A/N: This chapter is different from the rest in one tiny regard – it wasn't written by me. Henry, a fan of the story, has honored me by writing an IAYS fanfic. That's right, a fanfiction of fanfiction (or a 'ficlet', as we've been calling it). He is quite a good author, and I am flattered that he's written up a side-story for IAYS. I find it to be of very good quality, and it doesn't interfere with the main story, so I'm accepting it into the fic. Ideally, there would be three ficlet chapters like this one, with a few regular chapters in-between. I hope you enjoy Henry's story!
He had returned to the Clock Tower only once more, after his sojourn on the banks of the Atlantic Ocean. Though he could not travel instantaneously, he melded within shadows themselves; it was just another compensation for distorting the natural order. The pain of stretching oneself through empty gaps was nothing in contrast to the pain death brought him, and he endured it without the slightest flinch.
Through his observations of Siegfried and his companions, Zasalamel had quickly realized that sending individual minions to combat them was ineffective. Though their inner circle had its conflicts, they always put differences aside long enough to thwart him. Were he not so irritated by his wasted efforts, he'd have been quite amused at the struggle. It had been centuries since he'd been involved in such a prominent conflict, or bothered to exercise much of his power at all.
So there was the Clock Tower, and he waited within it, thinking deeply. He needed a new method to deal with Siegfried and obtain the sword, but he was sorely lacking in the necessary inspiration to concoct a new scheme. Isabella, Astaroth and Cervantes had failed him, and he knew of few others with connection to the sword.
He needed someone who could strike terror into their hearts. He needed someone to inspire doubt and break apart their emotions...
"A pathetic soul who wishes to find peace in death…how laughable."
Zasalamel turned at once, and watched...himself suddenly land upon the scaffold, smirking. "Yes, that's right; that's what it takes."
Zasalamel raised an eyebrow, but did not have time for a remark. This creature that appeared before him lanced forth with a scythe just like his own, twirling it in his left hand and aiming for Zasalamel's head.
Zasalamel himself drew back, leaping aside as the creature's scythe drew along the wooden platform…but did not cut. Zasalamel took note of this immediately, and placed the Kafziel between both hands.
"...Very well." he began. "I shall ask you only once. What are you?"
The creature smiled, his single golden eye glinting in the fragmented light. "Intimidation."
Zasalamel swung the Kafziel in a wide arc, but his doppelganger sank into the wood, moving faster than a human arm could hope to match. Zasalamel glanced around, his fingers twitching ever so slightly.
"Fear," the voice had come from above him, as the creature in his form sank back down from the tower roof, his cloaked head stretching out…elongated beyond the possibility of comfort. Zasalamel swung again, but his doppelganger shot back up into the roof, only to rise again from the platform's wooden floor.
"Doubt," the doppelganger continued, twisting around in all directions, arms and legs encircling the platform and surrounding Zasalamel.
"I'm not afraid of you," Zasalamel assured, monitoring every movement. His fingers continued to twitch as they wandered about the ivory handle.
The doppelganger reformed into the image of Zasalamel. "You can never know peace...your soul sinks into Hell with each death. Your greed and your ambitions have already sealed your fate."
"I agree," Zasalamel nodded. "I do not need you to remind me." Zasalamel stepped forward, approaching his mirror image. "My conclusion is to continue this meaningless existence. There is only one possible fate in store for me.
"...And yet," Zasalamel walked forward, even as his other self raised an identical scythe. "For every one fate, there are thousands of ways to defy it...and I will utilize every one of them."
The doppelganger shot the scythe to Zasalamel's neck. It rested there, pressed against his white hood. The doppelganger grinned, and allowed the weapon to pass harmlessly through Zasalamel's body.
"You will waver." The doppelganger told him. "Defiance is not success. Even the immortal are bound by the weakness of doubt and fear."
Zasalamel did not bother to speak and stepped straight through the apparition, turning his back to it.
"You can not escape fate," the doppelganger promised, "and this time, it's seeking you out."
Zasalamel did not turn. He continued walking away.
He heard the creature laugh in his own voice. "Your sins will find you…"
Zasalamel did not return to the Clock Tower. The sound of the machines had been soothing, but now he heard only the laughter.
Laughter coming from his own mouth.
Hunters of the Immortal
Zasalamel traveled more quickly than any normal human could ever hope to, and this time he had a very specific purpose in mind as he approached his destination, traveling miles instantaneously.
The Carpathian Mountains served as a natural border between many countries, but encircled a large portion of Romania, and they were used frequently by the national military. A gathering of forces today had drawn Zasalamel there, as he emerged before a single battalion, consisting of approximately 400 men, gathering up their armor and weaponry.
