Chapter 21 Awake to Justice: Alone

The sky was illumined with a blood red glow. The clouds were dark and thunder issued forth, not because of any storm but because of great strife. Something was occurring in Hell that was rocking the foundation of both worlds. Members of the Resistance stepped out from their underground burrows and cast their gazes up at the tower.

Turbulent winds surged out of the portal and lightning began lashing at the ground below. The humans struggled to maintain their balance.

"Wh-what is it?" A man spoke.

"Anna, what is it? You think they're coming again? Another invasion?"

Anna was calm and clutched at the charm around her neck, "No…"

"Then what is it? It feels as if the very earth is shaking in fear."

Anna did not know exactly what it was but she had a feeling that only a woman's intuition would yield: He fights for us….

Hell was baying. Sparda could feel Mundus, his power, his influence in every crevice, in every corner. He looked down at his homeland, the Wastelands….He remembered his formative experiences there and the resentment he had developed for it. Those memories were so fresh that it seemed like just a century ago. Had it really been that long ago since his birth, since he left his homeland, since he made a name for himself as a true warrior? Melancholy washed over Sparda. Had it been that long ago that he had reared an entire army to take down Argosax? Since he sided with Mundus and followed him so blindly? The memories enraged Sparda. How could I have been so foolish…

At that moment, he felt as if his entire life had been a lie, that someone had played a cruel trick on him and used him like a puppet. They had pulled his strings, amused by his dance, and filled his mind with falsehoods, skewing his perspective and bending him to their will. But now that had all come to an end.

Very early in Sparda's life he knew he was destined for something greater than the vain toil of Hell's pitiful hordes; something beyond the darkness, something above the iniquities and the tyranny of a false god, something….transcending the entirety of Underworld itself. For a long time, he thought he had found his calling as a freedom fighter against Argosax, then a general in Hell's army. But now he realized that it had all been an illusion. He had not been following the path of justice but rather had been subject to the sinister machinations of Lord Mundus. That thought burned within him and a scowl was branded on his face.

But everything had changed now. He had turned his back on his own kind, and killed his brethren, not for himself, not for Mundus, but for the humans. An act of defiance indeed. The very thought of his kind disgusted him. He thought of the seven Hell Jailers and the havoc they had rained down upon the human world. It was not until this point that their names held weight to Sparda; Sloth, Gluttony, Greed, Lust, Envy, Wrath, and Pride. With Sparda developing human emotions and learning the difference between good and evil he now knew that their names were not simply handed down to them. They were not simply monikers that could be discarded or exchanged for new aliases. They had meaning and their meaning was the very thing Sparda sought to destroy. These were the sins that allowed the culmination of events that occurred in the human world up to this point. Because the humans had greed, they lusted after power and envied demons. Thus, they erected a tower of darkness in their pride, in order to obtain this power and unleash their wrath. Yes, the names of the Hells had meaning indeed. What was I thinking? How could I have stood side by side with them…fought with them? But he realized that it was because he was not thinking that he had allowed them to prey upon the innocent. He had simply been going through the motions, reacting instead of acting. He knew what he had to do.

"I will rip their names from them as I tear them asunder!"

As Sparda floated through the portal into Hell, he was confronted once more by a wave a demons, a smaller one this time. Only 20,000 strong, it consisted of numerous Soul Eaters, Arachnes, and Blood-Goyles. Although these enemies were relatively weak when attacking alone, collectively their strength was legion.

Soul Eaters, spiritual remnants of the rage of murdered demons, swarmed like locusts, encircling Sparda. The Blood-Goyles did the same, weaving back and forth, creating a mesh of red and turqoise blue colors. Sparda could not see beyond the cloud of demons and was suddenly caught off guard by the tensile gossamer of several Arachnes. His arms were bound at his sides and their webbing squeezed tightly around his body, smothering his armored shell. The Arachnes pulled their threads taut, stretched beyond the breaking point of steel, and they used Sparda to catapult their bloated bodies toward him. However, as the Arachnes with hooked claws approached, Sparda broke free of the deadly cocoon, sending out an energy wave that knocked back all the surrounding demons.

