A/N: I have limited knowledge on the actual past of Soul Calibur, so if any of the info here is wrong, please forgive me and correct it in the review. Only some of it I am making up for myself. Also, I do not own Soul Calibur or its characters. I have the game, but not the rights.
Also, until I reveal their names at the end of the chapter, the warriors will be referred to by their color scheme.
The red-clad warrior ran through the wasteland of a forest. Even from this great distance, his target could be seen. He was after the Tower. This Tower had gone unknown for all recorded history, but soon rumors among the world's fighters had begun to spring. Many warriors were so obsessed with the cursed and spirit swords it was said these fighters could sense their movements around the planet. The red one had heard such a rumor in a bar. It was started by one of these so-called sword-seers. He had said that the swords seemed to be moving to the Tower which had popped up.
This was the Tower of Lost Souls, dubbed so by the fact that none who have tried it have ever come out. No victors, no cowards running in fear, not a soul has left this spontaneous sky-scraper.
Such tales ran through the head of the red one as he ran to the tower that could be seen half a continent away. The Tower's presence seemed to have drained the life of the land in a wide radius, for he remembered when this same land had been a rich forest full of life.
The warrior stopped at dark, preparing his camp. His face was covered in a crimson ninja mask with only his odd red eyes showing from his face. A black cloak was wrapped around his neck at the bottom of this mask by its red ends, and held down by red metal shouldering with a demon's face carved into each one. His red leather shirt was open, leaving his chest exposed. Across his waist was a bright red belt with a lion's face carved into it, holding a red cloth that covered his undergarments. On his legs he sported a paladin's metal greaves painted red.
Our fighter took a set of metal nun chucks from a pocket under his cloak, setting them beside his fire as he set up camp. He chuckled when he realized how far he'd traveled, with the Tower seeming not to get any closer. "That thing is huge," He said to himself. "But if it draws him, then I'll keep going."
Truthfully, two reasons drew this man to the Tower that has quickly become the stuff of horror stories. One was the basic reason any fighter would go there: The challenge. There had to be something great and powerful residing there to draw the swords and leave no witnesses. The second was to protect the one who had inspired him. He'd been rescued by the famous nun chuck master Maxi when Maxi had been traveling with a group of his comrades years ago. He had heard recently that Maxi was pursuing the cursed sword, and so would naturally head for the Tower. Musing over his reasons for making this trip, the red warrior lulled himself to sleep with his weapon near his hands.
He awoke fast, cursing himself for not being more alert as five seconds awake had found him already struggling to hold back a weapon. His metal nun chucks had saved his ass as he stared down a set of eyes as red as his, one hidden behind a set of purple bangs. The weapon he was struggling with was a giant ring with blades around it. He'd never seen such a style in his life. He'd heard of it, but never seen it. The awoken traveler kept one hand behind his weapon as his other was used to get himself up, bringing the assassin up in front of him.
His assassin was an odd one indeed. A blue headband adorned her purple hair, with a blue fur scarf over her shoulder. Her blue chain mail was possibly almost as strange as the blue shouldering with black spikes. The only thing justifying her chain mail was the blue breast plate jutting from it. A similar spiked, black and blue pattern was seen in her gauntlets. The item at her waist was curious. It was an antique Roman belt, not seen very often since the fall of the Roman empire. How she had one at all, let alone a blue one, was a question Red would be asking if he wasn't still locked into combat. The final feature was Blue's blue greaves, tight-fitting and with white triangular outlines jutting out of them.
Red's mind was awake after processing his opponent, and alert enough to duck back down and sweep her legs out from under her. Blue was pretty quick on her reflexes, and brought her ring up on top of her as Red was slamming a nun chuck down on her. Red's weapon bounced off the ring, and the shock made Red step back.
"Give up on the Tower and hand over anything valuable you own while you can." Blue stated harshly, her voice and tone showing no sign of any girl-hood innocence she may or may not still have from whatever training she's been through. Red processed this as he thought about his next move.
