From Darkness to Light and back again...(Fantasy)

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no, don't 'see if he wants to', force him cause if its anywhere near as good as this than we have the right to read it

 

*claps*Marvellous,marvellous.Im sorry for being away so long.Anyway,today is my birthday.I am 12 now.Cool,huh?*claps**Holds up a sign BOTH SHURAS FOREVER*

 

Elle and Zheng Long watched in amazement as Kuroi battled Asmodeus. The demon’s flames were turned aside harmlessly by Kuroi’s armor and the old swordsman deftly avoided all of Asmodeus’s blows. Kuroi dodged a clawed fist and sliced his katana into Asmodeus’s forearm. The demon lord roared in pain and lashed out with his foot. Kuroi sidestepped the blow easily.

“ We…we must help…” Elle willed herself forward, reaching a trembling hand towards her pouches to retrieve a spell component, though she had no idea what spell would prevail against a demon lord.

“ Foolishness! This is totally out of our league, Elle!” Zheng Long protested. The warrior monk had not ceased his trembling.

“ He is right, young lady. You can offer me little assistance here.” Kuroi said, during a lull in the battle. Asmodeus was keeling over, clutching his groin where the diminutive swordsman had stabbed him. “ Go and help organize the citadel’s defenses! The orcs are attacking again!” The battle-mage nodded reluctantly and left the chamber, with Zheng Long in tow.

“ Your soul be damned, Black Crow!” Asmodeus said, forcing the words through gritted fangs. “ Do you know how much that hurts?” Kuroi smiled grimly.

“ No.”

The battle-mage and warrior monk ran down the corridor, only to skid to a halt as a black armored figure confronted them. A trail of slaughtered mercenaries marked his trail. The Blackguard spurred his mount forward, brandishing his glowing rune-sword menacingly.

“ The leader of the orcs!” Elle exclaimed, almost grateful for the presence of an enemy that she could fight. The prospect of the coming battle drove her grief for Duke Cypher away somewhat. She raised her short sword and pulled out a short copper wire from her pouches. Shura had recounted their battle to her and she had just the right spell for the Blackguard.

“ I see him.” Zheng Long clenched his fists and adopted a battle stance. The Blackguard raised his sword to his face and saluted once, then broke into a gallop towards the pair, intent on hewing down any who stood in his way.

A lithe form dashed out from the shadows and the gleam of moonlight upon two blades flashed. Saber and short sword tore apart the throat of the Blackguard’s mount. The beast whinnied and threw its rider heavily to the ground with a resounding crash. The killer of the horse rolled agilely out of the way of the corpse as it toppled. Elle’s eyes widened in surprise but she wasted no time in chanting her spell. A crackling ball of energy appeared in her palm and she flung it towards the Blackguard’s prone form. The spell passed right through his armor and sent him into screaming convulsions as the electrical sphere discharged itself. The smell of burnt flesh filled the room.

“ Elle!” H’siao Fen ran towards the battle-mage. Zheng Long and Elle stared at her, their mouths agape. She carried a saber in her right hand and an old short sword in her left.

“ What are you doing with those?” Elle almost screamed. H’siao Fen blushed and swept her gaze down to the floor.

“ I…I just wanted to help you, Elle…” H’siao Fen tried to explain herself . Elle was furious but Zheng Long placated her.

“ We will need all the help we can get.” He reasoned. Elle bit back her reprimand and stroked the girl’s hair. She could never bring herself to speak too harshly to H’siao Fen anyway.

“ We did not know that you were so proficient in swordplay, H’siao Fen. Nevertheless, you are too young for this…” Elle broke off her speech as the Blackguard rose, smoke emanating from the creases of his armor.

“ You shall pay.” He said. The voice was horribly familiar to Elle but she could not quite place it. The Blackguard dashed forwards and brought his sword down in a mighty arc. Zheng Long caught the blade between his palms and halted it while Elle and H’siao Fen dived to the side. The warrior monk twisted the blade sideways and slammed the heel of his palm into the Blackguard’s helm, executing his trademark move as he did so.

“ Ki strike!” He yelled. The force of the blow snapped the Blackguard’s head violently sideways and he staggered backwards. Zheng Long punched him in the chest, calling upon his ki again. This time, the Blackguard’s ribs broke with an ominous crack. He coughed and blood sprayed from the visor of his helm. The warrior monk rained a flurry of devastating blows on the Blackguard, the nature of his attacks bypassing the heavily enchanted armor totally.

“ Hya…!” Zheng Long’s cry was cut off as a gauntleted hand enveloped his fist. Calling upon his unholy strength, the Blackguard gave a bellow of rage and flung the hapless warrior monk vertically up into the ceiling. Zheng Long bounced off and his body was swept aside by a furious backhand from the Blackguard. Elle winced as he bounced off the corridor walls to come to a skidding halt on the floor. She uttered a single word as she brushed a small crystal of salt across the length of her blade. The weapon’s edge shimmered as its enchantment took effect. The battle-mage barely brought it up in time to parry the Blackguard’s sword. She slid her short sword free and brought it into a slash towards her opponent’s neck. Her blade was caught in the Blackguard’s armored fist and he crushed it in his hand, the shattered fragments causing minute wounds all over Elle’s body. The rune-sword swung in a reverse arc to end the fight.

Shura struck the Blackguard’s helm a mighty blow with Jaroem’s hand axe. The enchanted weapon shattered along with a good portion of the helm. Dazed, the Blackguard turned around and drove the pommel of his sword into Shura’s mid-section. The swordsman gasped and fell to his knees, clutching his broken ribs. His eyes were still lucid with determination, though. He kicked out at the Blackguard’s shin, knocking the armored warrior off balance. His fingers found a crease in the collar of the burnished armor and he pulled downwards, bringing the Blackguard to the floor heavily. Shura rolled aside, avoiding the descent of the heavy form.

“ Now!” He cried to Elle. The battle-mage obliged him and blasted the Blackguard again with lighting, despite her elation and surprise at Shura’s sudden appearance. The spell sent the Blackguard skidding across the floor, screaming in agony as he collided with a decorative vase, shattering the delicate porcelain. His helm had disintegrated and Elle’s expression changed to one of disbelief and horror as she recognized his features.

“ Hacos!” She cried to her former fiancé. The Blackguard picked himself up, his face contorted with pain. He readied his sword again and charged, bellowing incoherently. His eyes showed no trace of recognition.

“ All glory to Blackmire!” Hacos screamed. Shura drew his wakizashi feebly but the Blackguard knocked it out of his hands. He hammered the pommel of his sword onto the back of the swordsman’s head and Shura collapsed, gasping. Shura wrapped his hands around Hacos’s shin and threw his shoulder against the limb, seeking to once again topple the Blackguard. Hacos kicked him away with his other foot. Elle ran forward and snared his arms.

“ No! Don’t you recognize me?” Elle screamed. Hacos answered her with a vicious punch to her face. The battle-mage staggered backwards, blood streaming from her nose. Shura dived and knocked her out of the way just as the rune-sword raked the air. The two were prostrate on the floor before the Blackguard and weaponless. Shura groped around on the floor and felt a sharp pain as the fragment of a broken short sword found his fingers.

“ Hacos!” Elle cried again. Hacos raised his sword above his head, and Elle found herself reciting the words to a spell. Her hands came up and unleashed the spell just as Shura flung the fragment of the sword into the Blackguard’s eye. The electrical sphere streaked towards the steel tip protruding from the bloody socket and seared its way into Hacos’s brain. The Blackguard gave one agonized scream. Smoke poured from his ears and his remaining eye burst in a shower of blood. A final phrase rattled from his lips.

“ All …glory to…” He fell backwards, never to rise again. Elle rushed to his side, clutching his face in her hands, sobbing piteously.

“ Oh, Hacos…I’m so sorry…” She muttered between her sobs. “ So sorry…” Shura spat a mouthful of blood and got to his feet painfully. Ignoring the battle-mage’s grief, he pried open Hacos’s rigid gauntlet and took his rune-sword. The enchanted sword glowed, as if glad to be in the possession of a worthy owner. Using the evil blade as a walking stick, he limped towards where his wakizashi lay and retrieved it.

“ It would seem that I am developing a talent for killing the old friends of others.” He said bitterly, before leaving Elle to her grief. Zheng Long had recovered and was rubbing his head painfully while a worried H’siao Fen tended to him. The girl shrank back in fear as the swordsman approached. The warrior monk raised his head to acknowledge his presence and to address him.

“ Shura, what happened to….you…?” The nature of his question changed as he gazed upon the swordsman’s altered visage. Gray streaks were now visible in Shura’s once-black mane and he seemed frailer and weaker somehow. Shura ignored his question entirely.

