Long periods of monotony broken up by brief periods of intense danger.

There is scarcely a more fitting way to describe the group's travels. Their journey was largely without noteworthy incident, with the exception of intermittent instances of peril. They would travel for days, sometimes weeks at a time without remarkable happenings. These periods of uneventful tedium and strenuous travel - what Cassandra was fond of referring to as 'forced marching' - were not unbearable, but the longer the group trekked without an extended period of rest, the lower their spirits would become.

Although there were other issues to occupy his mind, Siegfried was firmly committed to their goal. It was ever-present in his mind, when his personal matters did not distract him. Despite his determination, he knew when it was time to stop and rest so as to relieve physical and mental fatigue. Noting that his companions seemed weary and drained, he announced that they would cease their march and spend a day in rest.

The members of the group separated, attending to the chores that had unofficially become theirs. Siegfried left to gather firewood, while the others pitched the tents. Cassandra did the majority of the complaining - and indeed, most of the talking altogether - and was venting her increasing frustration on Sophitia, the only person who bothered to listen to her anymore.

Sophitia, for the most part, was just going through the paces. Cassandra had a very strong, dominating personality, and her feelings of inadequacy had been gradually increasing as more and more allies were joining them, causing Cassandra to be shunted to the sidelines. Sophitia still had a role to play and much value to the others, but no one particularly cared for her sister.

Cassandra had stressed that fact quite thoroughly in her rantings. "I think the worst part is the silence." She said, watching as Ivy stepped into her tent to began tinkering with her small collection of vials and texts. "Some of us are working on destroying Soul Edge or purifying the shards or whatever, but that doesn't explain why they won't say more than two words to me."

Sophitia did not answer immediately. Cassandra began venting her frustration towards Ivy in particular, a woman who would easily dole out disdain for the younger Alexandra sister. Ivy seemed to reserve a set amount of her verbal abuse for Cassandra, second only to Tira in receiving snide remarks. Following this, Tira was the next topic on her mind.

"...always shacking up with Siegfried at night or following him around like a dog." Cassandra was saying, a substantial amount of venom lacing her words. "And she's so childish, either pouting or giggling...and I'm almost sure that she glares at me when she thinks I can't see her. I swear, I think she watched that whole night in the lake. And - "

"...Night in the lake?" Sophitia repeated. She had been trying to ignore her sister's distasteful statements about Siegfried and Tira, but the sound of something new passing from her sister's lips caught her attention.

A faint blush came to Cassandra's cheeks. "...D-did I not mention it?" She managed to say with her voice just above a squeak. "...U-um, well…a few weeks ago, I was bathing, and...Siegfried..."

She didn't need to say anymore. Sophitia's expression convinced Cassandra to stop talking, and she turned away, too embarrassed to look upon her. Sophitia was at a loss for words, but her heart was racing, and her mind a sea of increasingly painful thoughts.

She hadn't sought Siegfried's embrace out of desire to do harm to Rothion; she was not so petty as to believe revenge had any value. She had only wanted someone to comfort her and show her the love and compassion she'd needed after Rothion's betrayal and terrible remarks. She had not expected Siegfried to be monogamous with her, especially considering his complex relationship with Tira, but she hadn't expected him to lie with her sister, either.

The silence was troubling. "Could you tell me...what happened?" Sophitia asked, far more timid than usual.

Cassandra spoke hastily. "He walked over, and - I'm not sure when it was, but it was pretty late - I think he and I were the only ones awake - I was taking a bath, and he suddenly showed up and asked if he could join me."

"He came onto you?" Sophitia asked, surprised. "Did he...?"

Cassandra guessed by her sister's grave expression what she meant. "He didn't force himself on me. ...I admit, I...wanted to be with him...although...after we got started, it was like he was...an entirely different person. He was so...cold. He barely said anything."

In a way, it was almost comforting to learn that, even though Siegfried had taken on her younger sister as his partner, he had not shared his warmth and compassion with her. ...But, now that she thought of it, the same was also true for herself. Siegfried had seemed increasingly distant as time had progressed, and during the nights she sought his company, he'd become less loving, and more simple and direct; simply going through the motions. What was she supposed to make of this, when she and her sister had taken the same man as their lover, and neither of them had felt love?

Her skin felt warmer than normal, and not simply from blushing so much. She felt...dissatisfied? Angry? Was it possible she was jealous that her sister had managed to lie with Siegfried, when Cassandra had previously been the jealous one?

She didn't want to acknowledge it. She didn't want to say it out loud, and so Sophitia turned from her sister again, trying to find some method to busy herself. Cassandra had been waiting expectantly, as though hoping Sophitia could dole out some sage advice. When none came, Cassandra began to walk away, shifting uncomfortably with her every step.

