I do not own Soul Calibur 1, 2, or 3. I make no profit; I just wanted to make a story

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Rational thought normally didn't play a part in Tira's mind, though this took some. Statistically speaking, she caught up faster than normal mentally ill people do.

A telepath, a very young looking telepath at that. If he was truly an ancient, she had just hit a very large rut. Long ago in her Assassin Guild, she had heard of few remaining ancients drifting in and out of the Guild's dealings, posting odd targets, or collecting their own compensation for taking care of a target. Very shortly before the fall-out in the chain of command, the ancients ceased all communications with the Guild.

Some of the remaining Assassins had theories that the ancients were directly responsible for the Guild's destruction, but Tira hadn't stuck around long enough to care.

Now she was staring at one. And he was more dangerous than a pit of spikes if he could read minds.

She scanned the area. This was nowhere she had been. It was dim in one corner, and very bright in the other. She couldn't tell what the walls were made of, or the ceiling….anything at all. It all looked blank, yet solid. This was no earthly place.

"It is a soul chamber that I have taken up as residence."

"A what?"

He frowned again, "You're not deaf, girl. I said it's a soul chamber. It exists in and out of the mortal realm, a passage for the dead to pass through into the Other World, as my former brothers call it." Standing from his kneeling position, he walked over to a wall and rested his hand flat on it. The surface rippled and parted.

A doorway just barely large enough for him opened and he turned back. Whatever was bonding Tira suddenly released her. Her hesitation lasted only a moment. The green blur charged at the man. Lashing out with her hardest spin kick, she aimed for his head. And missed by an inch, if not less.

Tira crashed hard to the ethereal material that most definitely resembled stone now. A nanosecond was all he needed to pin her down by the throat with his heavy (and studded) boot. She choked, struggled, and thrashed. He stared down at her with a look of pure annoyance.

His voice came out in a growl, "A very serious mistake, wretch. Perhaps I could let you use this place as a shortcut so you don't have to find your way here after death." His foot increased its pressure, and after years of holding only rage, hatred, and glee, the green-clad killer's eyes lit up with fear as her struggles became weaker and weaker.

Her vision started to fog up, and she could hear the ever slower beat of her heart beating a horrible tune in her mind.

Then, air, remarkable air coursing back through her. She flipped over onto her arms and coughed with spasms.

Her vision flowed back, and she could see the man again. He gave her a moment to recover, then grabbed the back of her torn tunic, and practically threw her through the doorway.

Stumbling, she collided with the ground again, but this time on dirt. She quickly stood and faced the man, who stood a few feet away, in front of a shimmering oval-like light. It suddenly flowed shut, and became air again.

Tira's head ached from the lack of air she had gotten, and was staring loathingly at this man who had just humiliated her beyond anything she had even known. Imagine, anyone but her Master harming her! Only nightmare had a right to touch her.

The man suddenly burst into laughter quite unlike her previous sampling.

"Oh, you are an interesting one. I've only seen one other person follow an idea so blindly. Though, you perhaps aren't as helpless as he was."

How dare he insult her by comparing her to whatever pathetic fool he spoke of!

She bared her teeth and almost literally hissed at him, though there were words strung between her teeth, "Give me my weapon and I'll show you who the helpless one here is…"

He raised his eyebrows, and outstretched his hand to the side, and a bright ring of hollow light shimmered. It quickly brightened, and formed into the shape of Aiselne Drossel.

He tossed it to her feet, and she quickly scooped it up, relishing the familiar feel of the cold, deadly edge.

Her captor scrutinized her stance for a moment, then spoke, "I will make you a deal. Beat me with your little toy, and you can move on, even tell your 'Master' where I am so he can find me himself and punish me for your humiliation. If the opposite happens, then I shall show you what life can really be."

Her eyes, narrowed in confusion, but was pushed aside by the man outstretching his hand a second time.

"Now, you see my toy."

The same sort of shimmering light that produced her ring-blade appeared, but this was thinner, and straight. It formed like clay into a fairly large double-ended blade. Its edges were blackened like coal, while the insides of the blades were gleaming silver. At the bases of the blades, they fanned out slightly to make a hand-guard. The handle was simple compared to the rest of it. A long, thin, blood-red sash had been wrapped around it enough times to make it comfortable on the hands.

It floated in the air for a moment, and then was grasped by the man's gloved hand.

He stared at her, calm and analytical. After second or two, his voice said softly, "While your weapon is Aiselne Drossel, mine is Koritin Trithe, the "Dual Fang", as the ancient language is translated. And mine, is Pariel. Be sure to remember it if you chance yourself a win."

With a movement so fluid she almost didn't see it, he arced to her left, the double-blade spinning like a fan. Such speed shocked her, and she herself was extremely fast. But not as fast as this demon!

She tugged her blade up just before the other weapon struck, its black edge glancing off, only to be replaced by a vicious stab towards her stomach. She bent back as far as her flexible body could go at that speed, and back-flipped out of the way, Aiselne Drossel grasped hard in her hand.

Anger flooded through her. No one would beat her, no one! With all her speed, she swiped at his neck, and missed, Pariel moving as easily as the wind. She slashed again. And again. And again. Every time, a miss. He was infuriating, moving like that. Worse was the fact he used Dual Fang like a feather, weaving it in and out around her in a deadly dance of doom, her own dance being that of life-saving avoidance.

Aiselne Drossel was now forgotten in her hand, as she ducked, dodged, dipped, and twisted to avoid her now greatest fear. This man was going to kill her. Never had she feared death, but he made it seem all too easy for anyone to die.

For how long this lasted, only the man could know, for her consciousness was stripped away from her as he brought his blade towards her head.

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Ahh, again, I must thank my first reviewer for my story, miss Casey Jewels. She has been my most consistent reviewer in my other story Outlander of Morrowind (Which I promise will get a new chapter sometime, I gots me some writers block -.-), and I hope you other readers will please review any way you like, unless you wish to complain about my story. I will not pay attention to complainers. You don't like it, find another story, or go say hi to moving traffic. Okies, I'm gonna stop typing now……anytime now……wait for it……wait for it……..done.

Attention: When reviewing, mark your review with the chapter number you are reviewing for. This makes it easier for me to pinpoint a certain event you may mention in your review.