The size seemed consistent. He stepped forth, Kafziel at his side.
"Who's that?" demanded one of the men.
"What's a moor doing out here?"
Zasalamel smiled as he stepped towards the men, more of them stepping out from their tents to confront him. In the cool night, Zasalamel stood out quite a bit in his white robe. His attire became even more noticeable when splattered with the blood of the first foot soldier he killed.
They reacted violently, and charged at him en masse. Zasalamel's golden sphere of an eye glinted in the moonlight as three more were cut down by the spinning of his scythe. He leapt back as two more approached, slamming his scythe into one of their heads in mid motion.
In minutes he laid waste to their battalion. More than 370 were dead, and those that remained alive were barely able to move. He gathered them all together, placing the survivors in a sort of pile, twisting and turning his left arm to call upon his magic.
"Do you wish now to destroy me?" Zasalamel asked, barely audible amongst the moans of the dying.
"Bastard!" the nearest man spat, combining saliva with the blood in his mouth.
"What would you do if I gave you the strength to destroy me?" Zasalamel asked.
"I would kill you!"
Zasalamel grinned. "I see. If you would agree to turn that power elsewhere first...I would gladly give you a chance to take your revenge on me, when the time is right." He told the other survivors. Those still capable of speech agreed to his terms: all wanted the power to kill him and gain revenge upon him.
His plan was set into motion. Zasalamel extended his left hand once more, casting a simple spell, as the souls of the dead began to wander from their bodies, energy forming in his palm as each soul was harvested and the energy contained within was put to his use. Zasalamel wasted no time in sending that energy into the twenty-four survivors, and each body was revived, able to rise and continue battle.
However, there was far more to the spell he'd cast than simple reanimation.
Each man's physical wounds remained, and blood still poured from their bodies and stained their black armor, but they no longer cared. The scent of blood inebriated them, as they were overcome by the maddening desire to kill and destroy.
Zasalamel used his magic to adorn each with helmets to conceal their maddening visages, and equipped each with the axes and lances of their former comrades - all long range weapons to put them on par with Siegfried's considerable reach.
"Destroy Siegfried, and everyone traveling with him," Zasalamel instructed. "Kill as much as you wish...but you can not have my life until I have his."
The berserkers marched forth in fast pace, unbound by human fatigue or even the requirements of their own organs. They were driven by the energy of the souls now forced into their flesh, and sought to consume more, and spill blood throughout the land. They easily destroyed military units in their path and headed East, to where Siegfried had gone.
Zasalamel himself remained in the mountains for a time, looking out upon the castle where the army had been heading. He considered exploring it, but decided to move on...
"Quantity over quality, hmm? I understand that notion very well."
Zasalamel turned, expecting to see that irritating doppelganger mocking him, only to find a short, old man perched on a rock, dressed in a green vest and large green pants, face mostly obscured by a white beard.
"Who are you?" Zasalamel asked.
The old man smiled, lifting himself from the rock, but keeping his head downcast so Zasalamel couldn't make out his face. "Avarice. Recklessness. Foolishness. Insatiability."
"I begin to grow weary of obscure self-introductions." Zasalamel noted. "Tell me your name."
The old man craned his head up, his smile growing ever madder as it stretched to either corner of his face, revealing a few old, yellowed teeth. "A sin is given his name by the man who invokes him. You already know who I am. All you have to do is announce it."
Zasalamel remained stoic, waiting for the old man's reactions.
"Oh, very well." The old man consented. "I never could resist indulging myself...I am Greed, and I have been drawn to you, Zasalamel."
"Leave me." Zasalamel instructed. "I have no interest in your ambitions."
"...Funny you should mention 'ambitions'," Greed noted. "That's another thing we need to talk about. ...It's a funny word, really..."
"I do not care." Zasalamel replied. "Leave me."
"The word has been attributed to another concept." Greed continued. "And to you...and to me...and to a sword..."
Dismissing the babbling, Zasalamel turned to depart once again, only to watch a large broadsword suddenly rise up from the ground, its hilt grasped by a skeletal hand, slowly rising from the ground along with it.
"The sword was cast aside by its owner." Greed continued. "The weapon was used by an emperor some decades ago, as it was his birthright, and the symbol of his royal heritage. His empire of Grandall was overthrown by a mere cadet, and that cadet had enough respect for him to bury him with that weapon."
The skeleton at last rose up, weakly clutching the large sword.
