Final Chronicle, final parting…
Xiaolin stepped through fires and over debris, a look of grim determination on his face. He knew what he was doing was right, of course, he just hadn't expected this much devastation to come from it. Little had he known that the empire he had once help in high esteem was willing to rip itself apart just to destroy him… His sweat-covered hand gripped the handle of his broadsword more tightly. He knew the final battle was at hand. He could sense the evil energy of soul edge resonating around him… He just didn't know where…
Then out of the darkness…
"I'm amazed you made it this far."
Xiaolin span round. There, framed gloriously by burning timbers and crackling fires, was emperor Strife. He was dressed in formidable armour, which seemed to capture every ray of light that emanated from the fires. His eyes were a pale red - completely inhuman. They seemed to show no emotion, and no fear. A pale purple glow also surrounded him, which felt menacing and deadly – a sign of the great evil that had corrupted him. He smiled, an unfriendly and threatening smile, as he began to slowly speak.
"The people hold you in such high esteem. How irritating. Now…" As he spoke, he swung a mighty sword from behind him. "I regret not killing you when I had the chance!"
Xiaolin was staring right into the heart of Soul edge, and already could feel the evil power trying to adsorb into him. The sword itself was gigantic, with tendrils and veins snaking off it at every point. At the heart, however, was what Xiaolin was transfixed by… An eye, right by the hilt, swinging madly from left to right, up and down. Even from this distance, the rage and fury that it contained could be seen. This was a sword that could destroy worlds. Slowly, he raised his sword, which looked weak in comparison. It was time to decide his fate…
Strife made the first move. With an almighty roar, he ran forward and swung the blade. Xiaolin was almost caught by surprise, and only managed to avoid being ripped in two by diving backwards. As he composed himself, he found himself staring directly upwards at Strife, already attacking with a downward lunge. This time, Xiaolin was ready, as he swung himself to the left. Soul edge hit the floor with an almighty crack, and the whole floor seemed to buckle. Sensing the danger, both he and Strife moved quickly out of the way, still staring deep into each other's eyes. The ground they had been on finally gave way behind them, leaving nothing but splinters of wood falling into an almighty pit of fire. For the first time, Xiaolin really appreciated the power of the sword… in the space of a few seconds, the power of it had already been demonstrated. And with that, he knew what else he had to destroy… Soul edge itself.
This time, he made the first move. With the power contained inside of him, he swung his sword around his body, the blade always swinging close to his flesh but never connecting. He charged towards Strife, who hardly flinched. Instead, he blocked blow after blow after blow, hardly seeming to be affected by them at all. In a seamless movement, Xiaolin moved into a horizontal swipe, but still Strife was ready for it, simply impaling Soul edge into the ground, leaving metal to crash metal. Now they were face to face, and Strife chuckled. Before Xiaolin could react, he found himself hoisted up into the air by the throat, struggling for breath. Strife looked up at him.
"You think you can destroy this power? Face it, you don't stand a chance. You never did. This empire is mine to rule and MINE ALONE!"
With those last words, Xiaolin found himself flying through the air. He had been thrown as if he was weightless, and ended up crashing into the smouldering wall and sliding to the floor. His whole body was numbed by pain. His vision became unclear and his head spinned. As everything finally began to become clear in his mind, he saw Strife slowly walking towards him. Struck by how he was filled with confidence and arrogance, Xiaolin was suddenly filled with an inconceivable anger and hatred. All the pain Strife had caused to the empire, a nation filled with people too scared to make a stand… Xiaolin rose to his feet, feeding on the power inside of him. Soul edge seemed to shake in Strife's hand, obviously detecting this power – and trying to escape it? Or embrace it? For the first time, Strife seemed shaken. Xiaolin's thoughts and feelings were now simply to destroy this evil and avenge those who had died… By any means possible.
With a mighty battle cry that echoed round the rafters of the burning building, Xiaolin charged. Strife staggered backwards towards the flame pit, desperately blocking blow after blow. Each second there seemed to be a new clash of swords… The fight was entering a climax, and each strike that was attempted could end this era. Now they were fighting on the very edge… Strife raised his blade in defence one last time, covering his whole torso. But Xiaolin's rage had reached its peak. Power seemed to glow from his blade. With an almighty crack, his broadsword passed right through the eye of Soul edge, ending up impaled right in the heart of Strife. With a gasp, Xiaolin backed off as the blade began to crack and evil energy began to flood out…
Strife's face was frozen in shock, and evil energy began to completely consume him. With one fleeting movement, Strife began to fall into the pit, as if in slow motion. Xiaolin stared as he fell out of sight. Suddenly, an almighty crash symbolised the end of Strife's life, but the energy was still raging. The fires were beginning to consume all. Xiaolin snapped out of a trance, turned on his heel, and ran. Timbers fell as he raced for the door, which already was burning. With one final push, Xiaolin dived out the door and staggered down the main steps, as the whole building fell behind him. As he finally fell gasping on the cold grass, though, one thing dawned in his mind… The battle had ended. It was over.
A few minutes later, Xiaolin stared back up at the debris of the war zone, now reduced to nothing but a ball of flame. As the flames danced and flickered in front of him, he reflected on the things that he had done. He had toppled a corrupt empire, freeing the people from the tyranny that had ruled them. He had proven to himself the true power that he possessed. And he had destroyed the evil blade, preventing a reign of carnage. As he slowly tuned and walked away, he realised… This was the end. His chronicle of the sword had finally reached its climax.
As the fires burned down, however, one thing emerged from the embers… A singular eye, cracked and bleeding, but still full of rage and hatred. The fires heated up the cold metal surrounding it, and the evil glow that resonated off it just waited for its next victim…