HEEEeeeEERE COoooMEEEES DAT BOIIIIiiiIII! With another chapter, no less.
And by the way…Thanks for 2000 views (and counting)! Yet another milestone reached. And also, thanks for the reviews and follows – they're motivation in their own way, of course. \[T]/ And again, I apologize for being sporadic in my uploading new chapters – school's keeping me busy these days.
And as to a query I have received, here's the answer:
The Undead's going to mention Solaire to the echelons of Smash Mansion (the two of them being close Sunbros) when it comes to that point in the story, anyways. As for how he became the star of the planet system containing Lordran, I'll have to work out an explanation for that, sooner or later. But not for now, not yet.
And now, as per publication standards…
DISCLAIMER: I do not own Smash Bros., Super Mario Galaxy, or Dark souls and their characters, this goes to Nintendo and FromSoftware, respectively.
Chapter the Ninth
As the night drew further on, and the moon shone down upon the Observatory, bathing it in an eerie glow, the specter known as the Cosmic Spirit soon materialized onto the empty Garage. Taking cursory looks about the ship her daughter lived and traveled in, the specter marveled and prided herself on the wondrous structure her daughter had built. "Excellent architecture, making it last for eons. A feat I could not achieve, not in my time." She sighed morosely at the thought of life, and all the memories long past, now flowing once more into consciousness… and how close it was to her grasp. She thought of all the things she could do, all the steps she could take along with her daughter, and all the joy that would reign once more in her life-bereft spirit. "Seems to me I'll take this chance. But I'll have to wait and see about the wielders of these powers. Maybe they might not be so agreeable to each other when the time comes."
Then, remembering her agenda, she began to head towards the patch of earth bearing the Terrace and the Bonfire, and of course the knight who thrived upon it. "Now I'll have to see if my daughter does have any right to trust that Undead – though when I did observe him in my travels he was quite pure of heart. But of course of course, I have to take precaution."
She drew nearer to the knight's squatting frame, which rose and fell with each lusty snore. "Hmm… fast asleep. Let me double-check." She was decided to risk a probe into his mind, and held out a shimmering hand at the knight… when suddenly, a sharp, restrictive barrier accompanied by a piercing HALT! stopped her in her tracks.
Managing to hide her surprise, she steeled herself, and drew back her hand. "Greetings. Forgive my intrusion. May I explain myself, er, knightess, was it?"
The sword, equally surprised, was now quite leery at what she immediately perceived an intruder. Don't you dare lay a finger on my Knight. Not while he's asleep. I'll wake him if I have to –
"This is a misunderstanding, miss knightess! Stay yourself! I mean no harm! We can talk this over!"
Hmpf. So much for that, eh, lady Rosalina? And how do you know my name? The blade retorted. You managed to eavesdrop on our minds? Hmmm…
"Yes, I did probe into your minds… but I am not Rosalina. I am her deceased mother. Whether you find that hard to believe or not is up to you. But believe me here – I mean your Knight no harm." The specter replied hastily. "I just want to see if I can trust you both, and then tell my daughter about it."
I see… taking risks, eh? You know what… The blade pondered for a few more moments. I'll accept that reasoning.
The specter sighed, relieved. She was not wanting a scuffle here. "Well, I thank you for understanding. But, one thing, miss Knightess." Her voice became a bit steelier as she thundered out her ultimatum. "Please do remind your wielder not to harm my child – she is pretty vulnerable as of late, for a powerful being like her."
Noted. The knightess replied warily. But what is it you seek from my friend?
"I only need to know if he will be a good liege to his lady." The specter returned, her tone now quite civil.
Ah, I see. Securing her future, even in the most underhanded of ways.. The mark of the good mother, so they tell me. The knightess lowered her mental guard – enough for the specter to access her friend's mind. Do as you will.
"Don't you worry, I'm true to my word. And I've done this before…" said the specter as she reached out again and began to fade away, now managing to ebb into the knight's mind…
…where she was greeted by nearly the same abyss which had swallowed up her five grandchildren – except there were multiple souls – tiny white shades hungry for power - in it this time. In a trice she'd nearly been swallowed up by the ravenous specters, and she had barely managed to conjure up a shield and let out a small gust of Force to fend them off.
Once the sprites realized they could not consume the being within them, they skulked off sheepishly, revealing a warm bright light in the distance. She floated towards it carefully, then stopped at a distance, staying unnoticed from what she perceived to be two figures sitting near a bonfire.