"His name was Strife Alstar." Greed explained. "And I've brought him back to see if you can overcome ambition itself..."
The dirt on the ground moved up, onto the skeleton, transforming itself into the shape of muscle, and then skin, and then hair, and clothing...until a powerfully-built man grasped the sword, swinging it effortlessly upon his shoulder and brushing his long, dark blonde hair. His skin appeared pale and sickly, his eyes were unfocused, and his mouth had no tongue to speak with, but he projected a great deal of energy, and managed to crack quite an arrogant smirk.
"If you can not defeat ambition, you will be overcome by it." Greed promised. "Your dream will be denied over and over again...every time you are born again, I shall return to kill you." With that, Greed was gone, vanishing into shadow as easily as Zasalamel did.
Zasalamel, meanwhile, readied his scythe as the reanimated form of Strife Alstar launched himself forth to attack.
Zasalamel drew back, allowing this reanimated Strife to strike at the ground with his broadsword. Zasalamel moved back in, and attempted to strike with the Kafziel, only for Strife to raise his massive weapon up. Zasalamel parried the attack, but was forced back by Strife's strength, astonished that a glorified revenant could deter him so much.
Opting to mix his strategy a bit, Zasalamel crouched and leapt through the air, attempting to cut Strife as he somersaulted over, but Zasalamel's attack was easily deflected by the Ambition sword, and Zasalamel was forced to the ground by the weapon's weight.
He rolled back to avoid being pinned, and grasped Strife by his collar and throwing him to the ground, before spinning around the Kafziel and slamming it into the deceased man's chest, but Strife threw him off with no sign of harm.
Zasalamel drew further and further back, drawing his magical powers back into his hand. Though powerful, the man was still little more than a mobile corpse, and so Zasalamel would rip his body to shreds...as Strife drew nearer, Zasalamel moved aside and forced Strife to his knees, sliding the Kafziel beneath Strife's neck before he leapt onto his back, forcing Strife's neck down upon the blade. Strife's head was completely severed, and rolled away before dissipating back into dirt and dust.
Zasalamel stepped away, only for the headless body to lift itself back up, hoisting up the Ambition with both hands. Zasalamel quickly rolled to his right in able to avoid being cut in half, as the force of the weapon split through the ground, upsetting a few of the lingering soldiers' bodies.
Thoroughly irritated, Zasalamel focused the magical energies, and clenched his fist. Strife's right arm - still grasping the sword - was crushed as the bones snapped. A slash from his scythe cut the arm completely off, and the heavy sword fell away. A few more slashes and the headless emperor fell, barely distinguishable from the bodies of the Romanian soldiers.
His own arm had been crushed by his tribe, when he tried to take the Soul Edge for himself...with each death he felt the same pain he'd felt then, magnified to new extremes. With each death, his arm not only felt broken and contorted, but sinking...as though being pulled down by intense gravity.
Yet, he still reveled in crushing others...
"Impressive." Came the call from Zasalamel's left, as Greed appeared again, stroking his bearded chin with his left hand. "You destroyed ambition, but have fallen into sloth...you rely on your magical prowess rather than improve the power of your scythe."
"I do not need your opinions." Zasalamel stated flatly.
"Oh, but you'll hear them." Greed promised. "I like to grandstand, just as much as you do."
"I do not grandstand." Zasalamel told him. "There is no joy in this existence anymore. I must succeed in my goal."
"I disagree." Greed replied. "There is so much wealth in this world...so much power to claim...so many women to have...so much that is not owned. You made the decision to cast aside mortality, so use it! Stop wasting your time trying to die."
"I won't waste words with a fool." Zasalamel stated. "I will succeed. You won't stop me."
Greed smiled his toothless smile. "Care to test that theory?"
Zasalamel swung out the Kafziel, only for Greed to draw a kunai knife from his sleeve, parrying the scythe's attack effortlessly. Greed went skyward, tossing down a second kunai, aiming for Zasalamel's neck. Zasalamel twirled the Kafziel, deflecting the attack, only for Greed to land and reclaim that kunai, blocking Zasalamel's next attempt to attack him.
"You're strong," Greed commented. "but you cannot overcome Greed." Zasalamel drew back and struck again, and this time Greed parried the attack with a single kunai. "Greed is insatiable."
Zasalamel did not reply, and withdrew again, reaching out with his scythe. Greed parried the attack, only to be struck by Zasalamel's foot into the side of his head, knocking him to the ground. As soon as Greed lifted himself, Zasalamel knocked him skyward with a powerful swing of the Kafziel, and then caught the old man's foot with his scythe, forcing him back down to the ground ever faster.
