistance. Eventually, the common men, in their fear, granted them a new name: demons. Without ceasing they ravaged the lands, slowly pushing humanity to it’s brink, but as everything neared its end, when all of the remaning human beings were backed into a single corner, the worm turned; and a man who came from a place unknown to all but the goddess, with only a sword in his hand and the clothes on his back, charged at the overwhelming armies of those filth tainted bastards, pushing them back more and more each time, every time. This man’s name was Vitra Dras, known now, as ‘The Hero of Humanity’.

It took him 10 years to establish a border between the great Kingdom of Terin and the land claimed by the demons, now named the Kingdom of Libes. Then, after 12 years of defending that border, a now unified humanity has been able to build a spirit, and an army capable of resisting said demons on their own, thanks to the knowledge bestowed on us, of course, by the only person who’s been able to break through the demons army’s: The Hero.” A man stood lecturing a group of students, speaking without a single stutter or hitch, as to him every word was more important than the last.

Then suddenly, the man speaking stopped for a moment and scanned his surroundings, making sure he had the attention of the room. And after noticing everyone had their eyes trained on him, eyes that burned with passion as they listened intently to a story they had surely heard hundreds of times before, he spoke again, and he said, “You all listen closely. You are the future of this nation. You, are the spawn of humanity’s will to resist its fate, now rested in the hands of destruction, and one day, you, will be the soldiers capable of bearing some of the burden from the Great Hero, Lord Vitra, as he uses his body to break the howling winds trained on us to make light the passing breeze. One day soon, you are the ones who will allow him the rest he needs to continue the fight to protect mankind.”

As he looked out again to the classroom, gauging the reactions of those in attendance, he saw something in one of his students; he saw something beyond just admiration; he saw hatred. As he beheld this, he was flooded with his own memories of himself at that age, memories of rage-inducing loss during the first slaughter, something that couldn’t even be called a war at the time. Suddenly, his eyes began to dim, and his face contorted into one of anger as he roared out, “Children! I can see it in your eyes, your hearts, your very souls, the disgust you hold for that false-blooded filth, born with the death of light, the great taint of the Earth, the demons! I call on you today to hold that hatred dear to you, to keep it held open in the depths of your heart, because the war is not yet won! Never let yourselves forget the look on your parents’ faces as their throats were slit before your eyes while you hid beneath your beds, in your houses, crouched to the ground like intruders, like insects!” This got a reaction out of some of the students as many began to adopt hatred into their own eyes, the flames being stoked further with every continued word. “Never let yourselves forget the warmth of your sister’s blood, of your brother’s blood as it fell on your skin, like a torrential wave, drenching you in the last essence of their lives, before finding it go cold against your flesh. Never forget how it clung to you through your clothes, though it were begging you to never let it go. Begging you to never forget it, begging you to avenge its hatred with even more blood! Today marks the beginning of your training, and the beginning of your entrance into the god king’s army.” His eyes scanned the room as he spoke, trained carefully on the faces of each individual they passed by, while he took note of the fire he saw, even in the eyes of children no more than 6 or 8 years old in a large room made up of over 200, aged 5-22.

“Now, with the introductions finished, let us begin your first lecture.” He said nonchalantly as though he didn’t, just a minute ago, just speak with so much fervor it could be felt physically by everyone in attendance. He turned his back on the students and began to write on the board in chalk.

‘How to kill the un-killable’.

Just like that, the newest source of hope for humanity was being nurtured, tended to from the roots, as the current source of hope stood before a seemingly insurmountable wall. Vitra Dras, a man known as a Hero so great, even the dogs and flies knew his name and bowed their heads in respect when he passed by, stood before a woman with shaking hands and an unsteady gaze. Every fiber of his being told him he knew who this woman was from the first moment he looked into her eyes, yet from his lips a thought escaped.

“Who are you?”

…

A moment of silence passed before he steeled his resolve in response to her lack of answers and swung his sword at the woman, lopping her head clean off for the third time. A few seconds passed before he looked behind him, only to see her back up once more, in perfect health. Again, Vitra spoke, saying angrily, “Woman! I asked you a question, who are you, and where did you get that face!?”

She stared in disbelief at him, eyes wide, mouth gaped, breath stilled. “Oh, Vitra,” she said after a moment. “Don’t you remember me?”