"You all shall die!"

Grasping his sword with both hands, Sparda charged toward one of the masses, ripping through them like a guillotine's incandescent blade through tender flesh. Soul Eaters were usually very conniving demons, entering an incorporeal state, waiting for their prey to turn their back before attacking. In the presence of Sparda, however, their technique was rendered meaningless; He drew them out of their "hiding" with his sheer will and power, and sent their screaming souls to the Abyss.

Blood-Goyles, able to withstand most sword attacks, hovered tauntingly like vultures. They swooped down in a perfect "V" formation as they screeched. Sparda slashed at them but it only split the Goyles into two smaller ones. As he slashed at the others, they did the same.

"Your pathetic tricks are useless!"

Sparda stowed his sword on his back and red energy began to gather around his fist. One Goyle attempted an attack but Sparda grabbed it around the throat, wringing its neck with his fingers, and squeezed. It squirmed and squealed as Sparda held it steady and its fluid neck began to collapse. As the flame around his fist grew more intense, the blood in the Goyles body began to boil and steam. With little effort Sparda ripped its head off with his bare hands, turning its body into stony ashes. As the other Goyles attacked, Sparda used his energy-imbued fists and smashed them into ashes one after the other. As his clawed knuckles met sanguine beaks, they turned to stone and exploded in flashes of crimson steam, spraying rock shards everywhere.

The Arachnes suffered an equally gruesome fate. Sparda severed most of their limbs and they fell helplessly to the ground. Deeming them unworthy even to taste his blade, he took up a clawed leg and ran it through each of the fallen Arachnes, crushing their vital organs as they screamed in agony. The rest he chose to deal with from afar, blasting them with his flaming red projectiles. What few demons remained were badly injured and would die a slow painful death in Sparda's absence.

Suddenly, Sparda caught a glimpse of a blue energy spear, coming in fast, out of the corner of his left eye. He was able to steer clear of the first swing, but was knocked backwards into a decrepit chasm by the second. Regaining his composure, he was able to look up and identify his attacker.

It was the Fallen, dozens of them. Having fallen from grace for lying and deceiving its victims, the Fallen were now only high ranking amongst themselves.[1] They had no honor, and thus were not respected among elite demons.

However, although they were no longer respected, they still maintained their deadly demonic power. Their beautiful white wings could close and form an invincible shield, concealing their only weakness. They hovered with their energy spears ready for Sparda.

"I do not know why you have chosen to show yourselves here, but I assure that you will regret it."

But suddenly, the burrows within the chasm began to glow and out flowed hundreds of slimy worm-like demons. They were Gigapedes; giant creatures with a million legs, able to move through a rift in the time-space fabric, they relentlessly strike down their foes with high voltage attacks. Within seconds, Sparda was in a pool of Gigapedes that floated around aimlessly in the chasm, their mucous-covered appendages rubbing against his body.

"Wretched beasts!"

One quick flash of his sword yielded a terrible screech from one of the Gigapede's. Suddenly, all the Gigapedes began moving rapidly, flowing in and out of the surrounding burrows. With the Fallen hovering above him and Gigapedes swirling about him, Sparda was at a disadvantage. However, this would merely be a test of his might, and only strengthen his resolve further.

The lower halves of the Gigapedes' bodies began to glow with vibrant purple orbs and they all shot out at once, finding their way toward Sparda. But Sparda planted his feet in the ground as he sheathed his sword and stood in a defensive stance. As each orb came down upon Sparda, he guarded them with his forearms in a cross gesture, withstanding the damage they would have done and converting their energy to his own rage. Thousands of orbs littered the sky and acted as homing devices as they swooped down to hit their target. Sparda guarded each one with perfect timing, building up his energy to near its breaking point.

Then, the Gigapedes dove down and rushed Sparda simultaneously. But just before they could land an attack, Sparda jumped mere inches from the ground and released all of his built up energy, sending his body gliding forcibly through the air, making dust and particles of the incoming demons. Bits of segmented limbs and slimy fluids filled the atmosphere as Sparda returned his gaze to the Fallen.