Greed lifted himself once again, apparently unharmed. "Your attacks only further my influence. The more you acknowledge me, the more powerful I'll become..."
Zasalamel struck again, but Greed knocked his attack aside and cut him across the chest with a kunai, leaving a deep gash in his white cloak. Zasalamel swung out again but Greed craned his head back, dropping onto all fours and kicking Zasalamel in the chin, passing seamlessly through his attack.
Zasalamel was soon completely on the defensive, parrying as many attacks as he could, but quickly losing his stamina as Greed struck him again and again. In short order Zasalamel fell to one knee, unable to block anymore.
Greed let out a hearty laugh. "Finally done? Good." Greed crouched down, holding his kunai to the throat of the fallen Zasalamel. "You shouldn't oppose sin, young man...your desire to destroy me only makes it harder for you to reach your goal."
Zasalamel glared up at him. "I will succeed. No matter the cost."
Greed smiled. "I admire that. One who seeks everything must be willing to give everything up."
"All I want is one thing," Zasalamel told him, clenching his left fist. "And I will try as often as I need to."
Greed laughed again. "Ever a fool...it almost pains me to do this..."
"Me too," Zasalamel agreed. Greed raised an eyebrow just as Zasalamel thrust his left arm up into Greed's face, using his power to crush the old man's skull. Distracted, and at last visibly harmed, Zasalamel summoned what strength he had left and cut Greed into three large chunks, panting heavily afterwards.
Greed continued to laugh, even as his head sat on the ground. "Good! You continue to defy me. You sink deeper into your sin..."
"...No." Zasalamel stated flatly. "I'm done with you."
Greed laughed again. "Ever a fool. I am not the only one hunting you." His body parts reformed instantaneously, and Greed hopped back to his feet. "...And you are far from done with me, I'm afraid...but you are not the only one on my hit list."
Zasalamel glared up at the old man. "I'll be ready when you return."
Greed snickered. "I'm sure you will...but what will you do? Kill me again?" With one final laugh, he sank back into the shadows, leaving the wounded Zasalamel behind.
Others hunting me? Zasalamel wondered, as he fell back to his knees. Who? And for what?
It doesn't matter...I will just try to accomplish the plan more quickly.
Zasalamel spent only a few minutes recovering before lifting himself again and walking away from the sight of the carnage, following the path of the berserkers he'd created.
---
Zasalamel's journey led him away from the military buildup in Romania, and took him back towards the banks of the Atlantic Ocean, scouring the beach for any signs of Cervantes or the shards the pirate once had imbedded in his body. He was carrying shards of his own, and though he had no need for them as of yet, powering the sword might prove necessary to attain his death.
He was able to determine the area around him in a matter of seconds, and at once found something amiss. The beach soil had an unusually high energy concentration, and the sand dunes seemed to shift into various forms, as though in a constant state of flux.
Zasalamel passively closed his eye. "You can come out, Charade."
The beach soil broke apart as chunks of deep brown flesh gathered together, clamping onto one another and forming a humanoid shape, albeit one devoid of any facial features or fingers or toes, but rather simple extremities and an expressionless chunk of flesh that constituted the creature's head.
It did not speak - it did not have a personality to form a coherent thought with - and extended tiny bits of its own flesh, transforming it into solid weaponry, forming a pair of curved blades upon its wrists.
"Still without a will of your own." Zasalamel mused. "You were my greatest waste of effort." Zasalamel reared back his scythe. "But I will reward you nonetheless...when the sword is revived at its full strength."
Charade launched itself at Zasalamel. Zasalamel went skyward, somersaulting through the air, and cutting into the creature's brown flesh with his scythe as he passed. Charade showed no signs of harm, as its flesh simply reassembled itself, pulled back together with no visible injury. Charade turned around and attempted to cut Zasalamel apart with its two wave swords, only for Zasalamel to easily parry the cuts and twist around his arm, cutting through Charade's head with his scythe.
"You remain as simple-minded as ever." Zasalamel noted, as Charade reconstructed itself and attempted to attack him again. Zasalamel drew back his right leg, and struck the beast back down to the beach soil with a thunderous kick. Using his free hand to conjure his magic, Zasalamel ripped Charade into several pieces with his crushing spell, completely removing the top half of the creature's body.
Undeterred, Charade hopped back up, moving with only its legs, and began to kick at Zasalamel, only to be parried and struck down with ease. Zasalamel released an audible sigh as he ripped Charade asunder again, only for the creature's fleshy chunks to crawl back together again.
