Many miles away, the sounds of waves crashing against the concrete dock echoed through the nearly empty harbor.

A few stragglers, eager to finish that day's work, hurried about, stacking crates and filling out papers, as they got everything ready for when the ships arrived the next day. As the sun set, large lamps automatically turned on, bathing the entire area in a bright, artificial white light.

Hours passed, and the sky was completely dark by the time the last of the dock men locked the gate behind him, loudly yawning as he made his way to the nearest bar.

The wharf was silent but for the still lit lamps' slight humming and the bay's soothing sound. Not a thing moved.

Then, from out of nowhere, a wall of sickly green light opened in the air, and a figure emerged from its light. The wall vanished, leaving the Hidaar alone in the stillness.

At last, the Hidaar thought, stretching his arms as he breathed in the air around him. The smell of salt stung his nostrils, and he turned to the source of the rushing noise. What a sight! It had been so long since he'd seen the ocean that its sound seemed foreign to him.

As he watched the dark water, sprinkled with the lights of the city around it, the Hidaar held his hands behind his back and became lost in thought.

It had not been an easy journey, even for himself. The portal had not taken kindly to tampering and tried to reject the Hidaar, pushing against his body like a raging tide. It had taken serious effort to move forward against the force, but he had done it, though it had delayed him quite a bit. Eventually, the portal seemed to bend to his unrelenting spirit and finally stopped pushing against him. He hoped that meant that the journey back would be much easier. He would stand against it again, but it would be far less time-consuming if the portal did not hinder his journey back.

So, this was Earth? His eyes darted around, taking in the lit buildings and the harbor in which he stood. He felt the hard concrete underneath his boots. Things had most certainly changed since he had last come home. Though, he supposed it had not been that long in Earth time. Even one hundred twenty years away felt like an eternity on Sohaud. It was more likely that he was in unfamiliar territory.

The Hidaar wondered where on Earth he was. He did not recognize the strange writing that labeled the large metal crates behind him. He could read them, though; some words he knew, and some he did not.

It was then that something tickled his senses: a tiny wave of energy coming from somewhere close. The Hidaar was sure he had felt this energy before or something like it. He turned his head to try and locate the source but saw nothing.

He walked to where he felt the familiar energy was coming from and soon stood in front of two steel crates sitting side by side; the energy was coming from somewhere between them. As he walked closer to it, the Hidaar could distinctly say that whatever this energy was, it was a power not of Earth.

Curious, he reached forward and stuck his hands between the narrow gap between the crates. There was a screech of metal on stone as the Hidaar effortlessly moved one of the steel shipping crates aside.

The lamps' light filled the new space, and the Hidaar saw something glittering on the ground. He crouched down to pick it up.

"Hey, what are you doing here? This is a restricted area," said a voice from behind him.

The Hidaar grinned and turned his head slightly. In his peripheral vision, he saw another man dressed in a uniform of some sort staring sternly back at him.

Oh yes, the Hidaar thought, his grin widening. This was precisely what he had been hoping for, an audience.

Savoring every moment, the Hidaar slowly straightened to his full height. He imagined the terrified look on the guard's face as his eyes would be drawn further and further upward.

The object clutched in his hand. He slowly turned to look at the tiny man in front of him.

He was delighted to find that the light from the lamps above him had cast his shadow over the officer who, the Hidaar was pleased to see, had taken a step back. He still had to crane his neck to stare into the Hidaar's face, taking in every horrifying feature.

His slanted eyes were wide with the exact terror the Hidaar had imagined. The guard reached on his belt and pulled out his weapon, pointing it up at the Hidaar's face. His hands shook, which only made the Hidaar grin wider, exposing his teeth.

So, you decided to challenge me?

The guard gasped at the ghastly sight, "W-what the hell are you?" he stammered.

"Now, how rude is that?" the Hidaar replied conversationally, looking disdainfully down at the puny man before him, "I come all this way only to find that the people of this place are nothing but ill-mannered swine." He paused, debating what to do next. Should he bother with such a feeble opponent?

"Tell me something. Do you wish to fight?"

The guard looked at him for a moment. Incomprehension filled his eyes. "W-what?"

"I'm giving you a choice. If you don't wish to fight, drop your weapon and leave my sight. This will be your only chance to do so."

The guard didn't answer with his voice. Instead, his shaking hands tightened on his weapon.

The Hidaar sighed. He'd given him a chance to run away and tell his friends. How unfortunate that he has chosen death.

"Very well then."

The hand that was not holding the mysterious object shot forward so fast. The officer had no time to react. The Hidaar's fingers closed around the guard's weapon, snatching it out of his tiny hands. The officer fell back, landing on his rear, unable to speak. The Hidaar looked at the small, L-shaped thing in his hand. The Hidaar knew what this thing was. He believed it was called a gun. A weapon invented after his time. He had seen a few on his previous excursions to Earth, but nothing this sophisticated or sleek. It didn't matter how beautiful the gun looked.

