The Invaders
Eragon's vorpal blade went snicker-snack, slicing away the speshulness ahead of him. A breath of dragon flames cut through the battlefield, immolating to the bizarre invaders. Eragon glanced across the field and saw the Varden's temporary ally, Galbatorix himself, be overwhelmed and dragged down by a swarm of squishy-squee invaders. Screaming, he was smothered by their kisses. Slowly retreating towards the river, Eragon saw his allies being slain – speshul powers finally breaking them them. Pink dragons filled the sky. Even the elves were being drowned by seas of angst; the brackish tidal waves crushing them. Eragon realized there was no way to save the world; there were just too many enemies. Decapitating an attacker who sought to character-rape him, Eragon continued the fall back. The male versions of them had seduced Arya! His sweet Arya! Those bastards.
Murtagh went under the horde, doomed to be slashed.
"YOU KILLED MURTAGH, YOU BASTARDS!" shouted Eragon. But he saw there was no hope. Sooner then be overwhelmed, Eragon pressed the blade against his chest. As his blood spilled upon the earth, the light went out of the canonverse. The enemy had won.
The enemy called…
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