---

Multivalent nonmetal. Nitrogen based. Found in most phosphate rocks.

Ivy scribbled out her notes on phosphorus, containing a sigh. She had attempted to use the element's particular allotropes when previous attempts using simple hydrogen and helium explosions had failed in her effort to destroy - or at least damage - the Soul Embrace. Her particular intention had been to create a fire that would continue burning for an extended time when exposed to oxygen, and would hopefully have some effect on Soul Embrace where simpler combustions had failed.

Her research, however, was proving fruitless. She only had so many discovered elements to work with, and the pace of her journey hadn't given her time to consult many other alchemists about their discoveries. She could only inflict so much pressure on the weapon, and each study she'd attempted only made it clearer: Soul Embrace would not be destroyed by simple force.

Even when it seemed as if her latest scheme was feasible, she reexamined her findings to only to identify a material component that had already failed to harm Soul Embrace, and would be back at square one, immediately crumpling her notes and tossing them in their nightly fire.

There was also the disconcerting knowledge that even if Ivy did find some viable method of damaging Soul Embrace, she would never be allowed to carry it out herself. Siegfried and Taki would insure she never laid hands on the sword(s) again.

She did not blame them. It was logical that she should not attempt to wield the Embrace, even for an experiment. Given what had happened when Soul Embrace had been separated, and the control it had so easily exerted over her, Ivy agreed with their decision. If she did find something worth attempting in her research, it would be carried out by proxy. Of course, such a notion disgusted her, as she had no doubt the others couldn't appreciate the intricate detail of using material components and combining them together, and would undoubtedly use too much of one element and not enough of another. It was a precise, difficult task, and Ivy detested the notion of entrusting it to anyone but herself.

Her role in their merry band had become increasingly irrelevant as time progressed. Taki, of course, continued to prove her value by purifying their collected Soul Edge shards, and was quite possibly their best fighter as well. She worked tirelessly, and she knew the lay of the land well (though that was changing as they headed further West along the continent). Ivy's first encounter with Taki over four years ago left a bitter taste in her mouth that hadn't faded since, and constantly following the Japanese woman's lead only served to irritate her further. Siegfried followed Taki's every movement and obeyed her every instruction without hesitation, and even if the others turned a blind eye to it, Ivy could see quite clearly how he examined her. Ivy had made a habit out of using Siegfried's fit body for a bit of fun if the mood happened to strike her, but was disgusted by the attention he doled upon the other women - not because of jealousy, by any stretch, but because she didn't really like any of them.

Cassandra and Tira were irritating brats. Sophitia was too obsessed with her gods and her love for her family. As far as Ivy was concerned, Setsuka was just a whore Siegfried had decided to bring along with them. She respected Taki and Seong Mi-na's skills in combat, but didn't like either of their personalities. Just as before, she found herself lost herself in isolation, with only her sword as a companion.

More and more, she felt superfluous. More and more, she was resenting her traveling companions and the seeming futility of their quest.

More and more, she was wondering whether they were taking the wrong course of action. Zasalamel, as conniving and untrustworthy as he was, might actually know how to separate or destroy the Soul Embrace. Not only this, but there was another powerful foe to consider; as the group proceeded further west, they became more conscious of the rumor they had heard so long ago in China - that the Azure Knight himself had somehow been revived, that he once again ravaged western lands. He was a terror, an abomination...but Ivy wondered - like Zasalamel, could he be a key to Soul Edge's separation, as monstrous as he was?

---

Setsuka had returned from gathering firewood, not entirely sure why she'd agreed to do so in the first place. The wooden chips had fallen all over her kimono, and she would spend a good portion of her evening locating and pruning them. She had brought a few other garments with her, but this garb was her favorite. Siegfried had confirmed her suspicion that he liked it best, and she didn't blame him; it was the most beautiful thing her master had ever given her.

That thought - for whatever reason - brought her more sadness than solace. Only a week ago, Siegfried had requested she continue journeying with them, and she had acquiesced, only to find herself shunted to the sidelines. She liked most of her companions well enough, but more often than not, she didn't have anything to contribute when faced with Soul Embrace. She knew the least about it, and didn't expect she'd ever have time to comprehend Taki and Ivy's complex methods for purifying or destroying the weapon.

She was still a lively conversationalist around their campfire, and enjoyed the others' company very much, but each night seemed worse and worse than the one that preceded it. After finally convincing Siegfried to give in to a night of torrid passion, her lover had become even more distant towards her than before. He was understandably concerned about Soul Embrace and the enemies that sought it, but she couldn't help but feel a little hurt that he'd just returned to his shell once she'd finally forced him out of it.

