Varren glared at the Demon Lord, unaffected by the blade pointed at his forehead. "Very well," he said, "I shall accept your challenge, but I cannot assure you that you won't regret engaging me in combat."
Ghirahim chuckled at Varren's response. "Well then, how will you respond to this!" He sliced his blade to the side of the gentleman's neck.
Varren unsheathed his own sword with his one useful arm and turned to block the attack. Just after the collision of the two blades, Ghirahim vanished once again, and then reappeared to Varren's left. The Demon Lord lunged at Varren; the tip of his blade pointed at his chest. But then Kirby intervened.
Kirby swung his hammer to Ghirahim's side, only to have a blast of lightning smash into his left. The pink hero tumbled across the ground, bouncing against it like a rubber ball. The creature with the two antenna-shells tilted its head to the side as the area between the appendages on its head pulsed with the excess energy of lightning. With remarkable speed, it zoomed off after Kirby again. Kirby spun himself around in midair and inflated himself to slow down the rate at which he was moving. The pitch-black creature had made it in front of Kirby, but before it could do anything to him, Kirby slammed his hammer directly into the thing's face, which put it at an immediate halt. The creature stumbled backwards, struggling in regaining its footing.
In the background, sparks flew. Time had already slowed down for the chivalrous fighter just as it had when he was fighting the creature that Kirby now fought. Yet still, even with the enhanced vision, Ghirahim was moving just as quickly as he was since the last time Varren had fought him. Varren knew how this was. It was because the Demon Lord had managed to steal more of his energy from him. How could he have managed to get his hands on another portion of my energy before I got to it? he asked himself.
Another lunge; Varren quickly took a step back to just barely dodge the tip of the blade. But Ghirahim kept moving forward, taking Varren by surprise. He wasn't willing to simply let himself get killed so easily. The gentleman quickly took another step backwards, and then dodged to the side of Ghirahim's blade. He lunged forward to stab at the Demon Lord's own chest in an attempt to return the favor.
With a jolt of movement from the arm, Varren found that Ghirahim was holding the tip of his blade in between his fingers. It had happened in an instant; Varren was amazed by Ghirahim's newfound speed. Even when things were so slowed down for him, he still didn't manage to see it? Where did he get this power? thought the gentleman.
Ghirahim simply smiled at Varren creepily. The eerie look in his eyes was sharper than his blade. "Silly Varren," the Demon Lord taunted. "You, an empty shell, have yet to prove to me that I have any reason at all for holding some respect to your life. Silly, silly Varren," Ghirahim chuckled playfully as he put pressure on the blade he held in between his fingers.
In an instant, time went from being slowed to completely put at a halt. Varren could feel energy Ghirahim was putting into squeezing his blade. What should he do? He couldn't yank it out of Ghirahim's hand, because he knew that it would simply break anyways. Unless, of course, he somehow managed to slip it harmlessly out from in between his fingers. But the amount of force Ghirahim was putting forth into holding it (which physically was quite the lot) combined with the amount of pressure he was about to put into the blade told him that that wouldn't work either. But he hadn't squeezed his sword that tightly yet; there might still be time to save it. Should he take the chance? He had to at this point. Varren carefully analyzed Ghirahim's fingers, and then cleanly slipped his blade out from in between them. Ah! It worked!
In an instant, time had resumed itself once more; Ghirahim's fingers clenched at nothing. He tilted his head to the side with the look of a disappointed child. "You actually managed to avoid having your blade shattered… You've done better than I thought you would…" In an instant, his mood changed. He stroked the hair that was covering his eye gently, a demonic smile in place of his displeased look. "But either way, you've still lost."
Varren didn't have any time to wonder what on earth Ghirahim was talking about. In an instant, two metallic claws slammed against his shoulders. He cried out in agony. The mere impact from the claws alone was enough to easily shatter the bones in his upper arm area. The robotic nightmare stood behind Varren, its red light in its center glowing demonically. As if he wasn't in enough pain, the robot lifted Varren up by his shattered shoulders, and squeezed tightly. Varren's voice cracked, and his scream became slightly animalistic.
