A shattered, soulless, leaden body.
Soul edge firmly imbedded.
Xiangua will continue on no more.
But time and tide wait for no man.
Now Soul Calibur seeks another hand.
To weild the blade in it's eternal war.
Who's hand will lift the sword now?
One so pure of purpose and deed?
A knight of tale and legend made?
Now the evil blade is ripped away,
held firm in a living hand.
The Nightmare incarnate hefting the blade.
Now the blade is lifted from the cold hand.
Damped with blood and covered in sand.
A mailed hand clenched around the hilt.
It's weilder no one of purity.
But still his hand grips the blade with surety.
Blood burning away the evil from his soul.
Quick, deadly in movement, a viscious slice
delivered into the enemy. Not wasted on vessel.
But piercing Sooul Edge's core.
Blood and wracking pain soon following.
The swords' clash sending light cascading down.
Upon victims of the Evil Seed's work.
The fallen knight, falling back into the sands.
The crusader, lifeless and broken against the stone.
The warrior, slumped down, body almost torn apart.
With them they take the pieces of the others.
Friends, companions true, now locked away from them.
While their bloods soak the sands and paint the walls red
Never again to look at one another.
And see a bright face shining back. Full of life.
Never again.
And yet... Eyes open, a soul brought to the body.
Stolen away from the demon blade's grip.
Eyes to look with wonder.
Eyes to see the rightous blade gripped in another's hand.
To see the blood strewn foward.
And the lifeless bodies laid against the ground.
Who is left to tell the tale?
Only the one, crusader, to bring back the sad story.
The one who began the story must now bring it to a close.
And the fallen will be brought home once more.