Her original intention had been to remain in Japan and allow the others to continue their journey without her, but Siegfried had asked her to stay with him. Given the choice of remaining with her companions and a man who could pleasure her, she preferred traveling with them to returning to whatever line of work she could get back in her homeland. She had already avenged her master, and no longer desperately needed any money, so she didn't see a lot of reason not to stay with them.

Now, however, the danger was mounting. She wasn't afraid of dying...nor the pain that would undoubtedly precede it. Yet, she was afraid of the uncertainty set before her. No matter how powerful some of her friends were, they were dealing with forces that were godlike - or outright gods - even monsters. It was entirely possible that they would not all live to see their task completed.

Her companions...for all their faults and tweaks, Setsuka liked them. She didn't want any harm to come to them, and indeed wished they could all remain together and travel together, without such a heavy purpose weighing over them.

Though it certainly didn't seem like a likely possibility.

---

The new kodachi works well, Taki observed, taking a moment to practice her swing and parry with her latest acquisition. It's not quite as light as Mekki-Maru...but it's sufficient.

She had long since accepted that Mekki-Maru was lost to her - but Taki did not want anything like that to ever occur again, and had been struggling to find methods to improve her fighting style and to unearth new, previously unknown purification arts.

It was necessary for her to expand her repertoire, for none of her techniques had any impact on Soul Embrace. They had far too few shards to attempt to recreate Soul Calibur and integrate it into the joined weapons; the swords were becoming increasingly unstable as the amount of evil energy seemed to increase. As they headed further West, they were risking further and further exposure to the evil auras of the area, and if Taki's efforts slackened at all, Soul Edge could theoretically separate once again, or even corrupt Soul Calibur enough that whatever shards they gathered would become tainted by the evil energy, and the blade would never be purified again. Soul Edge would become complete.

Taki tilted her new kodachi back and forth, looking at the reflection in its blade. A gorgeous face stared back at her.

Taki was aware that she was beautiful. It was an inconsequential fact to her, as good looks had nothing to do with her performance as a ninja. She knew that she would easily be capable of seducing men, but would never do so for any purpose - she found that kind of woman to be despicable, to represent her gender in a foul way. In fact, if it had been up to her, she would rather have been born a man.

She did not value the attention of others, having been raised to be unseen and unheard. She did not value the affection of men, seeking to avoid vanity. She respected the virtues of efficiency, competence, and effectiveness, and all her life had worked to establish a reputation as such, with her only goal being to please her adoptive father. Toki and her clan were no more...but her principles remained the same, and she still believed that her characteristics were virtuous.

Taki was well aware of the nature of men. She knew that different rules governed their bodies than governed her own, that they were enthralled by the female form in a way she could never truly understand. However, she was also aware that men were capable of restraining their desires and conducting themselves with dignity - which is why she had little lenience or respect for men who did not do so. She forgave Siegfried's eyes for their occasional wandering, as it was natural and a trivial matter. Still, Taki saw in those eyes the potential for a problem...

Even a fool would have been able to surmise the nature of Siegfried's relationship with the other women. It took little deduction for Taki to infer that Siegfried had lain with most, if not all of them. She doubted that any of the women were simply trollops - with possible exception of Setsuka - and felt that each of them had their own purpose for seeking Siegfried's embrace. Not too long ago, her impression of the man, after she had gotten a chance to study him, was that he was far more promiscuous than the average male - addicted, if not obsessed with sex. However, she sensed an inner conflict within him, as if he was ashamed of his ways and wished to change them, but was betrayed by his own desires each time he tried to do so. Aware that he felt guilty about his behavior, she did not pass ill judgment upon him. However, she acknowledged the possibility that Siegfried's lust would eventually lead him to pursue her.

The revelation of Seong Mi-na's gender and her reasoning for hiding her womanhood provided the ideal platform for Taki to speak upon the matter of sexism, and subtly make known her disapproval of vulgar desires. Siegfried's reaction appeared to be genuine guilt, and Taki concluded that she would not have to worry about him acting upon any desire for her.

A relief, for she could not afford to spend her time worrying about such matters. Her efforts had to be tireless. Her every action had to be working towards purifying the Soul Embrace, or at least separating the two. She could not allow Soul Edge to return to power. Every one of her companions knew how dangerous that could be. Everyone depended on her, now more than ever before. All accountability rested on her shoulders...

...It's not that I don't want the responsibility. ...It's just...

---

"Idiot girl." Ivy spat as she deflected the blade of Mi-na's guan dao with a flick of her Ivy Blade. "Stop using so many direct attacks. The only reason you got through my defense last time was because you used such raw force; don't you think I'm expecting it this time?"

Mi-na only nodded and drew back, grasping the Scarlet Thunder with both hands, holding the staff in front of her. She drew back and began to spin it forcefully with both hands as she stepped towards Ivy, and the British woman separated the Ivy Blade once more, each blade waiting for a command, as Ivy waited for Mi-na's guard to break.