One of them was a short and squat figure clad in a toga and holding a long, malformed piece of wood. The other one was the knight, clad in his armor as usual. They were debating among themselves quite animatedly, so she decided to eavesdrop.
"It's been a long time since I've actually talked to someone. Well, this is a refreshing experience, and I thank you for that, Chosen Undead. But I warn you – the next minutes won't be so cozy." Said the toga-clan man.
"I understand." The undead, ever so used to the horrors of life, had yet to experience the horror of being chewed out by a parent like Rosalina. And despite his efforts to hide how unsettled he was, it still showed, which amused the other man. "Lead on, Father."
"So, Chosen Undead, as they call you. What is it that forced you to kill your own father?" the toga-clad figure began somewhat imperiously.
"Well, father," said the knight, somewhat in a quandary now, "you were an enemy that time. You were pretty much in a blind rage there, I must say, and had you gone on with spreading the Abyss they might have come down to kill you themselves-"
"They?" interrupted his father.
"Uh, Lord Gwyn." stammered the knight quite uncomfortably.
"I see… and of course you took his prophecy. So much for a child of mine, eh?" returned the father quite sarcastically. "And indeed you hurried the process along. I had dealt with one of Gwyn's pitiful Four Knights - you finished him off yourself, I should note – and I would have turned the rest, had they came down to meet me. I would have nonetheless gotten the world… if not for you." The last remark being laden with venom. "Ever since my claiming the Dark Soul and splitting it, I have been hoping that, one day, all my plans, my hopes and dreams might come to fruition. I worked so hard, came even as far as gaining an army, the fearsome army of the Darkwraiths. I even had a Primordial Serpent – Kaathe – by my side. And yet, still… after all the hardships, the scheming and the pain… all of it is put to waste because of you! A child of mine, siding with the enemy! I nearly had taken the world, and you ruined all my efforts!" The man then lividly struck the hapless Undead with his staff – who retaliated by jabbing him in the stomach with a stiff steel gauntlet. "You dare interrupt?!"
"Enough father. Listen out to my side. Why, isn't that the only reason you wanted to talk with me? To understand me? Know my flaws, and correct them?" The knight laid a placating hand on his father's shoulder, who promptly brushed it off and retorted brusquely.
"You have some rudiments of sense... but you still are quite gullible. Even if you never knew about my plan about the Dark Soul, you always had me in you – your dark, Human side, which most of you children of mine regarded as evil, thanks to those bastards the gods. Tch." The man spat disgustedly. "I was always calling out to you, but you never listened, always sticking to what you perceived as the good of all… when it wasn't. To link the fire and save the world… save the world, bah! The world simply fell into yet more chaos when the Flame was rekindled. What about the Dark, now, eh? What is it that makes it so ungainly?"
"The Dark is far more chaotic than the Light. The Light, however, allows prosperity and progress, even if just a hair, a fleeting thread of it. As for the Dark, not so. Hey, who could work and thrive in the Dark? You could, perhaps, and all the other primordial beings out there, but the rest of existence couldn't. Wouldn't that count as being selfish on your part? To take all existence for yourself and a select few?"
The knight's retort was a crusher. It took several moments' pondering on the man's part, and in the ensuing silence, the knight continued on, musing. "Mhmm… and I wager you'd allow your creations – chaotic as they are - to ravage the world when you took it, squabbling among themselves as well? Doesn't a kingdom divided fall? Neither good for both Light and Dark, neh? And about the prophecy, I did take it, except someone else lit the First Flame." The knight finished, afraid of what would happen next. Had he pissed off his father again? But instead, after yet a few moments' pondering, the man gave himself a lopsided grin and chuckled, pacified.
"Quite intelligent and convincing you think yourself to be, eh? Impressive… you have a point of view that's yet to be seen." remarked who we now know as the knight's father. "Chin up, son. You might last some moments against Kaathe, with all his tricks, snares, barbs and rhetoric… Anyways, continue on."
"Well, uh, I figured out I wanted to save Oolacile as well. I saw the world was going quite… twisted there. Harmful even to fragments of the Dark Soul, like me. Which, again, showed me what might happen if the Abyss spread with your madness in the reins."
