The sky just blew wide open with a fiery CRACK!
Dark smoke puffed out like thick, black rivers against the afternoon sun. It swirled into weird shapes, almost like they were alive and moving. The ground felt like it was going to split apart, shaking everything. Even the walls of the Black Haws fortress were shuddering like the whole place was screaming.
Some people were running everywhere, some stumbling, others just collapsing. Some were clawing their way out of the fire, faces white with fear. Others, probably knowing it was hopeless, were trying to defend the base they'd spent years building up. Screams echoed for a moment, then disappeared, lost under the roar of explosions and the sound of everything falling apart.
And right in the center of all that mess, the five heroes dropped in.
They looked like gods, moving so fast it seemed impossible. Blasts of energy, glowing swords, and crazy powers sliced through walls and halls like they were made of paper. The villian bosses, the ones who used to rule this place with fear, the ones who commanded armies that made whole cities shake – they tried to fight back. They shouted orders, threw waves of dark power around, and roared like crazy.
Then, poof, they were gone. Taken out in one hit of pure energy; all that was left were ashes and smoke.
Tony, just a regular guy,low ranking villian at the bottom of the ladder, whose name barely even got mentioned on the roster, dragged himself out from under a slab of metal. He coughed, his chest aching, his lungs full of dust, ash, and that gross, metal smell from burning steel.
He looked around; The Black Haws fortress, which used to be so tough, was a pile of rubble. Burned flags hung down from broken poles. Big holes marked where walls used to be. Fires were still burning in some spots, eating up what was left of the leader's hall. And above everything, the sky was glowing red from all the destruction.
Tony's eyes moved over everything. His bosses? Gone. The army? Wiped out. The heroes? Already gone, like gods who came, did their thing, and left nothing but silence.
A few other people who made it crawled out from under the wreckage. They moved so slow and looked lost. Some were limping. Others needed to lean against walls to stay standing. Some just sat in the ashes, staring blankly at what used to be their home.
Tony struggled to stand up, brushing ash and blood off his armor. He tried to stand straight and pull together any bit of pride he had left. "Listen up! We can fix this! he yelled, his voice cracking." We can come back from this! The Black Haws can…no, we can…take back what's ours! And I… I will…"
He stopped, taking a big breath of smoky air. "I will take those heroes out! One by one!"
Silence.
Then, laughter.
It started quiet, with the medic. She was pale and shaking her head, letting out this snort that turned into a chuckle. Tony looked over and saw the cook; he was holding what was left of a pot, trying not to laugh. A young recruit, still covered in dust and soot, joined in, leaning against a broken wall and cracking up.
"Take out the heroes? You? Are you kidding? the medic asked, tears rolling down her face from laughing and being exhausted. You couldn't even swing a sword without tripping!"
"They'd eat you for breakfast, the cook added, shaking his head. We all saw you. You're hopeless.'
The recruit grinned." Yeah… go for it. They'll probably thank you for trying."
Tony clenched his fists. He was about to yell at them, but the laughter kept coming, echoing through the ruins. He felt angry, embarrassed, but also this stubborn feeling that wouldn't let him give up.
"Fine!" he shouted, throwing his arms up to the sky, which was full of smoke and ash. "Laugh all you want! Maybe you've given up, but I… I'm not done. I will figure out a way! I will take out those heroes, one by one! I won't stop until I do!"
The others shook their heads and walked away, their laughter fading. They had homes to get back to, lives to pick up. They didn't want to die chasing a dream that was already gone.
Tony watched them go. He was standing alone on a pile of rubble. The world, beyond the fortress, was glowing with lights from cities, celebrating the heroes' victory. He felt this mix of anger, despair, and determination that felt almost crazy.
He wasn't strong. He didn't have any special skills. He was useless in a fight. Everything he'd learned, all the sword training, every drop of sweat – it didn't matter. But he still wasn't giving up.
He kicked a rock down the slope. It made a loud noise as it rolled. He bent down. He stood up, brushing dust from his face. I don't care if it kills me. I will make it through this. I will get stronger. I will take them down somehow. Even if I don't have a chance.
Tony looked over the ruined fortress one last time. The Black Haws were finished. Their empire was gone. Everyone who'd been with him was either dead or gone home.
He took a big breath, lifted his busted helmet, and shouted into the smoky air:
"Heroes! You might have destroyed everything! You might have made me nothing! But I… Tony… will make it! And I will make you regret this… one by one!"
He turned away from the rubble, his shoulders set against the cold wind, and started walking toward the horizon, where the city lights shined like stolen stars.
Behind him, the fortress was in ashes. The world was cheering for the heroes. Tony had nothing but his stubbornness, his anger, and a crazy hope that even a nobody like him could make it… and maybe change the story.