“ Where is Kuroi?” He asked flatly. Zheng Long obligingly pointed in the direction of Duke Cypher’s chambers. Shura set off without a second word, his breath labored and agonizing with every step.

A shining figure at the head of an armored column crashed into the rear of the orcs just as dawn broke. The sudden light and disadvantage shook the orcs. Without the Blackguard to lead them, many of them had already lost their heart for the fight. Mercenaries slaughtered them within the citadel and knights butchered them in the plains beyond the walls.

The leader of the knights broke through the orcish ranks, his glowing sword dripping with orc blood. He cleaved his way through the horde with frightening ease. The evil savages shrank from his mighty presence. A lithe elf rode behind him, her arrows striking with deadly accuracy. Kervast smote another orc and looked upon them. A smile lit his features.

“ Well done, Ranger!” He congratulated the elf. She raised her bow to acknowledge the compliment. The mercenary had some trouble recognizing the radiant armored figure but when he did, a look of wonder came upon his face.

“ Perhaps this is an age of miracles after all…” He said as the shining knight saluted the mercenary leader and galloped into the citadel’s interior on his white charger.


Elle stifled her sobs and wiped her face with the back of her gloved hand. She stroked Haco’s brow fondly once, then arranged his limbs in a dignified manner, with his arms across his chest. She had already lost him once, or so she thought. The second time was hardly as bad. Pain numbs itself as we get used to it, she thought morosely to herself.

Zheng Long and H’siao Fen stood respectfully by the side. They did not know about Hacos but it was evident that he was someone dear to Elle. Their love for the battle-mage made them withhold their questions though.

“ What your story was, Hacos…I shall never know.” Elle said softly as she stood up. “ Sleep well.” Her grief was filtered by the presence of a dark cloaked figure in her life now.

“ Elle!” The call caught her attention. Aalariel ran down the corridor. She spotted Hacos’s corpse and brought a hand to her mouth to stifle a moan of despair. Elle reached forward and embraced her mentor warmly.

“ What a tragedy…” Aalariel moaned. Hacos had grown up under her critical eye and she had imparted most of her martial skills to him. The boy could use a bow better than anyone else in the Cypher Duchy and he was arguably the most gifted swordsman as well, with Mikealus coming in a close second. Loss and grief filled the ancient warrior’s heart.

“ Death brings sorrow to all…but peace to some.” A strong voice echoed down the corridor. Zheng Long turned to regard the speaker with a yell of joy and H’siao Fen ran forward jubilantly to meet Mikealus. The girl halted as she neared the knight, however, her eyes widening in wondrous amazement.

The knight’s battered armor had been repaired to a fabulous condition. It shone under the early morning sun with a mirrored brilliance that H’siao Fen could hardly look upon. It no longer rattled with every step the knight took. Instead, it fit his body perfectly, curving itself to match the contours of the knight’s muscular frame. The chipped, unbalanced sword that he always wielded had undergone a similar transformation. Its edge was now perfectly flawless and a gentle, white radiance ran down its length. The Cypher Shield was slung on his arm. His face still retained his compassionate look but now it boasted a confidence that was previously absent. The companions were somewhat startled to see that Mikealus has aged prematurely during the night that he had been absent but unlike Shura, whose face was haggard and drained beyond his years, Mikealus’s features exhibited hard-won wisdom and showed evidence of terrible battles won gloriously.

“ Good morning to you, little one.” Mikealus patted H’siao Fen’s hair fondly before walking forwards to Elle’s side. He regarded Hacos’s corpse and recognized the Blackguard’s armor. The two had been fast friends before Hacos’s disappearance. The knight nodded slightly to his former friend.

“ May you find peace, my friend.” He said, his voice full of genuine regret and grief. Elle and Zheng Long stared at him in amazement. They expected the pious knight to hurl curses down upon the nemesis of his religion.

“ What happened to you, Mikealus?” Elle asked. The knight smiled and shook his head.

“ Now is not the time for tales, Elle. At this moment, you must put aside your grief and finish the battle at hand.” Mikealus responded. His words had an invigorating effect on the companions. Their fears seemed less real and their confidence grew in his presence. He laid a hand on Zheng Long’s shoulder and Elle’s cheek and the two of them felt warmth flowing into their bodies. When Mikealus removed his hands, their wounds were completely healed. “ Let us be off, then. Shura and Kuroi need our help. And so does Cypher.” He started walking off and the rest could only follow him in bewilderment. Aalariel answered the unspoken question for them all. She pointed at Mikealus’s back and said a single word, uttered with pride.

“ Paladin.”


Kuroi battled ferociously with Asmodeus. The demon lord’s magic washed harmlessly off the old swordsman’s fabulously enchanted armor and he had to resort to physical blows to ward off Kuroi’s flashing katana. Already, Asmodeus sported many nicks and cuts on his horned hide. Kuroi lacked the strength to strike a mortal blow, however. He was feeling his age. Every stroke brought a sharp pain to his shoulder and his breathing became more and more frantic and shallow as the fight went on. Nevertheless, he fought with an unequaled fervor, an expression at once contented and spirited fixed on his wrinkled face.

The kensai finally realized the source of the emptiness that had plagued his heart all those years that had followed since he gave up battle. His place was here, battling evil and securing peace for the future generations of the world, not at his fishing pond or chessboard. Shura’s presence in his life led him to these conclusions. The student of his old friend caused him to pick up his sword again, to blow the dust off his rusty skills. The fourteenth incarnation of Shura had pursued his path of darkness as determinedly as he once aspired to the ways of Harmony. Near the end of his long life, Kuroi threw the mantle of sorrow off his shoulders at last and took up his sword again. He knew that Kusanagi and Korlhar, his old companions, would smile upon him from the heavens that they have departed this world for.

A huge fist clipped Kuroi’s shoulder and sent the diminutive swordsman flying heavily into a wall. Sparks exploded before his eyes and he coughed blood. Kuroi lay there, his breath rattling as Asmodeus approached. He tried to raise Whispering Edge but there was no strength left in his sword arm. The demon lord loomed over Kuroi, a scornful expression on his face.

“ Age, samurai, age. Time is what mortals fear most.” Asmodeus rumbled mockingly. “ It is time for you to die, Kuroi Itezeru.”

“ A hero like you will never die lonely, Kuroi!” Shura called. Both Kuroi and Asmodeus turned to regard the swordsman who had just made his way into Cypher’s chambers. He brandished his stolen rune-sword before him. “ Fight me, demon!”

Asmodeus laughed mockingly. He raised a claw and a bolt of lighting raked the area where Shura was standing a moment ago. The swordsman had leapt aside as soon as he felt the demon gathering his energies. The disciplines of the Second Sphere made him sensitive to things unobservable to others. Shura landed lightly and dashed forwards, the rune-sword held low in both hands.

“ Well dodged, mortal!” Asmodeus congratulated him. “ But unlike Kuroi Itezeru here, you have no defense against my magic! How many more can you avoid?” The demon lord raised all his clawed fingers and bolts of lighting shot forth. Shura ducked and rolled frantically as the electrical beams shattered stone and dug scorched furrows in the marbled floor. Bending over backwards to avoid a bolt that was leveled at his head, Shura did a flip and kicked off the floor with both feet, dashing towards Asmodeus. The demon lord aimed another lighting bolt at the swordsman but Shura leapt into the air. The stone underneath his feet exploded as the destructive spell struck it. Shrapnel tore at Shura’s arms and chest but he ignored it, leveling his sword at Asmodeus’s chest. The demon lord opened his mouth and spoke a single reverberating word, casting a spell that took the form of a mighty sonic wave that blasted forth. The spell caught nothing but Shura’s cloak, however, as the swordsman tore it from his shoulders to divert Asmodeus’s attention. He was poised on the ground upon the balls of his feet, the rune-sword held at the ready.

A look of astonishment came across the demon lord’s face as Shura surged forward and struck mightily, the rune-sword shearing off Asmodeus’s left arm. Demon blood spurted and Asmodeus screamed in agony, a bellow that tore at one’s sanity and curdled one’s blood. Shura smiled in grim satisfaction. The expression was wiped off his face, however, as a bolt of lighting glanced off his chest as the demon lord retaliated. The spell threw him across the room to crash into a wall. His limbs jerked in repeated convulsions as the spell racked his body.

“ You shall pay for this, mortal!” Asmodeus bellowed, clutching his bleeding stump. The demon lord started to walk forward again but he found his way barred by Kuroi. The old swordsman held his katana in both hands resolutely.

“ I am your opponent, Asmodeus.” Kuroi said. He had gotten a much-needed respite from Shura’s intervention and he was now ready to do battle again.

