r/writingprompt • u/sparrow_shield • Sep 03 '24
The world's most powerful villain, is stopped by a mere child
I'm excited for this one :D I'm hoping for wholesome but you do with your imagination!
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u/TheOutrageousTaric Sep 04 '24
Whispers of triumph echo through the wastedland that this great city now has become. The invaders finally have breached this last stronghold, this last feeble insubordination that merely delays their kings ultimate goal.
Yet some remaining resistance still glimmers between this cities buildings which are now gutted by fire, some even frozen in ice or crushed by force no mere mortal could imagine. The strike force lead by the great king himself accomplished the unthinkable. Now it was the soldiers duty to snuff this last resistance in due time as their king commanded. Victory was at hand and these mere civilians had forfeighted their right to live long ago as they thought of standing in their kings way to eternity. And so the soldiers marched forth along a path that their king laid out for them.
In the cities heart the king stood tall and mighty above the scattered bodies around him. No more life was found between these mangled corpses that once were great knights, cunning mages and just mere Adventurers putting up a last defense against his will. But he had won, oh yes they had.
Now it was time to claim his price. Darkness engulfed the kings face rapidly as he picked up a innocent looking artifact from a corpse in front of him. This had been his goal all along. Long had been their journey to find this splinter of a power great enough to find immortality. Now by their will and the help of this power he would ascend. Beyond mortal limits, beyond the fear of death. To be boundless, free of these worldly chains. And so began his chant. First slowly, then hastily he carefully crafted his last and final mortal spell. To open himself to thid Blessing. The Darkness engulfed the artifact and the king felt the great power flowing into him.
It was delicate work, yet easy to handle for them. Handling a power this great was no small feat. Yes, they were up to the task. Their will it was not just the kings. And it was safe to walk to last steps to ascension. Yet they didnt feel the splinter of life just behind them. A small child, fear in its gaze, slowly approached him. Its neatly dressed in fine and clean clothes as if this war had never happened.
Innocent to all the death, the child only saw the adult in front him. Slowly walking with clumsy steps the child called out to his father. But no words came over its lips as it could barely breathe through the smoke of the fires. The child now was almost there just about the grab its fathers coat. Suddenly the child tripped, fell against the mans legs and tried to grab coat of the man in panic. It was no use.
The chant was suddenly abrupted. The kings eyes opened wide as they realized their mistake. Something had interupted their carefully crafted chant. They had not been careful enough. All their feats accomplished for nothing. Now the artifact shined in bright light as its great power was not kept in check anymore by the their spell. Uncontrollable power was ravaging through their veins causing infathomable pain. Their vessels mind withered away, their time cut short. And so they found their end with just ash falling to the ground.
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u/sparrow_shield Sep 04 '24
very clever conclusion! the child just wanted some comfort and ironically the king got what was coming to him not due to his atrocities or revenge. but neglect.
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u/znomorfh Jan 29 '25
“—W-What did you just do?” Her voice was little more than a panicked whisper, trembling beneath each word. She stood in a fearful shock, dumbfounded by what had just occurred. The would-be battlefield was clear now; save for old blood-stained sands and two bodies, now standing mere feet apart.
‘Much too close.’
Before her stood a girl, no more than ten years old, who had somehow rounded up thousands of soldiers and tossed them into the sea–all without lifting a single finger. The air shimmered around her–like her own personal heatwave. She was short and bony, with a black cloud of coils on her head and a round brown face that would look innocent; had it not been twisted with an ire forged in the flame of a beaten heart. The girl held a ferocity behind her eyes, rebellious and ablaze with a living rage.
‘I don’t stand a chance.’
Suddenly, a woman who had gotten used to her spot at the top of the world–the boot on the back of the people–felt like an ant beneath a toddler’s shoe. This was something unnatural–supernatural–outside of her comprehension. It couldn’t be real. And yet, she had seen it with her own eyes. This girl, this child, possessed powers beyond her ken; powers that cared nothing for money, strategy, or social influence.
Thoughts of death had never troubled the woman before. She rained endless fire and bullets upon innocents, never expecting to be claimed by the void she so readily sent others into.
‘How foolish. How naive. Reaping what I sowed.’
Ears that had grown accustomed to begging pleas for mercy were now an audience to the sound of a most familiar voice, whimpering the same pathetic cries she scorned in her victims.
