• The night was heavy and humid, and the small settlement was quite except for the clatter and clatter of small animals that scavenged the garbage that littered the poverty stricken streets. A large overweight man sat in a small wooden chair on his porch, his house stood at the edge of town and he was the first to notice anything strange to enter his small town. He lit a cigar brought the edge to his lips. He stared down the road which leads to the plantations where the entire town worked, lived and died.
    He closed his eyes for a bit of rest, his old body was not cut out for the long nights it was used to. He opened his eyes to see a figure walking down the road. The old man rubbed his eyes with his large swollen hands. He could make out a man, carrying a ‘machete’ he thought. He reached behind him for his old hunting rifle and caressed it. The man got closer and the moon’s light reflected off his bald head. He too was a big man; his body hidden by dark, baggy, clothing and an old worn trench coat that hung on his shoulders and fell down to his knees. The old man squinted to see the figure’s face; he made out a well-trimmed goatee and bright eyes that seemed to glow in darkness.
    The old man held his gun tighter, sweat trickled down his face, the figure was getting closer. The old man saw that the figure did not carry a machete but a sword that resembled one that a knight used to fight a dragon in a children’s book. The man was now standing in front of him, looking ahead at the town, observing it. The old man looked at him, and sensed the sheer amount of power hidden behind those baggy clothes. The old man was about to speak, but the figure turned and glared at him. A glare that would drain the strength of a lion, a glare that pierced through diamond, a glare the showed his awesome power through his bright amber eyes, that was the glare of the world’s strongest warrior.
    He entered on into the town with no protest, or rather no defiance.
    The world’s strongest warrior stood outside the local church. He was searching for a place where no one could find him, but he had the misfortune to bring disaster wherever he went. He pulled out a piece of gum from his coat pocket and chewed furiously. He felt around his jacket for matches but remembered that he no longer smoked. He quit smoking not too long ago; he still had his urges and habits. He gripped his sword tightly and rubbed his bald head and remembered that he cut it off not too long ago as well. “Gotta stop with the ol’ habits now” he muttered to himself.
    The world’s strongest, his real name was Nero but no one ever called him that. He had been doing nothing but facing enemy after enemy who were after the same title, each crippled under Nero’s strength.
    He wandered, and he finally found himself in a place where no one could find him. He thought perhaps this was the place he sought out, the place where he can abandon his career as the world’s strongest. The first building he encountered was the church and he thought it right to enter this place first. It was late at night but the lights were on, “Is today Sunday?” he thought to himself. He placed his hands on the doors, and gently pushed. The large double doors creaked upon entering the building.
    He looked around at the holy relics on the altar, the empty benches, the inscriptions on the wall, and the ornate confessional which he felt was out of place. “It’s a bit clichéd,” he spoke out loud. He walked towards it with long strides. He sat down in the booth, continuing to chew with his mouth open making obnoxious sounds. The sliding screen opened to reveal the figure of the priest. “Forgive me father for I have sinned.” He said to the priest, the priest was silent. The priest slowly took out a cigarette and lit it revealing his old face, full of wrinkles and stubble made of white hair. “First time confessing son?” the priest said in perfect English, Nero was caught off guard for once in his life. “The correct words you are looking for are ‘Bless me Father for I have sinned’ followed by the last time you confessed.” The world’s strongest took a closer look at the dimly lit face but could not make out anything about his expression that would reveal his intensions. “Shouldn’t have bought that gum, world’s strongest.” the priest muttered.
    There was no hesitation. Nero drove his hand through the cloth lattice gripping the priests neck. The priest reached for his waist where a gun was holstered but was too slow. He shattered the thick wall of wood that separated the two individuals and with one strike shattered all the bones in that man’s leftarm. A blood-curling scream filled the empty building. “Who are you?” the Nero whispered to him, the fake priest showed a twisted grin and whispered back “The new strongest.”
    Nero retreated backwards out of the confessional and drew his sword, a single edged blade of four feet. The fake priest stumbled out of the booth clenching his broken arm, wearing a sick twisted smile on his face. “Today I become the strongest on this earth!” he yelled at him “With my power I will destroy you and rule this world of lower beings, of unages!” Nero looked at him strangely “You speak nonsense” he muttered. He dug his sword in the ground and removed his coat, he tossed it at a bench and it landed with a load thud and crack revealing the density of his coat. His dark arms, riddled with scars, took the sword with both hands and faced the fake priest.
    Nero charged at the man with inhuman speed. But the priest glowed faintly and dodged the first attack, a horizontal swing. He glided backwards as if his body had no weight. “You move as if you actually had magic in ya boy!” he yelled. The fake priest held out his hand and whispered incomprehensible words. A small ball of light gathered in his hands and a beam shot out. Nero ducked and barely dodged the attack. He charged forward again and lunged, but the fake priest slid effortlessly to the left using his strange power. He lifted his unbroken hand and the glow of his body seemed to shift its focus to that point. He threw his fist at Nero’s face. Nero spun around dodging the fist and was at the man’s side; he lifted his sword and struck at the forearm. The fake priest let out another scream and stumbled backwards.
    Nero walked up to him, sword covered in blood and virtually unscathed. “Where is the real priest?” he asked. The fake priest gave another crooked grin “I killed him and took his clothes, no one even asked what happened to him, they just assumed he went away, funny how ignorant some of you unages are.” The priest chuckled, but then grew into a hysterical laughter, “It was so simple to find you too, learning all about your technology was very…” Nero broke and pierced the man’s heart, “ea..sy…” the man fell silent.
    Nero sheathed his sword and picked up his jacket. He kneeled down next to the body. He was about to feel his pulse when suddenly the man sprang back to life and embraced him. Nero attempted to break free but the man’s dying will made him hold on. “You will fall with me!” he yelled. The man yelled in a strange demonic language. Darkness started spread from his wound and was consuming both of them. Nero became frightened as the parts of his body that were covered by the darkness became unable to move. “What is this evil!?” Nero yelled at him, but all that heard was a maniacal laughing, that continued until his head disappeared under the darkness. Nero looked around in panic and all that was left of him was his face. The doors of the church slammed open just in time for people to enter and see the evil, demonic, sight. Nero could only stare helplessly at them before his entire body was consumed. The few residents there stared in horror as the scene progressed, as the darkness got smaller and smaller until finally it disappeared.