The Legend of Killjo: The Eye of Terror

The Legend of Killjo: The Eye of Terror

The fog clung to the blackened trees like ancient, spectral fingers, as if the forest itself feared what lay deeper in its heart. Killjo, the barbarian, stood at the edge of the clearing, his muscles tense beneath his scarred skin. His two-handed greataxe, forged in the mountains of his homeland, gleamed faintly in the dim moonlight. His breath came in slow, controlled intervals, a sign not of fear but of a readiness to unleash his primal fury. He had faced many foes in his time—beasts, soldiers, and demons—but none so feared, none so vile, as the Beholder, Xixiz.

Xixiz had terrorized the land for years, a grotesque tyrant from the Underdark. With a spherical body the size of a wagon, covered in mottled, leathery skin, and a single central eye as large as a man’s head, it inspired fear wherever its name was whispered. From its body sprouted a dozen writhing eyestalks, each capable of unleashing a different form of death—death by flame, ice, petrification, or disintegration. The creature had left villages in ruins, turned entire battalions to stone, and now it held captive the daughter of Lord Varnis, a noble who had promised great riches for the monster's head. But to Killjo, this wasn’t about wealth. It was about honor, about legend. He would carve his name into history with the blade of his axe.

A scream pierced the stillness of the night, high-pitched and terrified—a woman's scream. The barbarian’s eyes narrowed. Xixiz was close.

The Lair of the Beholder

Moving silently through the dense undergrowth, Killjo emerged into a wide cavern, hidden by the oppressive woods. Its maw-like entrance was illuminated by a sickly green light emanating from inside. The air smelled foul—like rot and stagnant water. Somewhere within, Xixiz awaited him.

Killjo gripped his greataxe tighter and stepped into the cavern. The interior was like a twisted reflection of the forest, with vines hanging from the ceiling and strange fungi growing in the cracks of the stone floor. At the far end of the chamber, he saw her—Leira, the daughter of Lord Varnis, bound in chains, her face pale with terror. Floating above her, its body hovering unnaturally in the air, was Xixiz.

The Beholder was even more horrifying up close. Its giant central eye glared at him with an intelligence and malice that chilled the barbarian’s blood. The smaller eyestalks, each tipped with its own malevolent gaze, quivered as if eager to unleash their deadly beams.

"Another fool come to die?" Xixiz's voice echoed in Killjo’s mind, not spoken aloud but invading his thoughts like a dark whisper.

Killjo said nothing. His response would come with the edge of his axe.

With a roar, he charged.

Fury Unleashed

Killjo’s speed was astounding for a man his size, but Xixiz was faster still. Before he could close the distance, the Beholder’s central eye flared to life, and Killjo felt his connection to the primal forces severed. His rage, his strength—all dulled by the creature’s anti-magic cone. It was an oppressive weight that threatened to crush his will, but Killjo was no mere fighter. He was a barbarian, a force of nature incarnate. Magic or no magic, his sheer physicality was his greatest weapon.

He leaped to the side just as one of Xixiz's eyestalks fired a ray of searing flame, scorching the stone floor where he had stood a heartbeat before. Another beam followed, this one of frost, chilling the air and freezing patches of the cavern. Killjo weaved through the barrage of deadly rays, his instincts sharpened from years of battle. He closed the distance, bringing his greataxe down in a brutal arc.

The axe met flesh, and Xixiz let out a screech of pain as one of its eyestalks was cleaved from its body, falling to the ground in a pool of black ichor. But before Killjo could press his advantage, a purple beam struck him square in the chest, and his muscles locked. He was paralyzed, his body frozen in mid-motion.

Xixiz floated closer, its mouth opening in a toothy grin. "You thought you could slay me, little barbarian?" the voice in his mind sneered. "You are but a toy, a pet to be played with."

The Beholder’s central eye stared into Killjo’s own, and for the first time, doubt flickered in his mind. But the barbarian’s spirit was unyielding. With a primal scream, he forced his limbs to move, breaking free of the paralysis through sheer willpower. His body surged with rage, his muscles bulging as he roared in defiance.

The Beholder hesitated, perhaps for the first time in its life. It had never seen such a force of will, such raw power. But Xixiz was no coward. The eyestalks quivered, and more beams fired in rapid succession—lightning, disintegration, petrification. Killjo dodged, parried with his axe, and even took a glancing blow of fire across his arm, but nothing could stop him now. His rage was a storm, his body a vessel for vengeance.

The Fall of Urug

As Killjo closed the gap once more, Xixiz called upon its minion—a monstrous, troll-like beast named Urug, summoned from the depths of the Underdark. With a roar, the creature lumbered forward, its massive arms swinging with enough force to shatter stone.

Killjo snarled, his focus shifting to this new threat. Urug swung at him, claws raking the air, but Killjo was quicker. He ducked beneath the attack, his greataxe lashing out, carving deep into the troll's side. Ugu howled in pain, but trolls were notorious for their regenerative powers. Already, the wound began to knit together, flesh reforming before Killjo’s eyes.

The troll lunged, grabbing the barbarian by the waist, and lifted him off the ground. Urug's foul breath washed over Killjo as the troll prepared to crush him. But the barbarian wasn’t done yet. With a fierce growl, Killjo swung his axe down into Urug's neck. The blade sank deep, severing flesh, muscle, and bone. The troll’s head lolled to the side, and with one final push, Killjo cleaved through its neck entirely.

Urug’s headless body crumpled to the ground, and Killjo stood over it, breathing heavily. But there was no time to rest. Xixiz had watched the fight with cold, calculating eyes, and now it struck. A beam of crackling purple energy shot toward Killjo. He barely managed to twist away, but the beam clipped his shoulder, disintegrating a chunk of flesh.

Pain lanced through his body, but Killjo gritted his teeth. He would not fall here, not when victory was so close. Blood ran down his arm, and still, he pressed forward, his gaze locked on Xixiz.

The Final Blow

Xixiz floated higher, retreating toward the ceiling of the cavern, raining beams down upon the barbarian. But Killjo would not be denied. He hurled himself forward, leaping from a stone outcropping, and swung his greataxe with all the might he could muster. The blade met Xixiz’s central eye with a sickening squelch.

The Beholder shrieked, its entire body convulsing as dark ichor spewed from the wound. Its eyestalks flailed wildly, beams firing in all directions, but Killjo was relentless. He landed another blow, and then another, hacking into the monster’s flesh with primal fury.

With a final, earth-shattering roar, Killjo raised his axe high above his head and brought it down with all the strength left in his body. The blade cleaved through Xixiz’s body, slicing it in half. The Beholder’s two halves fell to the ground, twitching and bleeding as the last vestiges of its malevolent life drained away.

The cavern was silent.

Killjo stood over the broken corpse of Xixiz, his chest heaving, his body battered and burned. But he had done it. The Beholder was dead.

The Birth of a Legend

Leira, who had watched the battle in awe and terror, struggled to her feet, her chains still binding her wrists. Killjo, his expression softening for the first time, strode over to her and with a single swing of his axe, shattered the chains. She stared up at him, her blue eyes wide with gratitude, disbelief, and admiration.

“You… you saved me,” she whispered.

Killjo said nothing, simply nodding. He was a man of few words, preferring to let his actions speak for him. He turned to leave, but Leira grabbed his arm, her touch gentle.

“Your name will be known across the land,” she said. “The one who slew the Beholder. You are a legend.”

The barbarian looked down at her, his hard features softening for a moment. “I am Killjo,” he said simply.

The Legend of Killjo