He rebounded off the cascading tentacles and launched himself skyward. Sparda eluded the swinging energy blades and began using them to catch his footing, jumping from one Fallen to another. As he landed on the final Fallen, he brought his legs down hard, driving his hooves into its shoulders, crippling it as it crashed upon the ground. Its wings were tattered and it could not move. Sparda made the killing blow using its own energy sword to pierce it through the chest. The rest of the Fallen descended upon Sparda with their wings enclosing their bodies. Sparda lunged to attack them but was knocked backwards due to their invincible shields.

"Indestructible shields? We shall see…"

Sparda brandished his sword in an offensive stance and released a shockwave as his energy level jumped. The Fallen recoiled in fear and puzzlement. Then their vision split cleanly as their heads were cleaved in twain; Sparda had obliterated their shields. Their detached feathers cascaded upon the ground, as their bisected corpses sprayed a bloody mist upon the battlefield. They had not even seen Sparda move. The silence of the battlefield was broken by the beating of demonic wings above his head. Apparently, one of the Fallen had survived the slaughter. Sparda tilted his head upwards to gaze at the lowly Fallen. He turned on his hooves to stride away and spoke to the empty battlefield: "Only a fool refuses to acknowledge his own death," as the lone Fallen began to slowly slide apart, silently borne upon the wind.

Sparda lifted his body into the air and prepared to bolt to towards Lord Mundus for a final showdown. But something was not right. Sparda paused. He could feel something, but he did not know what. Then his nerves flared and his senses heightened. He could feel them, thousands of them, no, more….millions? Ominous rumblings arose in the distance over the horizon. Suddenly, a vast and seemingly endless horde of demons came into view, charging toward Sparda. There were tens of millions of them.[2] But how? The army I reared barely reached over six hundred thousand….. Millions charged from the left, millions from the right and an uncountable number followed behind. Then it dawned upon Sparda; during his many long stints in the human world, they had suffered so few casualties, but demons were still produced; Hell's army had increased exponentially.

They flowed like a dark cloud as they marched forward. Deadly sickles and scythes reflected light off the blackness of Hell's walls. Blazing red eyes and energy pulsated furiously from within the masses. They roared and growled mightily as their screams permeated the atmosphere. Sparda could feel the rumbling of their approach like dull footsteps echoing through an empty hallway. His eyes widened in disbelief at the very sight of it. But his shock was short-lived as it was replaced by an unshakable resolve. A smile ran across his face as he unsheathed his sword. This was it, the true test of his will. The repercussions of this battle would resonate throughout Hell's four quarters.

"Come on!" Suddenly, Sparda enveloped himself with a fiery orange energy sphere. Then, telepathically, Sparda produced burning crimson phantoms of his own sword that rotated around the orb with fatal velocity.[3]

The roar of the impossible mass of demons preceded them as they advanced like a devastating tsunami, preparing to engulf the land. As they drew near, Sparda ascended further into the sky and stopped. He reared back on his haunches then dove downward, directly into the center of the surge.

As he made contact, his spinning blades mowed down limitless hordes like a saw blade. He shot the phantom blades outward, clearing space for him to gain his footing within the swarm. Immediately, he was assaulted on all sides by Hells, Goyles, Abysses and the like but his protective shield was impervious to their attacks. He suddenly created another row of phantom swords around the orb, slicing the Hells and Goyles in half, and causing even the Abysses to tremble and flinch as they were hit repeatedly.

Wave after wave was completely decimated, leaving large gaps within the flow of legions. Sparda was now using his sword in conjunction with his phantom swords and protective shield in a devastating combination of unstoppable attacks. His enemies literally hovered in mid air as they were hit repeatedly by his spinning blades. Sparda swerved back and forth, outlining a pathway through the crowds of demons. No demon among the masses was fast enough or strong enough to challenge Sparda; he laid waste to all those in his path with barely a flick of his wrist. It was one demon versus many and ironically, the many were at the receiving end of the massacre.