He couldn't do anything! If he were to kick in defiance, it would simply hurt his shoulders even more, or increase the chances of his arms falling off altogether! He couldn't focus his energy to fight back either! He was simply hopeless to dangle in the torturous machine's grasp. It was as if the gentleman's valor was being squeezed out of him like lemon juice.
Ghirahim chuckled in delight as he witnessed his rival in such agony, his eyes glimmering with a devilish amusement. "It must feel—" he paused, letting out a playful hum in thought, "—disappointing. Doesn't it, Varren?" The Demon Lord smiled villainously at Varren as he started to walk towards him at a very slow rate, sword at his side. "After all that effort you put into coming this far, after all that you've tried to do to defeat Darmaque, you end up like this: Being crushed by a robot—" he placed his hand on the helpless gentleman's shoulder, "—and then being stabbed to death by me…" Ghirahim leaned in closer to Varren. He whispered quietly into his ear, "Goodbye, you empty shell…"
The Demon Lord drew his sword back.
A moment later, there was a slash of light which cut into the top of the robot's head. Ghirahim stared at the machine as its upper body fell from its shoulders, claws releasing Varren to let him drop to the ground. The Demon Lord heard the sound of something cutting through the air; he turned to his left to block a spiky, golden bladed sword. The wielder of this weapon was puzzling to Ghirahim, but it wasn't stranger than anything in his armada. It was a masked, round figure that appeared to have wings. There was no more time to examine. Rapid slices came from the new warrior in a matter of moments. Ghirahim casually blocked all of them, the surprise completely gone by this point.
In an instant, the masked knight's wings vanished, a cape in their place. He swung his cape over himself, disappearing just like his wings. Ghirahim spun around, blocking yet another attack from the yellow, spikey sword. Yet another outbreak of slices; just the same yet another combination of parries were given as the outcome.
The newcomer revealed his wings once more, then flapped them hard to throw himself backwards, keeping his distance from Ghirahim. Quickly, he looked at Kirby's direction.
The pink hero was above the creature with the antenna-shells, then did a front flip, hammer at the ready. He slammed his wooden weapon down, bashing it across the thing's head, then twisted horizontally in midair to whack the creature aside a few meters.
The masked warrior turned back to face Ghirahim. He pointed the tip of his blade at the villain. "Come," he said, his voice deep and serious.
The Demon Lord continued to stare at the newcomer. In his gaze, there was an undeterminable emotion. "Who dares to interrupt my fight? Who dares to slay myminion?" The emotion in his eyes began to reveal its identity when he glared coldly at the newcomer, clenching tightly at his sword. It was one of outrage.
Calmly answering this enraged question, the warrior said, "I am Meta Knight, the greatest warrior in the galaxy!"
Varren struggled as he looked at the robot's severed head and broken body. He tried to push himself off the ground so he could sit up straight, but his shoulders made a quick, strong protest. The wounded gentleman grunted in pain, letting himself lie down on the ground, helpless. An empty shell, he thought. That cad called me an empty shell. He clenched at the dirt, his brown eyes glimmering with defiance. Once I heal, may he quiver in his boots!
As his valor had returned to him, so did his familiar power. He could feel a small stirring in the center of his very being, growing larger. The robotic remnants began to glow dark-blue, and dissipated all at once, turning into simple sparkles in the air. They spun around Varren, synchronizing with the feeling inside of him.
Ghirahim's eyes remained widened, shifting his attention to Varren. The energy is attracted to him! That's right! How could I have forgotten?
Then the sparkles slowly laid themselves on top of the gentleman, seemingly easing their way inside his skin. Varren's wounds had healed in an instant, his power seeming to have increased by twice as much. The gentlemanly warrior stood up, unsheathing his sword once more. "Alright," he said, glaring at Ghirahim. "Now it's time for round two!"
Meta Knight turned back to gaze at Varren upon hearing his voice. He stared at him momentarily with a slightly puzzled look, then turned his attention back to the Demon Lord. He pointed his golden sword at Ghirahim. Meta Knight had already assured himself that he would be able to defeat the villain on his own, but with the help of this friendly warrior on his side, victory was unquestionable.
