Edit: I decided to redo this chapter because honestly, I hated the original. Hopefully this version's a bit better, but I'm writing from scratch because my original copy got deleted a long time ago. If it still seems a bit weak, it might have to do with my head being a bit fuzzy due to my cold.

Anyway, enough of that. Here we go!

….

The sound of swords clashing filled the arena, drowned out only by the roar of the crowd screaming for their favorites. It was the beginning of a new tournament, one that many believed would be the biggest and most vicious yet.

The current competitors were Marth and Ike, the two warriors representing the Fire Emblem series. It was a three-stock match, no items allowed. At the moment, it was tied with both swordsmen having lost two of their three chances. Marth had just knocked his opponent off of the field, and Ike, not being able to recover from the fall, was quickly returned to the stage on a hover platform.

As the platform neared the center of the arena, Ike could see that Marth was sweating profusely. The young man had been using all his strength to keep his opponent at bay, dodging Ike's powerful swings and quickly countering with a flurry of vicious strokes, and now panted from exhaustion. The mercenary allowed himself a small smirk. While he himself was tired, he knew that Marth would have a hard time dodging him now, and that freed him up to use his more powerful attacks.

As soon as his ride stopped, Ike jumped off and swung his blade downward, attempting to catch his opponent by surprise. The other man quickly sidestepped and attempted a swipe at Ike's head. It was so sloppy compared to his earlier attacks, however, that Ike easily brought up his blade and countered, smashing the great sword into Marth's side. Master Hand's magic kept the blade from cutting him in half, but that's not to say it didn't hurt. To the blue-haired prince, it felt like someone had just hit him with a battering ram.

Recovering quickly, he got to his feet and pulled back his sword so that it touched his shoulder, a purplish light starting to glow at the tip. As Ike rushed forward, Marth narrowed his eyes and focused, pumping as much power into the blade as he could. When the mercenary drew near, he lunged forward, the deadly magic ready to do its work.

But then he stopped. Ike had blocked his last chance of winning, and with a smirk the man reversed his grip on Ragnell and smashed the heavy sword into Marth's hip, sending him flying off the stage.

Ike plunged his sword into the ground and leaned on it, panting heavily. "Where's the call?" he thought. Usually, the announcer would have shouted, "Game!" as soon as Marth had been beaten, but the call never came. The crowd, which had only a second ago been shouting praise and despair alike, was now reduced to mumbling among themselves, wondering what was happening. Ike's stomach lurched. Something was wrong, very wrong. Suspicious, he looked toward the announcer's box on the north side of the arena.

The normally clear glass was smashed and stained a deep red, glistening crimson shards falling into the stands. Ike couldn't see past that, and he didn't want to. He'd seen more than his fair share of blood, but that didn't make it any easier. He gripped Ragnell's hilt tightly and drew it from the ground, settling into a ready position. Sweat beaded on his face and arms, and the mercenary knew that if something powerful attacked, he'd have little chance of stopping it.

Ike looked around the arena, searching for any disturbances, and time seemed to slow to a halt. The audience's cries grew quieter, and their movements became sluggish. Swirling red and black smoke began to fall over the battlefield, eventually completely blocking Ike's vision. He narrowed his eyes and tensed, preparing for a fight as best he could.

"Ike," said a deep, masculine voice that sent shivers down his spine. The man turned to face the sound, bringing Ragnell up into a fighting stance. The figure that greeted him was tall, strange and somewhat frightening. What looked like a black dragon's skull sat on its broad shoulders, maw opened wide to reveal an angular set of eyes, the irises glowing red with menace. It wore heavy armor, black as night and swirling with grey shadows. It carried a massive broadsword in one hand, the blade wickedly serrated and polished to a shine. The being smiled, displaying red-rimmed teeth, long and sharp.

"That was an impressive match," it rumbled, "but what say you to a real fight, a battle that will truly test your skill?" A low chuckle escaped its lips.

"What the hell are you?" Ike asked, taking a step back.