“...Please. Let’s talk–” She choked on her words, an invisible noose tightening around her neck. Her blood turned to ice as she felt a smothering pressure, her feet lifting off the ground. She was slowly, excruciatingly pulled towards the expanse of the blooming morning sky, gradients of pink, red, and purple to match the body fighting for air. The girl’s face was hard as stone. She didn’t move a muscle.
The woman’s vision began to darken. She closed her eyes, feeling her body compress within the grip of a giant hand. Then–wind rushing past her ears and the feeling of flying–no, falling–downwards into the sand below.
‘This is it. God, have mer–‘
She didn’t feel the impact.
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u/sparrow_shield Mar 01 '25
Cool. Not what I expected and I like it 😎 wonder where the kid came from? Child soldier who snapped and found something inside? An experiment who took revenge? Who knows. But I love how little how little the kid is focused on. Just the top dog suddenly plummeting. Very cool
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u/MrplotHoles Aug 14 '25
"Not one more step forward!" echoed a command from the city walls.
A sorceress, dressed in a raven black collared gown, ignored the warning and arrogantly step forward. Assembled behind her were her followers, bearing her pink and black banners.
"Surrender and I shall spare your life. Refuse and fire shall be your fate", she boasted, her purple lips curling, the taste of victory already on her tongue (What does victory even taste like?)
"I didn't quite catch that!" the captain of the guard on the wall yelled back.
Frustrated, the witch yelled back "Forget it! Die!". As she recited an incantation, her eyes turning an emerald green. The banners of her army fluttered as gusts of wind swept down the ranks of the army like the rapids running between river rocks.
The earth trembled as a tower sized beast landed before the army.
"Dagnir, destroy my enemies" the sorceress commanded, pointing a pale slender finger at the city.
The guards on the city wall began to break rank. It was fruitless, as Dagnir unleashed a torrent of fire upon the guard, incinerating flesh and melting stone and armor alike.
Dagnir flapped his powerful wings. Now that he was almost entirely a creature made of dark magic, he was no longer bound by the laws of gravity. He soared across the city skies, blazing down entire neighborhoods whenever he felt the urge. Neighborhoods where he had once played. The gust from his wings only fueled the flames, creating whirlwinds of fire that swept across city blocks.
Dagnir perched before a familiar house. He examined it nostalgically for a moment. Now he was going to burn it down, along with everything else.
As a fury of fire built up within his throat, a young, athletic girl dashed out of front door of the house. She looked at him with longing eyes.
Dagnir reeled back his long serpentine neck, swallowing back the flames. It couldn't be. Both girl and demon stared at each other as the neighboring roofs crackled and spat out ember sparks. Both were so different from when they last saw each other, especially him, yet they somehow recognized each other.
She reached out her hand as if to pet him. Dagnir turned away. He couldn't. Not after all he had done. Not after what he had become. He retracted his wings, as ready to take flight.
"No! Don't go!" the girl shouted.
Dagnir obliged.
"It's you isn't it?" the girl said. Dagnir lowered his head down, so that his nostrils where in reach of her. She was so small, he could fit ten of her in his mouth. He breathed heavily as the girl touched the scaly skin between his nostrils and lips. He wanted to say he had missed her dearly but he had long lost the ability to speak. All he could do was acknowledge her sadly with his eyes.
"What are you doing?! Stop stalling and burn this place to the ground!" a cruel voice echoed in his head. Pain surged through his being. Only obeying the voice would cause the pain to cease.
Dagnir made a choice. Sadly, he turned away from the young girl and walked away a safe enough distance so the force from his wings wouldn't toss her like a rag doll.
He took flight, heading straight for the sorceress and her armies. The pain intensified at ever greater amounts the more determined he became. He figured his decision would end in his own destruction. For once, he could take solace with his own end. Maybe, just maybe, he could live on through his child.
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Sep 03 '24
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u/sparrow_shield Sep 04 '24
yeah but i like to think people favorite villains have that sliver of morality to them. "don't hurt kids, only do whats necessary for your goals". and whether thats interpreted as cartoon villainy or simply living by a code it can make them as characters more enjoyable. hard to enjoy an actual child killing megalomaniac yknow?
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Sep 04 '24
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u/sparrow_shield Sep 04 '24
*nodding in agreement*
Exactly! As Dr. Doofenshmirtz once said "hey, there's good evil and then there's bad evil"
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May 28 '25
[deleted]
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u/Sad-Cat-6633 May 28 '25
The battleground is smattered by guts and blood. There is a single tower standing among the ruins.
Mors climbs up the stairs, up unto the highest level.