Mi-na found the opportunity and surged forth to attack, ceasing her spin and putting her power behind the thrust. Ivy cracked a smirk and allowed the separated blades to rush forward, towards Mi-na's largely unprotected upper body. The Korean woman dropped down, slamming the hilt of the Scarlet Thunder to the ground and using her own momentum to propel herself upwards, swinging into the air and aiming her foot for Ivy's chin.

Ivy drew back, narrowly avoiding the strike. Before Mi-na could land, Ivy struck her with the flat of the Ivy Blade, slamming her to the ground and separating her from Scarlet Thunder.

"...Better." Ivy acknowledged simply.

Mi-na smiled. "That's all I needed to hear. It won't be long until I'm a better fighter than you!"

Ivy sneered. "Don't get ahead of yourself. You still have a long way to go."

"Fine with me!" Mi-na replied cheerfully, climbing to her feet and reclaiming the Scarlet Thunder. "Shall we spar again?"

Ivy sighed. This girl has far too much energy. She prepared to resume battle, reconstructing the Ivy Blade, before she heard Setsuka call: "Hey, you two! We're eating dinner now. Come and join us!"

Ivy smirked and headed away, and Mi-na fumed: "Hey! We still have another session!"

Ivy turned to glare at her. Nine seconds later, Ivy was squashing Mi-na beneath her heel. "The niceties must be observed, my dear girl. You will appear promptly for dinner and engage in conversation with your allies."

Mi-na continued to squirm beneath her heel before muttering a short: "Yes, Miss Valentine."

After Ivy had released her and strode away, Mi-na clamored up and followed, hoisting the Scarlet Thunder onto her shoulder. She walked a little slower than Ivy did, but was much more energetic, nearly skipping with every movement.

She was improving her skills in combat every day. She was traveling with a group of powerful individuals seeking to destroy the legendary weapon Soul Edge, and they were completely indifferent to the fact she was a woman. Without Yun-seong, Hwang, or her father around to reign her in and drag her back to Han Myeong's temple, she was finally able to let herself loose, as well as demonstrate her combat prowess without being scolded. Much, anyway.

She sat down, close to the fire, as Siegfried sat down across from her, Tira hovering at his right. She had scarcely seen him throughout the day, as he'd spent most of his time resting in his tent, and after that finding the jackal that would serve as their meal for the evening. It wasn't particularly appetizing to Mi-na - who'd become used to chicken and rice at her table - but she didn't complain, and accepted the meal graciously.

She had initially been silently eating, only to catch Ivy's gaze and immediately start talking to Setsuka, and did her best to seem enthralled about the beauty of sakura blossoms.

---

It was late, and Tira was awake. It wasn't unusual for her to be awake so late; she wasn't used to sleeping. She had been raised with the understanding that she would rest only as much as necessary before carrying on her next mission. This journey had led her to sleeping more than ever before, and she enjoyed doing so, lying in the warm embrace of her Master.

Yet, her Master wasn't embracing her. He was sleeping peacefully beside her, and he was present, and he was warm...but she was awake, and he was not. Tira was beside him, yet she was alone, and she found no joy in watching him sleep. They hadn't made love; he hadn't even said anything to her before he laid down and drifted off into his slumber.

In months past, her Master had taken to using her nearly every night, and with every night that passed, he had become less inhibited and less reserved, eventually becoming forceful, even rough with her, often to the point of pain. And then, recently, he had abruptly stopped using her altogether, as though unwilling to do so again. While Tira was relieved that her Master was no longer doing her harm, she now felt as though she was being ignored. She felt as though she had no purpose.

She had tried to leave him once before...she had prepared hours ahead of time, planning her final, scathing remarks, and her ascent to a new, better life. She had been ready to leave him, and not on good terms. She had felt so strong and so confident...until the moment of truth arrived, and she looked into her Master's eyes.

She loved those eyes. The scar upon the left. The thick, dark blonde locks that framed them. Every muscle, every vein, and every part of him. No matter how unkind she had seen him become, Tira could not leave him. He was everything she had.

Yet, through the course of their journey, her Master only slipped further and further from her grasp. She clung tightly to him now, always at his side, carrying out any instruction, providing him every convenience and every pleasure she could...and yet, Siegfried was becoming lost to her. He may have appeared simply distant, but he had always been staunch and stern, with a passionate side beneath the surface. Now that passion was gone from him, and she could not find it, no matter how she tried to draw it out.

She cried now, more than ever before. She couldn't stop it. She couldn't predict it. She couldn't control these emotions raging within her.

Just leave, Tira. Just...leave.

But how could she? Where would she go? What would she do?