"Ah, I see. So you wanted to calm me down… And then you took my soul, let it rest, and it was pretty ingenious, that idea of yours. Using the Dark Hand to steal away all the rampant Humanity, thus purifying me. So what is it you drive at now?" the father asked. "Yes, I might be sane, but I am useless in this form, even if you place me in a weapon. I detest those forms, as I will be naught but active in my goal to spread my realm."
"No, father. That is not the case here…" returned the knight, now quite eager to explain his plans. "I have this friend who can craft a suitable body for you. And she also is against the forces of some other violent realm, as I can see, which is led by one blue spectral murderer." The knight pressed on. "We can help them in their war effort, broker truces, and spread the Abyss in that other realm, Subspace. Who knows how massive it might be?" he finished with a flourish.
"Ah, the idealistic, if not justified yet correct type." The father chuckled heartily. "Mayhap you have some sense in your endeavors. That is splendid to see, now that I am elucidated by your justifications. We shall talk again, soon, my child." He rose as if to leave.
The knight smiled, relieved. His father was quite a just man when it came to negotiations. He was, say… more reasonable than even Ser Miller, one of his instructors back in the camp who sided with him in the fiasco against Lautrec. "I see. Thank you, father Manus."
The toga-clad figure suddenly reverted to a brilliant pale white tongue of flame – a sprite – chuckling yet more. "Father Manus, I like that, heh! I'll give the matter some thought, son of mine. Though you're still wet behind the ears, though – you forgot to include the Darkwraiths and Kaathe in this jolly conversation of yours. Do remember, they're quite zealous when it comes to the development of the Abyss."
"I will, and a thousand thanks, Father Manus." The knight replied heartily. "I'll see to it your ambition comes to fruition."
The sprite then finally shimmered away, and the knight squatted down near his mind's Bonfire, happy and at ease. His father was quite all right, and it pleased him so.. In a few more moments, his mind and soul began to empty themselves of coherence, and he finally fell asleep in the truer sense.
Seeing that there was nothing more of interest, the Cosmic Spirit sighed, not quite sure what to feel about this new development. Was she really willing to risk aiding the brood of a devourer of worlds, inadvertently leading to the ruin of possibly the whole universe? Or might they be willing to work hand in hand for the good of all, to defeat the bloodthirsty echelons of the forces of Subspace?
She turned, began to phase away from the mind of the Undead… and suddenly, a hand clamped down upon her wrist like a vise. She turned around, startled for the second time in the night, stopped in her tracks by the Father, once more in his Human form.
A chilling panic began to set in after the initial shock at the face of such a formidable figure, but the specter managed to hold her composure. She then hurriedly thought of a plan of action. Instead of immediately beginning to offer excuses which might have put her into jeopardy, she stared back at the Father of the Abyss' cold, ruthless eyes and greeted him levelly, making titanic efforts to ensure her trepidation didn't show.
"Good evening to you, Sir Manus."
"And good evening to you as well, lady." He replied with an equally civil tone. Suddenly, a vacuum-like sensation began to creep into the Cosmic Spirit's hand, ebbing away at her essence greedily. "Hmm… it seems we have what is either a powerful soul or an intruder. Female, no less. But how do you identify yourself, then?" Manus' steely voice thundered out its' ultimatum. "Make your claims quickly, or perish. I will not allow anything harmful to befall my child…"
"I am the mother of your child's friend, the lady she mentioned – the lady who could bring you back to life. I am here because I fear that my daughter might be betrayed by someone she has yet to know, so thus I probe into your child's mind." Her face remained stolid, never showing the slightest bit of emotion, and matching her opponent's countenance.
"I see… and what if you are lying?"
"That you will have to judge for yourself, sir. We both act for the welfare of our children… but it is for the common good that we must unite. But as for me, I speak the plain truth."
Manus pondered upon this statement for a few moments, weighing several things quite heavily as his hand clamped down upon the spectral lady's arm like a vise, seeping away more of her essence – which, it seemed was boundless in nature. After a full minute, he spoke.
"So it seems we share the same goals… but you're being quite underhanded in your attempts to probe into my son's mind. I sense a certain insidiousness in your intrusion, and for that I will have to deal with you, dear lady of the stars."