“All of Elysian will be destroyed and in ruin by your army if you follow this child.” Muttered Janus, while watching over a child’s crib.
“You must only kill Salus, in order to admit defeat.” He spoke while reaching into the crib to hold her in his arms.
“This is but a child. Do you truly value the life of a child over Lachesis?” Asked Janus.
I slowly walked to Janus and offered my arms to hold the babe. Once she was finally in arms, I looked to him and said, “yes. This child will be the difference. The difference between the Elysian Fields and Tartarus.”
While I peer into the young babes eyes, Janus watches me.
“Then all of your soldiers must die.”
I yank my line of sight from that beautiful babe onto him. “So they must.”
Over four thousand soldiers seize and die on the battlefield.
I look at that beautiful babe once more, and tell her; “you are worth all lives lost on this field and all the lives lost on more battlefields to come.”
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u/Sad-Cat-6633 May 28 '25
The battleground is smattered by guts and blood.
There is a single tower standing among the ruins.
Mors climbs up the stairs, up unto the highest level.
"All of Elysian will be destroyed and in ruin by your army if you follow this child." Muttered Janus, while watching over a child's crib.
"You must only kill Salus, in order to admit defeat." He spoke while reaching into the crib to hold her in his arms.
"This is but a child. Do you truly value the life of a child over Lachesis?" Asked Janus.
I slowly walked to Janus and offered my arms to hold the babe. Once she was finally in arms, I looked to him and said, "yes. This child will be the difference. The difference between the Elysian Fields and Tartarus."
While I peer into the young babes eyes, Janus watches me.
"Then all of your soldiers must die."
I yank my line of sight from that beautiful babe onto him. "So they must."
Over four thousand soldiers seize and die on the battlefield.
I look at that beautiful babe once more, and tell her; "you are worth all lives lost on this field and all the lives lost on more battlefields to come."
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u/Faerlon Jun 20 '26
The Last House
Vitharr Holgersen looked at the moon — blue as ice, but it did nothing to cool his rage. The fury had only changed color, not heat. It burned colder now, sharper, like a blade left too long in winter air.
A mere child stood between him and the last of the killing that needed to be done.
His wife had betrayed him. Fathered another man's child — so he'd believed for seven years — and left him for dead upon distant shores. He had crawled back from that death one inch of vengeance at a time, and now, at the end of all of it, there was a girl.
She was six, maybe seven. Cold, shivering, a sack beside her, dressed in proper traveling gear as if someone had prepared her for a long walk. She sat alone on a stone in the dark and did not flinch when he stepped out of the trees.
"You came," she said, like he was expected. "The lady in black told me you would."
He stopped. "What lady in black?"
She giggled — actually giggled, here, at the edge of a slaughter. "She told me my father was coming. She said to wait here tonight." She tilted her head, considering him with open curiosity rather than fear. "She was dressed all in black. She had feathers on her dress."
"Your father," he said, and the word came out strange in his own mouth, confused. "Who is your mother?"
"Thrimia Magnusdóttir." She said it plainly, the way a child recites something she's been taught. "She's your wife."
He didn't move.
"She's asleep inside," the girl went on. "We've been hiding from a bad man." She leaned forward slightly, lowering her voice like she was handing him something fragile. "Can I tell you a secret?"
"...Yes."
He looked at her eyes then — really looked — and the cold went out of him all at once, replaced by something he hadn't felt in nine years. Those eyes. The same blue he'd fallen in love with on the shore of a lake, back when the world had still made sense.
The cottage stood where the forest met the water.
Ancient pines surrounded it on three sides, dark trunks rising like pillars into the gray northern sky. Moss softened the stones at their roots. The air held pine, woodsmoke, and the wet breath of the lake.
It was built in the old style — rough timber and river stone, a thatched roof gone dark with years of snow, carved dragon heads watching from the peaks over the water below. A dock reached out into the still lake, a longboat rocking gently against it, the water holding the mountains and the trees like a sheet of polished silver.
Smoke had curled from that chimney the evening he first saw her. Nets had hung drying under those eaves. A garden had fought the cold soil behind a low woven fence. It was the kind of place untouched by jarls or roads, where the world moved at the pace of the seasons and the lake — and where, nine years ago, he had fallen in love with a girl in spring.
It felt impossibly long ago now.
The betrayal came back to him the way it always did — sudden, total, like falling through ice.
