With all the ruined world watching, Lame--Lord Cygnus--crucified the last of the questors.
"Did you think that my mortal origins would somehow grant you power?" Lame said, "Did you think that telling the story of my life as an unwanted child, beaten and abused, would somehow undermine me? Fool."
"I took a mortal shell misshapen in the womb, and further degraded by crushing blows and other predatory abuses, and used the anger at this wretched life to hone a will to seek, acquire, and use power--real, true power--to destroy the world that would make such a thing possible."
"I sought that power. I took that power. I used that power to become what I am, and make this world rise as a result. You think that this would undermine me? You think that all your seeking, your scheming, your whispering would lead to anything other than this? Fool."
Lame looked out over the demons and humans assembled to watch in person. "They would do no such thing. They already know, and they approve."
"So, now what? A heretofore unknown savior comes to rescue you? No. That is not how such fools meet their end in the real world, and you and I both know it. There is no savior. There was none for me, so I saved myself and took revenge. Now that you, in theory, could do likewise I shall now let all see that I have indeed learned from such a wretched past."
In a moment, Lame's scaled and taloned hand ripped the man's heart from his chest. With the other, he put his hand over the man's mouth and caught his dying breath. He then consumed both, and a palpable wave of power emanated from him as if a ripple in the water.
"Let none survive who would rise against Lord Cygnus, the Trogdor."
And for a time, none did. Eventually, one would, but that is another tale for another time.