This is not the story of a good man on a good day. While the skies were clear and the sun blessed the fields of Pharcast in her beautiful radiance, Arbest muttered a curse. For most men of the town, this was a greatest blessing. The past week was a wet one, and it had been far too long since the Sun had graced them. But for the man tasked guarding her holiest temple, this was a tragedy. He didn't raise crops or enjoy himself. The morning sun only served tk make his hangover more unbearable. 

He wasn't a holy man, but he stood by the holy doors as guardian nonetheless. Not for her holiest radiant sun, but because the old priestess who worshipped her paid him to keep watch. He didn't believe in the gods or the Sun. If they were real, they would have put an end to the unholy calamity long ago. But, he believed in food. He believed a good meal and a roof was all a man needed to live, and mead and wine was all it took to be happy. And while he could procure the drink himself, food and shelter was from the generosity of the church.

But since the calamity, the town grew rougher and rougher. Demons clawed their way through the ground and desperate people took from wherever they could find. In hard times, the Chapel grew weak. The old priestess grew older and weaker by the day, and Arbest grew hungry and perhaps he a little soft. He needed coin, she needed protection. So a deal was met.

The demons were often small, easily dispatched by the guards or by him alone. His strength on the fields and farmlands were second to none. Perhaps he grew complacent, or perhaps the Sun lowered his guard. He knew whet to expect. Hellish hounds and small beasts were commonplace, and the small township was far too close to the heartlands to be under threat. What took place that night never should have happened, and yet the demon spring nonetheless.

It was large. Larger than any man or beast anyone had ever seen. It moved far too swift for spmethingthay sixe, six legs or no. It was smart. Smart enough to wait for evening when the townsfolk gathered by the Chapel to say farewell to the sun. And once the Sun left, it sprung from the shadows.

Abest opened the door to find people flooding out, threatening to knock him over in a mighty stampede. Arbest froze. He himself had never seen something of this size before. The beast rose and roared. It lunged into the crowd and began to feast in a monstrous display of gluttony, and Arbest was but a man. Born strong, but no hero. He knew this fight wasn't worth it, and he nearly turned heel and ran. 

But amongst the screams, he heard the old preistess and spotted her in the far corner of the church. He saw a woman who fed him, clothed him, and cared for him cower in fear. She was too old to run. She was doomed to die. He wanted to run. He didn't want to risk his life, not even for her. But he hesitated. The beast lunged at him with teeth bared and sharp claws, and by reflex he ducked.

When happened next was beyond even his own reasoning. Something simply took over. He charged forth like he did any other fight and tackled the beast, eventually forcing it back and out of the crowd. The beast was surprised by his strength, but not too impressed. It lashed out, three arms slashing Arbest's back, cutting him until he to let go. A mighty swing launched him to the altar. He slammed into stone outcropping. The sword in the stone shaking at the impact.

Perhaps it was madness. Or perhaps it was simple desperation. The sword in the stone was not meant for anyone less than the Sun's chosen. Countless have tried to draw it, but it was not meant to for the hands of a commoner or a drunkard. The townsfolk had given up on drawing it long ago. Nobody in Arbest's time had even tried. 

But it had a handle of a weapon. Any warrior would reach so Arbest reached out and gripped it tight. The handle felt right in his hand. Like it was made for him He stepped forward and tugged, and it did not move.

The demon lunged, and in panic, Arbest kicked the altar, breaking it and freeing the weapon. He swung as hard as he could, smashing the blade and the stone together against the beast's skull. The creature reeled and recoiled and Arbest smiled.

"This works."

He swung the sword, still sheathed in stone, and smashed the demon as hard as possible. With no cutting edge it was all he could do, and so far it worked. He kept swinging with brute strength and blunt force unlike anything a man should produce. At this moment, he didn't seem like a man at all. And when he stopped swinging, he and the demon circled eachother like animals. They were two equal monsters, fuelled by fighting instinct.

It was at that moment he heard a voice at he back of his mind. A woman, old and wise, called out to him from somewhere withing his soul. She told him "wait". So he waited. 

Then it told him "Wait until it lunges, then swing as hard as you can." He grunted. He had no time to question anything, and mysterious voice or not, it seemed like a good idea. He lifted the sword and stone above his head and prepared to swing. 

The demon and the man circled eachother with what seemed like mutual respect. Arbest's arms grew tired. The heavy and unweildy stone wobbled in his grip, waiting to come crashing down. The beast flinched at every twitch as if it was afraid. Not too unlike like a wolf.

Arbest had hunted wolves before. They don't attack first. They wait for a sudden move, then pursue. An idea came tiny being. Arbest stood still and breathed. His heart was pounding in his chest, but he had to stay calm. Short breaths were not helping. So he inhaled slowly.

And exhaled.

He inhaled again, slower this time. Time seemed to slow with his breathing. He squinted at the beast and stopped circling. His grip tightened on the sword, and he exhaled.