[ WP ] You are the antagonist of the story . However , you are n't sure if you can call yourself that after what the protagonist did .

`` How many of my men did you kill?'' 
 
 The Hero paused, and his grip on his raised sword seemed to slacken somewhat. `` What?'' 
 
 I leaned back in my throne and repeated my question. `` How many of my men did you kill? You defeated the army I sent out, single-handedly, and then you stormed my castle and slaughtered my guards, and now you're in my throne room brandishing a sword. So, over the course of your rampage, how many men did you kill?'' 
 
 The Hero's brow furrowed. `` What does it matter?'' 
 
 `` Of course it matters. I have killed five hundred and twelve people over the course of my life. Some were by my own hand, others were by my orders. I remember every one of them.'' I pointed my finger accusingly at the Hero. `` And you? You treat human lives as if they're worthless, as if they're beasts to be slaughtered. How many have you killed? How many of my men did you kill today?'' 
 
 The Hero lowered his sword and glowered at me. `` They deserved their fates!'' 
 
 `` Did they now? Most of them joined me simply because I was willing to employ them, when no one else would. I took in the poor and the desperate, and allowed them to join my army. I paid them a fair wage, so that they could support themselves and their families.'' 
 
 `` An army that sacked and pillaged towns at will! The wages you paid came from your army's plunder!'' The Hero roared at me. 
 
 I shrugged. `` Yes, and I do n't deny it. As I said, these men were desperate, because the harvests have been poor, and there simply is n't enough food to go around. Do you expect them to simply starve? Do you expect them to simply wither away? We took the food and the resources we found in the surrounding towns and villages. It was either that or die of starvation. Like I said, desperate.'' 
 
 The Hero raised his sword and pointed the tip of the steel at me, `` You're despicable. You condemned those villagers to their own starvation. Your army stole the harvests that they never worked for. Not one day did they toil in the fields or pastures. What gives them the right to live off the labors of others?'' 
 
 I smirked, `` And how is that different from what you do? Have you ever labored in the fields or the pastures? Do you not eat grain and meat that you never worked for? Or do you feel entitled to such sustenance simply because you are good with a sword?'' 
 
 The Hero glared at me silently for a few moments before speaking, `` I do not take my food by force. It is given to me as payment for the protection I offer and for the evils I slay.'' 
 
 I laughed in his face, then said, `` Do you truly believe that? Do you truly believe that no one has ever looked upon your blade and your build, and then given you their dinner out of fear? Do you truly believe no one would ever see you as the bully come to deprive them of what's theirs?'' 
 
 `` I...'' the Hero stammered, hesitantly, `` I do not...'' 
 
 The Hero was suddenly cut off by a spear thrust into his back. It passed through his body entirely until the bloody tip protruded from his breast. He looked down at the wound in his front, then craned his neck back to look behind him. One of my surviving guards had managed to sneak up on him, and had taken advantage of his distraction to deal a fatal blow. 
 
 The Hero's sword slipped from his slack fingers and dropped to the stone floor with a loud clang. He sank to his knees. I stood from my throne and slowly approached the dying man. `` I hope, in your last moments, that you can realize you and I are not so different. It's just that where you are an idealist, I am a realist. Where you are unwilling to accept the evils you have done, I fully acknowledge the misdeeds I have committed. Where you see yourself as the hero of your tale, I see that there are no heroes, only villains.''
