The man climbed up, one foot in front of the other, as he had for the past three hours. The mountain seemed to stretch all the way to the skies above, its peaks piercing the blue clouds that prevented him from glimpsing the nature of the man who threatened to destroy the entire world. His three companions followed closely behind him. A magic-wielder whose robe flowed around him, emitting a strong aura that shielded him from the elements; a ranger, her bow tied up on her back, capable of knocking a man’s badge off from over two hundred meters; a barbarian, his fury strong enough to melt steel with just a gaze.

A large gust of wind that came from above seemed to shake the mountainside and even the warrior had to frown his brow and brace himself so as not to be thrown off the very face of the cliff. The mage’s staff clashed against the stone, and the material enveloped them, bestowing a boon that kept them from being pushed off course by the magic of the domain. His shield clattered as he walked forward, nearing their destination.

Another man waited painfully as he heard footsteps nearing his new home. His beard fell down to his knees, and his old staff cracked straight down the middle as he lifted himself up to full height. Another time, he could have fled with ease, but even his great power could not stop old age. Still, the brave men and women coming to face him now would not be able to stop him, no matter what.

The four adventurers finally reached the top peak of the mountain, and stood before an old man, who seemed out of the place among the death and destruction that had laid waste to everything miles around. He looked at them gently, and in that moment they saw the eyes of someone who had seen far too much to be all right.

The ranger took first action, her bow arm flung back without thinking, the result of inneumerable hours of training. The arrow at the front was instantly engulfed in fire as she poised to strike straight at the man’s head. His eyes widened in a semblance of surprise that betrayed something of his latent power, but the arrow struck true, his hood going up in a burst of flames.

The warrior kept to the back, unable to get close to the man in front of him, who thrashed about madly as the fire spread to the rest of his clothing. Dashing forward, the mage threw something at his legs that quickly exploded in a mirage of different colours. The man leapt back as if he had fully expected that to happen, and spat upon the ground.

Instead of simply dissolving, the spit turned into a wall of water, that was impossible to pass. The various particles making up the formation sprayed like a great machine, pushing all the men back, making them near the edge of the mountain, almost falling into the depths below. The barbarian roared like a beast from the foggiest tundras, and shielded the other three with his body.

The man lifted his staff, and from it came forth beings of power: a canine forged in flames, a lumbering giant whose swings sent rocks flying, a moth the size of a small house that lurched forward with intent to pulverize. With a swing of his axe, the barbarian cut the giant across the chest, but the attack failed to put down the creature. A small incantaion from the mage was enough to send the moth into a frenzy, and the ranger’s arrows pelted against its hide.

With a last and powerful scream, the moth crashed against the mage, sending him tumbling over the edge. He cast spell after spell as he fell, but none of them did anything to slow his fall. A below of rage came from Hortensio as he crashed against the ground, and laid still. The man sent off a beam of pure energy, now that the spellcaster was gone, and it splayed apart to hit the ranger and the warrior, sending their arms flying off with ease.

The barbarian, thrown off course by seeing his comrades hurt, was unable to keep up his relentless assault, and his spirit faltered, allowing the canine and giant to mount an attack in order to rip his limbs off. Lorena’s bow and arrows, blessed by the goddess of archery, were now completely useless given her one good arm. Fernando’s shield, given to him by the Paladins of the Light, had been thrown to his right, his fingers ripped off right with it.

Vesuno’s bulging muscles, that came as a result of a boon from the god of rightousness, were strong enough to withstand blows that could fell stone walls, but they were now reduced to mere playthings from the monsters that ravaged his body. With a grunt that could be heard miles across, he raised his head and bellowed a roar that pushed back even the canine now feasting on his flesh.

Lorena attempted to grab a herb from her pocket to replenish her health, but the fire from the old man’s robes had somehow transferred over to her, and her whole body was now burning away to nothing.

Fernando’s spirit flew up, about to raise to the heavens. Everything had come down to him in the end. He felt himself being pushed back instead of forward, and suddenly he was no more.

Forty years have passed since that day, when he set out on his quest to protect the innocent and spread his faith as a follower of the One True God. His attempt to vanquish the evil at the top of the cursed Mountain of the Deathless had failed. Peace be upon his soul.

Fernando woke up in an unfamiliar bed, in an unfamiliar home, in an unfamiliar body.