Disclaimer/Author's Note: The Ronin Warriors and related characters are not mine and I'm not making any money off of this fanfic. I was inspired to write this story after reading a Japanese comic off of some website that I can't even remember the location to now. Compliments, criticisms, and comments are all welcome. A word of warning, though. I wrote this back in February 1999 (yes, it's been sitting on my computer that long), so my writing skills are much more advanced now. Future postings will be better.

Darkness Within

I wanted to rule everything under the sky. To be lord and master over all creation. I trained hard to become the best warrior in the world. I was unbeatable. No one was a match for me.

I was born in the harshest of times when battles raged on just as intense as they had been when they began centuries ago. The reasons for fighting these wars were lost with time. Only the lust for bloodshed and personal vengeance remained, driving men on and on in the struggle. And I was no different from my follow soldiers. The battle was in my blood. It gave me strength. But even the greatest of soldiers can tire and fall prey to moments of weakness.

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The rain poured from the sky, as if Heaven itself were trying to wash away the gruesome battle taking place below, oblivious to its efforts. Swords clashed with the same intensity as the lightning that split the sky. Two armies of a thousand men or more had been reduced to a mere handful that was rapidly diminishing, twice that many wounded and unmoving, and scores upon scores of corpses.

I ignored all this, focusing my attention to the warrior before me. He was strong and his endurance impressed me. All of my other opponents had fallen quickly. But not this one. He had held on with a will of iron that matched my own. Even with his wounds oozing and fatigue weighing heavily on his body, he stood as defiant as when our blades first clashed.

"You are beaten," I taunted brusquely, forcing the same measure of fatigue out of my voice. "Give up now and die with some decency."

The warrior spat blood at me. It fell short, but his belligerent glare did not. Enraged by this, I launched myself at him, bearing down on him with all my weight. I only allowed myself to feel a glimmer of pleasure at seeing him fall to one knee under the strain. I was so focused on that hostile glare and the desire to kill him that I didn't see him release a mechanism in his sword's hilt. I didn't even know what had happened until pain shot through my eye and blood streamed down my cheek like tears.

This pain, however, empowered me to deliver the deathblow. With one mighty swing, my blade sliced through the warrior's throat, decapitating him before he even realized he was dead.

Then I just stood there, staring at my own blood in my hand, watching it mix with the rain and wash away. I looked at my sword. The rain was washing the blood from the cold steel blade as well. As my gaze swept the battlefield, I saw streams of blood coursing across the earth, washing the bodies clean.

And one thought came to my mind before consciousness left me: I was the only one left.

Come unto me. Embrace my power, the power that I give to you. Power that is older than light. Power of darkness, of evil. Follow me and I will give you the world. I will make you immortal. You will become a god. A god of darkness.

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The darkness receded as I slowly regained consciousness. I felt a pair of gentle hands caress my face as soft linen was wrapped around my head. Slowly, I opened my remaining good eye.

"Welcome back from the dead," the young man said softly, tying the bandage in place.

I said nothing as I sat up stiffly. My fingers stroked the bandage, testing it. This stranger had done a fine job of dressing the wound.

"It was a piece of shrapnel," the young man continued, shifting to sit down beside me. "It will leave an interesting scar, but your eye will be fine."

"You're a healer, then?" I asked, my voice sounding hoarse. To this, he merely shrugged and studied his hands in his lap. I stared at him for a long moment. He was quite handsome with pale, smooth features and white gold hair. Seeing his pained expression, I chose to change the subject. "You're not one of our army, are you?"

"No, I am just a wanderer," he sighed. "I happened upon this cursed place by some twist of fate and found you as the only survivor. All the others are dead."

I didn't respond to this either. Again, I looked across the barren field and saw the rivers of blood and the countless corpses. Then, I remembered the voice I had heard in my sleep, and the promise. I took a deep breath and realized suddenly that something had changed inside of me. The pain had gone, but it was as if my heart had sank into an eternal darkness.

"How old are you?" the stranger suddenly asked, his gaze locking with mine.

"Fifteen," I muttered, still puzzling over the change inside me.

"Oh, so you're just a teenager, then, aren't you?" This particular barb didn't get by me and I glared hard at him out from my good eye. "What's your name?"

"None of your business!" I snapped, irritated.

"No need to be rude," he said peaceably. "It was just a friendly question."

Friendly or not, I was beginning to feel a strong dislike for this young man. "To Hell with being friendly."

"A word of advice. You won't get very far in the world with that kind of attitude."