"You cannot be manipulated at all, unless driven by the shards of Soul Edge...fortunately, there is an even larger concentration that I'd be willing to part with." Zasalamel began his trickery, and his task required minimal effort: Charade's simple mind was immediately coerced by the prospect of integrating not only with Soul Edge shards, but the sword itself.
After it absorbed the shards in the body of Sophitia Alexandra, Charade would attempt to bond with the Soul Edge in Siegfried's possession. If the Soul Embrace could sustain that sudden transition, the weapon would be all the more powerful when it finally fell into Zasalamel's capable hands.
Driven now by the instinct to hunt for Siegfried and his party, Charade reconstituted itself and began the long journey east in pursuit of the remaining fragments of Soul Edge, and its own mindless destiny of rejoining the sword.
In altering the beast's mind, Zasalamel gazed upon its previous locations. Charade had traversed most of Britain, including the now abandoned Valentine Mansion, but had journeyed through the Atlantic from Egypt, wherein a temple contained certain details of Soul Edge...details that were unknown to Zasalamel.
Forsaking the prospect of again confronting Siegfried, Zasalamel began his instantaneous journey to the temples in the sand.
---
Somewhere near Ostrheinsburg, in a junkyard left by the castle's long-forgotten inhabitants, a single monstrous beast dug about through discarded armor and weaponry, outfitting himself in a few powerful garbs. Any weapon would do, so long as he added it to his memories...but even the knowledge he'd gained was a poor substitute for Soul Edge itself.
Unaccustomed to any sort of company, the red-skinned creature growled when an old man appeared before him, adorned in a green vest and pants and clown-like shoes. The red-skinned beast drew back his left arm and prepared to do battle.
The old man - Greed - raised his hand in effort to stop the beast. "I am not here to harm you...quite the opposite. There is a man I know who can lead you to what you desire."
Unable to speak after years of isolation and alteration, the red-skinned beast let out another growl, but one that sounded more confused than threatening.
Greed snapped his fingers. A raven descended from the skies, and dropped a single metal shard into the red-skinned creature's right hand. He clenched his teeth behind his gray mask and roared joyously; he had a small piece of the sword he desired.
"His name is Zasalamel." Greed explained. "Follow him, and he will lead you to Soul Edge. Destroy him and the weapon is yours'."
The red-skinned beast pounded on his chest plate and nodded, signifying his assent.
Greed smiled. "Good. I had a feeling I could count on you. Show him no mercy...Necrid."
---
Egypt was little more than sand and limestone temples. Zasalamel had seen it many times in the course of his existence, but had quickly come to detest the location, as the enduring buildings only served as a reminder of his own unending life. However, somewhere within the catacombs resided a record of Soul Edge's presence in this corner of the world, and Zasalamel would certainly devote his time and effort to obtaining that knowledge.
The catacombs themselves were very difficult to traverse through; or at least they would've been for someone of his size...but then, of course, he moved as easily through solid surface as he did through the air, and stepped forth upon an otherwise untouched platform, examining the hieroglyphics.
On the dusty walls before him sat a simple recollection. During the rule of Ramses II, the rather egomaniacal pharaoh had ordered his soldiers to bring back the weapons of soldiers along the fertile crescent, but their efforts had been deterred by a single, all powerful weapon. A pour soul had reached the weapon, and been consumed by its fiery will, and set about destroying those who sought to possess and wield it. Ramses's army was decimated, and the warrior made his way deep into the city.
With no method of defeating him, Ramses ordered that his architects construct a new tomb designed to contain the warrior, and upon its completion, offered his subjects as bait to lure the warrior inside, and sealed him within the tomb for all eternity.
Eternity, as it turned out, was only a few months. The monstrous man vanished from the tomb, leaving behind nothing but a potent dark energy, radiating so much bloodlust it began to affect the soldiers of an empire come to conquer Egypt.
One such soldier stepped towards Zasalamel from out of the darkness, hoisting a large sword up onto one shoulder. Adorned in a red cape and heavy battle gear, he bore a resemblance to the Romanian soldiers...yet this man moved without the will of magic. There was no bloodlust radiating off of him, no energy at all...and he gave no scent and made no sounds but the movement of clunking armor.
"Who are you?" Zasalamel asked.
The armor gave no response.
"An animated suit of armor...but there is no will within it." Zasalamel noted. "A specter."
The red-caped warrior drew back his sword and stabbed forth. Zasalamel parried the thrust with the hilt of his scythe, and struck the creature's armored face with the blade. The specter didn't even recoil, and showed no sign of being harmed.