“ You hardly scratch me, Kuroi.” Asmodeus scoffed. “ Very well, I shall dispose of you first. You have just enough strength left for one strike, samurai. Make it a good one. Do not disappoint me.” Kuroi smiled grimly. The demon lord was right. His strength was fading even as he maintained his battle stance. Asmodeus flexed his remaining talons. The old swordsman would not be able to avoid this attack.

A shuffling sound caught their attention, however. Both demon and samurai turned their heads to see Shura clawing his way back to his feet. He tried to hoist the rune sword but found the fingers of his left hand jarred and twisted out of their sockets. With a blank expression on his face, he proceeded to snap each digit back into place. He tried to flex his left hand but found the limb virtually useless. Shura abandoned the rune-sword and drew his wakizashi.

“ I am not done yet, demon.” Shura limped forward. Blood seeped from the sole of one of his shoes and he left a trail of bloody footprints behind him. A pink bubble burst from his lips with each breath but the bloodlust was evident on his face.

“ It seems as if I will have to fight the both of you together.” A note of grudging respect made its way into Asmodeus’s voice. Shura reached Kuroi’s side and the two eastern swordsmen faced off against the demon lord. With an unintelligible cry, Shura leapt forward. Asmodeus drove a claw hand towards his head but the swordsmen twisted his body. The claws gouged his flesh but failed to stop his advance. Shura hamstrung the demon lord deftly with his wakizashi. The short and curved blade was glowing with the power of his mental disciplines. Asmodeus bellowed in agony and fell over backwards, flailing his remaining limbs. A heavy foot clubbed Shura on the shoulder knocking him backwards. Kuroi took the opportunity to drive his katana into the demon lord’s abdomen. Taking the sword in a two-handed grip, he twisted it and yanked it sideways, spilling Asmodeus’s viscera all over the marbled floor. The old swordsman jumped backwards to avoid a swipe from Asmodeus and landed lightly on his feet beside Shura.

The demon lord snapped his head forward and a gout of flame burst from his gaping mouth. Kuroi stood unharmed in the demonic inferno but Shura had to leap high into the air to avoid getting burnt to a crisp. Adjusting his grip on his sword, Shura landed and lunged towards Asmodeus again. This time, a wet crack announced the snapping of the swordsman’s leg. A cracked bone had finally given way. Shura staggered and Asmodeus slapped a heavy hand on him, crushing him to the ground as a horrified Kuroi looked on.

“ So much for your friend, samurai.” The demon lord sneered at Kuroi’s outraged expression. The old swordsman had let the student of his old friend die. Would the secrets of the Shura Sword be lost in this manner? Asmodeus screamed as Shura answered the question for Kuroi by driving his wakizashi into the hand covering him. With a vicious slash, Shura severed Asmodeus’s wrist tendon. The huge claw hung limply as the demon lord pulled it away from Shura’s prone form. A quick strike from Kuroi took out one of Asmodeus’s eyes and he frantically dragged Shura away from the demon lord who was trashing in agony over his wounds.

“ Shura!” The old swordsman shook him as hard as he dared to. “ Are you alright?” Shura opened his eyes. They were disorientated and unfocused. He had suffered a major concussion on top of all the wounds that he had already received.

“ I…can…still fight…” Blood dripped from Shura’s mouth as he spoke. Kuroi started to respond but a bellow from Asmodeus caught his attention.

“ I shall destroy you all!” The demon lord raved, his beautiful and terrifying features contorted in agony. “ Can your friend survive another cloud of fire, samurai?” Kuroi took up his katana and charged, trying to prevent Asmodeus from casting his spell. He would not reach the demon lord in time and they both knew it. Asmodeus grinned terribly as he started gathering his demonic energies. A burst of flame emanated from his opened mouth and Kuroi cursed in frustration as it passed him harmlessly and headed towards where Shura lay.

“ NO!” Kuroi cried. His worry dissolved entirely, however, as he spotted a radiant figure standing over Shura’s prone form. The shining Cypher shield created an invisible barrier that drove the flames away. True fear showed on Asmodeus’s face as he spotted the newcomer and recognized him for what he was.

Elle knelt swiftly beside Shura and moaned as she spotted his terrible wounds. Cradling his head in her hands, Elle looked to Mikealus.

“ Heal him, Mikealus! He’s dying!” The paladin nodded and knelt to lay his hands on Shura’s chest. Divine power coursed through Mikealus into Shura’s battered body. The paladin frowned in puzzlement, however.

“ What’s wrong?” Elle asked. The swordsman did not seem to be responding to the healing. Shaking his head, Mikealus stood up.

“ My power can not touch him. His essence seems to reject it.” Mikealus said. “ But I shall heal him using another way.” The paladin looked to the heavens and spread his arms. To the astonishment of all those present, a ray of light streamed through a crack in the ceiling and bathed Mikealus in a heavenly radiance. The paladin laid a hand on Shura’s chest again and this time, the swordsman’s body shimmered with a slight halo, which died rapidly.

“ I could only stabilize his condition after drawing upon the power of Goodness.” Mikealus announced. “ Shura is certainly no ordinary individual to be able to respond so negatively to divine energy.” Elle sighed in relief and blinked away her tears. Kuroi laid a grateful hand on the paladin’s shoulder. Shura would not have survived without Mikealus’s presence. Zheng Long pointed a trembling finger past Mikealus’s shoulder.

“ Everyone…maybe…we should…worry…about ourselves…first….” He said, through chattering teeth. Asmodeus had healed his legs and his abdominal wound during the lull in the fighting. A new arm was growing to replace the one Shura had hacked off. The demon lord glowered menacingly at his antagonists.

“ Cypher!” Elle cried to the demon lord. “ I know you’re still there! Please listen to me!” Asmodeus laughed in response.

“ That weakling has been consumed body and soul by me! We are one, with me as the dominant will.” The demon lord said. “ Allow me to devour you too, woman, and you can be with him!” He strode forwards, flexing his remaining claw but halted abruptly as Mikealus barred his way.

“ I shall release both you and Cypher to find salvation.” The paladin drew his sword. The blade gleamed with a gentle, white radiance. “ May you know no more torment, demon.” His voice was quiet, yet strong.

“ Talk is easy, mortal. Death will be harsh and painful.” Asmodeus shot back. The quavering tone in his voice gave away his fear, however. The demon lord was cursing his luck to have run into a paladin silently.

“ No more talk, then. Prepare yourself!” Mikealus raised his sword and advanced, his expression resolute. Elle’s features hardened into one of determination and she drew out two small rods of crystal from her pouches.

“ Yes, no more talk.” She started chanting a spell. Zheng Long took up a combat stance by her side, his expression one of barely controlled terror. Asmodeus raised his claw and bolts of lighting streaked towards them. With a thought, Mikealus raised a shimmering barrier of divine energy that deflected the electrical onslaught. Elle completed her spell and threw her hands forward. A column of ice burst through the paladin’s barrier from inside and struck Asmodeus in the chest. The demon lord grunted in pain at the biting frost of Elle’s spell. His eyes widened as he spotted Zheng Long’s leaping form heading straight for him. The warrior monk spun in mid-air and planted his palm on the demon lord’s forehead. Asmodeus felt a terrific impact as Zheng Long unleashed the full force of his ki into a single strike directly onto his head. From a shadowed corner, Alalariel peppered the demon lord with her enchanted arrows. The points sank deeply into his demonic hide and the ancient elvish magic that they were imbued with seared his flesh as they disrupted his essence.

Kuroi tried to join in but he felt a sharp, stabbing pain in his chest. He fell to his knees and coughed once into his hand. When he removed it, he spotted blood on his palm. He had over-exerted his body. The greatest swordsman in the world could not defeat old age. Mikealus laid a hand on his shoulder and he felt strength flowing into his ancient frame. The pain in his chest eased but he still lacked the strength to further participate in the battle.

“ Rest, Kuroi. Let us handle this.” Mikealus said, before turning again to face Asmodeus. The paladin leapt forward, blocking aside a heavy claw with his shield and struck a mighty blow with his sword on the demon lord’s chest. Demonic blood spurted but none of it left a single stain on Mikealus’s shining sword and armor. Asmodeus roared and flexing his wings, broke free of Elle’s icy prison. He struck the ceiling and burst through the stone. Hovering in the air, he clutched his wounds and regarded the paladin and his companions.

“ Damn you, mortals! I refuse to believe that I, the Lord of Dementia, can be so easily defeated!” He screamed, before launching into an ominous chant. The essence shard set atop his chest flared as the demon lord drew upon all his powers. Aalariel sent a shower of arrows towards Asmodeus but the mighty beating of his wings swept aside the projectiles. With a final, resounding syllable, Asmodeus completed his spell and flung a fist-sized orb of darkness at them. The orb grew in size as it neared and consumed any debris that it brushed against. Mikealus raised his sword and thrust it into the orb. It shrank rapidly and finally dissipated into emptiness. Asmodeus gaped in disbelief at the sight.

