As the sun goes down, the golden walls of Herot are ignited by the full moon. My lips become dry and my hands quiver at the sight of the drunken men in the hall. The men sing and chant to God, and I begin to recall my past. I was a lover of God until He drove me out of Heaven. I descended into a massive pit of scorching temperatures and burning flames. Hell made me the thing I am today-a monster. The anger that I feel inside my body consumes me and vengeance takes over. When the Danish men have all passed out drunk, I sneak into the hall and kill them one by one. I tear their flesh, severing their bodies into countless pieces. The taste of each man’s warm blood quenches my thirst. The flesh of thirty men satisfies my hunger, and I flee with content.


Once again, the sun has gone down and the moon has risen. Foolish men arrive to party again in the halls of Herot. My confidence level right now is beyond a ten. I think to myself, If these men show no fear in celebrating in the hall where their brothers were once slaughtered, then I shall attack again. I sneakily glide into the halls and devour the men one by one. After my feast, I exit the hall feeling unstoppable. The Beast of the Nether World prevails again and Evil knows no bounds.

Herot is abandoned and no man possesses enough bravery to enter Herot’s halls. For the next twelve years, I lurk in the misty swamp that surrounds Herot. Men begin to gather again in its bloodshed halls. My stomach gurgles as I think of the fatty meat on the gentlemen’s bones. Hunger takes control over my body and I immediately head towards Herot. I sneakily glide through the doors and kill my first victim. I am surprised not to find a group of men sleeping on the ground. Instead, I look up to find a mob of angry men with swords waiting for my arrival. A beast of a man stands in the forefront of the mob. This man is no ordinary being. He bears the name “Beowulf.”

Swords swing at me from behind, but Beowulf realizes that I cannot be harmed by weapons so he uses his most valuable weapon of all, his hands. The Defender of All Evil lunges toward me producing a powerful hit. We wrestle down the halls of Herot, clashing into walls and making loud thuds. Thoughts race through my head about my past. I feel as if I am battling with God, when He cast me down into the pit of eternal fire. I struggle to fight back and my hopes of surviving are slim to none. Beowulf and I exchange more punches with each other. He grabs my arm, ripping it from my torso. My face goes pale, the blood drains from my veins, and my body turns limp. I vanish to the underwater palace of my mother. This is the end of my existence, the place where The Nefarious Demon of Corruption slips away.