Without Siegfried, she would have no one to share her bed at night. No one to care for and tend to, no one to love...

Without Siegfried, you could kill.

Her heart began to race as Tira contemplated it. She could cut loose at last, as she had so desperately wished to. If she could not feel the warmth of her Master's body, she could feel the warmth of flesh blood, splattered upon her once more.

To kill, yes, that would do well. That would please her. That would bring her greater pleasure than any mere night of passion ever could.

Yes, she would start slowly, to ease herself back into it. To take in their expressions, and to hear their cries of pain and torment. She would hack away a limb, just one. Her target would hobble, impeded now by the rapid loss of blood and energy. She would follow, swiftly, silently, taking in their fear, their blood, her fuel.

And then she stood above her victim, her ringblade held high, her eyes fixed upon his neck, and then she swung her ringblade down to decapitate Siegfried.

...Siegfried?

Tira stopped her ringblade not a hair's breadth away from Siegfried's neck. Had she come to her senses a moment later, her sleeping Master's head would be rolling across the ground. She froze in shock, unable to believe what she had almost done. So wrapped up in bloodlust and thoughts of murder that she had unknowingly prepared to kill the nearest person - her own Master.

You shouldn't have stopped. Kill him, Tira. It's for the best. He's betrayed your trust time and time again. He has run out of uses for you, no matter how good a slave you are.

She didn't want to think such things. She didn't want to believe this was what she wanted. How could she wish any harm to her Master? Why was her ringblade still an inch from his neck? Why hadn't she withdrawn?

End it all, Tira. You will find nothing more to gain from this man...he doesn't love you. He doesn't need you. He doesn't even want you around anymore. Your only purpose was to appease his desires, and he doesn't need you to do that anymore.

You can serve him no longer. You have no more purpose here.

Her tears fell and splattered on the cool steel of the ringblade. She contemplated the cut. It would be so fast, so silent, over in all of a second.

And, then, she would be...

...free?

Freedom...exactly what she had sought to escape from in the first place, by seeking Siegfried out. If she killed him, she would be free...and she would still be alone.

Then find a new Master, Tira. Leave this one, and find a new Master.

Tira reached for her tattered clothing, and began to clothe herself.

He never spared you his anguish or his aggravation, always using you to vent his own frustration, even doing harm to you in his pursuit of pleasure. If he would not spare you, then does he deserve to be spared by you, Tira?

Fully clothed, Tira reached for her ringblade again, and raised it high...

This is your last chance to kill him.

...to sling it around her back.

With one last look at her former Master, she stepped out of his tent, and into the night.

In the past, Tira had never allowed even the slightest disloyal notion to pass through her mind regarding her Master - but as Siegfried no longer held that title, the thoughts she had repressed came rising to the surface, including thoughts of a significant figure that Tira had long forbidden herself to think of, to resist the temptation that he represented.

Whenever Siegfried spoke of the Azure Knight, he stressed one point above all others - Nightmare lives for nothing other than death and destruction. While Tira had subdued her bloodthirsty cravings to avoid displeasing her pacifistic Master, the thought of killing was no less alluring to her now than it was before she'd heard of him. Nightmare butchered every soul he came across, annihilated every town in his path. He was a killing machine - and just the thought of following in his footsteps was making Tira's heart race in ways Siegfried had never done.

It felt so liberating to think so freely when she had been repressing herself for so long, so invigorating to think of killing when she had been deprived of the pleasure for ages. To desire another beside the man she'd served for so long - Tira felt disobedient, defiant, naughty, and she loved it.

Yes. Nightmare is the one. But, how to find him?

Nightmare was perhaps the most significant figure in Siegfried's life, but he did not speak of the demon unless it was at the request of one of his companions. It was more than apparent that the Azure Knight was a sensitive, traumatic subject for Siegfried, but few in the group could resist the urge to ask about the abomination.

Although Tira always hung on her Master's every word, there was a particular aspect of Nightmare he mentioned that Tira had found especially memorable - the Watchers. Perhaps because he had used his influence to corrupt them - or perhaps because they are dire aberrations by nature - Nightmare possessed a flock of ravens who acted as his servants, carrying out whatever simple yet dreadful task he asked of them. Often, their purpose was to fly across the world, in search of Soul Edge shards, to snatch them from their resting places and return them to Nightmare, or to inform him of the location if procuring the shards would be impossible for mere birds.

Siegfried had several times told the group to keep watch for ravens, warning the others of the danger that the dark avions represented. The few shards they had managed to collect thus far were dreadful yet valuable treasures, and they could not afford to lose any to Nightmare's pests, were the rumors of his resurrection true.

But tonight, Siegfried's warning would work in reverse.