Worthless.

He squeezed his thumb and forefinger together; he could feel the gun's metal flatten between them with a squeal.

As he did this, he returned to casually talking to the guard, "As I was saying. It is rude to ask a stranger what they are. The proper greeting to an unknown trespasser is, 'Who the hell are you?' Is that so difficult?"

He dropped the destroyed gun at the guard's feet, who fell back on his rear, staring at the weapon in horror. The Hidaar thought he heard the guard mutter something about a demon, which was not too far from the truth.

"Go on, then," the Hidaar said in mock earnestness, "Ask me: 'who are you?'"

The guard didn't reply; instead, he tried to crawl backward, away from the Hidaar, as fast as possible. The Hidaar noticed a trail of wetness coming from between the guard's legs. The fool had soiled himself. Diver. Coward. He was so pathetic that it bordered the line between humor and pity. Too bad he had chosen to die.

He bent down, taking extra care to avoid touching the dark patch on the guard's pants. The Hidaar wrapped his fingers around his entire neck and torso, lifting him to look directly into the guard's black eyes.

The guard's arms were pinned to his sides by the Hidaar's large hand. He tried in vain to kick at him with his dangling legs, but the guard just could not reach him. He could not stop staring into the Hidaar's eyes.

"I said…" The Hidaar let his voice drop from his usually breathy cadence to a deep, menacing growl, which he liked to do to try to intimidate his opponents. It usually worked too. "Ask me who I am!"

The guard's mouth moved silently as he tried to form words.

"Yeees?" the Hidaar said, nodding encouragingly, "Go on. Ask me."

"W-who a-a-are y-you?" the guard finally stammered; his voice shook uncontrollably.

"Well, I'm glad you asked, my friend!" exclaimed the Hidaar, his voice returning to normal as he changed his tone back to lightly conversational.

He let the guard drop from his hand while pocketing the small magical trinket in his other hand. He would deal with that in a moment.

The guard didn't scream as he dropped back to the ground, landing on his feet. The Hidaar was slightly impressed. He was not a worthy opponent, but perhaps this guard was more than qualified to be his plaything for a little longer.

He grinned at the guard, who was shaking but standing his ground.

"You ask me who I am? Well, since you're so eager to know, I'll gladly tell you!"

The Hidaar began to circle the guard slowly, watching carefully for any further signs of weakness. The still-trembling officer had clearly summoned some new-found courage and now glared up at him as the Hidaar circled. He didn't turn to look as the Hidaar passed from his sight; instead, the guard let him gaze into the back of his skull, then back into view.

"Have you ever heard the ancient legend about one they call 'The Indomitable Beast Slayer?'"

"I have not, demon," said the guard. His voice quivered like his body, but a tone of defiance grew within the fear.

The Hidaar raised his arms to his shoulders in a slight shrug, "I'm not surprised..." He shook his head slightly and stopped before the guard, turning his back on him. "Not many people know the long-forgotten tale anymore, my friend. Fate, you see, torments me with the fact that I am now less than a whisper in the hearts of people."

He could sense that the guard hadn't moved a muscle since he had turned his back on him. Perhaps he was planning to strike soon? The Hidaar dared him. But if he let him continue his tale, then all the better. Who knew? Maybe if he got through the entire story, then mayhap he'd let the guard live long enough to spread it as far as he could despite his challenge earlier. The Hidaar rarely changed his mind when he had chosen to kill, but this may be an exception. So, he began:

"A very long time ago, a time when magic was as common as any other tool, and beasts of great power wandered the Earth. There existed a mighty warrior known simply as the Indomitable Beast Slayer.

"A giant of a man who had made a name for himself killing said beasts that would often attack defenseless villages. Either for sport or food, it didn't matter to the beasts. You see, when the Slayer was young, his village was often raided by the beast from the nearby forest. Many other warriors, including the Slayer's own father, fell to the might of the forest. But not the Slayer, my friend, not the Slayer.

"For you see, deep within that forest laid a treasure of great value to the Slayer: his father's sword left there after his death. It was said that the sword could only be wielded by a giant, which the boy's father also had been. That it was so large, its length could be compared to that of a man. So, the Slayer braved the darkness of the forest to acquire it. And indeed, he did, my friend. However, it was not easy to reach, not at all.