As he continued to mow down wave after wave of demons, he chose to single out some from the crowd, launching them into the air and hitting them with a series of furious slashes, mincing them into small bits. Then, suddenly, Sparda was caught off guard from behind by a slimy worm demon which latched itself to his protective orb and pushed him downward. The masses hurried in to capitalize, attacking Sparda at the same time that they jumped into the growing pile that surrounded him. A gargantuan heap of demons crowded the center of the fray, and Sparda appeared to have been devoured. But without warning, bright streaks of light broke out from the mass, and demon after demon was suddenly thrust backward violently as forceful waves of energy pulsated outward from Sparda's orb.

"You're going down…"

Sparda was suddenly nowhere to be seen. Then, out of nowhere, his orb and spinning blades came crashing down upon the battlefield, atop a slew of demons, killing them all in an instant. Sparda teleported again and came crashing down once more from above. Over and over, he teleported and attacked from the air, bringing his sword down hard. Small explosions littered the battlefield causing random and mindless chaos. Demons began disappearing in a cloud of their own dust and blood, dozens to hundreds at a time.

"Begone!"

They were completely helpless and could only futilely stand guard before they met their fate. Sparda attacked with a deadly precision and moved throughout the legions like a juggernaut. The entire scene was preposterous. One demon was dismembering and destroying thousands upon ten thousands of demons within minutes. His phantom swords had reached beyond close range ability and stretched far across the battlefield, sending red flames everywhere, channeling the power of the napththalic Phlegethon. It looked as if flash bombs were exploding each time he touched the ground. It was ironic; he had rained down hellfire and brimstone, unleashing Hell upon a legion of demons, leaving none alive.

The battleground lay quiet as he stood in the murky cloud of blood and among demon corpses. There was no one left to fight, no demons to raze, no scythes to rend, no challenge to face. Sparda breathed deeply as he powered down his shield and phantom blades. Although he had just wiped out millions of demons with ease, he felt slightly more fatigued than usual. Had the battle taken its toll on him? He didn't have time to think though; his adrenaline was still pumping, and the tips of his clawed fingers still tingled in anticipation.

"Mundus…"

Then, out of nowhere an incredible beam of icy light shot at Sparda. He dodged with an aerial cartwheel and regained his balance. He looked up to see a disgusting blob, slowly making its way towards him.

Sparda could hear Mundus' voice in his head, "You have not defeated my army yet. You may have overcome the darkness but you will not overcome this nightmare…I will bury your useless corpse below my throne[4] when it is through with you"

The blob continued forward, slowly approaching Sparda and just behind it he could see Mundus' two most faithful servants making headway, Phantom and Griffon…

He held up his sword with one hand, pointing it directly at them, "This may be fun…"

[1] Lest this description confuse readers, allow me to clarify. Given the context and existing commentaries on this chapter, which are numerous and esoteric indeed, it is indicated that the Fallen had some allegiance or perhaps even their origin with Mundus, along with the Frost and Blade demons. They were said to act either as Mundus' personal guard or as his secret forces before his time as Emperor. They were dishonored in their unscrupulous tactics within other Regencies, such that other Regents as well as Argosax himself has Mundus' special forces disbanded. This is supposedly why the Fallen are disrespected for "deception," and also why the Frosts are quarantined in their own small area; to prevent Mundus from usurping the throne with them. As is customary, I believe that this has some connection to the practices of warlords and despots at the time, violating the canons of war. ~Ed.

[2] The actual term used here is used in the sense of "myriad innumerable demons," rather than describing a discrete quantity. ~Ed.

[3] A note in the original manuscript says that this is a "foreign power." This probably indicates that, consistent with the narrative so far, Sparda attained certain powers instantly through his encounter of them in battle, through a kind of eidetic mimicry. Thus, the phantom swords here are meant to show that during his brief encounter with the character, Azrael, he mastered this technique. The purpose of such embellishments, doubtless, is to convey that Sparda had an absolute natural mastery of all martial forms, even without training.

[4] The author of the manuscripts highlighted this passage, but even he does not seem to know why, which may support the "visionary theory." It seems to indicate that there is some importance on what lies below the throne of Mundus. This may be hinting at the mausoleum or tomb that lies below the throne, but more than likely references the throne as occupying the highest position on the axis mundi. I fail to see how this would be relevant in this context however. ~Ed.