The sheer amount of intense concentration and energy required to purify a shard left Taki without the ability to immediately cleanse every shard they came across. No, she could only afford to purify a single shard every few days, and so there were multiple impure shards in the tent, yet Tira took only one. There were several others, but she knew she would only need one, for while she was rejecting Siegfried, she had no reason to derail the efforts of her former comrades.

That Tira was able to steal a shard of Soul Edge from Taki's tent speaks volumes of her skill and stealth. To sneak past a ninja, even a sleeping one, is a nearly impossible task, much less stealing from one. But Tira's expertise at covertness and secrecy would prove to be capable of seeing the task done.

With a piece of the evil sword in hand, Tira took to the trees surrounding the camp, and began her trek. Away from her companions, away from their encampment, away from Siegfried. She traveled westward, not to locate Nightmare directly, but to get just a bit closer, while putting distance between herself and the others

She had no idea how long she traveled before she found it - a high, rigid rock atop a tall, grassy knoll, standing out above the hills of rolling plains she found herself in. Tira placed the shard upon this elevated spot, slunk away, and waited. She knew not how long she waited, but the sun had not yet risen when she smelt the aroma of blood and heard the flapping of wings. The red-eyed aberration swooped low and snatched the shard from its perch before taking to the air, heading southwest. Tira took pursuit immediately, feeling an excitement and anticipation that she had not felt since her days with the Bird of Passage.

---

As Nightmare plundered powerful souls and recovered the shattered fragments of the sword, the cracks in the surface of Soul Edge healed one by one, and his goal of reviving the evil sword edged toward completion. After some time, the Azure Knight returned to his old stronghold, Ostrheinsburg Castle. This land, which had once tasted the blood of many, was a fitting stage for the restoration of the evil sword's true power.

But Nightmare was not alone in the castle, for a lone man had pursued him there. The man was one of many who sought Soul Edge for his own reasons, but was one of few who would make it so close to the sword. He wielded a thin blade in his left hand, and the way he held it was the only indication that was needed to make clear his intention to strike Nightmare down. Proud and dignified, he announced his name - Raphael Sorel - before his launching his assault. The two of them faced off in the ruins of the chapel, and the place became alive with flying sparks and blood.

At the end of the fierce battle, Nightmare stood victorious. The evil incarnate stepped forward to finish off his opponent...but deep within the eyes set in the dark helm dwelled the faint light of a soul that was not that of a murderer. It was the will of Siegfried, the man who had been seduced by the evil blade. Siegfried struggled, trying to fight off the nightmare that plagued his mind and body. The spirit of the evil sword sneered at him.

"Finish him, Siegfried. End his misery. Look at him, disheveled and ruined. His body and honor have been destroyed."

"No...I can see it...the proud way he faces his end. He is a brave man. He dies with dignity."

"Ha! There is no dignity in being a corpse! Don't bother to prolong the life of this trash. Do it, Siegfried...strike the killing blow. He must perish. You shall cast his body into the darkness. He shall stagnate and rot, steeped in despair, as you squeeze the final gasp from his lungs...!"

Nightmare forced his host's body to raise the grotesque sword higher, and Siegfried panicked at the thought of seeing his hands take yet another life. "No!" His mind screamed. "Don't make me kill him!" He had begged the same words of Nightmare hundreds of times, and the demon had never relinquished, but Siegfried refused to give up - he would never, ever give up.

Nightmare laughed at his host's pitiful begging, and continued to mock the pathetic man. As he took pleasure in tormenting his host, his body stood motionless - and before him, the wounded man was beginning to rise, his great will enabling his gravely injured body to move for one final purpose. Inhaling his last breath and drawing on his last strength, Raphael lunged forth, stabbing his rapier forward, launching a desperate final attack upon his enemy. The strike's aim was true, and pierced the center of Soul Edge's demonic eye, and when his attack was through, the man fell dead.

Nightmare let out an inhuman cry. Inside him, the crazed, wounded mind of the evil sword clawed at its consciousness, but Siegfried stood with an iron will against the raging storm. The time had come. The eyes that had been dyed crimson by evil were washed away, and the flame of life relit. He who had been host to the cursed sword for so long was once again able to move his limbs of his own accord. In response to the rapidly weakening evil, light poured out like the coming of the dawn...

A sword had appeared along with the light. It was the holy sword Soul Calibur, which had been trapped within the abyss of Soul Edge by its evil power. Unsure of what action to take, but afraid that his window of opportunity was almost shut, Siegfried wasted no time in reaching forth, clutching the sword, and driving it into the evil eye that was the core of Soul Edge.

The blow was not enough to destroy the evil sword. The evil energy of Soul Edge had quieted, but the holy sword had gone silent too.

