//------------------------------//
// Win 
// Story: In Victory, We Are the Losers 
// by daOtterGuy 
//------------------------------//

The morning after the bow knight attacked, a purple unicorn came. She wore a cloak that obscured her features and had a tendency to cackle. She primarily assaulted him with bottles of Alchemist’s Fire, explosive arcane flames.

Rockhoof was burned several times, which was paltry compared to the burns he acquired from working the Trench. He cleaved her in two with his shovel.

Nike blessed him with magic resistant skin.

Two mornings after, another knight wearing the same heraldry as the bow knight appeared. He was a large black pegasus with small dextrous wings that held onto a greatsword nearly double his size. He was a berserker type with a massive amount of stamina, and liked to yell a lot.

Rockhoof managed to crush his head underneath his hooves after the pegasus became worn down. He’d taken several heavy cuts, including one along his neck due to sloppy maneuvering from fatigue. 

Nike blessed him with better stamina.

Three mornings after. Four earth pony brigands. They wielded poison-laced knives and worked in tandem with each other.

Rockhoof, despite being slowed by poison, managed to stab each of them with his shovel through the heart.

Nike blessed him with poison resistance.

Four mornings after, a group of desperate refugees appeared begging to be included in his clan’s healing rite. Five mornings after, a narcissistic minotaur skilled in mechanical weaponry demanded to be let in to scavenge for loot. Six mornings after, a pompous griffin and his retinue charged at the cave with cries of gold.

Rockhoof crushed the refugees into pulp. Rockhoof rammed the minotaur through the sharpened ends of broken trees. Rockhoof sliced through the griffins with the sharp edge of his shovel.

Nike blessed him with tougher muscles. Nike blessed him with greater strength. Nike blessed him with improved flexibility.

Seven mornings after. New opponent. Dead. Fourteen mornings after. New opponent. Dead. Twenty-eight mornings after. New opponent. Dead. Another blessing. Another blessing. Another blessing.

Protect the cave. No one goes in. Why? Rockhoof couldn’t remember. All that mattered was that no one got past him. Nothing else was important. He was strong. He was a warrior. He would fulfill his purpose. What was his purpose? To win. That was his purpose. Nothing else.

An uncountable number of days after, a new opponent appeared.

Rockhoof would kill whomever they were.

Nike would bless him.

That was how it would always be.