The Demon Lord stared at Varren for a moment longer, just as Meta Knight had done. Neither of his opponents knew what was going on his mind. The look in his gaze had shifted from anger to surprise. But then Ghirahim's alarm faded away. He calmed down, a confident aura emanating from him. He smirked eerily as he uttered a quiet chuckle. "Doesn't this seem familiar, Varren?" He stroked the hair covering his eye. "You fighting against me with the help of someone from a foreign planet—it almost seems poetic that this sort of thing happened again. However, I can assure you this much: it won't happen a third time."
Uncaring of the conversation, Meta Knight quickly resumed his assault against Demon Lord Ghirahim. He held his blade, and spun around rapidly like a drill. However, Ghirahim quickly moved slightly to the side, letting the blade just barely miss him. He grabbed Meta Knight's round body from behind, and then threw him down on the ground.
Varren ran towards Ghirahim, much quicker than he was before. Still though, the Demon Lord seemed to have seen it coming. He stomped harshly on Meta Knight's back, then let his sword teleport away so he could Varren by his shoulders and throw him behind. A kick was slammed into the gentleman's stomach before he could land.
Varren stumbled back a few feet. He landed on the ground, putting the palm of his hand on it as to regain his balance. The gentlemanly warrior stood up, and charged at Ghirahim once more. The Demon Lord smirked at Varren's attempt to begin yet another assault. He took his foot off of Meta Knight, then kicked him viciously towards Varren.
Meta Knight revealed his wings and flexed them to put himself at a halt. The masked warrior discarded his wings, and whipped his cape over his body, disappearing.
Varren stabbed at Ghirahim, who jerked his head to the right, dodging the attack. Meta Knight reappeared at the direction in which Ghirahim had dodged, then spun his golden blade around rapidly in midair, taking on the form of a spiky tornado. But the Demon Lord was quicker than the spinning blade. In a split second, he grabbed hold of Meta Knight's sword, putting his flashy attack to an end.
The gentleman could easily guess what villain's strategy was from this point; he cut at the Demon Lord's neck in an attempt to stop him half way into his action. Ghirahim noticed Varren's movement from the corner of his eye; he let go of Meta Knight's sword and teleported behind Varren. Guessing that he'd done as much, Varren spun around, blade at the ready. Before he knew it, his sword was clashing against Ghirahim's. Varren could feel great force being inserted from Ghirahim in the clash, metal grinding against metal. The blades squeaked quietly as they protested against one another.
Varren stared at Ghirahim in dismay. He had no idea how the Demon Lord could have managed to be as strong as he was, even with the amount of energy that he'd consumed. Not to mention the fact that Varren had consumed another deal of energy as well. I've obtained an equal amount of energy as he has, haven't I? he thought to himself, trying to understand the true amount of power behind his foe. Since this is the case, we should be around where we were only moments ago: around equals. Unless he was merely toying with me... but this is impossible. I was improved back then, stronger and faster than ever—I'm even more improved now! The gentleman struggled to even participate in the clash with Ghirahim as he felt his feet slide across the ground. How much power does this man possess?
Ghirahim chuckled in a fiendish delight, enjoying the look of confusion on Varren's face. "I can tell what you're thinking, Varren—and let me tell you this: I've not shown you even half of what I can really do."
Suddenly, Meta Knight fell down from above Varren. Noticing this in an instant, the gentleman dashed behind the Demon Lord as to get out of his ally's way. Ghirahim smirked, holding his hand in midair. Meta Knight had assumed that the Demon Lord was going to grab his sword once again. He was mistaken. Red, crystal daggers formed in front of him, and then charged at the oncoming opponent. Meta Knight easily had the reflexes to spin and twirl out of the way, dodging them.
