A swirling darkness emerged into the long forgotten graveyard of the fallen Warriors of the Keyblade, a resting place for war waged many years ago. The only notable thing about the barren wasteland were the large amount of Keyblades, modeled after the X-Blade that had the power to sever the connections between reality and dreams, darkness and light, good and evil. The other thing that would catch one's eye, if the wasteland was ever visited, was a rusting armor, covered in a golden, torn cape with a rather large Keyblade stabbed into the ground in front of it.
A largely built man, with a large black hooded cloak, stepped from the darkness. He walked forward, before the darkness behind him slowly disappeared from sight with a shallow echo. The hooded figure scanned the area, looking for something, couldn't quite find it. The cloaked figure hissed in distaste, turning around before stepping back in a half-surprise. The thing he sought for rested before him.
At last, the past can finally be put to rest.
The hooded figure drew his arm back, energy forming into a sphere of lightning. What stopped him from shooting the lightning, however, was the armor's slow, subtle movements. One hand grabbed the hilt of the blade in front of it, the other pushing itself off the ground.
Oh?
The armor swept its Keyblade, before it seemed to look at the hooded figure. There seemed to be a grating noise from inside the armor, as if accusing the man of something with how sharp the grating sounded. The cloaked man began shuddering, and it seemed to be because of it's mirth. The armor, or maybe there was a being within, didn't take that lightly. A large, blinding flare of light enveloped it's Keyblade, before the armored being swung it and let go, leaping into the air as the blade effectively became a transportation device. The cloaked person stopped it's apparent laughter, putting to use the energy in his palm. It fired at the armor, which only veered it's Keyblade Rider to the left, before ramming into the cloaked man at a rather fast speed.
As the cloaked man bounced away from the vehicle, spittle following in his wake, the hood no longer hid his features. Silver hair draped around the man's face, tanned skin showing around the locks of hair. As soon as he rose, he quickly laid to the ground again to avoid the armor just barely. Thecloaked man, by the name of Xemnas, hissed in shallow distaste. He let energy begin to burn his palms, before his Ethereal Blades extended to full-length. He stared at the armor as it swerved on the rider, before jumping off.
What he didn't expect was it to turn the rider into a giant cannon.
Xemnas rolled to the left as a large blast ruptured the badlands around where he had previously stood, dust kicking up in a well-deserved fury around the explosion.
It seems that as his heart strengthened, so did his mind and abilities. Rather strange.
Xemnas rushed from the dust cloud, he tackled the armor to the ground, before quickly impaling it with the reddened energy of the Ethereal Blade. While it seemed to damage him, it wasn't lethal. He stabbed the second blade through the visor; All that he felt was a cold energy within the helmet. While he noted this, the armor swung it's Keyblade furiously at him, knocking him to side as the armor now pounced on Xemnas. While Xemnas had two blades of energy, the hollow armor had only the long Keyblade.
Xemnas raised his Ethereal Blades, blocking the Keyblade from ramming through his skull. Silver locks of hair were now dusty, dirty, and Xemnas didn't think he'd have to be this hands-on with his past. He knocked the blade back, before impaling the armor once more in the chest plate. As the armor twisted and writhed, it was met with a boot-covered sole in the crotch region; While this didn't make it keel over in pain, it did stun out briefly enough for Xemnas to pommel bash it's back. The armor crashed into the ground, and Xemnas severed the armor's chest plate from it's helmet. The dusty, rusted helmet rolled, before an empty, broken visor stared at Xemnas.
As Xemnas rolled his hood back onto his head, a Keyblade swept him off his feet. He instantly created a dark portal on the ground, and he seeped through, almost getting struck down in that fatal blow. The armor, headless and nearly destroyed, let out a grinding roar, of fury and pain and failure, before stabbing it's blade into the ground, collecting it's helmet and snapping it back into place and kneeling in front of it's rarely used blade.
Next time, any incarnation of Xehanort would not be so lucky, even if it WAS his body.