A/N: Yay, here I am again, starting yet another multi-chapter fic I probably won't finish. Well, this one's different, and here's why: I need to challenge myself, and this saga will serve as that. So, I'm sorry if anything turns out wrong. Also, yes, this is a Smash Brothers fic, despite this first chapter. Just read it, and enjoy it! :D thanks much.

Last End

Trouble is brewing in the distant mountains, but it is only I who can sense it.

Fear is building among worthless cowards, and rebellion is rising in the hearts of the heroes.

People are rushing, hasty and hurried, away from everything they've decided, worked for, and hoped, because they are afraid.

This place needs a hero more than ever – and it is only I who can sense it.

Don't misunderstand me: it is only I who can sense it. The suffering that shall soon come is tangible in the air – but only I can sense it.

Lands are shrinking away, their inhabitants afraid and foolish. The sea seems to bow before it in surrender and the sky is helpless. The mountains are small compared to it's great might, and the heroes are starting to rethink as time wears on.

Time – it's a funny thing, isn't it? One day we are gazing, awe-struck, at the person before our eyes – and the next, we are laughing over their slayed corpse. Blood can be so…delicious.

Irresistible as time is, it is also irritating. It cannot plan out everything in a day – and a day cannot be planned. Complete dominance over time…that, that is it's idea. The Master of Time. To whom would it have to bow, then? The seas can continue to plead to it for mercy, the heroes can be in agony, the worthless can be slaughtered. 'Tis the only way.

Only I can sense it. Its power reigns like a light, or perhaps like dark. Light has no appeal to it. Light, the awful blindness of it, has no appeal in any form: a lantern, the dawn, a hero. People are meant to be tortured, blood is meant to be shed, and lives are meant to be broken. They serve no further purpose, yes?

Time – it is so…entrancing, yes, that is the word I would use. Enchanting and precious. It spreads across the land as effortlessly as the dark, because people have no light in their hearts. Their hearts are shunning and cold, and no matter how many pretty lies are written across their lips, they will never be light. No one can be light. Dark reigns over all.

Time and darkness – sweet, so satisfying in its succulent sound. It rings, delightful and true, because nobody can change time and nobody can stop the dark. Yes, yes the darkness is coming on like an embrace, an ensnarement: it cannot be denied, and eventually they will stop trying. No one can resist the dark, just as no one can resist time.

It is interesting, however, to watch the people that do try. It is amusing, to be sure, but even more enjoyable is to toy with these 'heroes'. It laughs at their petty attempts, because in the end, it knows they will be it's. It is irresistible, just like darkness and time.

Irresistible things – that is, undeniable, inevitable, unavoidable – must come to pass, to follow through, or to take hold. That is the meaning of the world. Time cannot be misplaced, set aside, or stopped; this is the same for darkness. And what about the embodiment of these things, hmm? What about it? It powers on darkness and time, because it is the Master of these things.

Only I can sense it.

Perhaps the people are trying – and that is the funny thing. It loves watching them through their endeavors, these 'heroes'. No one has stood against it – everyone that tries, dies. It is a simple, fact of life, but the blood tastes so sweet…

Will a new hero rise against it? Who can be sure? Time will tell, but in the meantime, it will enjoy observing these fruitless people and their frigid, selfish souls.

And that is why no hero ever lasts. Every hero who has attempted to fight time, darkness, and it falls short of anything, including their lives, and here is the reason: they are fighting their own wants, and none of them could cast away their selfishness. None of them were true heroes, and so, they faltered, and joined it or were punished for their defiance.

Heh, heh – how good it felt to be a ruler, to have a right over iconoclasm. The life of one into the power of another – how good the blood feels.

It is confident that no new hero will arise – because there is no such thing as a 'hero'. There are people who have done worthy acts, but no one is a true 'hero'. There is no such thing. 'Hero' is a figment of the sad imagination, created as an attempt to believe in hope. There is no such thing.

It is confident that time and darkness will ensure it's power, that they will ensue, that it will be the master of these things.

Only I can sense it.

Why? Because I am it.

A/n: REVIEW. Also, ideas are welcomed, if you wish.