Surely no, I've come too far to give up. She's well-trained, but nothing I can't beat. Red stood firm once more and gave a quick one-finger response, enticing Blue to charge at him in anger. Red knocked her senseless with a horizontal strike to the gut before knocking her over with two roundhouse kicks, alternating the foot used for each.
Blue regained her senses, getting back up and ignoring the feeling that this fool was playing with her. I won't fail him. His opposition will be destroyed. She gathered herself and held her ring on her shoulder so she could motion for him to come at her. Red complied, running quickly until he was close, and ducked down while moving his nun chucks magnificently to his feet, letting them rotate down his leg and spin at his foot. Blue had prepared for a low attack and Red's weapon was stopped by her ring hitting the ground in front of it, while she ducked and sent herself feet-first through it. After the successful kick in Red's face, Blue did a back-flip while picking up the ring. With a look to Red, she could tell he was thinking the same as her: Warm up was over.
A clash of metal rang throughout the area. Blue was expertly wielding her bladed ring, but before it could connect and cut flesh there was Red's nun chucks, blocking and holding enough momentum to knock her back. This continued for quite some time on Red's campground. Neither side was willing to give up their guard, as Red's strikes never got past the ring. The fight finally took a change when Red dodged a vertical rotation of the ring, and did a side-flip that sent him through its center. Surprised, Blue could barely dodge a kick to her chest by moving back, and when she was far enough she feigned a through of the ring. Red fell for it, moving to the right as Blue launched herself foot first into Red's face, crushing his head into the ground. Red got up when Blue was forced to hop off due to her own momentum. He acted as if a headache was all he suffered from that normally crushing kick. Both were ready to fight again when a deep cry of "Halt!" escaped the lips of a man outside the clearing.
Into the fray stepped a man who Red thought might be the Grim Reaper himself. His scythe alone was a testament to that thought, with its serpent pattern extending from the top of the weapon. His face, like Red's was hidden in a mask, except this man's mask was gray leather with red-tinted glasses covering his eyes. On his shoulders was dark gray paladin-style shouldering, and his shirt was a light-gray that held a gold pattern that depicted a maze enclosed in a circle. A black warthog-belt adorned his waist just above the gray trousers and boots.
Grey stared through his glasses at the man who had given Blue so much trouble. "Stupid bitch. Celest, can you not see by now you're no match for him until you finish your training? The results of that kick should have been proof enough."
Blue, now known as Celest, knelt down in shame before Grey. "I'm sorry Master. I was overconfident." She glared at Red before looking back at the man she called Master. This left Red wondering a few things. Why would a trainer take a student out here to the Tower? And why does this man not want him in the Tower?
Grey turned his attention to Red at last. "If you can beat me her punishment will be spared. However, I don't think you can. So I give you one more chance: Stay away from the Tower. I would have as little competition for its treasures as much as possible."
Red prepared his weapon once more. "I'm sorry, but that can't happen." He swung his nun chucks around randomly, preparing for what he could tell would be a harder fight. And indeed it was, as Grey actually wielded the scythe fast enough to trip Red. Red rolled out of the way of a deadly vertical slice, only for it to be turned into a horizontal strike, hitting him with the serpent side of the blade. Red managed to flip upright over a similar strike that would've cut his face in two. He finally caught a break when he stepped on the scythe and held it down as he aimed a well-thrown roundhouse kick into Grey's face with the foot that had held down Grey's weapon. Grey allowed himself to be thrown back by the kick and then brought his scythe up. Had Red not moved, it would've sliced him into vertical halves. Red swung his one end of his nun chucks in wide circles, hitting Grey in the gut as he rose. Grabbing the free end in one hand, he forced the back of that fist into Grey's neck.
As Grey held his neck in pain, Red panted from the excitement of this fight. He'd been a step away from death twice, and the battle had just begun. "No more holding back." He said, and began to slip off his mask. "You're good. And because I'd like to fight you again one day, you will see my face." Red's shoulder-length blonde hair slipped out, his clean shaven face staring at Grey. "I, Reaga of England, will take you on at full strength."