Elle flung a disc of copper onto the floor and threw another one to Zheng Long. With a nod from the battle-mage, Zheng Long flung it towards Asmodeus. The demon lord raised his claw to bat it aside but an arrow struck the disc and veered it off course. Asmodeus found himself swatting air as the disc spiraled into the emptiness directly above his head.

Speaking three words of power, Elle cast her next spell, inverting the gravity in the space between the two discs. Asmodeus’s mighty wings brought him crashing down onto the floor. Before he could break into the lower levels of the castle, Elle redirected the spell, causing the demon lord to be suspended in mid-air.

Disorientated, Asmodeus could only stare in terror as he regarded Mikealus standing before him. The paladin thrust his sword forward and touched the demon lord gently with its point. The gentle radiance of the sword permeated Asmodeus’s frame and he felt his body start to disintegrate.

“ NO! WHAT ARE YOU DOING TO ME, MORTAL?” Asmodeus demanded. Mikealus looked him straight in the eye. There was no fury or hate in the paladin’s expression. Only compassion and pity.

“ Ending your agony.” Mikealus replied. Asmodeus started to cast a spell but he found that he had no more limbs left. With a sudden implosion of air that knocked everyone else off his or her feet, the demon lord disappeared. A specter was left hovering over the Essence shard.

“ Cypher!” Elle rushed forward and tried to embrace him but found herself incapable of touching the late Duke Cypher’s incorporeal form. The duke bowed his head and regarded Elle with sorrow on his ghostly face.

“ My girl…how sorry I am…please forgive me…” He broke off into sobs. Elle felt her eyes fill up with tears but she brushed them aside and forced a smile on her face.

“ There is nothing to forgive, my lord. Do not feel bad, please.” Elle implored her the specter of the man who had been like a father to her. Another specter materialized beside Duke Cypher and Elle gasped in surprise. Hacos laid a hand on his father’s shoulder.

“ Don’t make things awkward for Elle, father.” Hacos said. The duke stopped weeping and regarded his son’s ghost. For a moment, it seemed as if his sorrow would increase, then his face took on an expression of resigned contentment.

“ I had hoped that you would be living happily somewhere, my son, but I am glad to be reunited with you.” Duke Cypher said. Hacos nodded, a smile on his face and turned to regard Elle.

“ Is there anything that needs to be said between us, Elle?” The specter asked. Elle shook her head. The two of them had shared more than what could be expressed in words and both the living and the dead had to go on. They shared one last smile. Taking his father by the hand, Hacos looked at Mikealus.

“ You will guide us, will you not?” He asked. The paladin nodded. He raised his sword and pointed it towards the heavens. Hacos looked at the direction he was pointing at and seemed to see something. “ My thanks, old friend.” The two specters soared into the sky and vanished. Elle’s composure broke and she fell to her knees, weeping.

Kuroi lifted Shura’s head so that he could see the sunlight of a new day. The swordsman squinted painfully. He never welcomed the dawn.

“ Welcome to the light, Shura.” Kuroi said. Shura knew that his mentor was judging him by his deeds and not his heart but he did not say anything, despite the denial that he wanted to vent in an agonized scream.

 

shura! dieeee! hahaahah
im kidding. story is coming along reaal slow...mine i mean.

 

this rocks... as usual

 

The number of talented authors increases daily. Your story has put you among them. Excellent story. I love what I have read.

 

Troubled dreams plagued Shura’s sleep. He found himself atop the snowy hill where he and his sensei used to live. It was night and the moon shone frostily on the white landscape. The fourteenth Shura sat on a boulder, a dish of rice wine in one hand and a bottle beside him. He seemed distracted. The normally cruel set of his face was absent as he gazed at the moon. His student stood at the foot of the boulder.

“ The heart…ails even the
mightiest…” Shura the fourteenth said. “ Can no human escape this agony?” The scene faded away.



The imperial courtesan Mayako, strummed her instrument as she performed before the heir to the Empire. The beautiful music was haunting and it tore at Shura’s soul as he hung from a shadowed recess in the ceiling. The elf started singing in the High Speech, a language reserved only for the highest ranked caste in the east, the elves. The Imperial heir seemed disinterested and bored. Shura drew his swords soundlessly and nodded. The legendary yojimbo Bu-Shin was not around tonight. He dropped to the floor and dashed forwards. Mayako’s song broke off into a terrified shriek that lasted for less than a moment before the heir, in his haste to defend himself, drew his sword and sliced the courtesan’s ribs apart. The katana caught in her body and Shura buried his blades in the elven lord’s eyes.

Blood streaming from her mouth, Mayako clutched the hem of Shura’s kimono.

“ Remember…my…song…” She implored him. Shura nodded and drove his katana into her forehead, ending her life. On his way from the capital, Shura handed a scroll to another courtesan. It was Mayako’s song, re-written from memory by Shura.
The east would hold no place for him to avoid Bu-Shin’s wrath from then on.


Ander and Kalvairn were indulging in a rare moment of silliness, challenging each other to an absurd card game in which those who did not cheat would be disqualified. Shura laughed at the sight of the handful of cards stuffed so blatantly into Ander’s arm bracers and Kalvairn’s shoulders were heaving in amusement. Blackmire was already rolling on the floor, laughing wildly at the ridiculous sight and at Ander’s inability to count. Taking a deep drink from his tankard to calm himself down, Blackmire clapped Shura on the shoulder.

“ Tomorrow, we ride for fame and glory.” He said.. “ You will fight beside me all the way, will you not?” Shura nodded.
Blackmire’s eyes flared red in a sudden fury.

“ TRAITOR! YOU HAVE TURNED AGAINST ME!”


Shura awoke with a terrified gasp. Cold sweat beaded his body and he ached everywhere. He looked down to find his left shin splinted to a plank of wood. The bone had been properly set and he sighed in relief. He had no desire to break the bone again to reset it. Numerous stitches burned lines of agony across his skin.

Looking around, Shura found that he was in the room allocated to him in the Cypher citadel. Elle was seated at a table beside his bed. With her head resting upon her arms, the battle-mage was fast asleep. He found his cloak neatly laid atop a stool and he draped it across Elle’s shoulders. Shura opened the door silently and exited, his broken leg convulsing in agony with each step he took. A small window along the length of the stone corridor he was in streamed sunlight onto his form. Squinting his eyes painfully, Shura looked out of the window upon the Cypher citadel.

Numerous townsfolk scurried about their business, eager to rebuild and resume their lives in the aftermath of the orcish attack. Shura sighed. With the death of Duke Cypher, things were going to change rapidly for the common folk. Neighboring nobles would take the opportunity to annex and oppress this land that had lost their leader. The Cypher Duchy was too small and remote to be bothered with previously, especially with the token resistance that a legitimate noble lord could put up. Without a rightful ruler, Shura could name a dozen other nobles that were more warlike and less benevolent by far who would only be too glad to claim the Cypher lands for themselves. The newly annexed land could be heavily taxed and the populace used as breeding stock for slaves. The conquering warlord would not have to worry about the welfare and well being of his new prize, as it would hardly affect his original fief. Duke Cypher’s efforts during his lifetime to remain neutral in the countless conflicts that were tearing the land apart would be for naught.

Shura turned to hobble down a corridor and found himself facing the radiant figure of Mikealus Blek-Lance. The paladin raised an eyebrow in surprise.

“ You’re finally awake, Shura.” Mikealus congratulated him on his recovery. “ How are you feeling?”

“ I am fine.” Speaking took more effort than the swordsman realized and he almost staggered against the wall. “ How long have I been unconscious?” Shura asked. The paladin walked over and took hold of his arm, supporting him.

“ A week, Shura. You have been drinking only what we could pour down your throat and eating nothing,” Mikealus opened the door softly and lead Shura in. To his annoyance, the swordsman found himself too weak to protest. Elle stirred at Mikealus’s entrance. Even in his weakened state, Shura could move more quietly than the paladin by far. She spotted Shura and got to her feet. Dark rings of exhaustion were evident under her eyes. The cloak draped over her shoulders slipped off and she caught it before it fell.

“ Good morning, Shura. Are you feeling better?” Elle asked, taking the swordsman’s other arm and helping him to his bed. Shura nodded absently at her query. Far too much was on his mind for him to bother with her.

“ Where is Kuroi? Is he alright?” Shura asked Mikealus. The paladin smiled and nodded.

