In Verse, Part 3

"Turning and turning in the widening gyre
    The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
    Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
    Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
    The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
    The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
    The best lack all conviction, while the worst
    Are full of passionate intensity.

    Surely some revelation is at hand;
    Surely the Second Coming is at hand.
    The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out
    When a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi
    Troubles my sight: a waste of desert sand;
    A shape with lion body and the head of a man,
    A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,
    Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it
    Wind shadows of the indignant desert birds. 

    The darkness drops again but now I know
    That twenty centuries of stony sleep
    Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,
    And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
    Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?" 

-William Yeats

"Beware the Jabberwock my son, the jaws that bite, the claws that catch."

-Lewis Carroll

Do you want to know how I killed Mason Farrell? The Widowmaker? He threw a temper tantrum that I wouldn't die and started swinging Woundwort around like the lunatic he was, not paying attention to what he was doing. Cleared the field and made himself a nice big target for my army to riddle him with arrows. It's not hard to kill a combat demigod when he's got twenty pieces of poisoned metal in him.

Christine killed the Black Spider. I not only failed to kill Spinne, I polluted something beyond price in my desperation to do so. Such foul blood should never have touched the purity that a unicorn horn possesses. And she and Caleb killed Antiwan. I was just there to provide an extra target and buy them a few seconds.

Xaxargas? Hundreds died just to give an opening I leapt into. The tales and songs, so often, act like I went to the Blacklands, and bested him, all by myself. The worst part is few countries and kingdoms hold it against me, that their sons and daughters died while I lived and got the glory. They're happy that the world was saved, that they get to live on, that the people who didn't come back didn't die in vain.

Do not get me wrong. I am not...complaining about what occurred. I've been blessed. Incredibly blessed. But there is a lesson that only heroes learn.

Dreams like mine...come at a cost. Often, the cost is other people. And by the nature of what you become, you will never be able to forget them.

I will not. I have my dream. So I will make a world where others can dream. A world where dreams can happen with a smaller chance of the loss of others. A better world, as best I can.

Another hero said it. best.

With great power...

------

Comes a lot of practice at dodging sword blows that are trying to cut your head in half. Unfortunately, that didn't help Ash with the follow up punch, the blow rocking him and dropping him to his knees, his crimson mist aura snuffing out like a candle.

"...figures." Incael said. "I was getting pretty tired of your fantasy crap anyway."

Ash said nothing, his eyes locked onto his broken sword, like he couldn't believe it had happened.

"...anything else to say? No?" Incael said. "Good. Now to do what Xaxargas couldn't. I will surpass a god, and I will put an end to your little heroic movement. There's only room for ONE at this table!"

Incael lashed out his sword, the air screaming as the cursed blade cut through it.

It met the broken blade of Ash, the edge of Vyrepul digging into the edge of the shattered sword, tearing it free from Ash's hand, the blade arcing end over end...

"No." Ash said.

Then his hands grabbed his sword, the sword he had purposely let go of so the impact would spin it. Grabbed it blade first, his fingers wrapping around the shattered weapon like it was soft as cotton, Ash standing up and swinging for the fences, catching Incael completely off guard as he smashed the hilt of the blade across his face.

"No! No! NO! NO!" Ash snarled, battering Incael several more times before the king jumped away, blood flowing from his freshly opened cheek wound, his eyes bulging with shock. Ash flipped the sword over in his right hand, grabbing the hilt again as he held out his other, free hand, gesturing. The other half of the blade flew into it, Ash grabbing onto the broken weapon piece like it was part of his hand. Unlike his right hand, his left hand had lost the glove he'd been wearing. It still clutched the sword piece like it was a shaft of smooth wood.

"More parlor tric-" Incael said, and thrust up his arm, his wrist-crossbow firing two more bolts. They flew through empty air, Ash dashing away and looping around a statue, closing in to Incael and lashing out. Incael suddenly found himself on the defensive, Ash swinging the two broken sword pieces like a traditional sword and dagger combo, the slashes and strikes glancing at the king's leather armor, Incael's arms blurring as he tried to block them all.

"YOUR TRICKS." Ash said, and then with a hacking cough, he abruptly spewed forth golden mist. Incael went from shock to outright terror, stumbling backwards so fast he nearly fell down.

"IMPOSSIBLE! MY GOLD DAMP! ONLY I KNOW THAT!"

Ash gave Incael a dull look, before moving his hands together, his sword pieces clicking back together. Eyes that cast judgment for seemingly forgetting what Ash's primary power, so much a part of his legends, was.

"...No. Enough! ALL HEADS OFF-!"

