(AN: Well, nobody's bothering to read this story. Or you're reading and choosing to not review. Whatever.)

(I put a lot into this chapter, even though its not as long as its predecessor. I was tearing up as I wrote a certain part, since that's not the kind of father I had. It was inspired a little by "Stand Up and Fight" by Turisas. All credit for their lyrics go to them [corny, I know, but it works]. Furthermore, I don't own The Inferno, that belongs to Dante Aligheri.)

(Now enjoy the epic conclusion of SCII!)

The Nightmare Ends

But he was not alone.

Deep within the darkness of the fiery void in which he had clashed with Soul Calibur, he found himself again. Before him was the Inferno, though it was much different than he had seen it before. Now the beast looked like him, a creature in flaming armor, with a zweihander filled with teeth. The monster was as tall as Astaroth had been, with a single horn in mockery of the spike of the Azure Knight's helmet, a tail snaking from his back like that of Calcos, and a huge pair of wings of fire.

Here he was, the host, the thing thought dead for so long. He was still alive, trapped by coils made of the same evil parasite that grew upon Soul Edge, all of them full of eyes.

The fires around them ebbed and flowed, sometimes becoming bright lines of purest light tracing themselves throught he void. A huge gaping hole in the world, ringed with fire and light, seemed to float somewhere out there.

But the beast, the one that brought abject terror into the heart of the host, was looming towards him.

And he was still trapped.

"You failed me!" the voice of Inferno spoke. The beast, however, was silent. "Now your soul is mine."

He struggled, but there was no escaping the bonds he himself had placed upon himself. Just as the beast, the nightmare he had once been now reflected and distorted to a hideous degree before him, had said that the only way to be free was to become a slave to the lust to kill...

So he had given up his soul to Soul Edge.

It was now that the Sword came to collect its due.

Never before had he experienced such a clarity of mind and body as he did now. There was no confusing over who was the host and who was the man, no names to be exchanged that only he and Soul Edge knew. It was clear as crystal what had to be done. The demon could not defeat him if he had no control over him. If he could only break free.

"Did you think," the Sword continued. "I would let you get away from me after that b*tch Soul Calibur cut your face? No! I attacked you at your most vulnerable, as you slept, forcing you to do as you had done before. It was easy, then, to break your will and send you crawling back to me, like a dog hungering after its own shite!"

Here he was, trapped by his own foolishness, a prisoner of the sword. Unless he could break free, death was surely sweeter than what it would do to him. But there was nothing left to fight for: the sword deceived him into believing he could raise his father back from the dead, when it only wanted to devour more souls. What was there left for him now, that made life worth living?

"I've been waiting for this day," the Sword roared. "for too long!"

But he had to do something, to get free of this nightmare. It was his first chance in seven years, and he would not give it up now. Four years ago he failed, now he knew that if he failed this time, there would be no next time. It would be too late then.

He had to fight. But how could he fight something that was invincible? Others had done it before, most specifically the little girl with Soul Calibur. But the blade was in the void, and wherever that was, it was too far from his reach. If he were to break free, it would be of his own power.

What power did he have to break that of the Cursed Sword? He had accepted it and brought this nightmare upon himself. How could he do such a thing? All the atrocities he had committed, all the evil he had done...

The ghost of a thought came into the tortured mind of the host. For one whole year, he sought the bastard who had killed his father, refusing to believe that it was he himself. But for that year, the self-deluded and self-created sense of vengeance that possessed him allowed him to kill his lord and master, betray friends, go for weeks without food or water or anything that made life worth living.

He had a reason to fight, a purpose to go on, to stand up even though he was defeated, and keep on fighting. But what reason did he have to keep on fighting? He was the one who killed his own father, who brought that evil upon the world that was now about to destroy him.

His father...

"You're pathetic," growled Soul Edge. "Just like your father. It's good that you killed him when you did, for oh, how it would break his heart to see the monster you've become!"

The Sword was right. Everything that he had done would make his father weep if he could see him now.

His mind traveled back to an event so long ago that he had almost forgotten it: before Soul Edge, before the Schwarzwind...

He was in the most exhausting training with his father. It seemed that nothing he was doing was right, and Frederick kept urging him to do more, to perfect his art, even if it took all night.

He didn't see the wooden sword strike his leather armor. Any other day and he could have easily shrugged it off, but he was exhausted. There was nothing more he could give, and he fell to the ground.

"Get up, Siegfried!" Frederick shouted. "You've come this far!"

"I-I can't!" he sobbed.

"You're a Schtauffen," the elder urged. "Not a coward!"

"Please, let's do this tomorrow!"

"The enemy won't give you until tomorrow!" Frederick was almost crying. "Get up, boy! You're my son, and I'm proud of you! One more time! One more try!"

For the first time in a very long time, tears flowed down Siegfried's eyes. The Evil Sword was laughing at him, mocking him at his weakest moment, but that didn't make him sad, simply angry. Just like that Frenchman, he was weak, broken and dying, but not defeated...not yet.

"For you, father!" he cried.

His hands were clenched into fists, no longer shaking. A new strength filled his bones as he gave it one last try. The coils of the Evil Sword were like dry vines against his muscles as he pushed against them. They broke away, wailing like some pathetic beast, defeated beyond all possible recompense.

All the pain washed away from his body as he stood up to face the demon, a fire in his eyes like no evil power could ever create. He was weak, broken, and there was no hope for salvation, but something within him was keeping him up on his feet, with only one focus, one goal upon his mind, the one that had lain dormant for so many years.

Resist the evil presence.

"I'm your slave no longer!" Siegfried Schtauffen shouted.

The Inferno roared in its fury, sending waves of hell-fire in every direction. A white light flashed, and it seemed like it was the Evil Seed all over again, or some other evil erupting now from the being as he freed himself from the parasite. He closed his eyes, ready to embrace death at last.