Rallying his power, he gave out a mighty roar, and started to ramp up the spell's intensity… when the other spirit suddenly loosed a strong Force which was enough to knock him five feet away. As he slowly came to his senses, the Cosmic Spirit floated over and crouched near him, offering to help him up. "Forgive me, Sir… but I will not be trifled with so easily. But do forgive me, please. I should have not intruded like this, and as for striking you, I just acted on self-defense there, and I do really want to have–"
The Furtive Pygmy chuckled softly. "It's all right, it's all right, marm. Fancy yourself the tough one, neh? Impressive, actually." He refused the proffered hand and go up on his own, dusting his clothes. "But I have yet more to learn about about you, and I have yet to learn how to defeat you. Scrub that smug look on your face, marm – we are yet to clash, sooner or later! I'd love to spar with someone the likes of you."
Quite put out by the violence of his opponent, and in a furtive, yet relieved mood, the Cosmic Spirit nodded. "It is well, then, Sir Manus of the Abyss. I do hope you will consider my offer of pacifism, though. I'll be gone, and do take care on who you trifle with next time."
She then – finally! – managed to ebb out of the fabric of the Undead's mind, and out into the cool night's breeze of Anor Londo.
After two minutes' time of relieved basking in the moonlight, the Cosmic Spirit sudeenly felt herself flickering. "Oh. Time's up, I guess."
Silently thanking the Knightess (who was now in rest, or whatever counted for rest as a sword, anyways) for allowing her into the Undead's mind, she then ebbed out of her physical form and began speeding toward her next point of interest.
The Furtive Pygmy was quite disconcerted by how his interrogation went. He'd expected even just the slightest bit of discomfort and fear from his adversary. He always had that effect on his opponents, and yet more so on the female ones…
…and yet here was one exception.
This soul he had found was confident. Defiant. It had resisted him, and it was quite clear that she wasn't merely bluffing. He'd already used his most favorite draining spell on her, and yet she was still alive for the time being, and counting. What was more, she was actually had enough sense to refute him in a verbal debate.
In short, he'd found his match. And it irked him off. No one dared resist the might of the Father of the Abyss – except for his children. But still… quite a woman that was. One that left a strong impression on him. Indeed, he was growing eager yet for their next encounter.
What was more unnerving was his child, the Chosen Undead. He had not taken the side of the Light, nor the Dark – he had taken the progress and prosperity of the mortal side, Human, Hollow or not. That was an entirely different worldview, one only he knew of, and one that still had to be seen.
But then, after pondering yet more, the thoughts began to weigh heavily on him, and he began to grow weary. "I'll have to ponder this alone, undisturbed and well-rested, then." He mused to himself, turning once more into a Humanity.
He then closed his spectre's eyes and drifted off into a troubled sleep.
As the hours of night wore on and the moon glowed ever brighter in the sky, the Sentinels and Silver Knights finally finished their rounds and turned in for their reports, overseen by none other than Master Gwyndolin behind his fog wall.
At the end of everything, the God of the Darkmoon felt somewhat distraught at the powerful invaders that had dared land upon the home of the gods themselves… and yet was astonished by their surprising power.
"I care not for the Chosen Undead," his soft, sibilant voice intoned, "he is quite impudent to our cause. What bothers me though… that woman in question. She managed to pulverize one of your kind? With just a wave of her palm? Impossible… and yet true, as it seems. And you say the Darkmoon Knightess has been taken from us as well… Pah. Now not only has this invader defaced and defiled the manor of the gods… she has taken one of our own as well, aided by a false hero who we once worked with in bringing the Age of Fire back to its' former glory." He spat contemptuously. He brooded for a few moments, while his stalwarts stood at attention by his fog wall.
After a long silence, he spoke again, in clipped tones. "Against a being like that we will stand no chance in a full-frontal attack. What we need is subterfuge. I shall post the Hawkeyes to watch for further developments, and to apply deadly force if needed. The rest of you, take your leave. You are dismissed. We shall deal with these upstarts on the morrow, when we find a suitable plan of attack."
A crisp "Yessir!" echoed across the hallways of Anor Londo, followed by the shuffling of ironclad feet. After a while more, the God of the Darkmoon returned to the Tomb of his father and sat in the solitary chair in the middle of the room bothered.
Why must the Chosen Undead be on the invaders' side, he mused to himself, when he has quite recently lit the First Flame? He should be Cinders by now. Oh, I wonder... what woeful foes we come against. Although the rekindled Flame gives me respite... some of our best blades, especially the poor Knightess, have been taken. Gah. I'll have to think this over. I must not fail. Not for my family, nor for the good of all. He sat in vigil, never sleeping, always alert for anything that may arrive to despoil the tomb of his Father.