“ Kuroi is as hale and hearty as ever. He just berated Zheng Long this morning for his shoddy performance on the practice grounds.” Mikealus said, an amused grin on his face. The corners of Shura’s mouth twitched wryly. That sounded exactly like how the cantankerous swordsman would behave.

“ Shura…” Elle began but the swordsman cut off her speech with a sudden start. Shura made a renewed effort to rise again, much to the battle-mage and paladin’s dismay.

“ Jo-annia!” Shura said, gritting his teeth at the sudden jolts of pain that ran through his body. “ I must check on her!” Mikealus laid a gentle but firm hand on Shura’s shoulder, preventing him from rising.

“ The scribe and her family are unharmed, Shura.” The swordsman sighed in relief at that statement but he still seemed reluctant to resume his rest. In the illumination of the early morning sun, Mikealus saw the change that had come over Shura’s features. The swordsman had aged prematurely. Wings of white now streaked across his temples and his face was sported haggard lines that had been absent previously. The paladin had experienced a similar change but he had come out stronger from his own trials, unlike Shura. It was as if his life force had been drained. Mikealus would have tried to reverse such a change with the powers vested in him but with Shura’s resistance against all beneficial forms of divine power, the paladin knew that it would be a futile effort.

“ I…I shall go and fetch you some food, Shura.” Elle said weakly. Before anyone could respond, she left the room. The paladin gave Shura a disapproving stare.

“ Aside from tending to the funerals of the Duke and Hacos, she has spent every hour she could spare at your bedside.” The swordsman’s response was a blank look. “ You should at least say something to her.” Mikealus went on. Shura shrugged absently, much to the paladin’s consternation.

“ You know what will befall the Cypher Duchy, do you not?” Shura asked. The sudden grim expression that came over the paladin’s face told Shura that he did. “ So I assume you will be donning the mantle as the new lord of the Cypher Duchy. “ Mikealus shook his head, an exasperated sigh escaping his lips.

“ I have duties elsewhere, Shura. Besides, I have less claim to this fief than the dozen of neighboring warlords around the Cypher Duchy.” Mikealus said.

“ You are a noble, are you not?” Shura pointed out. “ According to the customs of the west, you could have a legitimate claim to the Duchy if you married Elle, the late duke’s adopted daughter.” Failing to notice the incredulous look that came over Mikealus’s face, the swordsman continued. “ It would be a shaky claim at best, but it is still better than nothing.”

“ That is unacceptable.” The paladin protested. “ I regard Elle as a respected elder sister. Besides, I have to depart soon. There are other matters in the world that require my attention.”

“ Matters more important than your friends, paladin?” Shura asked, a cynical smirk creasing his face. “ Whether the two of you have feelings for each other is irrelevant in this matter, Mikealus. That is the best way to keep the Cypher Duchy from falling into the hands of other nobles. Consider it a marriage in name.”

“ I must work for the greater good, even if it means that I will be unable to stand by my friends at all times.” The paladin said, his expression somber. “ Your soul harbors much more darkness and bitterness than since we last met, swordsman. Beware that it does not devour you.”

” And yours is too damn bright!” Shura snapped. He made an angry gesture with his hand. “ You sicken me with your righteousness, paladin! Leave me be!” Mikealus rose stiffly, regarding the swordsman sadly and pityingly.

“ Take care of yourself, Shura.” The paladin opened the door to reveal Elle standing before it, a laden tray in her hands. Mikealus held the door open for her and shut it gently as she entered, leaving the two of them alone.


Elle laid the tray on the table beside Shura’s bed. She removed the cloth covering the food and beamed at the swordsman.

“ The new cook seems to be very skilled, Shura. We have not had such good food in the citadel for a long time.” She picked up a bowl and Shura realized with horror that the battle-mage was about to spoon-feed him. The swordsman hurriedly snatched the bowl out of her hands.

“ My thanks.” He said curtly. The broth in the bowl held little appeal to him, despite the many days that he had gone without food. Still, he ate. Shura had a feeling that he would see more battle before he could be free of this whole affair with the Cypher Duchy.

“ The war is over at last.” Elle sighed. Shura gave a cynical laugh and shook his head.

“ The war is never over, woman. Your battle might be done, but death and conflict still ravage this land. Even now, Blackmire leads his forces in an attempt to crush the armies of the Church. Countless nobles expend the blood and souls of their serfs in endless struggles over territory.” The swordsman said. “ No, the war shall never end as long as humans populate this land.”

“ Then it will be up to us to put an end to all this strife.” Elle replied, more than a little disheartened by Shura’s reprimand.

“ Us? Do not include me in any of your schemes.” Shura snarled. “ I have more than fulfilled my contract with Duke Cypher and Kervast.” He set his bowl down heavily upon the table. “ Not everybody has a pressing need to embark upon a quest for world peace, if you have not noticed.”

“ I…I just…” Elle stammered before Shura cut off her speech with a sharp and impatient gesture.

“ Get out! You irritate me with your yammering!” The swordsman said. Elle fled his room, tears brimming in her eyes, leaving the door to his room ajar. Shura focused his thoughts and reached out with his mind. Acquiring a mental grip on the door, he shut it. His mental powers have grown considerably after the encounter with Katherine and her minions. Shura found his wakizashi stashed away in a small closet and he retrieved it. Using its razor sharp edge to trim the splint around his broken leg, he found that he could walk steadily, albeit with a slight limp. His few belongings were still wrapped up in a small bundle and he slung them over his shoulder. The bundle contained a couple of small books and a miniature portrait of Blackmire, Ander, Kalvairn, Katherine and him.

Shura opened his door again and left. He was determined to be out of the citadel and the surrounding town by nightfall. Going down a stairwell, he reached a small exit used by the servants. The swordsman reached for the handle but a voice halted him.

“ Shura…” The querulous voice raised his hackles. Turning around, he spotted an elderly servant shambling towards him. The old man’s eyes were sightless and rolled upwards in their sockets.

“What do you want, peasant?” Shura asked. He wrapped a hand over the hilt of his wakizashi as the servant reached out for him with trembling hands. “ Keep your distance, fool!” He snarled. The old man seized his collar with surprising force and lifted the swordsman off his feet. The wakizashi came free of its sheath and Shura rammed the blade into the servant’s midriff. The point failed to penetrate and he understood the true nature of the servant.

“ Message…from Lady Katherine…” The old man leaned forward, baring his fangs. “ Traitors…shall suffer…a fate…worse than death!” Shura reversed his blade and flung it backwards, twisting his body at the same time. The wakizashi knocked the door open, flooding the area with sunlight. The vampire let go of Shura as its flesh burned in light of day. The swordsman rolled away as he hit the floor, coming up to one knee awkwardly some distance away.

“ Die, monster!” Shura spat. The vampire did not give a single scream of agony as it burned. Instead, high, mocking peals of laughter emanated from its throat until the sunlight consumed it totally. A sudden thought struck him and he started in horror. The Essence Shard of Asmodeus! It had not been destroyed! Katherine would still be seeking it.

Shura decided that the vampire must not have the shard. If she could merge her already formidable abilities with the power of a demon lord, she would be the equal of Blackmire, at least. He knew that Katherine would not let sibling kinship get in the way of her plans. Also, who knows what kind of fearsome retribution the vicious vampire would wreak upon the people of Cypher? The swordsman had a hard time pushing his self-doubts aside despite repeated reminders to himself that he did not care. Shura reached out with his mind again, seeking to locate the Essence Shard. He detected the strong aura of negative energy emanating from the shard easily. It was stored in a remote chamber in the citadel.

“ Let us finish this, Katherine.” Shura snarled as he stalked off into the town built within the walls of the citadel.




Kervast spotted the swordsman limping across a street from the window of the tavern he was having his meal at. Dropping a coin on the table, the mercenary left the tavern and strode forth to intercept him.

“ Shura!” Kervast bellowed heartily, clapping him heavily on the shoulder. Shura staggered and winced in pain. He had not recovered from his wounds totally. “ You’re finally on your feet again! Can’t wait to get back to battle, eh?” The mercenary stroked the hilt of his new sword, an oversized monstrosity that protruded from a sheath on his back.

“ You seem eager to test that blade on someone.” Shura grinned. Kervast laughed his agreement. “ I need to acquire some weapons too.” The mercenary raised his eyebrows.

“ You seek to replace that curved sword you broke?” Kervast asked. He sighed as Shura nodded. “ Folded steel blades are not regularly made here, Shura. You will have to place a custom order with a smith. It will take a while, assuming he knows how to forge one. Why don’t you make do with beaten steel instead?”

“ Swords forged from beaten metal are unable to withstand my grasp unless they are as huge as that cleaver you have strapped behind your back.” Shura said. “ And I lack the strength to wield such a weapon.”