He truly deserved it, after killing so many people for so long.

He breathed again.

He thought he would never breathe in this world. He found himself lying on his back, the darkened sky of midnight above his head, along with the evil clouds he had created four years ago. Though the world was dark and bleak, he did not see the world in the grotesque light that he had once, while infected by the parasitic will of Soul Edge.

Siegfried Schtauffen was free.

But the light was still flooding the chapel of Ostrheinsburg. He felt that he was going to Heaven, for many believed that they would see a white light when they died, which meant that they were going to the side of St. Peter.

"Look about you," a voice spoke from out of the light.

Siegfried recognized the voice immediately. It had been four years, but its clarion call was as keen to his ears now as it had been while he was possessed. Looking about as commanded, he saw the source of the light.

A small jian was stuck in the ground to his right. It had changed since he last saw it, for now a snake-like parasite had dug itself into the hilt, creating an evil eye of its own there, with two wings spread out in a faux-hilt. But the blue, crystalline blade with a hollow fuller could not be mistaken for anything else.

"I have been trapped inside the Inferno," the Spirit Sword spoke. "Since my victory over you four years ago. When you broke its hold over you, I was freed as well. Now take me up and do what should have been done so many eons ago, before all this evil was allowed to endure for as long as it has lived."

It was all too much to be true. If this was the Holy Sword, the Sword of Heroes, then it could only be possessed by one pure of soul, like that litle girl from the East. But why was it choosing him for this important task? His soul was tainted with the evils he had done, he was fit for nothing else than the deepest circle of Hell: Judecca, the Circle of Treachery. He had betrayed his father and all that he loved, bringing death to them in the process. But the sword remained, waiting there for him to do the task it had given him.

Destroy Soul Edge.

Siegfried pushed himself towards the light, then discovered that he could stand up. He was not as weak as he thought he had been. Being dormant for so long had made him think that he was weak after seven years of captivity. But he was still alive, still moving, and had the strength to endure.

To do this last task.

Before his eyes, the parasite was melting off the hilt of the Sword of Salvation. Freed at last from the Inferno, it shuffled off any indication that it had been tainted by its presence. It could be free and pure, just as it was made as such, he believed.

Another miracle happened as he touched the hilt of Soul Calibur. The tiny jian was morphing even as his hands gripped the blade. The sound of crackling, like ice as it strains under the pressure of heavy stress, and the tinkling of crystals rang as the blade began to grow before his very eyes. The blade lengthened, filling up the fuller and taking on a shape similar to a zweihander. The hilt, two tiny wings wrapped around a single circular center, shattered, becoming pieces of crystal-like metal floating around a glowing center.

The handle of the hilt, however, was sturdy, though nothing more than the power of that glowing orb kept it connected to the blade.

He looked down, seeing the Cursed Blade lying exactly where he had dropped when the Frenchman stabbed him. The eye was roving frantically, for it senses the presence of the one that could destroy it. Siegfreid's hands were shaking as he walked back over to the blade, dreadful thoughts echoing through his brain.

"Do it, Siegfried!" Soul Calibur commanded. "Stab it through the eye and destroy the Evil once and for all!"

He was now standing over the blade, looking at the small, red eye directly in his own. He gripped the hilt of Soul Calibur in both hands, raising it high above his head as he prepared for the final strike. He was ready to do the deed that needed to be done.

He took a deep breath.

Time and space seemed to move slowly as he thrust the crystalline blade of Soul Calibur down towards the evil eye of Soul Edge. The short space between the two seemed to be taking forever to be cut through.

The eye blinked and looked up suddenly.

A hideous screeching sound, the most venomous, evil scream ever heard, issued out of the Evil Sword when the blade dug into it. Siegfried knelt down, placing all of his weight into that one point. He would shatter the sword, and with it, this one great evil would be gone forever. He twisted his blade around, increasing the pain that the Sword would feel.

It began to shake violently, and suddenly a wave of energy emerged that pushed Siegfried back on his back-side. The light was flickering madly, turning from blue to red periodically as the two wills fought to best the other.

Suddenly, all was quiet.

Looking up, Siegfried saw the two blades floating as if suspended by some invisible rope. The Spirit Sword had somehow merged with the Cursed Sword, in a way that he did not predict. Both looked as they had just a few seconds ago, and yet they looked horribly different, as if they were now part of each other. Half of the blade and the whole hilt of Soul Calibur was impaled through the eye of Soul Edge, with the majority of the evil blade beneath it, and coils of the evil parasite were wrapping themselves around the Holy Sword.

It's not enough, he thought. Nothing I've ever done will ever be enough.

Looking down, he saw that he was still clad in that damnable blue armor. He was alone, so he cared not for privacy. Throwing it aside, piece by piece, and tossing the pieces out of the chapel, Siegfried now stood naked before this embrace of the two soul blades.

"Father," he said at last. "I swear that I will not rest until I have atoned for my sins and sealed away Soul Edge for all eternity!"

He reached up and picked up the two swords. They did not feel as they once had: the Evil Sword was no longer speaking to him, nor did the Holy Sword whisper as it had just a few moments ago. They were both silenced by the evil and goodness of their opposing blades.

With the two most powerful weapons in the history of mankind now in his possession, frozen and impotent, Siegfried Schtauffen made his way as far away from Ostrheinsburg as he could get. After seven years of evil, of carnage and sacrilege...

The Nightmare was over.

(Horay! He finally broke free!)

(I will definitely continue into SCIII, but I need your reviews! Am I doing well so far? Was Tira's portrayal too comical? Who do you want him to cross paths with in the next few chapters? RnR, as I start to do my research on Soul Calibur III for the next several chapters!)