Darkness in Light's Name
by
Moonraker One
A/N: This story takes place at the very end of Chronicles of the Sword mode. This idea was spawned to me after playing through using my custom Abelia as the "unnamed cadet."
CHAPTER ONE
Once the impregnable center of a nigh-indestructible empire, the fury of a small band of five warriors who swore upon the honor of a fallen comrade saw the front entrance broken down. Led by the student of one who saw the brunt of the wars that raged on over the last three years, the Arthias movement reached its final legs as they stood at the opening to the royal palace of Grandall. A handful of unimaginably skilled fighters happened to be all that stood between them and their once-trusted-now-enslaved emperor Strife. Abelia Schillfelt, once the fist of Grandall's military and its devoted "War Goddess," as the people referred to her, stood a branded traitor and an enemy of the very nation she risked life and limb to build. No more than five devoted comrades of hers stood before her; they took as good as they gave, but both sides suffered tremendous losses.
Strife sat on his throne. "I hope you understand what you're doing," he swore. "I will destroy you for your blatant betrayal of the kingdom of Grandall." He sat with the evil sword in his hand. It had been the source of his power, as well as the source of his insanity. He welcomed the enemy into his quarters with open arms; after all, he would strike them down himself. "My reign will be forever."
Abelia shook her head. "Alright, this is it," she admitted. "If it is our destiny to die here we won't let any of them forget what happened." She pointed her sword—the mighty Soul Calibur itself—directly at Strife. "ONWARD!" Having offered their lives and souls up to fate, both sides moved on. Strife's personal guard converged on the band of five near the midpoint of the room. Abelia stood behind two of her trusted comrades as they provided a human barrier between her and the enemy. She waited for the precise moment to jump upward, using their shoulders as springboards so she could take off charging towards the man himself.
It worked, thought Eurydice. Don't worry, Abelia, we've got it here; you take down Strife. She clashed swords with her foe, who cursed his luck; he couldn't break off combat to protect Strife or he'd die.
In a few seconds, standing before the man responsible for both the death of her mentor Girardot, and the manipulation of her good friends through mind control, was Abelia. Almost a billion words were spoken in a single glance. The need to speak did not exist. She looked at her sword for a moment; it bore the blood of countless enemies who'd fallen before her in the name of the emperor she now strove to kill. Now it would, ideally, enter the heart of a mighty warrior of evil. To hell with honor, she went straight for his heart.
His horizontal strike she ducked and rolled beneath, coming upward to strike for his head. He did a flip leap, coming down with his sword in front, slashing vertically down in order to try and catch her. She shifted aside and slashed diagonally for his legs. He leapt slightly over it and returned the favor with a abdominal strike. She blocked it with her shield, then attempted to impale him; he jerked his weapon to intercept and shoved her weapon out of range. Then he tried also to impale her but she tilted to the left. From her slightly awkward position she launched her sword for his neck in a horizontal slash but he quite effortlessly dodged, ducking beneath. Being physically behind her, he then went straight for the back of her neck. She had to utilize all of her speed to leap above the strike, whirling in mid air to land behind him. As she attempted to stab his upper back he spun to catch her blade against his. Instinctively, they both leapt backwards. They both knew that their next strikes would likely be the last.
Deep breaths, final thoughts; these were the few fleeting instances before both warriors charged each other full-on. Having a greater length of blade, Strife swung directly for the heart of Abelia. She saw his attempt before he had finished it; jumping off his blade, she spun mid-air to slash at him, then landed a few feet behind where he stood. Soul Edge glimmered a moment, before sliding out of his hand and burying itself in the floor blade down. "This close...to absolution..." the emperor muttered. Then his head fell off. She wiped her brow; finally, it was over. Only one final act did she have left to do; slowly she raised Soul Calibur, its point directed at the eye of Soul Edge as she stood inches from the evil blade.
From high in the rafters of the building, however, hid a figure whose fate intertwined with the blades a long time ago. Zasalamel, being the master of magic he was, certainly did not die during the previous attempt on his life. He had surely underestimated the soldier Abelia when he'd told her his intent to kill he if she continued with the journey against the evil sword. But her fatal blow had lacked instantaneous killing power, which is how he lived. Very suddenly did he notice her moments away from ending his plans in failure; this was unacceptable. "Poka'ala tse-tsu'ka," his recital of a magic spell whispered too quietly for the combatants to hear. "So'mokiem!"
Abelia did not notice until it was too late, that an invisible force took hold of her left hand and shot it upwards to clutch the hilt of Soul Edge. "Oh, shit!" she exclaimed, but it was too late. She found herself slammed downward through a limitless void of black, to land back-first on a rather unique platform in the middle of...a strange dimension. On all sides, various streams consisting of small gatherings of light circled around in a blackness. The void betrayed only by the evil red aura coming from above; she felt as though wickedness's incarnation lived in this zone devoid of good.