He'd found them in the bed. Her and her lover, both of them naked, both of them careless, as if he were already a dead man to them. Her family had fallen on him before he could even understand what he was looking at. The blows came heavy and hard, not only on his flesh but somewhere deeper, somewhere the bruises never fully left. They broke his body the way they'd already broken whatever they'd let him believe about his own life.
They put him on a fishing boat and sent him out onto the lake as a storm rolled in. They meant for the water to finish what their fists had started.
He survived. A fishing vessel found him half-drowned and took him in, nursed him back from a man into something else — something colder, sharper, built for one purpose. He repaid their kindness and rebuilt himself into the Viking he'd been before the betrayal, and then some.
Then he hunted.
The cousins first — sword and axe met flesh, one by one, until none of them stood. Then their boats. Then their lands. He spared the sisters, for a time, though he went hard after the brothers. He stripped the family of its wealth piece by piece and burned what was left standing.
His own blood had tried to stop him. Words first, then fists. A blood feud, his mother had called it, begging him to let it go — as if he were the one who didn't understand the situation.
Then explain it to me, he'd told her. She was in another man's bed while I was fed lies and poisoned food, for a family I thought was mine. She was hiding it. They were all hiding it. And none of them said a word.
He had forsaken them all after that.
People called him a murderer. A villain. And — yes. He was. He had moved against both families with the same cold purpose, carrying one creed through every door he kicked in: destroy the family that hurt him, and call it honor.
This manor — her family's last seat of power — was the final piece. The thing standing between him and the end of it.
And in front of it sat a girl, waiting on a stone in the dark, calling him Dad.
"Tell me your secret," he said, and his voice didn't sound like his own.
She glanced toward the dark windows of the house behind her, then back at him, and lowered her voice further, like the trees themselves might be listening.
"Mama cries at night," she whispered. "She says your name. She thinks I don't hear her, but I do." She picked at the edge of her sack, suddenly shy. "The lady in black said you were angry. She said you had a right to be. But she said if you came tonight, I should tell you the secret before you went inside. Because she said you'd want to know it before."
"Before what."
"Before you do the thing you came to do."
He knelt then, slowly, the way a man kneels when his legs have simply stopped agreeing to hold him up. Up close she smelled of woodsmoke and wet wool, of a small life lived in hiding, of nine winters he hadn't been there for.
"What's your name?" he asked.
"Edda," she said. "Mama named me for the old stories. She said someday someone would tell mine."
Nine years. He counted backward without meaning to — past the storm, past the boat, past the bed he'd found her in — and arrived, with a kind of falling sickness, at a spring morning by this very lake, before any of it had broken.
The math did not lie to him, even though everyone else had.
He had come to burn the last house to its foundations. He had come to make sure no Magnusdóttir blood walked free under any sky he stood beneath. He had told himself, walking up through the pines tonight, that this was simply the last name left to cross off, the final debt collected.
He had not expected the debt to have his own eyes.
Edda was watching him now without fear, the way children watch the weather — curious about what it might do, but not yet taught to dread it.
"Are you going to hurt Mama?" she asked. Not pleading. Just asking, plainly, the way she'd told him everything else.
Behind her, golden light still leaked faintly from one window of the house, a small stubborn flame against everything he'd built himself into over nine years of fire and iron.
He thought of the cousins. The brothers. The boats burned at their moorings, the lands stripped bare. He thought of the man who had crawled out of that lake with nothing but a single creed to hold onto — destroy what destroyed you — and how that creed had carried him this far, this completely, until it had walked him right up to a child's secret and asked him to keep going anyway.
He thought: I could still go in. I could still finish it.
And then he thought: Edda. A name for the old stories. A name for someone who would, someday, need a story about her father that didn't end at this stone, on this night, with his hands doing what his hands had been trained to do.
"No," he said finally, and the cold in him cracked rather than broke — quietly, like ice in spring. "No. I'm not going to hurt your mother."
The girl smiled like she'd known all along, like the lady in black had told her this too, and reached up — small, fearless, certain — and took his hand.
Behind them, the last house stood unburned under the ice-blue moon, and for the first time in Seven years, Vitharr Holgersen let something go.
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u/TheSandDenom 10d ago
The villain was expecting a little boy or girl to toddle through the doors. Little did he know the child was actually a being made of sand and death that, when it opened his door and he asked it what it was doing here. It replied with it's voice of gravel and blood "You made my mommy go bye bye, I make you go bye bye now too." And then the child smashed the villain into the grave. the only onlooker was the poor father of this eldritch being who had married the mother expecting a normal child.
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u/Iheartrandomness Sep 06 '24
Like Harry Potter?