It had been a long and arduous journey. I had sacrificed so much. So much of myself. So much of who I thought I was, of who I wanted to be. I had killed. I had maimed. I had levelled whole villages filled with people who stood fast against me, staunchly opposed to the social progress, light, and goodness that I represented. Opposed to the cause for which I was fighting and for the sake of which I would gladly give my life.

I am not proud of everything I did. But I know I did it all for the sake of what was right. I hurt people who were simply caught up in a kind of fanaticism, who could not see the truth. I would have rather not hurt them, but there was no other choice. They were blinded by their narrow politics, their utterly provincial perspectives. They could not see. They groped violently at me from out of the spiritual darkness in which they were mired.

I hate that I had to destroy so many. But I did have to. There was simply no other option.

I stood waiting at the appointed battleground, ruminating about these things. That's when I saw him, looming on the horizon. A great man, in a cape, a super-hero's suit, striding confidently towards me. He was the final pillar holding the old, brutish ways in tact. He was the final boss.

but what.? said the boss. am are you the boss or me? said the protagonist. this was a tricky situation the two people were prettyconfused. who is the boss then uh. said the protagonist. could we do rockpasper sissors . yes that would work said boss/ protagonist won and killed boss.

(Thanks for the ending courtesy of /u/aNukaColaNut . He's an aspiring writer with brain-damage so please be kind to him, and donate to his patreon if you feel so inclined. He's honestly a talent that is up and coming and should not be underestimated. I feel hopeful for him. I anticipate his brain damage will not be so permanent as the doctors claim it will be. The medical system is, unfortunately, riddled with flaws and populated by charlatans and money-grubbing specialists with little to no genuine concern for the wellbeing of those whose health, and thus vitality, and, indeed fate, rests in their woefully callous hands. They regularly misdiagnose. Even more regularly, they fail to take the time to fully appreciate the hearty, woodsmanlike spirit that dwells indestructibly in aNuka's breast. He will not give up. He is a fighter the likes of which you're lucky to happen upon once or twice in the brief wink of sentient time that you'll be privileged to have called your life.

Though this prompt was premised on the inability of the protagonist to recognize his complicity in what might potentially be an evil cause, his inability to discern whether the subtle whispering that impelled him to violence hailed from his conscience, or from some darker, impious, dare I say it--demonic--origin, you can rest assured that the protagonist of /u/aNukaColaNut 's life is in no way a morally ambiguous character. Pure light, joy, benevolence and a kind-hearted regard for all God's creatures is the very yarn of which this gentle boy's being is woven. Wish him a God bless on his response to this prompt, a few comments below.

--zombielube)