"I see." Zasalamel noted. "Nothing more than another wandering soul...do you have a name?"
The wandering armor gave no response and continued to step towards Zasalamel, hoisting up the sword again.
Zasalamel snorted. "You have my sympathy; I know the pain of wandering forever." He clenched his right fist. "Let me end it forevermore."
The armored creature shattered into several pieces as Zasalamel struck with his spell. With a scoff, Zasalamel returned to studying the hieroglyphs, examining a single image engraved on the wall...
...a beast wearing a gray mask, with a left arm transformed into a three-fingered claw.
---
Meanwhile, somewhere in Japan...Though far from vain, Sophitia and Cassandra did enjoy shopping, and the sheer number of beautiful designs and embroidery available to them on the island they had recently landed on led to any number of trips through marketplaces and shops. Ivy snorted at the very thought, but reluctantly accompanied them. Siegfried would've normally insisted on avoiding such distractions, but the prospect of Sophitia and Cassandra frequently changing into even more attractive attire convinced him that it would be all right to take a short break from their journey.
Only Tira remained indifferent. She had never been shopping for clothes before, and though moderately interested in the designs presented by the enthusiastic Alexandra sisters, she remained stoic and silent all throughout. All her thoughts were for her Master, and she followed a few steps behind him at all times, keeping her eyes on him.
Siegfried began to worry about the girl, and asked Sophitia to help Tira out. Though the two had acclimated to each other, they rarely spent any time together, and Sophitia felt up to the task, as Tira's sometimes-childlike nature made her a bit easier for her to deal with. Amused at the prospect of Tira and Sophitia trying to cooperate during their reprieve, Ivy invited herself along. Siegfried had no opportunity to announce having any intentions of his own, and Cassandra seized the opportunity to take Siegfried along on her shopping trip, and the two left rather quickly.
Sophitia broke the ice - or tried to, anyway. "What would you like to do, Tira?"
Tira had followed her Master's movements until Cassandra dragged him off. She was pouting, and her jealously was readily apparent.
"Tira?"
Tira glanced over at Sophitia. "What?"
"Is there anything you'd like to do?"
Tira suddenly appeared torn by indecision. Though she had become more keen at volunteering her opinion, she still wasn't used to it. However, since her Master was away, she had no one to command her, and she delved deeper into her thoughts.
Her purple eyes passed briefly between Sophitia and Ivy. Both of these women her Master had taken to bed, and she had always wondered why. It was possible she had grown stale to him. Her Master had seemed intrigued by the prospects of new outfits. Perhaps that would make her new and exciting again.
"I'd like to try on some new outfits, too." Tira replied. "Can we do that?"
Ivy raised her eyebrow. Sophitia smiled. "Of course we can..."
---
On the other side of Asia, the monstrous Nathaniel "Rock" Adams had regained renown at the lakeside coliseum, and had again made it to the finals to confront a powerful veteran warrior: a man named Dragon, wielding a specially designed Chinese sword. The two had barely begun to fight one another when a third contender forced his way in, ripping aside the cage wall with his left arm. The two combatants paused their battle, and quickly lost all animosity for one another when the man struck Dragon, flinging him back several yards and straight through another cage wall.
Rock gave a roar and charged forth, swinging his axe, only for the beast to fling the gargantuan man in the animal pelt over his shoulder and through another cage wall. Rock avoided falling into the water outside the cage, and attempted to continue his assault, only to be struck by a sudden blast of flame from the powerful adversary, as a sphere of fire shot up from the ground, moving in tune with the red-skinned man's arm movements.
The crowd went wild in watching the confrontation. They cheered for the newcomer, until he turned towards them, and leapt into the stands to attack the onlookers. Pandemonium promptly ensued, as nearly all the stadium's inhabitants fled...all save an old man in a green tunic, laughing at each dismembered person.
He is as strong as I expected...but the result of the conflict is a foregone decision.
"Greed."
His laughter ceased immediately, and Greed turned, dropping to one knee, and humbly lowering his head. No more words were heard, but Greed nodded and gave his assent, before turning to look upon Necrid again.
"I must get everything in place." Greed mused. "Looks like I'll have to warn the light, before darkness consumes it."
---
Siegfried was completely at Cassandra's mercy, and did his best to offer his honest opinion on the outfits she wanted to buy without offending her. He was still uncertain of how to act around her. While Cassandra wasn't as beautiful as Sophitia, she was young, attractive, perfectly willing to give herself to him, and modeling her body for him, trying to capture his interest with every outfit and movement.