In an instant, a huge mass of flame surrounded a large, sadistic-looking eyeball, engulfing itself repeatedly until it took a primitive outline of a man. Soul Edge himself, the living incarnation of Inferno, had gathered its presence to be felt. Its arms were, despite being made of flame, quite good at conveying the image of muscle tone. Very sturdy fire legs he stood upon. She trembled before the massive body of fire, which emit from itself a gigantic amount of raw power. Many tens of thousands of years of souls traveled through it; many different evil beings gave it drive to enjoy the slaughter. As it went for her throat she saw that Soul Calibur had followed her to the realm of Soul Edge; before she could strike back, though, a foot sent her sailing backwards, the blade out of her hand. Fortunately, neither went over the edge of the platform. "You are one of countless souls to travel here to be slaughtered at my hand," Inferno beckoned. "Welcome the oblivion!" He grabbed her neck and squeezed as she writhed and screamed in pain, desperately trying both to free herself and reach for Soul Calibur.
While her soul took body and traveled to the realm of the blade's host, Zasalamel descended from the ceiling of the building and landed next to the temporarily shiftless body of Abelia, still standing in place. Her eyes were all black, indicating her soul had gone someplace else. He took the opportunity to prevent her from destroying the sword; aiming for her neck, he lifted the white scythe, and smiled as he swung. Soon, he knew, the curse would be removed of him.
"Aa...eerrgh...uhggghhh..." Abelia's struggle to breathe came along with her struggle...just an inch from her grasp was the blade. Please, gods, she begged. Please. It would seem as though her prayer was answered, as her arm allowed just enough range of motion to pull the sword into firm grip in her right hand.
"DIE!" shouted Inferno, kneeling on the ground, on top of her, choking her with both fiery hands. He applied more pressure, surely enough to break her neck. "AAAAAAAARRRRRRRGGGGHHHHHHH!" Just as he tried to finish her off, she did what no one else had ever managed to do; she plunged Soul Calibur into the center of the eye in the middle of Inferno. For the answer much sought, albeit wrong, was to destroy the blade with the holy sword, when the actual answer was to finish Inferno himself with the holy sword. "RAAAAAAaaaaaaaaggggghhhhh..." His booming voice almost drowned out everything as he sputtered about, flailing his fiery arms as purplish aura evaded him. One final screech emitted and he (and the holy sword) exploded into nothingness
"At least that's over," Abelia uttered, still inside the dimension. Soul Edge she'd just killed; why was she still here?
Her answer came almost instantly, as the many, many souls trapped in the dimension, in the form of the streams of light, shot through her body all at once. She could not move as all the lives trapped in the dimension streaked through her and out of her, enfusing her with their energy. She did not know it, but the blade's evil persona had been the very essence of it; it strove to protect itself, thus making her the new master of the blade. Now Soul Edge had come under new rule; gone forever was the demon Inferno. Once the many thousands of souls had left their power and their knowledge within her, she found herself thrust back into the real world, where, among other things, she noticed that time stopped momentarily, giving her enough time to duck Zasalamel's otherwise certain attack. She tore Soul Edge from the floor and impaled him through the heart with it.
"Uggh...n...no...NOOOO!" The sorcerer's cry of pain came as his death did, his soul leaving his body and being sucked into Abelia. He would be drawn, as yet another ball of light in the dimension of chaos...except instead of Inferno, his new master would be the blonde swordswoman. In an instant she gained his power, knowledge of the scythe and of his magic as well. His magical immortality would prove useful; she could ensure the empire's protection from invaders.
She shook her head; what? Had the events of the previous few moments actually occurred? Was she really the new soul of Soul Edge?! Her instincts doubted, but sure enough, she could feel many souls circling around inside of her. She could see them all when she closed her eyes... a limitless, timeless stream of the dead. She smacked herself to snap her out of it; nothing happened. Her hands she brought into view. What am I? She saw that physically, there was no change. Perhaps she wasn't destined to become a mass of fire. She noticed, as an afterthought, her outfit. My armor's cracked, and my clothing's dirty and tattered...I need new clothes.
Her outfit then changed to a collection of various articles of clothing, borrowed from the souls of the dead who circled through her. In order from deepest to most superficial, she wore a chain mail torso covering, an elegant china dress, and heavy-looking torso armor; for her arms, her shoulder pads had changed to those of a barbarian warrior from long ago, and her metal gloves to those of punisher's gauntlets. Her boots had been replaced with punisher's leg armor, and chain hose underneath them. All of this was very dark in color, and none of it felt very heavy at all; very strange for such a protective outfit. So maybe I am a demon, she realized. She lifted the Soul Edge into sight; not only had it taken the form of her sword and shield, but Inferno's eye in the middle had been replaced by her family crest, and the purplish, wicked vein-like protrusions had turned black and looked slightly less evil. But then I should use this power for the empire.