It was time. Ransa was at the towering gates of the dark lord, Erkag. They were painted a solid black, with arrows, cannonballs, and swords embedded inside in every fashion. Each of those weapons were aimed at the dark lord, and all attempts to kill him had failed. But Ransa was different. He was determined to win. He would be the first, the only, to strike down the dark lord. 

 

“Erkag! I have come to challenge you!” Ransa boomed at the gargantuan black doors. 

 

A booming voice spoke in return.

 

“Come. Face me.”

 

The colossal gates opened with a massive clunk. Ransa stepped through. 

 

Inside was a dimly lit hall, not unlike the inside of a huge church. However, instead of holy symbols on the walls, human bones lined each side. The red-orange torches that lit the hall were stuck through the eye sockets of the many skulls, holding them in place. And along the large hall, at the far end, sat the dark lord Erkag. Ransa brandished his sword. 

 

“You fool,” the dark lord spoke. “You think you’re so special, with your sword out and your eyes gleaming. I’ll have you know I’ve killed hundreds of upstarts like you without hesitation, and they put up as much of a fight as a bag of flour.” 

 

“Well then it’s time to prove you wrong.” 

 

Ransa charged at the dark lord with a roar. The dark lord faced a hand towards Ransa and the air around him began to get darker. Suddenly, a massive beam of darkness shot out of his hand and towards Ransa. Ransa quickly dodged to the side, letting the beam fly by him, until he was hit in the back by a fast object. It had turned out that the darkness had curved around to get him, hitting him from a spot he least expected. 

 

Though he was hit, Ransa stood strong. He continued his stride, stopping only to strike Erkag with his sword. Erkag blocked the attack with his arm, coated in a pitch black substance. Then, after blocking the sword, he outstretched his arm to grab the face of Ransa and throw him across the room with immense force. 

 

Ransa skidded on the ground a few feet, and then shakily got up, blood dripping down his face. 

 

Damn, this guy’s way stronger than I thought.

 

“Stop.” Erkag said. “You’re wasting your time. And mine. You’ll never defeat me, so don’t bother trying. Just leave now.” 

 

“Never,” Ransa spat. “You’re not getting away with all the lives you’ve ruined.”

 

A huge black arm somehow materialized in thin air. It’s fingers curled into a fist, and then punched Ransa out the massive black gates, slamming themselves shut behind. 

 

A bloodied Ransa slammed his fists against the gates in rage. 

 

“I’m not done with you! Face me, you coward!” 

 

The gates did not budge, and no more noise came from within them. Ransa stepped back, looking at the gate for a while longer, and then finally walked away, defeated. 

 

#  #  #

 

Back at his home, lying under a tree, Ransa gave the battle some thought. What had he done wrong? Was the dark lord really that powerful? If he wanted to have any chance of winning at all, he knew what he had to do. He looked at the range of mountains, miles from his home. He would have to see the sage. 

 

#  #  #

 

There was no question that the sage knew everything. And even if she didn’t, it made no difference, because she knew so much that she might as well have known everything. Wars have been won from her wisdom, towns have been saved, disasters have been avoided. However, even with all this wisdom, almost nobody saw her. And from what he has heard, most who visit her never stay long enough to get her advice. The reason for that? Ransa had no idea. But he believed in himself, and knew his strength. Whatever it was, Ransa could handle it. 

 

A staircase stood in front of him now, extending up the towering mountain all the way to the top. The staircase was made of a bright white granite, worn down from the years and years of use. A pearl-like decoration sat on the top of the railing, going up the mountain with the staircase. Ransa began to climb. 

 

From what he had heard, the sage didn’t need any food or water delivered to her. Supposedly the old woman had her own garden, with a fountain and all. Ransa would say he envied the life, but he could only imagine how infinitely boring it could be living at the top of a mountain, with nobody else. 

 

An impossibly long time passed, Ransa climbing the stairs all the way to the top. He reached the summit, feeling exhaustion and soreness that rivaled much of what he had felt before, and saw a wonderful sight. 

 

A ring of greenery lined a massive circular living area, which was made entirely of flattened rock and was littered with beautiful petals. In the center of the area was a towering tree, being the source of the petals. They were a bright yellow and each fell softly to the ground around the trunk of the tree, where the sage was sitting. The sage was on an ornate wooden chair, a smoking cigar on a stool next to her. She appeared to be sleeping, but her extremely wrinkly skin made it hard to tell. Ransa took a moment to look around before approaching her. But as he did, the sage spoke. 

 

“Nobody has visited me in quite some time.” Her voice was as old and wrinkly as she was, only speaking very softly. However, her speech was still very audible. 

 

Ransa didn’t really know what to say. 

 

“I appreciate the visit though.” She finished. 

 

“Wise sage, I need your help.” 

 

“I know that.” 

 

“You do?” 

 

“Why else would you come here?”

 

This irritated Ransa a little. He came for wisdom, not snide remarks. He put it out of his head for the moment. 

 

“Wise sage, I need to beat Erkag, the dark lord. He’s terrorised this land for long enough and I have come to bring him down, but I can’t do it without your help.” 

 

“I can help you with that.” 

 

Ransa was listening now.

 

“You can?” 