Ash's hands clenched, and the partially merged sword bent outward, a piece of it snapping off and flying out like a bullet, slipping past Incael's gorget and slamming directly into his throat. His death curse cut off in a wet rasping cough, Incael grabbing at his neck and trying to wheeze air in, even as the piece flew back into Ash's hand.

"Funny story. I couldn't pull the precise knowledge from you, so that was just pretty colored smoke. That's just me, though. Always relying on other people to survive." Ash said, as the crimson mist began to leak from his wounds again, his re-fused, again-intact sword erupting with blue energy. "Wanna see me do another impression? This is my fiance."

Incael couldn't answer, both in fact and in time, as Ash blurred over and slashed his sword out, meeting Incael's with force that shattered the statues all around them.

"YOU FIGHT WITH SOMEONE FOR YEARS, YOU LEARN TO EXTEND THE RANGE!" Ash yelled. Incael had no sooner blocked than Ash fled backwards and then charged in again. Incael yelled in turn, a wordless noise of rage, and slashed out with his sword.

Ash didn't meet it with his own. Instead he leapt and kicked Incael in the face, both of his feet smashing into Incael and knocking him backwards, the young man flipping backwards off the kick and landing in a crouch. Incael regained his position just in time for Ash to dash back and then back forward to do it again, Incael knocked backwards into yet another statue. Bloody spittle flying from his mouth, Incael pushed out and slashed, Ash dodging, a cutting edge of force slicing through another statue and carving deep into the wall beyond. Shrieking his rage, Incael advanced again, his sword hacking through air and stone, Ash's blurring form dodging it all.

"YOU ARE NOTHING!"

"So I've heard." Ash said, and leapt backwards and up at a harsh angle to dodge another slash, striking one of the pillars and rebounding off it, his sword slashing out, Incael barely blocking, dust flying up from the clash of weapons. Ash hit the ground and sprang to his feet, leaping up at another angle, ricocheting off another platform like he was doing his best impression of a certain patriotic shield, flying back towards Incael, his blade slashing out, this time cutting through the king's guard and armor, Incael snarling as he tried to keep his feet.

"All heads-!"

Ash's final jump mirrored Incael's battle-starter, the blonde man leaping, bouncing off another pillar, and coming down with his sword in an arc like a ton of bricks, the pain in his neck vanishing as their blades clashed, the shriek of the Vyrepul swallowing Incael's words. Loophole. Too close anyway...

"RARGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHH!" Incael snarled, not understanding why Ash was now 'immune' to his instant-win button. Too mad at this sudden turnaround to consider logical possibilities, Incael simply resorted to jerking away and bringing the Remnant down on Ash's blade, the force of the blow slamming into Ash and echoing around his body. He took it anyway, he was starting to adapt and he could take it, slowly advancing backwards, sparks, smoke, and dust swirling around the pair as they dueled. With every blow, a puzzle piece fell into place in Ash's head. Soon...soon...

Incael broke off first, his breath exploding through him in ragged gasps, his shoulders heaving. To contrast, Ash, while breathing heavy, still had something resembling composure.

"It's...a trick..."

"No. I said to burn. People just never realize there's more than one thing that can burn." Ash said, giving his sword a brief twirl. His brow leaking blood and malice, Incael began to reach for his belt.

Ash's eyes suddenly flicked away, something that Incael was not yet battered enough to miss. A moment later, Incael heard it too. Distant voices.

The realization hit the two at the exact same time, though they had very different reactions. Ash's eyes widened. Incael's brightened.

"...Well well. Looks like you have backup." Incael said, Ash's eyes snapping back to the king. "I wonder if they'll be..."

Ash blazed over, his sword slamming into Incael's, his defensive, opportunity-hunting stance abandoned for one of pure aggression. Incael laughed, the brightness on his eyes growing.

"How fitting. To have victory snatched from your grasp by others, the last thing you wanted!"

"You haven't won yet!" Ash said.

"They're coming, though. Maybe YOU can escape Vyrepul's death curse, but I doubt THEY can. Every soul I cut down empowers my blade. They will bring about your end, and your end will bring about the end of every fool I brought here with my war." Incael said, seemingly having lost the need for breath as the situation turned back into his favor. Ash jerked away from his opponent, his head snapping towards the entrance.

Unfamiliar voices. Backup from Crown Point, Vurnir solders coming to assist their king, lost tourists, it didn't matter. Incael would kill them, whoever they were; Ash couldn't be everywhere at once, and even if he could keep Incael from speaking his magic words, he wouldn't necessarily be able to keep Incael from trying to kill them the old fashioned way. Ash had been hardened beyond belief by his experiences; he doubted the people coming were so fortunate and hence would be far more breakable.