However, each time he felt desire for her, or any other woman, led him to doubt his integrity, honor, and courtesy. He almost constantly felt guilty, and yet he was certain he'd take another woman to bed...regardless how much he resisted.
"Well, what do you think?"
His train of thought broken, Siegfried looked up at the younger Alexandra sister, and the attire she had selected. Upon seeing his preoccupation, Cassandra became upset.
"Hey! You're not even paying attention!" She said, pouting and putting her hands on her hips.
After much apologizing (and convincing Cassandra to even hear his apology), she forgave him...on the condition that he continue to accompany her for the remainder of the afternoon.
---
Greed again dropped to one knee, keeping his head held low...except this time he was in a deep, underground sanctum, standing before a statue of Buddha, and, more specifically, a slim figure sitting cross-legged in Buddha's palm.
"I thought I told you I would kill you if I ever saw you again." The thin woman said, and snapped her fingers. At once, eight of the Fu-Ma Ninjas were upon Greed, holding their blades to his throat.
Greed smirked. "You're as polite as ever, Miser. I can offer you a better offer than my head, if you'll just hear me out."
"You'd part with something valuable?" Miser asked. "I doubt it, but go ahead."
"There is a foreigner in this country named Siegfried Schauffen." Greed said. "If you will agree to kill him for me, I will deliver to you your missing-nin."
At once Miser was upon her feet, illuminated in the overhanging lights, though her hood still obscured most of her face. "Where?"
Greed smiled. "I will take your men to Siegfried. Once he is dead, I will again submit to your authority and take you to the one you want."
Miser narrowed her eyes, deep in thought. "Very well, we'll assist you...but if you should run before you fulfill your end of the bargain, no place in the world will keep you safe from us."
Greed rose to his feet only to once again give a deep bow. "Oh, I won't be running, Miser...that's what you're good at." With that, he was gone, and the eight ninjas followed him.
---
Zasalamel glanced down upon the blood-soaked floors of the coliseum. Only a few (including warriors like Rock and Dragon) had survived a vicious onslaught, with brute strength comparable to Zasalamel's magic. At first he suspected that Greed had orchestrated the damage, but Zasalamel found no telling signs...the devastation seemed to have been caused by claws, and not kunai knives.
Zasalamel roused the nearest survivor. "Who did this to you?"
Through blood dribbling from his mouth, the man managed to say: "Red skin...gray mask..."
Zasalamel shoved the man aside and looked out into the stands, following a long line of bodies outside the arena, as he felt power out ahead of him, traversing over the land very quickly. Intrigued, Zasalamel sank into the shadows and followed the power source. Within a matter of seconds, he was upon it, and the two confronted each other somewhere near the Eurydice Shrine in Athens, at the base of the mountain.
"...Who are you?" Zasalamel asked, speaking to the creature's expressionless mask.
The creature did not speak in any sort of comprehensive tongue: all it produced were grunts and growls, but these primitive statements made it clear that this monstrosity had every intention of fighting with Zasalamel.
"Very well." Zasalamel again reared back his scythe. "I will not waste my words upon you."
---
Siegfried and Cassandra were on their way to reunite with the others. They had taken several detours along the way. Cassandra took this as an indication that Siegfried wanted to make their alone time last a bit longer. However, Siegfried was only taking the detours to see if the cloaked people behind them would continue to follow them down every turn and path.
No matter which detour they took, the group following a short distance behind continued to tail them. Sensing malicious intentions, as Siegfried and Cassandra reached a simple stone bridge, Siegfried reached for the hilt of his Requiem and turned to face their followers. "What do you want?"
At once, the group discarded their cloaks, revealing a variety of weaponry: daggers, katanas, and sickles. They did not speak, but their intention was very clear.
Cassandra dropped the clothing she'd picked up (gently) and drew her sword. Though she was not as experienced in battle as her sister, she intended to help. She struck at the nearest assailant, her short blade clanging against the long steel of the katana. Siegfried used his zweihander to deflect two adversaries at once, and shattered a dagger in the hands of another. However, the assailants continued to attack, engaging in simple kicks and punches, encircling Siegfried and Cassandra and keeping them under constant pressure.
Cassandra managed to disarm one foe, only to be struck in the side with a powerful kick. She teetered backwards and fell over the side of the bridge, splashing into the water beneath it.
"Cassandra!" Siegfried called, but he could not get to her: he was surrounded, and he could not hope to deflect attacks from all directions.