I raised an eyebrow at him. "Not the way I see it." I picked up my sword and ran my fingers over it's length, giving it a thorough examination, but more focused on feigning nonchalance. "I'm going to rule the world someday. My name will be praised by loyal followers and feared by my enemies." Then, I gave him a wicked grin. "To give it to an idiot like you would be a waste, being as you probably wouldn't live long enough to tell it anyway. Concern yourself with survival, my dear half-wit."

The young man sat staring at me, taken aback. His mouth worked over words that just couldn't seem to break free of his throat. Finally, he managed, "You're very crass!"

I grinned again and bowed my head slightly. "Why, thank you."

He folded his arms across his chest and turned his head away, glaring at nothing in particular. I just chuckled at him as I continued to inspect my sword.

His haughtiness only lasted for a few moments before he turned back again, saying, "I guess I should expect no less from a mere soldier."

"You'll never be disappointed that way," I shrugged.

His expression softened a little. "So be it, then. At any rate, forgive me. I didn't mean to offend you." He looked down at his hands in his lap again. "So, you're going to rule the world, huh?"

I set aside my sword and sat back, my arms supporting my weight as I looked up to the sky, noticing for that first time that the rain had stopped and the stars were coming out. "Yeah, everything under the sky," I said, almost absently. "As long as I'm alive, I'm going to aim for the top." I glanced over at him. "That isn't wrong, is it?"

He looked wistful and an almost sad smile crossed his lips as he, too, gazed up at the stars. "What would my opinion matter?" he whispered. "Though, I believe that dreams are important."

I stared at his eyes, truly seeing them for the first time. They shone with strange light to envy the stars. With no regard for manners or gentleness, I grabbed his arm and jerked him around to face me. "You have strange colored eyes," I blurted.

He merely stared back at me, his eyes glittering oddly.

My voice became a bare whisper. "Dark . . . and light. So strange. So beautiful."

He held out his hand to me. Unthinking I reached to take it.

Before our fingers touched, I was startled by a loud blare of a horn in the distance. I was on my feet in an instant. I knew that call. It was the reinforcement army. They had come and, from the sounds that followed, they had found more of the enemy.

"The battle is not over yet!" I cheered, suddenly excited. I grabbed up my sword and dashed off towards the commotion beyond the next hill. For a moment, though, I stopped and glanced over my shoulder at the young man.

His saddened expression never changed as he watched me go. I gingerly touch the bandage that covered my left eye, then turned and ran on to join the fight.

The nightmare was to begin again as I came running over the hill, jumping into the fray with a new rush of adrenaline. I could feel the effects of the change I had felt earlier. My sword clashed and sang against other blades. My blood danced with awesome, swelling power. I could feel the voice's promise becoming reality as I cut down man after man. This power . . . It was incredible!

Then, after some time, when it finally stopped . . . All of time and space froze.

I thought about the young man, the golden-haired stranger that had helped me.

I never told him my name.

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"What's wrong, Kale?" Dais asks, turning the others' attention on me. "It's not like you to lose your concentration like this."

I open my eyes and briefly touch the scar below my left eye. "The human world . . ." I hear myself whisper. "I never thought I would be here again."

Anubis raises an eyebrow at me, then turns his attention back to the five battling the Dynasty soldier below. I pay him no mind out of habit as much as out of dislike for him. Dais glances at the snake-eyed Sehkmet, who crosses his arms over his chest and smirks.

"Battlefields are all the same, whether the world is nether or mortal," he says poignantly. "Nothing to be afraid of."

I glare daggers at him. "Silence, snake! I am not a coward!" I draw my sword, the same beautiful blade I fashioned myself over four hundred years ago when I had first become a warrior. "I have waited long for this assault!" I smile devilishly as I run my fingers down the length of the long blade. "I have devoted my life and loyalty to Lord Talpa to see this day."

The subject is dropped and the four of us don our helmets, becoming fearsome, nightmarish armored monsters of evil. For a moment, we four are brothers united for one purpose.

I am totally focused. This is my grand debut after four hundred years. As I gaze down upon the five armored warriors below us, I swear to myself to let them know the power that was given to me. The power that has had to wait for centuries. And they will fear my name.

Five youthful faces stare up at us, frightened, but determined. I feel a smile spread across my lips. I will kill them all! For Lord Talpa!

My name is . . .

One pair of eyes seek me out directly. Strange, beautiful eyes. Dark and light. Wise, yet sad eyes. Eyes belonging to the wearer of the green Armor of Halo.

My name is . . .

Memories of a harsher time flood my mind. I see a young man with white gold hair and pale skin sitting alone in a muddy battlefield strewn with rain-soaked corpses. His eyes, so strange and beautiful, capture my soul, draw me in.

To this wearer of the Armor of Halo, I say, "My name is Kale, Warlord of Darkness!"

End