“ Carry a few swords around so that you can switch weapons when they break, then.” Kervast replied. Shura answered the ridiculous suggestion with an exasperated sigh.

“ Anyway, I shall have to visit the smith.” The swordsman bid Kervast farewell but the mercenary had one final piece of advice to impart.

“ The old smith died during the battle, you know? Someone who just arrived in town three days ago has replaced him. Grumpy little fellow.” Kervast said to his departing form.




Dlvekias banged on his anvil monotonously. The horseshoe was almost finished. He picked up the shoe with a pair of tongs and quenched it in a barrel of water. The work was nothing special, but it was not shoddy. The blacksmith felt an overwhelming sense of boredom but he pushed it into the dark recesses of his mind, along with a thousand nefarious designs for weapons.

The slightest rustle of a leather sole on tiles alerted him to a presence within his establishment. He raised a thick eyebrow in interest. Humans were so typically clumsy that one of them entering his shop would sound like a set of iron pots falling heavily to a stone floor.

A dark figure stood in his doorway. The human seemed to be favoring a limb slightly. Dlevkias rubbed his bearded chin in intrigue.

“ How may I help you, sir?” He asked gruffly. Shura leaned forward and rested his arms on the smith’s counter.

“ I need a sword. Single edged, curved and about three and a half feet long.” The swordsman replied, looking at the blacksmith curiously. The man’s height barely reached Shura’s chest and a thick black beard covered most of his face. Despite his height, the smith was heavily muscled and broad-shouldered. Dlevkias noticed that Shura’s complexion and facial features were not common to those of this land and nodded.

“ You’re asking for a katana?” Dlevkias stated as much as asked. Shura indicated his agreement with a tilt of his head. The smith shrugged and gave a low and helpless laugh. “ I have none in stock, my friend. You should know better, easterner. Katanas and wakizashis are custom-ordered and forged by licensed weapon crafters of the Empire of Blades.”

Shura sighed in frustration. How difficult could it be to get a weapon? He took out his money pouch.

“ Very well, then. Just hand me a reasonably crafted blade. Single edged, if possible.” The swordsman said. Dlevkias grinned.

“ How many people have you killed, warrior?” The smith asked suddenly. Shura was taken aback by the question at first but he regained his composure rapidly. He stared down at Dlevkias coldly.

“ More than you can ever aspire too, smith.” Shura said matter-of-factly. Dlevkias laughed heartily at that.

“ You reek of the blood of others, warrior, but I doubt your body count can ever rival mine.” He chortled. A sudden rush of inspiration filled his mind, overwhelming his deep-rooted sense of regret and fear. “ Wait here. I have a weapon that might just suit you.” Dlevkias turned and walked into his inner room, pulling a key from his pocket. He opened a steel cabinet, revealing a weapon rack arrayed with fearsome, gleaming instruments of death. He selected one and removed it.

Shura waited patiently outside. He was slightly unnerved by the slight gleam of madness in the smith’s eyes when he boasted about the amount of people that he had killed but a strange sense of anticipation filled him as Dlevkias came hurrying back, a long object wrapped in cloth in his hands.

“ Catch this, warrior!” Dlevkias ripped the sword from its cloth and flung it towards Shura who reached out for it instinctively. His fingers closed deftly about its hilt but the unexpected weight of the sword nearly wrenched his wrist out of its socket. Letting the sword’s momentum go unhindered, Shura spun it a full circle and brought it before his face.

The sword was curved and slightly longer than his katana. A single cube of steel served as its hand guard and the hilt was cold, unpolished steel. The surface of the blade was a dull black but its edge was keen. A sudden breeze blew a loose thread from Shura’s cloak towards the blade. It was split evenly down its length upon the slightest contact with the edge.

“ This sword is not enchanted?” Shura asked, taking a few practice swings with it. He could not detect the slightest trace of sorcery upon it. The swordsman had wielded a fair number of enchanted swords before. Unfortunately for him, none of them ever survived more than a few battles in his grasp.

“ No. It is made of ordinary steel by my own design. It seems similar to a katana in shape but I have made it slightly longer and heavier so that it can slice through plate-mail with ease. An adaptation of the art of folding steel used by the weapon-smiths of your homeland has negated the need to ever sharpen this sword.” The smith explained. “ It shall break before it bends or needs honing, just like its wielder.”

Shura was speechless as he examined the sword. It seemed to fit better in his hand than the katana that he had wielded since he was a child. Drawing his wakizashi, he adopted a practice stance. The smith stared in amazement as Shura went through a few striking sequences with them.

“ You can wield such a sword with one hand!” Dlevkias exclaimed. “ I knew it! The sword was forged for you!” The smith ran to a barrel and drew out a few bars of steel. He flung one at Shura and the swordsman sliced it cleanly into half. Even Shura was amazed at the blade’s keenness. “ Now try all of them!” Seven bars of cold steel were thrown towards him, propelled by Dlevkias mighty arms. Shura drew upon the powers of his mind, effusing his swords with his mental might. Blue flame flared along the lengths of his swords and he cleaved the whole bundle into three equal portions with a simultaneous strike from both blades. The severed steel bars hit the floor ominously as Dlevkias gaped in wonder.

“ A psychic warrior! I have never seen one amongst the humans before!” Dlevkias blurted, his eyes wide in astonishment. Shura was unfamiliar with the term and mystified by his curious speech.

“ I shall take this blade. How much for it?” The swordsman asked. Dlevkias snapped his mouth shut and shook his head.

“ No! Take it! Countless souls shall perish under this blade!” The smith muttered fervently. “ That is payment enough!” Shura shrugged and laid the sword on the counter.

“ So be it, blacksmith.” Dlevkias deftly fashioned a hilt for the black sword, a grin of madness fixed on his face.

“ Promise me one thing, warrior.” The smith said. Shura cocked his head curiously. “ Return to the forge of Dlevkias occasionally! I shall craft more weapons of slaughter for you.” Shura fastened the black sword to his belt and turned on his heel.

“ We shall see.” He said coldly. Peals of insane laughter filled the shop as he left. Dlevkias howled with glee as he envisioned the rivers of blood that would flow.

Aalariel and Zheng Long were in the citadel courtyard, along with H’isao Fen. The warrior monk was telling a group of children a folk tale from his homeland. H’siao Fen was among the pack of apt listeners. Her face was one amongst the many that surrounded and looked up at the animatedly gesticulating Zheng Long in wonder as he spun a tale of wonder. The ranger was listening with bored disinterest. She had heard that story countless times.

She sat up from her relaxed pose on the soft grass, however, as she spotted Elle emerging from the interior of the citadel. The battle-mage’s eyes were red-rimmed and downcast. Aalariel knew of only one person who could affect her so. Frowning in anger, the ranger got up and stalked off, leaving the warrior monk alone with his juvenile audience.

She bumped into Kuroi along a corridor. Aalariel could not help but recoil in disgust at the mere presence of the half-elf. She had the greatest respect for the heroic swordsman but considered him an abomination.

“ Ah, greetings, revered elder.” Kuroi bowed. He greeted her in the formal way that an elven youth would greet an adult. Ignoring her feelings of wrongness, Aalariel nodded stiffly to Kuroi. The ranger was youthfully radiant while Kuroi was old and decrepit.

“ Your student is up and about, Black Crane.” Aalariel said. “ You should take him in hand.” Kuroi blinked in surprise.

“ Shura’s not my student any more than you are, revered elder.” Kuroi replied. “ I consider him more of an equal than anything else.” Aalariel flushed in anger at such a preposterous statement. “ So, he is awake now. Perhaps I should go check on him…yet…it is such a nice day for fishing down by the stream outside town…”

“ You are more human than elf, swordsman!” Aalariel said. “ I shall not deign to converse with you any further!” She stomped off in exasperation. Kuroi laughed lowly at her departing back. He had lived more in his two centuries than the ranger had in her millennia of life. He pitied the ranger more than a little, as he pitied the rest of his full-blooded kin.

Kuroi spared one worrying glance in the direction of the chamber where Asmodeus’s Essence Shard was stored, and walked off to get his fishing pole.




The sense of malevolence and hostility that permeated the streets nearly overwhelmed Shura’s mental senses as he scoured the area for traces of Katherine’s influence. Mikealus Blek-Lance should be able to sense such auras, he thought. Why had the paladin not taken any action to root out the vampire’s efforts in the week that he had been unconscious? He was a far mightier force than Shura, whose whole body hurt with the mere effort of wielding the black sword.

The answer came to him easily. He had sensed Katherine’s presence because he had fought by her side for many years. Shura was as attuned to Katherine’s mind as he was to Blackmire’s, Kalvairn’s and Ander’s. He briefly considered approaching Mikealus for help as he feared he might be overmatched this time but he quickly quelled that idea. He trusted the paladin about as much as he trusted the treacherous vampire.