Varren slashed at Ghirahim from behind while he was busy occupying himself with Meta Knight, though it made no difference to the Demon Lord. It seemed as if he'd vanished to avoid being cut, then reappeared right where he'd gone away, only facing Varren. The villainous man snapped his fingers. Upon doing so, two large skeletons, both wearing armor, appeared to confront Meta Knight in Ghirahim's place. The masked warrior easily adjusted to his new opponent and slashed at its side, but the skeleton blocked the attack, and swung at him with its other sword. Meta Knight ducked underneath it, and lunged towards Ghirahim once again. However, his path was blocked by the other skeleton's sword; he quickly parried undead creature's blade. The skeleton pushed him; Meta Knight skid backwards slightly. He glanced around to see that he was in the middle of some kind of circle which was formed by two dead creatures. He braced himself, ready for the continuation of their attacks. It was obvious that he would have to defeat these two before he could resume his original offense on Ghirahim.
The Demon Lord glanced over his shoulder to look at Meta Knight. He smirked at the masked warrior's trapped situation, seeing how his simple plan had appeared to result just as he predicted. "Those Stalfos should keep our little friend occupied."
Varren was trying to recover from the shock of the discovery that Ghirahim had the ability to teleport, not only himself, but his minions as well. And apparently, he thought, these ones are called 'Stalfos.' Such an eerie name, but I would expect no less from someone such as him.
Ghirahim's eyes trailed back to the gentleman as he began to grin at him. "So," he said nonchalantly, "I believe that I've given you the privilege of battling me for much longer than you deserve. I had fun with you, Varren, I really did, but, as they say, all good things must come to an end." The Demon Lord extended his hand at Varren, his palm facing the sky. A ball of light-blue fire slowly levitated above it, then amplified itself in power and heat.
Varren stared at the technique, something he had never seen before. It was pulsing with energy. "How on earth did you manage to create that?" he awed, his voice coated in shock.
"Oh, this?" Ghirahim chuckled demonically, looking at the light-blue fireball above his hand. "Well, it's a little thing I came up with. I combined my new energy with a technique that I'd already invented, and the fusion of the two created the beauty you see in front of you." The pale horror tilted his head to the side, pointing the palm of his hand at the gentleman.
Varren flinched as a response, ready to dodge at any moment. How long is this man going to toy with me? he thought to himself.
"I believe I've just spared a few moments of your life by answering your insignificant question," Ghirahim observed, "and at the same time I've managed to waste an equal amount of my life. But I don't mind—" A playful smile spread across his face, his fingers gliding across his light-blue fire spell. "—because I know that it's all going to be over. So, Varren, to you I say—" the ball of energy in his hands began to shake around, screaming as if a pot were being boiled, "—bon voyage."
Releasing at last, a massive wall of blue fire exploded from the Demon Lord's hand. The gentleman spent few moments staring at the thing in awe, stunned by the size of it. The heat was unimaginable. He wasn't even touching it and it was already burning his eyebrows. It seemed to coat the sky, the ground, and everything in between. There was nothing but flames, as if this attack was the very entrance to Hell itself. The fires were gluttonous, taking in every bit of grass, oxygen, tree bark—it would be more than willing to consume flesh.
Varren snapped himself out of the intimidation. He had to find out a way to escape! He knew that he couldn't dodge it, it was too wide. He couldn't jump over it, because it was too tall. He simply had to retreat until it was worn out enough that it just completely died. Then he would be safe.
So he fled. Sprinting on the opposite direction, the gentleman simply ran. His heart was pounding with adrenaline, yet at the same time he felt so powerless. All he could do was run away; he was proving to be exactly what the Demon Lord had said he was going to be: A hollow shell. The power he had, though improved, was still no match compared to Ghirahim's. The first battle wasn't won. He'd just gotten lucky. The second battle—he was just being toyed with! And now it had led to this: Flames behind him, tearing down trees, consuming all in their wake, and what could he do? He could do nothing.
Suddenly, something completely unexpected happened. Varren heard a suction sound of some sort. The fires began to compact themselves, and flow towards a specific direction. The gentleman began to stop running, and looked towards where the fires were being sucked into. He raised his eyebrow in a thankful confusion when he saw the source of the suction: Kirby! He was somehow sucking in all of the fires. They swirled into his mouth, and then his color shifted from pink to red. A crown formed on his head, flames emanating from the top of it. The small hero turned to face Ghirahim, who was staring at him with outrage, and took in a deep breath, about to return all of the fire which he'd just consumed.