"This isn't enough..." Siegfried realized. He threw off the detestable armor that represented his worst nightmare, and once he had collected himself, he picked up the strange blade formed by the meshing of the two swords, and left that cursed land. His only thoughts were of finding a way to destroy Soul Edge for all eternity...and to atone for the sins he had committed.

Indeed, there was no way for him to know that the azure nightmare would soon reawaken.

In the instant that the evil sword was pierced by the holy sword, no one noticed the evil flame dwelling within Soul Edge flowing out. The immortal soul of the sword that was forged throughout its long history of slaughter chose to cling onto the remains of the armor strewn on the ground.

The evil soul flowed into the fragmented armor, but trying to manipulate a bodiless host was no easy task. It could not even move, much less hunt souls. With the loss of its own physical body, it lacked the strength to accomplish anything - all it could do was resign itself to its current fate. Calming the burning flame of its will, the will of the evil sword waited for an opportunity.

Some time later, a man bearing a large scythe visited the location in which Nightmare's strewn armor remained. The man could read what had happened by studying the armor and the evil energy hanging in the air.

A thick, unbroken fog blanketed the sky, blocking off the sun's blessing light. In this heavy, humid air portending rain, the spirit of the evil sword and the man with the scythe carried on an unspoken conversation. Perhaps each sought to outwit the other, or perhaps they shared a strange connection that could only be understood by those with an ancient bond...after a few moments, the man agreed to aid the sword.

The man with the scythe performed an ancient ritual, using words of power to distort the laws of nature. The unsteady energy of the cursed sword and the spirits that circled this land were woven together and bound into the remains of the terrible armor. The resentful howling of ghosts roared out over the sound of thunder. An unsteadily wavering silhouette took shape, and the soul of the evil weapon had regained the shell of its former host. This revived being was clad in blue armor that shone with an evil light. Not a trace of damage remained. Out of its hand oozed a tremendous, unusually-shaped sword that resembled the cursed blade. From the memories etched into the armor, an entity that was supposedly gone from this world had found a new incarnation.

Sometime during this event, the tears of heaven had begun to fall. They struck his body futilely, as if trying to wash away the evil karma with which he was stained.

His face expressionless, the man with the scythe imparted no words, and vanished into the air.

Soul Edge had started a new existence as an individual being. This may have been the first opportunity the cursed sword had had to interact with the world as its own self. Starved for souls, he fled the castle and attacked and consumed all whom he encountered. Motivated by a pure impulse to destroy, and an unending hunger, Nightmare went on a mad rampage. The hearts of those he assailed were clutched by an inescapable terror until the very last moment of their lives. Not even death would bring peace to their souls, for they were trapped in the fiery hell of Soul Edge's core, their pain and anguish nothing more than food for the blade.

Rumors of a merciless butcher and the terror of the azure nightmare spread throughout Europe once again.

---

"...and they say that it make any one man more powerful than an entire army. It has the ability to slaughter hundreds of warriors, and is also able to feast upon the blood and the souls of the men it slays."

"HA! A single man, more powerful than a whole army? That's nothing but foolish drivel. It's ridiculous to say such a thing. I'm afraid only the gullible would fall for a fairy tale such as that, my friend."

"...Let us hope that the rumors are as feeble as you insist. Should there exist a weapon capable of taking hundreds of lives in a single engagement, it would not only be devastating...but sorrowful. A weapon with the ability to erase so great a number of people is nothing less than a tragedy, soldiers or not..."

---

Completion.

Power.

Souls.

The same thoughts ran through the demon's 'mind' over and over again.

I am diminished. I am not whole. I must rebuild myself.

I am weakened. My strength has been reduced. I must make myself powerful.

The best source of energy...the essence that composes a human being...Souls. I require more souls. I require more souls.

Souls.

Nightmare raised his phantom blade, and plunged it into the ground before him, sending a spray of dirt into the air. The Azure Knight became silent and still. The two beady 'eyes' that glowed in his helm dimmed until their red shine was gone. The Knight's tool of destruction had become as a dowsing rod...yet this diviner thirsted not for water, but for human essence.

His sword's sensitivity to souls could be used to point him in the direction of the nearest human - however, as useful as this ability was, the land of Europe rarely granted him larger harvests than tiny hamlets and small villages. He was pleased to locate larger settlements and towns, but they were all filled with weak, pathetic souls.

Nightmare was starting to become increasingly irritated with his underwhelming reapings...but today would be different. Today, he would come across a truly uncommon finding. As Nightmare concentrated on his weapon, he could feel an extraordinary number of souls...several hundred, perhaps half a thousand, and each of them moving toward his position. Even more unexpectedly, the majority of these souls were powerful - not outstanding, certainly not the most impressive he had come across, but these souls were square meals compared to the tiny appetizers he had been downing.

