Question of Immortality

Prologue

The Legendary Hero stared down at his opponent, The Sword of Dreams held tight in his hand.

He pushed his orange hair out of his eyes, now free to glare down upon them.
His senses returned to him after the battle; the craters and fires that had started were just making themselves known.

Despite the fierce craxkling of fire in multiple areas close to him, The Hero never took his eyes off the creature.

He had spent weeks preparing for this battle, and it had taken him what felt like an even longer time to win.

But it was obvious who would've won. His adversary may have the magical capabilities of a god, but The Hero fought for the good of his world and - as anyone who had heard any stories anywhere knew - good will always win.

Even though sometimes it took them a really long time to do.

The creature beneath him drew a ragged breath and he gripped his sword tighter as the figure released a pained chuckle.

“Oh, that was a good move, I admit. I did not see that coming,” baleful yellow eyes flicked upwards in an amused, sickening way. 

It was odd, the Hero thought, how a creature with no features except its eyes could portray just as well as a regular face could.

“You know, you could at least look the least bit regretful,” the Hero spat. “You did just bring destruction to an innocent world, and if you’re not upset morally, is the fact that I beat you not enough to make you sorry?”

“Ah, but I am not beaten, Hero.”

Green eyes blinked, and the hero barked out a laugh. “‘Not beaten’? I find that hard to believe from a creature with a stab wound in its chest.”

The figure below him stubbornly refused to back down, and those hateful eyes blinked lazily. The hero reeled slightly; he was dying, how could he be acting like nothing was wrong?

“Yes, yes, you stabbed me with a blade that can harm me, well done. I see the Oracle held nothing back with her gifts.” Those eyes rested on the sword for a fraction of a second before flicking back to the Hero. “But surely you did not think you could kill an immortal, did you?”

The statement left the Hero in silence, which, he supposed, was an answer in itself.

“Oh, you did. Well, I’d hate to disappoint. Honestly, I would’ve told you but I’d have thought the Oracle’s favoured child, playing ‘Hero’, would have the smallest inkling of sense-“

“Silence, Nightmare Knight,” the hero growled out.

The Nightmare Knight merely looked more amused. “It looks to me you’ve traded sense for a temper.”

The hero struggled for words, then blurted out; “The Oracle will find a way to stop you. If I don’t, she will.”

“Oh? You honestly think so?”

The Hero raised his head. “I know it so.”

In truth, he hadn’t even asked on whether or not he could actually kill The Knight; he was simply given The Sword, been shown the vague direction of where he was supposed to swing it, and started swinging. But this, even he knew, could be a problem.

How was one supposed to defeat an enemy that would not die? 

At the moment, however, a sudden, bright, tinted-blue light started shining somewhere behind him, and he half-turned, not wanting to put his back to both Known Enemy nor May-Or-May-Not-Be-Enemy-Newcomer. The caution was unneeded, however, as the Oracle herself materialised in the midst of the light.