• three hundred and fifty six years i have lived since making that deal, but you're the single worst person I've ever heard about. I've shook hands with Hitler that fateful day when he tried to pass the exam at the art school, I've seen London burning, ruined and dishonoured many times, yet you are the worst there is to man. It's almost poetic, you know?

The woman shook her head, moving a stray lock of hazelnut hair out of her face. She didn't look a second over twenty five, yet the deep colour of her eyes was giving out her true age.

• why did you do this? What were you trying to achieve? World domination? Fame? What was the purpose of this senseless slaughter?

A man stood up from his hi-tek chair, that sank into the floor a moment later, and walked around the desk before him. With a snap of his fingers the shutters on a panoramic window behind him closed, leaving the dim holographic screen the only source of light in the room for a brief moment, as an ambient light slowly lit up the walls, impenetrable to bullet or sound.

• my dear nemesis, - he started his speech - you know me like no one else in this world. Together we took our vows, shared the sunrise of a day our son has died because of human malice, together we have faced the injustice of the people we have once called "friends", and together we have took upon the offer of eternity, even though it separated us until the day the death shall bring us repose. We've seen, heard and felt everything the world could offer us, we've drawn blood and soothed the afflicted, we have witnessed one calamity after another, and i have grown tired. Unlike you, - he smirked - I didn't lie dormant for fifty years, even though it was me who sent you into slumber. Yes, all that which you have seen upon awakening was indeed caused by me, indeed, it was I who has done it to those people. It is I, the sole god of this land, - the sarcasm in his voice was blatant - who has shown the people what a man shall never become, what one shall never do. The revolt against me, the one that lead to countless deaths of people, was also orchestrated by me. I wanted them to feel powerless, hopeless, and for myself to become the perfect villain to a heroic saviour of this world.

A chill ran down the Woman's spine. She has heard these words before, way back, before the war, spoken by the same man who was now standing before her, with an ornate sword in his hand.

• This, my dear, is the part where you come in.

• Why are you doing this? - a sole tear traced a line on her face, her calm facade giving in to pain.

• To show the world the evil they shall not wake. And, - with another snap he turned on a camera, emerging from the wall - to make you, my love, a Goddess. This camera will broadcast my execution to the whole planet, and my death will release all locks in this tower. You will be set free, alongside the captives held on the 5th floor, and will be cherished more than the second coming of Christ. Let's finish this play, the actors need their rest.

• Wait, there should be another way-

He turned the handle of the sword towards Her. The line on the screen behind him changed from "offline" to "setting up broadcast". The handle fit Her hand perfect, as if it was made for her. He put on a tattered shirt, took a dagger from the wall and took a fighting stance. The line changed once more, now to spell "on air".

• The choice is made. Die, you foolish mortal, you're no match for a god!

• Stop, it shouldn't-

He has rushed towards her, with a blade in his hand. The sword has gone through His chest like a block of butter, his hand flying past Her face, following the momentum of the body. There was no fountain of blood, no blood-chilling scream of the damned, only a faint smile on a face, that camera couldn't see.

• Do you remember the rules of our deal, honey? - The Woman's voice, to the surprise of the defeated, was growing more faint with each word - One shall not touch another, 'till Death embraces us both. And of all weapons, you chose a fucking sword. You were always a half-ass, a damn joke...

Her body fell to the ground before his eyes, as fear has taken whatever was left of his heart. "It shouldn't have ended this way", thoughts raced through His head, "what did go wrong?"

And then he noticed a small bruise on Her cheek, where his palm met her face. ":Qiqi_fallen:", the last thing a dying mind has conjured before the reaper's scythe took him away.

Hours later, the last warriors of the resistance have rushed in the room, only to find two dead bodies, a woman, with a sword in her hand, and a tyrant, with a mask of dismay on his face. The universe doesn't care for the hubris of men, and it did not care for the ambition of a single soul's ego. The deal has been fulfilled, and the rising sun has marked a start of a new era for people of Earth, whose suffering was, in the end, for nothing.