"You, mortal, may call me Espirus, the Lord of Shadows. Or you may call me death. It makes no difference."

"What do you want?" The mercenary tightened his grip.

"What I want is a fight. I want to test your skill, to see if you really pose such a threat as I have been led to believe."

"A threat to what, exactly?"

"A threat to my plans, of course. I can't have 'heroes' like you and your friends getting in my way, so I came to see if you could possibly hold your own, and that I may act accordingly." Espirus smiled again.

Ike sighed inwardly. "So you're another maniac bent on ruling the world? Been there, stopped that."

The Lord of Shadows laughed. "You misunderstand, 'hero', I don't want to rule the world, I want to destroy it!"

"Same thing to me, really. Either way you'll be stopped, I promise you that."

"We'll see." He lunged at Ike, swinging his broadsword with inhuman speed. The mercenary managed to jump away from the blade, but only just. He counterattacked, forcing the armored warrior to defend himself quickly. The two swords met in a clash of monstrous power, and both men fought to break the other's defense.

Ike was strong, but he was also tired, and Espirus was no novice. Slowly the Lord of Shadows pushed Ragnell towards the earth, despite the mercenary's desperate attempts to stop him. Suddenly, Espirus twisted his blade away from Ike's and spun clockwise, using the momentum to power a swing that bypassed his opponent's defense and cut deeply into his chest.

Ike jumped back with a pained cry, clutching at the gaping wound that stretched from his right shoulder to his left hip. The pain was searing, eating away at his last reserves of strength. He couldn't bear it and fell to his knees, gasping for air. The Lord of Shadows grinned and approached, letting his weapon drag behind him. He hefted it up into the air and held it over Ike's neck, ready to end his suffering.

And then a massive white glove smashed into him from the side, sending him sprawling across the field. Espirus could feel the power and fury emanating from it like an aura, and for the first time in many years he felt a pang of fear. However, he hid it behind his grinning expression and stood up, raising his blade.

"You would be the Master Hand, I assume?"

"Let's skip the formalities, demon. I will give you one chance to retreat and one only. Remove yourself from this place or I will be forced to do so myself."

Espirus let out a sharp bark of laughter. "You truly believe you can stop me? I had heard that you were wise; clearly my contacts were wrong." He just barely dodged a second attack. "I'll need to be careful with this one," he thought, and quickly counterattacked with a vicious backhand slash. Master Hand easily floated out of reach and shot glaring blue light from his fingertips, the beams searing the ground where they made contact. The Lord of Shadows maneuvered around them with surprising agility and jumped, swinging his broadsword in midair towards his foe. Master Hand dodged again, but this time the blade made slight contact, slicing a long but shallow cut in the white glove.

An unearthly roar filled the air as Master Hand smashed into Espirus once again, knocking him to the ground. This time the man laid still, his broadsword safely out of his reach as he sprawled on his back. The hand sighed and turned toward Ike. He focused his magic and began to heal the mercenary, closing his wound and restoring some of his strength.

As he worked, Espirus's right hand twitched a little and then planted itself on its fingertips on the ground. The warrior sent a large supply of dark magic into the earth, using his hand as a conduit. The energy was visible on his hands as he did it, slithering like a mass of black snakes down his arm and into the soil. There it spread like a disease until it was a mass of writhing black tentacles that slowly moved toward Master Hand. The appendage was completely unaware of the threat, focused as he was on healing Ike.

Then the magic gripped him, shooting out of the ground and wrapping itself around each of his fingers, stopping him completely. Master Hand roared again, struggling against the black vines, but they held him tightly in place. Espirus got to his feet and grinned again, triumphant. He raised his sword and walked casually over to his two enemies. Ike, while better than before, still was not strong enough to stand.

The Lord of Shadows' grin grew wider when he saw the defiant look in the mercenary's eye and he said happily, "Be patient, my friend. You'll have your turn soon enough!" He stood in front of the giant white glove and raised his blade. "You were a worthy opponent," he murmured almost regretfully, "but sadly, our little game must end here." He plunged the blade deep into the center of Master Hand's body, and as the appendage screeched, he laughed. Espirus held the blade there a minute after the screaming stopped, savoring his victory.

