Hate is a land where dreams go to die, like kettle mist in the arctic... No matter how strong it may have been, soon it is as nothing.

Sora could see hate in the eyes of his foe. Surprising himself as his Keyblade jabbed forward again and again, beating a metallic rhythm into the chest of the creature till it coughed both blood and membrane, the slime of the organs coating spaced here and there with the white of a splinter of rib. The thing wheezed for life, gasping and coughing fluids left and right from mauled lips, the flesh hanging limp and torn.

And yet, the hate was still there, raging in that creature's eye. The other one had burst only a few seconds before, popped like a grape from the pressure of a Keyblade to the face. The pain must have been excruciating.

Sora knew that someday, somehow this would haunt him, but only if he let it. He would have to be cold, cruel and… Heartless; to defeat the nightmares that had plagued him ever since he had returned.

A boy like him couldn't be cute and kind and cuddly, destined to save the worlds and marry his childhood sweetheart, playing matchmaker for his best friend. No, in his heart of hearts, that could not, would not be the ending for him. He had faced down incompetent villains, weak megalomaniacs and pathetic automatons, only to find that his lust for the ring of metal on flesh had not only been awoken, but relished.

The hunger had claimed him, there in the school that he had rejoined after those years alone in the stars. Some fool thought to mock the knowledge that Sora was in 'cabbage' classes, working long and hard to catch up with his peers.

Oh yes, that was the gratitude the worlds had spared for their hero. They had taken two of his primal years away from him, replacing them with hardship and strangeness and betrayal.

And the reward? Nothing he didn't already have before.

The taunt had awoken something that had been born, some of Roxas' rage against those who took their lives for granted, some of Sora's pain, born of a loneliness that nothing seemed to cure. The combined emotion tore his soul in twain, till nothing was left save a demon of entropy.

All it took was a word, a movement, and the Ultima weapon thrust itself through the fool's mouth and out the back of its throat. Blood ran hot, and much more blood was to follow as Sora went on a rampage, gutting everyone in his path, leaving bloodied trails of intestines and gore in his wake.

He vaguely remembered Kairi begging him to stop. Many thoughts had ran through his head. Rape her? Kill her? Heed her? Ignore her? There was no compromise. The Seventh princess of heart put up a punitive defense, not surprising Sora in the slightest. Metal had clashed against metal, flesh against flesh as fist and spell and blade rallied against each other, one last time.

Then Sora saw a gap in her defenses, pushed her blade aside and whipped her over, grabbing his blade and ramming the tip overhand into her spine, ripping out her vertebrae in a vicious pull when the key snagged into her column.

So thus was his real destiny born. But unlike the nine cities of Troy, he would not be halted by no natural nor unnatural thing. Death would claim everything, he vowed to it.

Bringing himself back to the present, he could see that Riku still clung on to life. But not for long.

So long as no-one could challenge him, Sora would be invincible…

"Be honoured, Riku. For you are the first to bear witness to my accension. No, the descent of the worlds into darkness. This is my coming of age, built on the rubble of your home, can't you feel the glory in this?"

Riku couldn't even muster the energy to spit in his face, much to his disgust.

"Riku, thank you. You are my friend, after all… You deserve a favor." Sora gave one last, lingering smile, the last smile he would ever give.

"Eternal sleep… in eternal darkness."

The last thing was the Ultima weapon, rushing towards his face.

And sleep claimed him.