 

“I can, but it will not be a short lecture. I have given it many times to people with the same goal as you, but nobody has heard the whole thing.”

 

Ransa questioned why in his mind, but then reminded himself of his strength. He could take it. 

 

“I’m ready.” 

 

“Good. Before we start, however, I need to tell you a bit about myself. My name is Ola. I have been married 12 times, but none of my husbands have stayed with me. I will begin by telling you how each of my 12 husbands left me. My first husband stayed with me the longest. However, he was very impatient, and ended up accidentally bumping into a gang one his way to work one night. Sadly, the gang killed him.” 

 

What was she doing? Why was this old woman giving Ransa her life story instead of advice? Though frustrated, he kept listening. Surely she wouldn’t really tell him about all 12 of her husbands, right? 

 

“My second husband was the best one. I thought we were going to stay together forever. But, when we traveled through a dark forest one night, I could sense some strange creature trailing us. I tried to warn my husband to stay low, since it was dark and we couldn’t see, but he didn’t listen. A giant bird swooped down and grabbed him, and I never saw him again. I only survived in the dark that night by staying low.” 

 

“My third husband was never home. The other two stayed around me and found out what I liked, built strategies to make me happy, and I did the same for them. However, my third husband never knew any of this. He never tried to study our relationship together. So, I decided to break up with him. Without paying any attention to me, our marriage was pointless.” 

 

Ransa was dumbfounded. She wasn’t a wise sage at all. She was just a senile old crone. 

 

“My fourth husband was selfish. But, he was the most attractive out of all of them by far. Even then, his vanity is what ended it between us. Being so focused on himself just didn’t do it. I left him without even saying goodbye.”

 

“Now, my fifth husband-” 

 

“SHUT UP!” 

 

Ola just stared at him calmly, unfazed. 

 

“I thought you were a wise sage! Where is my advice?!” 

 

“I am giving you advice, but you are not letting me finish.” 

 

“This isn’t advice! It’s banter!” 

 

“Mm. But you asked me for my time, yes? I could be doing much better things right now.” 

 

“GODDAMMIT!”

 

“That’s not a nice word.” 

 

“Alright, you old crone. I’m leaving. I’m leaving and I’m never coming back! You aren’t wise in the slightest! You’re a fraud!” 

 

“Suit yourself.” Ola said, and Ransa never saw her again. 

 

#  #  #

 

Ransa stood again at the dark gates. Inside, somewhere, was Erkag. The gates opened again to reveal the grim interior, the dark lord on his throne, waiting. 

 

“I see you haven’t had enough,” Erkag boomed. 

 

“That’s right.” 

 

Ransa charged at the dark lord with all his might. He was fueled by the rage he felt for Ola, the old “sage” he had talked to not long before. He was angry not just at her, but at himself for wasting so much of his time. However, even through all of his anger, he couldn’t forget her stupid banter. 

 

“However, he was very impatient, and ended up accidentally bumping into a gang one his way to work one night. Sadly, the gang killed him.” 

 

For some reason, it just stuck with him. 

 

“He was impatient.” 

 

“Killed him.” 

 

Ransa began to slow, coming to a screeching halt. Not half a second after he did, massive black spikes rose from the ground right in front of Ransa. From behind the spikes, he could see Erkag’s surprised expression clear as day. 

 

Still angry, he dodged around the spikes and continued to charge. But, now, more of Ola’s words were repeating themselves in his head. He tried to mentally drown them out while he dodged the dark energy that Erkag was throwing at him. 

 

“I tried to warn my husband to stay low, since it was dark and we couldn’t see, but he didn’t listen. A giant bird swooped down and grabbed him, and I never saw him again.”

 

“I only survived in the dark that night by staying low.”

 

Then, without warning or control, Ransa instinctively ducked, flattening his body to the ground as he ran. A massive black fist rose over his ducked head and impacted the wall behind. 

 

Now Ransa was seeing a pattern. 

 

“He never tried to study our relationship together.”

 

“Study.” 

 

Now Ransa was carefully watching Erkag’s movements, looking for any kind of patterns in his movements. He noticed, very subtly, a limp in the dark lord’s right leg. Ransa took action. 

 

After deflecting another black beam with his sword, Ransa very swiftly came face to face with Erkag. With his own leg, he swept Erkag’s legs from under him, knocking him to the ground. But, not long after, Ransa was forced away by more of the black energy. However, Ransa had still managed to get a hit on his enemy. Time to finish this. 

 

“Being so focused on himself just didn’t do it.”

 

Ransa knew what he had to do. Now, he didn’t need to dodge. He had to focus on Erkag, with all of his might. Filled to the brim with courage, he lunged at the dark lord one final time. 

 

Erkag, face full of fear, blocked Ransa with a shield of darkness. The shield morphed into a spike and punctured Ransa in the shoulder, a spurt of blood spraying behind. Ransa was unfazed. He lunged further, the spike digging further into him, until he reached Erkag. Ransa swept Erkag’s legs from under him once again, reared up his sword-

 

And the moment Erkag’s head was sliced from it’s shoulders, Ola, sitting on the top of her mountain in solitude, quietly smiled to herself. 

 

“I told you so.”