And then, a quick rush of air passed by him, followed by the sight of two falling enemies. Siegfried's eyes swiveled around as a gray-haired man in a green tunic shot past and leapt skyward, landing on the shoulders of another and twisting around, breaking the man's spine in dozens of places.
Though unsure who this man was or why he was assisting him, Siegfried took advantage of the help and swung out his zweihander in wide arc, sending the enemies flying about. He went to strike at another when his ally stabbed the remaining two with his kunais, dropping them to the ground.
Facing the old man's back, Siegfried kept his zweihander up, trying to recognize him. "Who are you? Why did you help me?"
The old man waited several moments. "You might want to get the girl."
Siegfried turned to glance over the bridge, where Cassandra floated in the water, looking displeased. Siegfried glanced back at the old man, still standing with his back to them. Though suspicious, Siegfried discarded his armor and leapt into the stream and helped Cassandra out, cradling her in his arms.
"Thank you." Siegfried said to the old man's back.
"These mere lackeys are not the only things that threaten you, Siegfried." The old man told him.
Siegfried raised an eyebrow over his scarred eye.
"Your desires will consume you." The old man continued. "In the end, no one can escape their greed...or in your case, lust..."
"Who are you?" Siegfried asked again.
"Me?" The old man asked, turning to smiled through his thick beard. "I'm just a voice in your head...protect the swords as long as you can...it'll make them all the more valuable when you unleash the power and claim it for yourself."
Siegfried blinked. The old man was gone when his eyes had opened.
---
It took quite a lot for Zasalamel to become exhausted, but this red-skinned monster had actually managed to hold its own for over an hour, with no signs of tiring, leaving Zasalamel somewhat fatigued. He had stopped bothering to use his scythe, and was almost exclusively bombarding the beast with spells, only to be bombarded right back with jets of flame from the beast's claws. For all of his magical prowess, Zasalamel was being bested by this creature's raw physical strength.
Yet, Zasalamel refused to retreat, and tried to think up a way to defeat the beast while dodging it's attacks. A thought occurred. If he could remove the beast's armor and cut into its hide with his scythe, he might be able to subdue it.
Zasalamel sank back into darkness and reappeared directly before the creature. He clenched his fist right upon the beast's face and broke apart the gray steel mask, forcing the metal to dig into the monster's face.
After a brief roar, Zasalamel silenced the creature's inhuman cries with a cut into its neck, dragging it to the ground, its head barely connected to the rest of its body, hanging on by a few fibers and a single flap of skin.
Zasalamel panted, but quickly silenced himself at the sound of clapping, as Greed again appeared before him.
"Necrid." Greed noted. "Another soul who managed to reach Soul Edge, but remained enslaved to its will. He was sealed away for decades and guarded by Keres, whose pledge to seal evil away outlasted his body. Charade continues its quest to rejoin Soul Edge and unite with the shards. Just as you did to Siegfried, I have sent others to fight you in my place, to show you just how it feels to fight at all times."
Zasalamel sneered. "Siegfried has already revealed his weakness. I don't have any for you to take advantage of."
Greed smiled. "Oh, really? Powerful as you are, you are still bound to simple human weaknesses...you fear your own death, should your grand experiment fail."
Zasalamel glared at him. "I won't fail."
Greed laughed. "Oh, you will. If you don't mind, I'd like to accompany you...watch your ambitions crushed by the former Azure Knight."
"He cannot stop me." Zasalamel assured.
"Oh, he already has." Greed pointed out. "He has the swords in his position...if he should surrender to his deepest desires and fall prey to his own weaknesses, he would surely use the power of the swords to acquire that which he lusts for, and then, even you won't stand in his way. The world will be filled with darkness greater than anything ever seen before...and I'd like to be there and watch as you're born into it over and over again."
---
Back in Japan, Siegfried and his companions were resting by the side of a road. Night had fallen, but a town was within sight, so they knew they would have a roof to sleep under. However, they were weary from traveling for so long, and had taken a moment to rest by the roadside. While the others were fine with sitting on the ground, Tira preferred a perch in a tree. The group looked skyward and admired the night sky, and the stars twinkling in the distance. Stars...free, uncontrolled...yet alone, distanced by lengths she could not begin to comprehend.
It didn't matter how far she was from her Master...even there, only a few feet above him, knowing exactly where he was, her heart sank into the same darkness separating the stars.
So long as he held another woman in his arms, she would always feel alone, no matter how close they were.
---
And Necrid, one among many monstrosities driven by the will of Soul Edge, staggered upwards, indifferent to the pain in his neck, and began to stalk the land once again, searching for a dark-skinned man in a white cloak.