"The sword was guarded by an abomination by the name of Khuva Na'al. You call me a demon? Your standards may have differed had you seen that monstrosity. Compared to him, I'm a faerie princess." He paused, thinking, "Though the princess of faeries did enjoy ripping off faces and scaring children with them, so that may not be the aptest comparison. You should have seen her collection, though. Talk about needing a better hobby." He had hoped that the guard would at least crack a smile at that, but no, he remained as stoic as ever. "Anyway, I'm guessing that you've never heard of Khuva Na'al then, yes?"

"No."

"Well, that's good. At least I'm not alone in being forgotten..." He paused, "Now, where was I?"

The guard did not reply. The Hidaar had not expected him to.

"Oh yes, the sword."

"It is quite beautiful, don't you think?" asked the Hidaar, reaching up and pulling the sword strapped to his back out of its sheath. He rested the blade's tip on the concrete, letting the guard admire its sheer radiance. He could hear the guard's sharp intake of breath. Whether in fear or in awe of the massive blade, the Hidaar didn't care.

He continued, rubbing his thumb over the hilt of his precious birthright.

"Needless to say, their battle was fierce! But it ended with Na'al defeated and the Slayer triumphant! Though the fight was not over. The Slayer still had to leave the forest, which teemed with now angry monsters. And fight he did! Slaughtering every single beast that dared show its face.

"It took three days for the Slayer to fight his way out of the forest, and when he emerged, the villagers rejoiced at their new savior, bestowing upon him the name of 'The Indomitable Beast Slayer.'

"After that, the Slayer wandered the world, killing beasts to live up to his new name, but soon grew bored of the monotonous battles. Eventually, he began to seek more worthy opponents, men who dared to challenge him, who fell one by one, two by two, or even three by three. None could defeat him.

"Soon, the title of 'Beast Slayer' was forgotten entirely, to be replaced by a new name. Perhaps you have heard of that one?"

It was then the Hidaar heard the guard move. Years of fighting monsters faster than any human had enhanced the Hidaar's reflexes. He detected the guard's arm moving back to his waist as he attempted to draw another weapon. The guard was not worthy of living, nor would he have the privilege of dying by the sword.  

The Hidaar spun around and, in one swift motion, grabbed the guard's arm with his free hand so tightly that he could feel the guard's bones splinter beneath his grip. Something sparked as it fell from the guard's ruined hand, landing with a hard clack on the ground.

He then lifted the guard, arcing him over his head, and slammed him into the ground hard enough to crack the concrete beneath him.

Blood spewed from the guard's mouth as his insides liquefied from the impact. The Hidaar let go of the shattered guard's arm and straightened, staring down at him with slight satisfaction. A pool of red formed beneath the dying man, spreading wide as the concrete began to absorb it.

The guard did not die immediately. He had a few breaths in him still, so the Hidaar finished his story as the life faded from the guard's eyes:

"The new name he was known as was: Darris the Indomitable... A name that I still go by to this day. Know it and fear it as you move on to the afterlife. For there, you will surely meet the men who remember my legend..."

As the last of the guard's choking breaths disappeared, Darris smirked, sheathing his sword once more.

You never stood a chance, you poor fool. But at least you died bravely. He was yet another easily dispatched challenger—one of countless who crumbled before him.

 Darris began to rub his chest with a hand, completely unaware he was doing so. His focus was on the ground as he kicked the useless sparking weapon into the bay, which landed with a quiet splash barely audible over the sound of waves.

Darris turned away, the guard wholly forgotten, as he shifted his attention back to the mysterious object in his pocket. He pulled it out.

Laying his palm was a small metal square that glittered silver in the light of the lamps. It reminded Darris of a shoe buckle, something he thought had long since gone out of fashion on Earth.

But this was no ordinary shoe buckle: the closer he looked, the more detail he could see in the magic. Or was it even magic? He poked at the silvery square with a pointed black fingernail, hoping it would stir something within it. But nothing changed. The tight, intricate weave was quite impressive, quite impressive indeed. This shoe buckle contained quite a lot of power for such a tiny object.

A talent he had developed over centuries, Darris could see energy patterns within an enchanted object; forging was his specialty. Had he not become a warrior, perhaps he could have made a life for himself as a blacksmith or an enchanter. It would indeed have been a more comfortable life for me and—

Darris mentally shook himself, unconsciously rubbing his chest even harder than before. No, there was no need to even think of it.

Then Darris sensed something. Somewhere in the distance, perhaps miles away, a surge of energy erupted into life. Powerful energy. Darris could tell that this new power shared the same qualities as the tiny shoe buckle in his hands, even at this distance.

Whatever this new power was, it was coming closer. And fast.

Darris smiled to himself as he walked over to the edge of the concrete dock and sat down. The shoe buckle danced between his fingers as he stared out across the water, waiting for his new opponent to arrive.

He hoped that he, whoever he was, was a far worthier opponent than the last one had been.