"You see? You don't want to share. All that nonsense before WAS JUST THAT!" Incael said, stabbing his blade down, silver energy erupting from the ground in a line of stabbing death, Ash forced to roll out of the way. Too late, Ash realized it was a feint, a move to create distance, Incael looping away and running towards the entrance.

"Someone's coming-!" The distant voice said.

More ghosts in my wake...

Incael drew up as the sword flew over his head and slammed into the stone above the sole entrance into the room, Ash's blade surging and then exploding with overwhelming power, half of the entire wall shattering and collapsing over the entrance, Ash's sword tumbling into and becoming lost under the mass. A cloud of smoke briefly engulfed Incael, before it faded away save for the sounds of stray falling rocks. The way was shut. No one else was getting in.

"Such heroic nonsense." Incael said.

A second later, he was behind Ash. The blonde man wasn't the only one who could be swift. And it wasn't just his feet that had moved fast.

The sword slash cut through Ash's armor like it wasn't there, the blade biting deep, Ash feeling like it was seizing his heart and squeezing it even as it tore across his flesh and bone. The pain erupted through him, sending hammers of darkness against his eyes, the heat erupting from him taking on a more muted, wet tone as blood gushed forth from the wound, running down his legs and dripping onto the ground.

"I'd almost respect the lengths you'd go to keep the glory for yourself. If only it wasn't so damn useful." Incael said, blood dripping from his sword as he held it out, eyes tracing over the cursed weapon in admiration. "The bloody fire. Gone out and done. And good riddance."

Ash didn't reply save for a small whimper. His legs swayed, more blood spilling forth onto the ground.

Then his knees buckled.

Partially. Ash's last second catch kept him on his feet, hunched over, each breath a new agony, the wound burning down his front. The blood continued to drip...drip...

Stop.

Incael, not hearing the sound he expected, turned around. Ash remained crouched over for a few more seconds before he mirrored the motion. His injury had stopped bleeding. Now it just erupted more faint crimson smoke, the red haze against framing the blonde man.

It was standing there, in his semi crotch, that Incael realized that the whole time Ash had been dueling him, he'd had a second sword in the sheath on his side. Specifically, the same sheath he'd drawn his first sword from.

"...Your...kind..." Ash said, his voice a ragged, hissing whisper, anger finally clear in his tone. "You bring...such ugliness...in your wake...and call it...right...and good...you murdered her..."

"What are you babbling about?"

"IF YOU WANT TO BATTLE WITH SWORDS OF DEATH, THEN YOU WILL HAVE WHAT YOU WISH." Ash said, a hand soaked in his own blood seizing onto the hilt of his second sword. This time, he drew it fully.

Incael's Vyrepul emitted the sounds of mad shrieks, of the pain of hewed flesh and spilt blood. The sound of Ash's second blade was more akin to the snapping noises of closing jaws and breaking bones, the weapon an interlocking length of dull white segments of some unknown material, material that looked like metal, and bone, and liquid, the length uncoiling like a snake, droplets of fluid striking the ground and hissing, burning, bubbling away in the water. A few of the drops fell on Ash as he moved the sword around, but he didn't even notice, in that they didn't affect him at all, the blonde man flicking his wrist and snapping the sword back together, pressing a bloody thumb against its base and tracing blood all along its length.

A moment later, the blood was gone, absorbed by the blade, red tracing out onto the segments, interlocking fangs that seemed to prime and extend even more as Ash uncoiled the weapon again, the metallic lengths whirling around as he snapped the blade out, a sword, a whip, a perfect fusion of the two.

"LET'S BURN."

"...let's." Incael said, and pressed the magical sigil on his belt.

A moment later, every single statue in the room exploded. Incael regretted having to destroy his uncle's work, but while he was mad, cruel, and desiring of mass death, he was not wholly stupid. He'd prepared defenses, including this one. He could fight Ash with this poison sword...or he could blow up every statue in the room, including the two that were flanking Ash.

The blonde man never knew what hit him, his seething rage briefly changing to surprise before the flames and annihilated rock consumed him in a crushing, hammering storm. Incael debated a moment, and then slashed out with his sword, bringing a silver pillar of energy down on the spot, which also exploded. The dust and smoke engulfed him again, but the Stream-trick of blowing such detritus away was among the simplest and most easily taught techniques, and soon the air was clear, leaving Incael to approach his foe.

Ash did not move, partially buried under the wrecked statues, his second sword lost. Incael checked his hands, and to be on the safe side, violently kicked Ash in the side of the head when he stirred. With that done, he shoved the rocks aside with another Stream-push and seized Ash's ankle, checking again to make sure the sword wasn't hiding somewhere. No sign of it.