And then once again he was sent flying as a great white mass collided with him. "You know," he growled as he got to his feet, "I am really getting tired of that." An even larger hand now floated above him, its fingers bending in odd ways as they curled and uncurled.

"You will regret coming here, Shade," it said, its unearthly voice shaking with rage. "You will regret what you have done."

"I really doubt that," Espirus said, his grin returning. But he could tell that as powerful as Master Hand had been, this new opponent was even stronger. "I would guess that you're the one they call 'Crazy Hand'?"

The glove didn't answer. Instead, it began to shake, glowing a light blue as it did. Crazy had already known how he would handle Espirus. He'd decided on it as soon as his brother had been killed. "Brother, forgive me," he thought, his normally booming voice filled with regret. Still glowing, the hand gripped the Lord of Shadows tightly, ignoring the massive wounds that Espirus's blade inflicted upon him. As his adversary struggled, Crazy Hand used what little energy he could spare to send Ike back to his comrades with a message, one that he knew would decide the fate of their world.

Then he exploded like a blue supernova, taking his brother's murderer with him.

….

Ike cursed violently and repeatedly as he appeared in the main lobby of the Smashers' building complex. The Smashers lived within a single building that housed more rooms than one could count, each and every one of them connected by a series of tunnels. Link had tried exploring them once, but he had given up after a while because of a bit of Master Hand's magic that prevented him from going to certain areas. The mercenary got to his feet and shakily headed toward their meeting room, gripping his painful wound all the while.

Once there, he sat down at the large table that occupied much of the room's space. He pressed a button underneath the lip of the table, and as a small microphone located next to the button activated, he said in his most authoritative voice, "Everyone, get to the meeting room now. We've got a situation." With that, he sat back in his chair and waited impatiently as the Smashers left what they were doing and headed toward the chamber.

It was about ten minutes later when everyone was seated. "Alright," said a clearly irritated Wolf, "you've got us here, Ike. What was so important that you needed us so quickly?" Scowling at the pilot, Ike quickly related to them what had happened after the match. Wolf didn't speak after that. Even for him, it was a bit shocking.

"So what do we do?" asked Ganondorf, itching for a fight.

"Crazy told me to tell you this:

Master Hand is dead, and I will be following him soon. A powerful warrior has come to kill you, and you will not be able to stop him on your own.

You must find new Smashers, ones who can take your place and defeat the Lord of Shadows. Choose wisely, for the fate of all worlds may hang in the balance.

Goodbye, my friends."

"What the hell does that mean?" The Smashers began to argue with each other over what should be done.

"It means," Pit began, speaking as loudly as he could, "that we need backup. Palutena taught me a spell a long time ago that can send our souls, as well as our powers and abilities, into a person of our choice or whoever represents our skills the best. It's risky, seeing as if the Chosen is killed, we die as well, but it's really our only shot."

"Why don't we just go and handle this ourselves?" asked Samus. "There's no way he can take all of us."

"Remember Tabuu?He defeated all of us in one shot. Imagine him, but ten times as powerful. That's what we'd be facing." Samus paled. That was a disturbing thought. Pit continued, "So, if there are no other objections, we're doing this spell."

"Quick question," said Link, "how do we cast this spell of yours anyway? Half of us can't even cast normal magic."

"Everyone just put your hands on the table. The connection will anchor all of us to the spell, so I'll really be the only one casting it." Link nodded and did as he was told. When everyone had done so, Pit began to chant. As one, they cast the spell, hoping that they would make the right choice.

….

God, I've been waiting so long to fix this chapter. Personally, I like this version a lot better than the original intro. Let me know what you guys think! I'll be editing Chapter 2 next, seeing as it's so damn repetitive that I want to smash my computer because of it.

I'm leaving out the OC form now, simply because I'm no longer accepting OCs anyway. Later!