Night was falling. Shura approached the chamber where the essence shard was kept. Two armed Cypher guards barred his way. They regarded the scowling swordsman with apprehension.

“ We can’t let you in, Shura. Not unless Lady Elle or Lord Blek-Lance says so, at least.” A guard said apologetically. His face paled as Shura laid a hand on the hilt of his newly acquired sword.

“ Are you so eager to seek death, fool?” Shura snarled. “ Leave this place at once if you value your life!” The guard glanced nervously at his equally frightened companion but they did not move.

“ I’m sorry. Please turn back.” He was resolute despite his unease. Shura exploded into motion, striking the guard in the side of the head with his fist then gliding forward and fastening his fingers around his companion’s throat.

“ Help…” The remaining guard yelped weakly before Shura tightened his grip, pressing down on his pressure points. The hapless man fell limply to the floor and Shura stepped over his body.

The shard was placed on a table at the far end of the room. It was still stained with Cypher’s blood and it glowed eerily as Shura approached. It…called to him. Insidious whispers, gibbered promises of power filled his head. All he had to do was to reach out and take hold of the shard. He would then inherit the power of the demon lord Asmodeus! What would be left of his enemies? Katherine would be vanquished with a thought! Mikealus would be crushed like an over-polished can of metal! He could tear the soul of Feros into a thousand pieces and feed him to the fiends of hell forever! Jo-annia would be his to possess…he pulled back his hand just as it was about to make contact with the shard. He staggered back, breathing hard.

“ The shard has no influence over those whose hearts are goodly by nature.” A feminine voice said behind him. Shura spun about, reaching for his sword. The sound of a bowstring being pulled back halted his action, however. Aalariel had an arrow readied and aimed at his head.

“ I knew it. You mercenaries are all alike.” The ranger said, her voice full of contempt. “ You covet nothing but wealth and power for yourself.”

“ You are in no position to judge me, ranger.” Shura snarled. He laid his hand on the hilt of the black sword. His other hand retrieved something from a small pouch. He squeezed hard on the object hidden in his free hand.

“ Oh, but I am. Remove your sword belt and throw it onto the floor.” Aalariel said coldly. “ Or I shall find out how a third nostril looks on your face.”

“ In your dreams, elf bitch.” Came the swordsman’s reply. Blood dripped from his left hand. The ranger’s eyes narrowed in puzzlement. Shura opened his palm to reveal the thorny stem of the Fiendfog plant. The plant was a powerful narcotic used to dull pain and fill the recipient with a sense of strength and power. Its addictive powers were legendary but Shura’s discipline rendered him immune to its negative effects.

“ What…?” Aalariel muttered. The black sword came free of its sheath with a terrible rasp. The ranger loosed her arrow straight for Shura’s face but he struck it aside with a sweep of his blade. Aalariel reached for another arrow as the swordsman bore down swiftly on her. She set the arrow on the notch of her bow and pulled back the string…Shura rammed his sword into her arm, pinning her to the wall. The elf screamed in agony, a cry that was cut off as Shura backhanded her viciously with the hilt of his wakizashi. He pulled the black sword free as the ranger fell limply to the stone floor.

Shura then proceeded to light the torches lining the walls of the chamber. He was in the midst of doing so when the sun set suddenly, plunging the land into darkness. Aalariel regained consciousness as darkness fell. She squinted curiously at the sight of Shura lighting the torches.

“ Why…are…you doing that?” She asked painfully, rolling her tongue about her badly cut mouth. Shura looked at her with a mildly amused look. The whites of his eyes had turned red, a side effect of partaking of the Fiendfog narcotic.

“ Why…you mean you can’t feel it? Concentrate harder, ranger.” Shura told her, as he set about his task. “ You’re an experienced warrior. You should have developed your dairokan, or sixth sense by now.” Aalariel glared at him, clutching her wound which was painfully wrapped in a crude bandage that Shura had fashioned out of her own tunic. Her eyes widened as she realized that the swordsman was speaking the truth.

“ What…who…?” She stammered. Shura laughed at her distress.

“ My old comrade is coming and I am preparing a grand welcome for her.” Shura said. “ Go, ranger. Go running to your precious paladin. He will have more than a handful of a situation on his hands to handle, I can assure you.” Aalariel did not waste any more time. She surged to her feet and yanked the door to the chamber open. The ranger turned and was about to leave when she ran into Elle. The battle-mage stared in disbelief at Aalariel’s wound and the Cypher guards sprawled before the door.

“ What is going on?” She demanded. Aalariel tried to spin her around and lead her away but she resisted.

“ Let us fetch Mikealus, Elle!” The ranger shouted at the battle-mage. “ We face foes beyond our ability to defeat!” Elle laid her hands on Aalariel’s shoulders in a bid to calm her down.

“ I cannot go running to people all my life, Aalariel. You thought me that, did you not?” She said. Her face was troubled but her eyes were clear and lucid with determination. “ You’re hurt. You should go to him for healing.”

“ And leave you alone with that insane fool?” Aalariel protested. Elle shushed her mentor gently.

“ I am never alone, Aalariel.” She said. The ranger grunted in frustration and hobbled off, leaving Elle to confront the swordsman.



The chamber was brightly lit. Shura and Elle stared at each other for a while, neither of them wishing to be the first to speak. The battle-mage found herself intimidated by the blood-filled eyes of Shura. A few silent moments went by before Shura gave in.
“ Do you have any spells that counter the powers of Negative Energy?” Shura asked. The question took Elle aback for a moment but she answered readily.

“ Yes, I can create wards against the undead.” She said. Shura nodded and pointed to the windows that lined the walls of the chambers.

“ Make these impregnable to the undead.” Shura said. “ Then prepare your most potent battle spells. Preferably those that can create fire and light.” Elle set about her appointed task, silently.

“ Why has the essence shard not been destroyed?” Shura asked. He had a slight idea why but he wanted to clarify it with the battle-mage.

“ Mikealus wanted to redeem the soul of Asmodeus. He figured that the best way to do it would be to retain a link to the demon lord through the essence shard.” Elle replied.

“ That self-righteous fool!” Shura swore bitterly. “ And the whole lot of you were in favor of his insane notion?”

“ An army of Church knights reside in the citadel and we have a paladin around.” Elle said. “ We figured that there would be no further threat from the orcs.” The swordsman interrupted her with his bitter laughter.

“ Of course the orcs would pose no threat. They were merely a front, a screen.” Shura said. “ I have been walking around the citadel the whole day. Do you know what I have found?” Elle shook her head. “ All the bodies of the dead have been exhumed without disturbing the gravestones! A week has passed without anyone finding out! What foul necromancy would Katherine have wreaked upon the stolen corpses?” The battle-mage was shocked to hear Shura’s revelations. Even so, she still had her doubts.

“ What makes you think that she will make her move tonight, on the exact same day that you woke from your coma?” Elle asked. “ Are you sure you aren’t simply overreacting a little? Now that we know that Katherine is up to something, we can muster our forces in readiness to repel her.”

“ For the sake of this duchy, you had better hope that I am simply being paranoid.” Shura replied. “ If she does not attack tonight, the many priests of the Celestial Knight that Mikealus has lead here could probably ward the entire duchy against the taint of the undead until the paladin is done with the essence shard.” The swordsman’s eyes darted to a window suddenly. He grinned. “ As for now, perish that thought.”

A humanoid form was pressed against the metal grilles across the window. Drool dripped from its slavering jaws as it gazed at the swordsman and the battle-mage in the chamber. Elle gave a small yelp upon spotting it. The stink of decaying flesh filled the chamber.

“ A ghoul. A late friend of mine loved to work with these things.” Shura informed her casually. The ghoul snapped its jaws ravenously and reached forth to rip the grilles from the windows. Elle’s ward seared its claw off, sending it into a screaming fit.

“ No!” Elle cried in denial. “ The vampire warped all our heroic dead into these monstrosities?” Shura nodded. Sudden cries of alarm from beyond the door to the chamber caught their attention. The two guards had regained consciousness just as a horde of ghouls fell upon them. Their horrible screams were drowned by the shrieks of the ghouls as they feasted. Elle covered her ears with her hands and cringed at the sound of snapping bone and tearing flesh.

“ Fools. I warned them.” Shura cursed as he spotted blood flowing through the crack of the door. The ghouls battered the wooden portal, screaming hideously. The swordsman caught Elle’s shoulder and shook her roughly. “ Ward that door! Do you want to suffer the same fate as them?”