It was done. All over but the shouting. Or the screaming.

"My brothers used to tell me that when they became king, if I made them mad, they would cut off my head. I spent years bowing and scraping, not wanting to make them mad...idiots. They deserved to die." Incael said, dragging Ash's limp form across the inner cave, his body bumping over the various wreckage of the fight. "When the world challenged them they cringed and hid. Me...they taught me to challenge the world. Make it my own. And so I will."

Incael's path changed, Ash vaguely aware he was being pulled around something before Incael stopped, reached down, and partially picked Ash up to throw him into the center of the horrific symbol that Incael had forged of bodies and blood, his brothers and their families, his crime literally scarring the earth. Ash thudded down amongst the remains, fresh blood beginning to leak onto the old, dried blood. Incael stepping onto the sigil as well, careful not to break any of the lines.

"Like I said. The world only respects those who seize it. Their death brought me this magnificent power, but my efforts will multiply it a thousandfold. Your blood, my blood, mixed on this work of mine...and my range will go from twenty feet to twenty MILES. Which will be more than enough to claim what's left of my army and all the forces Crown Point so nicely assembled to face them."

Ash's eyes popped open, the rage blazing.

Incael literally kicked it off his features, blood spraying as his foot smashed against Ash's face, his arm spasming and flopping back down to the ground, Incael planting said foot on Ash's chest, ribs creaking as he bore down.

"And what are you, in the end? A liar, a failure, and a joke. Best served as materials, just like my brothers. Unworthy of the sweet taste of victory. But like I've said. There's only room for one at this feast." Incael said. "Any last words?"

"...Please..."

"Begging? Oh do continue." Incael said, smirking as Ash squirmed beneath his heel...and across the room, several rocks began to shift...

"Please...there must be...another way..."

"If there was another way, neither you or I would be here. This is the way of the world." Incael said, Ash unable to stand back up, more blood spilling out onto the ground as he tried anyway. "The way of those who sit at the head of the table. I suppose it's not fair...but fairness is just what they sell you before they cut off your-"

The rock debris covering the entrance exploded, and Ash's sword flew across the room with blinding speed, his hand seizing onto it.

Incael put a crossbow bolt into his wrist half a second later. Ash almost looked comically surprised that Incael had seen it coming, before his fingers went limp, the blade tumbling from them. Incael kicked it away, the sword splashing down into a fetid pool.

"Head." Incael finished, before he ran his thumb along Vyrepul's blade and flicked his blood down among Ash.

Beneath him, Ash felt the power awaken. Dark, vile, forbidden. A pollution of the Stream, a process you'd have to be insane to conceive of, let alone cast. Genocide in a sole hand, and a desire to close it around countless throats.

Ash began to thrash like a lunatic, but he was too weak, one arm pinned to the ground, his body further pinned by Incael's boot, his weapons gone, the Stream slipping through his fingers as he tried to use it offensively, and all the while Incael watched, smiling.

"Goodbye, Marsello. It's time to eat."

Incael held the sword out in front of him, his smile growing ever wider. The power...the glory...all for HIM...

"All..."

Ash thrashed beneath his foot.

"Heads..."

Glorious.

"Off..."

Legions suddenly felt death on their neck.

"But..."

Ash's free hand clamped onto the hilt of Incael's sword, the faint clatter of silver chains barely audible as Ash pressed the star in his palm into it.

"KASTA OM!"

For a moment, Incael felt the sudden, wrenching shift as the nature of his power altered. But his surprise could not catch up with his words.

"Mine?"

Incael's body spasmed, and Ash felt the new rush of hot blood spray onto him, and then he collapsed back down, the Fordaring charm falling from bloody fingers. A moment later, Incael's headless body crashed down to the ground. A moment after that, the sigil beneath Ash went as dead as the mad king.

Then there was nothing. Save the quiet, and the sound of Ash's breathing.

...Nice move. You going to claim that was the plan from the start?

"...I didn't need...his feast...brought my own chocolate bar."

...that was TERRIBLE.

"It's what I am..." Ash said, his sword sliding from the puddle into his free hand again, Ash not looking at it as he stared at the rock above. "What I am...what I am...what I am."

"Until the referee rings the bell...
Until both your eyes start to swell...
Until the crowd goes home
What we gonna do ya'll?

Give em hell...turn their heads...
Gonna live life 'til we're dead.
Give me scars...give me pain...
Then they'll say to me, say to me, say to me
There goes a fighter, there goes a fighter
Here comes a fighter
That's what they'll say to me, say to me, say to me,
This one's a fighter..."