And as the night grew deeper in gloomy, curse-torn Lordran… it was very much the opposite of the world of Trophies.
Smashville. A vibrant, currently sunny place. Where its' citizens lived in peace… or fought fiercely either for leisure or to prove their mettle.
But the mood was quite dismal for one certain entity.
Master Hand rifled through the slew of paperwork on his appropriately-sized desk in Smash Mansion, looking worriedly at a schedule he'd set up on a corkboard and at the desk drawer he'd been rifling through. Lucky for me Crazy's still out there on vacation, on that galaxy he'd talked about.. Elseways I'd never find what I'm looking for, eh. Pity for the galaxy, though.
He sighed absentmindedly as he found the thing he was searching for – a particularly nasty collateral damage case, filed by the last beach resort they visited. It was, of course, another common "accident". To be specific, the ladies had blown up the bathrooms after an altercation between them and some Peeping Toms who generally were led by Wario or Falcon (the former being the instigator this time), and meant no harm at all… except to the ladies' privacy and dignity. They'd already settled the case, and of course they were found guilty.
As a result poor Wario was suspended (which was quite a relief to some), and the Mansion had to shell out some obscene amount of money, of course. Which was no problem for Master hand, he was an entity of creation after all. It was no problem for him to create legal tender out of thin air. (Neither was creating banquets and banquets of food just for one tiny pink black hole - or, say, puffball, and yet more than just him, anyways.) Now all he had to do was to wrap things up with the resort authorities. Finito.
But what worried him was the schedule. A lot of ends hadn't met back there, the deadlines for the tournament were fast approaching, and he still felt the roster of fighters felt quite short when it came to hype. But that could be taken care of, sooner or later.
Lastly, there were all the disturbances popping up in the universe, and to top it all off, one of his most reliable agents - Rosalina - had not returned at her usual punctuality. She had left for the latest anomaly seven days ago, the distance to the signal being manageable by her Comet Observatory in a scant two days. "She should be back by now…" he mused to himself worriedly.
He brooded over this for a few more moments, unable to make neither head nor tail of this. Rosalina was always punctual in her endeavors, even with her Luma children to take care of. She always arrived right before her deadline, or a scant few minutes late – which, combined with her usual outstanding performance in the field, made her the best scout in their circles - if not in the whole universe, even. The rest of them still had a few points to work on… especially Kirby with his innocent childishness, Fox with his cocksureness, Captain Falcon and his pride… and the list went on.
This here was a first-time scenario, and quite a terrible scenario indeed. He weighed the possibilities heavily. Ah, well. He thought long and hard about this matter. Something might have happened to her, or something might have taken her. That's the worst-case scenario. But if not, she's probably delayed by her children once more. But still... We can't take much risks, not especially if the possibility of her being compromised exists... Anomalies could do as much. Guess I'm going to have to call our second-best scout… He flicked on an intercom, and then called for Fox.
A little while later the mercenary arrived at the door, breathless and yet surprisingly eager. "Present and correct, sah! What is it you need? And by the way, where's Rosalina? Said she'd be back by now before she left…" he rattled on.
"Well, Fox, that's exactly why I called you. She hasn't been back, and that must have dire implications on her – "Master Hand began.
"Oh, please, Master Hand, sah. Don't worry much about that friend of ours." Fox began quite proudly. "She's been able to take care of a family while doing those requests of yours for eons. Don't you think she's had the power to fend for herself all those millennia? Against even world-eating monsters?" He finished, confident in Rosalina's power. They'd had dealings over the past three years, and he'd been a witness of her immense capability as both a fighter and a mother.
"I agree, Fox… and yet something seems quite strange with her tardiness now. She's been early for all the decades of work we've shouldered together. Personally, I'd say that's trouble." Master Hand returned levelly. "But what can you suggest?"
"Personally," the mercenary started, "I suggest leaving her be for about a day more, and if she doesn't come back, that's when I'd get worried. Maybe she's busy kicking the anomaly's hide?" he finished suggesting. "Besides, I've a few brawls to fight today, sah."
"All right then, Fox. I'll have to take your word on that… for now." Master Hand sighed. "Dismissed, and oh, by the way, thanks."
As Fox dashed out and closed the door, Master Hand muttered to himself about bills and went back to perusing his paperwork. "This is certainly going to be one taxing week."
And thus ends another chapter. Rate and review, as always, and if anything's right or wrong, do tell me!
\[T]/