The creature with the two antenna-shells which the now-red hero was fighting suddenly appeared in front of him, arms spread wide. Kirby released the power of the fires the Demon Lord had shot out in the compact form of a simple fireball, the small form making it even more potent than the original. The color of the fires had gone from blue to the color of Kirby himself. The crimson red flames slammed against the strange figure, which somehow managed to hold its footing. Its hands began to melt; it screamed out in pain for the first time.
Varren stared at the sight of his former foe in such agony. So it can feel pain after all, eh?
The fireball plowed directly through the creature and zoomed straight towards Ghirahim. The Demon Lord waited until the blast was directly in front of his face, then simply teleported a few inches to the side of it, dodging it with relative ease. Behind him was a massive explosion from the force of his own blast, which had been redirected and amplified.
The effort made by the round hero was to no avail.
A small star appeared over Kirby's head, and his flaming crown vanished from its place. Along losing his glamour, he lost his power.
Varren stood next to Kirby, smiling at him. "You did well, fellow. Good attempt. I'm proud of you for making the effort, but—" he turned to look at the Demon Lord once again. "—it didn't even manage to touch him…"
Suddenly, Meta Knight appeared above Ghirahim, slicing at him with his golden sword. "Hah!"
The sickening man quickly summoned his beam-sword, blocking the attack with relative ease. He smirked at Meta Knight. "So you've defeated the Stalfos already, have you?"
"Your mere underlings aren't enough to hold me off for long. You underestimate me." Meta Knight slashed two more times at the Demon Lord, both of them parried. He swept his cape over his body, then vanished, reappearing in front of Ghirahim, rather than above him. Meta Knight slashed at the villain, but was blocked once more. The Demon Lord's response was a counterattack, slashing to the upper left. The masked warrior blocked the attack, putting his sword below him, and then used the power of Ghirahim's strike to help him move back slightly. He landed on the ground swiftly.
"Oh no, I didn't doubt your strength," Ghirahim replied with a chuckle, resuming the conversation with his opponent. "I knew that you would be able to defeat them. However, I wanted to hold you off for a while so I could spend some 'quality time' with my good friend here, Varren. But then I was O so rudely interrupted by this nuisance—a friend of yours I presume." He glared coldly at the pink hero.
"He is no friend of mine," the caped antihero replied. "He is my rival, sometimes he is my ally, but not once in my life has he been my friend."
To interrupt their conversation was a frail sigh, which emanated from the figure with the antenna-shells on his head. The figure was clenching at the massive hole in its chest, moaning gently. It fell on its knees and began fading away into dark-blue specks.
The Demon Lord's eyes widened. He knew what was going to happen next, as he'd already seen this process happen before. The energy began to flow over to Varren again. Ghirahim raised his hand, trying to control his energy with what practice he had over it and make it come to him instead, but to his misfortune, the 'determination' of the energy seemed to outmatch even his magical expertise.
The dark-blue specks plastered themselves onto Varren's skin. He began to glow this color momentarily, his eyes shifting from dirty brown to the color which coated him. Then it left, along with the dark-blue dust particles.
Newly empowered, Varren began to feel reassured in his chances of defeating the Demon Lord. He grinned, exchanging glances between his two companions: Meta Knight and Kirby. Then he faced Ghirahim himself. He pointed his sword at the villainous man. "We've defeated your comrades," he said, his voice loud and confident, "and now you're all that's left of your small, yet powerful squadron. Running away now would only place a shame on your title as 'Demon Lord' unlike any other. Confront us, and accept your impending defeat!"
Ghirahim stared at the freshly revived gentleman. This has happened one too many times, he thought to himself. Normally I would simply refuse their offer to fight. It would be boring anyways, even if he did gain more power. But if I were to do that, then Darmaque wouldn't exactly be thrilled with me coming back to him empty-handed. I have to stay on his good side. He's my only real chance that I'll achieve infinite power, after all. So… The Demon Lord sighed in annoyance, shaking his head. "I suppose it can't be helped," he admitted. "Very well, Varren, I'll fight the three of you. But remember what I tell you now, little toy: I'm done playing!"