Grey smirked under his mask. This man could prove useful to me. "Very well, Reaga. I accept your no-holds-barred challenge. But in case you lose, no that Roland of Germany will be your executioner. Now enough of this talk. Come." Roland said all this as he removed his glasses and mask. He kept his eyes closed until his glasses were on, while short and spiky black hair revealed itself."
Now Reaga and Roland stood face-to-face truly for the first time, staring each other down. Reaga ran at Roland, and rolled under a wide attack from the scythe. He came back up feet first into Roland's chin, but the pole of the scythe came up with him and slammed into the back of Reaga's head. Both were disoriented, but Roland came back with a vertical strike that was blocked by Reaga's nun chucks. Roland predicted this and let his scythe roll in his hands, coming back up to strike Reaga's back with the serpent end. Reaga was sent sprawling forward into Roland's own kick, and Roland's kick launched Reaga back into the serpent. Roland tugged his scythe in bring Reaga in for another attack only to receive a drop kick.
When Roland was up, Reaga hit him with two simple strikes before holding his weapon in both hands, getting himself ready for one second. Roland took that second to swing, but Reaga was ready quicker than anticipated, and he received two more powerful strikes before Reaga brought his arms upward in a vertical strike which sent Roland into the air. Roland landed behind Reaga, and tripped him again. He placed his own foot on Reaga's back, and started pressing the butt of his scythe on his opponent. Reaga grunted in pain, and groaned at a kick that sent him rolling painfully.
Celest couldn't believe it, but was almost relieved. Here was a man who didn't even use a blade and he was matching her Master. Yet in the end it looked as if her Master was still stronger. If a man of Reaga's caliber couldn't defeat Roland, she didn't want to see the man who could. However, her view on this battle would turn around shortly.
Reaga and Roland were twirling their weapons at untraceable speeds in attempts to get past each other's guard. The weapons clashed faster and harder than Celest could hope without more training. But she also noticed that Roland was being pushed back, losing his ground. She screamed in shock at the sight, gaping as both fighters wore themselves out. She could keep track of the weapons now. In a minute both were panting.
Roland held his scythe for support, while Reaga was catching his breath. "Why do you seek the Tower so diligently?" He asked his red-garbed opponent.
Reaga wheezed as he answered, breath coming in at an overflow. His only advantage left was that he had no weakness in his legs. "I seek a fight with the man who inspired me. He is after Soul Edge, and I want to destroy that sword once and for all so it can curse no more."
Roland wasn't panting as hard, but his legs told him he only had one attack left in him. "I see. Tell you what: I know you won't kill me, but if you win I will accompany you as a partner, with Celest, to the Tower. There we will fight again when faced with Soul Edge as the prize. If you lose, however, I'm still ready to kill you."
Reaga smiled despite the burning in his lungs. "Ok, but I can tell that whoever hits next wins. Even if the person who hits isn't drained, the other is defenseless." With that, they charged one final time. Reaga stared Roland down as time seemed to slow, and both held weapons ready. But in the end, Reaga rolled under Roland's scythe and hit him several times in rapid succession with the nun chucks like he was playing a set of bongos. Reaga then proceeded to put everything he had into one punch, giving Roland a vertical lift. The last thing Roland saw while conscious was Reaga jumping after him, and as Roland's body turned downwards for the fall, Reaga's foot connected to Roland's back, and both fell to the ground unconscious.
Celest stared speechless. This epic battle had ended in what most would call a draw. But she saw, and knew her Master would agree, that it was Reaga's victory. They would accompany this man to the top of the dreaded Tower. With this thought in mind, Celest wasted no time in preparing cots for both the fallen warriors.
A/N: Please review. I know not much plot was in here, but the fight is what I'm particularly interested in hearing about. Thanks a lot, and if you like this idea I will continue with it.