What circumstances could create such a scenario as this? He pondered the matter for a moment, and the realization came to him quickly. ...Army. A battalion of soldiers is approaching. ...Do they come for me?

The notion of a half-thousand men marching toward Nightmare to slay him did not cause the slightest amount of fright or alarm. The only thing capable of stirring something close to 'fear' within the Azure Night was Soul Calibur itself. Instead, what Nightmare felt at the moment was something akin to pride. To think that he was such a disciple of terror, death, and devastation that a battalion would be sent to destroy him? It was almost...flattering.

Nightmare was not one to be virtuous or humble, but he had to accept the possibility that this grand company was not in fact devoted to his death. He knew nothing of national politics and world situation - was there a war? He could feast on the mass death...where was this army heading to?

As he put his sense of direction to work, Nightmare realized where the army was traveling. His smugness faded, replaced by irritation.

...That man.

Raphael Sorel.

He had been defeated. His body sundered, his breath haggard, his consciousness fading, the Frenchman was within an inch of death. Nightmare took a mere moment to disregard his foe and taunt his foolish host - and in that moment, the man drew upon the last ounce of strength in his gravely wounded body, forced himself forward, and struck a blow so deeply piercing that Soul Calibur was freed from its prison within the abyss of Soul Edge...and in that moment of stinging pain Nightmare had never before experienced, everything was lost. His power escaped him, his host abandoned him, and everything was set back to square one. If not for the man with the scythe, Nightmare would be nothing more than a sapient will beneath a crumpled suit of armor right now.

At least the man who wrought this is dead, thought Nightmare.

But this comforting notion turned out to be false, for Raphael lived on.

When his reincarnation was complete, Nightmare surveyed the area and found the man's corpse to be absent. Later, in his travels, he passed a land contaminated by an evil force - energy he distinctly remembered. The energy was that of Raphael. Sorel had come back to life after dying - he was as undead as that Spanish pirate. His corpse had been contaminated with Soul Edge's own evil energy, until his body was infused with enough dark power to function once more. A second Cervantes, that man. Tainted by evil, Raphael polluted the land he tread in with his corruption. He was lord of a castle now, and the land around it was consumed by evil. Nightmare dared not to tread in that land, for he refused to consume energy produced by that foul Frenchman.

Nightmare loathed that man. He had ruined everything. He had been rightfully defeated, and then one lucky, frantic lunge tore down everything the Azure Knight had worked for. Nightmare shook with anger. How he would love to run his sword through that man, punish him for what he had done - but he could not. Nightmare had been forced to start over from scratch, and was still only a shadow of his former self. Were he to fight the enhanced Raphael, he might be defeated. Nightmare did not fear the man, he merely abhorred him and planned to see him dead once the opportunity presented itself.

And this battalion, if its direction was any indication of its destination, intended to claim Sorel's life, as well. Undoubtedly, someone important had become aware of the abnormality of the area, and had ordered a military force to destroy its source. Raphael was powerful and undead, but the force of an army could crush him. At his current strength, Nightmare might not be able to defeat Sorel - but with Soul Edge in hand, an army was nothing. Nightmare would recover his strength as he claimed lives, an invincible force when set upon a group...but in a duel with a single opponent, the dynamics were far different.

Nightmare could see them coming over the horizon now. Hundreds of men, their souls ripe and ready to be plucked from their bodies. With the strength they would give him, perhaps Nightmare's strength would be augmented enough to finally kill Sorel. Yes...it's possible. The Azure Knight hoisted the Phantom Soul Edge from the ground, and turned in the direction of the army.

Souls.

A/N: Today, October 31st, 2007, is the second anniversary of I Am Your Slave. One year, 45 chapters, 345 reviews, 100,000 hits, and 200,000 words later, I'm amazed at how far we've come. I never imagined the story turning into such a lengthy epic when I wrote the first two chapters - but I'm happy with what it has become. I regret that I have begun to update less frequently, and that readership has dropped sharply as a result. I appreciate the readers who remain and send me words of encouragement after all this time, and I can only hope that I am pleasing you.

The announcement of Soul Calibur IV has made me painfully aware that my story is temporary - that is to say, it is relevant now, but upon the release of SCIV, it will be outdated and obsolete. It causes me sadness to know that my story has a shelf life, a time frame in which it can be enjoyed before being replaced by the next installment - but this only pushes me to make the best of what time I have remaining. No matter how superior SCIV is to SCIII, I will never forget the joy that SCIII has brought me through the creativity that it has inspired.

As we move into the third year of IAYS, I hope to deliver an enjoyable and compelling story, and hope to provide future chapters more swiftly. Once again, I thank and appreciate all readers who are still reading the story. You have my gratitude, and you will never know how encouraging you are to me.

Here's to Year Three, all the fans, and the approaching conclusion of a beloved story.