Elle hurriedly cast her spell and the ghouls were instantly thrown back by the power of her ward. She fell to her knees and retched. Shura bent down and took her face in a gloved hand. He turned her head so that she could see out of one of the many windows that the ghouls were crowding around. The battle-mage gasped at what she saw.

In the citadel grounds, a horde of howling undead fell upon the townsfolk and tore them to pieces. Here and there, a few soldiers and church knights would band together in an attempt to fight back but they were swiftly overrun. The screams of the dying filled the air.

“ I can not leave my people to such a fate while I hide safely in this room!” Elle started for the door but Shura would not release her.

“ Mikealus will take care of the ghouls! He is more than capable of doing that, with the priests by his side!” The swordsman pointed out to her. “ You think this room is safe, do you not? Well, you could not have been more wrong! The true peril shall befall this very location, thanks to the essence shard here.” Elle did not struggle in his grip. She looked up into Shura’s face. It seemed harder and crueler. His visage spoke of tiredness more than anything else, however, tiredness of life.

“ What are you talking about?” She asked softly. Shura disengaged himself and drew his swords. Striding to the center of the chamber, he adopted a battle stance facing the door of the chamber.

“ There are two choices available to you. Firstly, you can run out and get torn to pieces by the ghouls. Secondly, you can stay here and face a most fearsome opponent who is on her way here even as we speak.” The swordsman replied. Elle drew her sword and walked up to his side.

“ I shall stay here. With you.” Something in her tone made Shura regard her curiously. He snapped his gaze back to the door, however, as his mental senses detected a great negative presence approaching.

“ Then do not stand so close to me! We will impale each other before the enemy strikes a single blow! Stay behind me and use your spells!” Shura told her. “ That blade of yours will be off little use, anyway.” Elle gave him a weak smile and did as she was told.





The ward shimmered as the vampire placed her hand on the door. It faded as she directed the force of her will against it. The ravenous ghouls behind her surged forward but they halted upon a single glare from their creator. Cowering, they withdrew from the chamber’s exterior to terrorize some other part of the Cypher Duchy. Katherine smiled a bloodless smile and pushed the door open.
The dark cloaked form of her old comrade Shura barred her way to the essence shard. As always, the swordsman stood against her. Even during the days when they fought side-by-side as adventurers lead by Blackmire, Shura would oppose her on countless occasions.
“ Well met, old friend.” She said. Her two lieutenant vampires took up positions beside her. They drew their enchanted weapons and advanced menacingly upon Shura.
“ I was never a friend of yours.” Shura shot back. “ Talk with your blades if you must, not with your tongue!” His red eyes seemed to glow in the flickering light. Katherine smiled evilly at that comment. With a gesture, the two vampires lunged towards Shura. He deflected a flashing short spear with his wakizashi and drove the other vampire back with a mighty sweep of the black sword. The two vampires fell back, adjusting their grips on their weapons. They looked upon the swordsman with new respect.
“ Liale Folune.” One of the vampires announced her name with a salute of her short spear. The other vampire pulled back his gleaming battle pick and drew a long knife from his belt.
“ Tajus Guvlar.” He did likewise, with a similar salute. Shura spat at them, disgust evident on his face.
“ I care nothing for your names, fools!” The swordsman berated the vampires. “ This is no duel of honor! Spare me your nonsense and die!” Shura wanted to leap forward in an offensive blitz but he did not dare underestimate the deadly pair. He would have to block and counter their strikes.
“ We know of you, lord Shura. Do you not recognize two of your best students?” Liale said. A slight flicker of Shura’s eyebrow indicated that he recalled their faces. They used to be a pair of murderous assassins that were recruited into the ranks of the Ravagers. The swordsman had seen to the most rudimentary portion of their training as members of Blackmire’s shadow army.

“ Now I do.” He spared a glance of hatred towards Katherine. “ One more item on the tab that I’ll have to settle with you, Katherine.” Blackmire’s sister laughed at that.

“ They were my students as much as they were yours, Shura.” She said. Katherine made an impatient gesture to Liale and Tajus. “ Enough of this! Kill him!”

Tajus dashed forwards, his movements lithe and graceful. The vampire directed his weapons at impossible angles towards Shura. He caught nothing but air as the swordsman ducked deftly. Shura stabbed upwards with his wakizashi but Liale’s short spear knocked the blade aside. A length of chain fell from the base of the spear shaft and Shura twisted his body into a low, spinning leap as Liale raked the ground where he had been standing a moment ago with the cruel barbs on the chain.

Tajus thrust his knife towards Shura’s cloaked form. The point connected but a kick to the vampire’s head prevented it from digging in. Using the momentum from the kick to Tajus’s head, the swordsman accelerated his landing beyond Liale’s estimation. Shura swept out the vampire’s legs from under her with another swift kick. Liale fell backwards; tucking her body in and spinning into a back flip to land lightly. Tajus spun his legs in a circular pattern from his prone position. A knife blade snapping out from the toe of his boot streaked towards Shura’s throat but the swordsman blocked it with the black sword. The knife shattered and Tajus leapt to his feet, advancing offensively even as he attained an upright pose.

The battle pick streaked downwards towards Shura’s head and he raised his wakizashi to parry it. The swordsman lunged within Tajus’s reach and slammed his shoulder into the vampire’s midriff. At the same time, Shura forced his wakizashi, which was entangled with the battle pick, down. He threw Tajus over his shoulder onto the cold, stone floor. The black sword parried a sweep of the barbed chain that Liale swung at him and was entangled. The vampire grinned and yanked on her weapon, pulling Shura off balance. She thrust her short spear forward but Shura spun, catching the weapon in the folds of his billowing cloak. In the instant that the vampire required to pull her weapon free, Shura sent his will down his wakizashi and slashed it across her chest. Blood sprayed from the wound and Liale was sent flying away with the force of the blow.

Tajus snarled and charged. Shura kicked Liale’s short spear towards him. He deflected the weapon with his knife. Taking advantage of the slight delay in the vampire’s charge, Shura dropped his wakizashi and took the black sword in two hands. He swept the weapon in a diagonal shoulder-to-hip cut. Wrapped in the barbed chain, the black sword crashed into the side of Tajus’s head and the barbs dug in deep. The vampire collapsed with a cry of pain as Shura slid his sword free. Liale came charging at him with a dagger in her hands but a look of uncertainty came into her eyes as she saw blue flames appear down the length of Shura’s sword. The swordsman slashed vertically upwards, his longer weapon giving him the advantage. Liale screamed in agony as the blade severed her left arm and leg. She fell to the floor, a pool of blood forming underneath her trashing form.

Tajus ripped the barbed chain from the side of his face, mutilating it horribly as he did so. He was about to raise his battle pick but the look on Shura’s face sent a spike of fear into his dead heart. He realized that the two of them were no match for the swordsman.

“ Well, have you had enough?” Shura snarled. Tajus fell back onto his rear, a hiss of fear forming on his lips. The swordsman paid him no further attention as he directed his gaze towards Katherine. He lifted the black sword, which was dripping with blood and pointed it at her. “ It’s your turn, bitch”

Katherine laughed in amusement. Shaking her head in resignation, she stepped forwards to face Shura. Tajus picked Liale up and they fled the chamber, terror evident on their faces.

Elle stared in awe at the battle. It was not the first time she had seen Shura in battle but the sight was no less breath taking. She, Hacos, and Mikealus could never aspire to such expertise in swordplay. The three combatants had been a blur of motion to her and she did not dare loose any of her spells for fear of striking Shura instead. Only Kuroi could match or surpass him in skill, it seemed.

Frost Spike and Flame Nail slid out of their sheaths. Katherine held them lightly in her hands. She smiled mockingly at Shura.

“ Not bad, Shura. I’m glad to see your skills have not grown rusty since you left us.” Katherine said. The swordsman did not bother to reply. He lunged forward and did a crossing slash with his blades. Katherine intercepted them with hers and the two opponents were locked in a blade cinch.

The vampire swept her blades down and flung Shura back with her supernatural strength. The swordsman rolled backwards, lessening the impact. He recovered his balance, coming to a low crouch. Reaching into a small pouch, he pulled forth another Fiendfog stem. The swordsman rammed the sharp end of the stem into the side of his neck, introducing the narcotic venom into his system again. The whites of his eyes turned such a deep crimson that his black pupils could not be seen. Katherine looked at the swordsman with scorn evident on her face. They locked their gazes in glares of hatred.

“ Die!” With the same curse on their lips, their blades clashed again.

 

Just wonderful!!!

 

Shura, wonderful as always. I'm anxiously awaiting the next story...so write faster!!!

 

Bravo! Bravo. great once again. hopefully this time Shura's battle with Katherine will end. So hurry cause I want to find out

 

Hello all shura fans
Heres the first ever picture of Shura and Kuroi
Shura Vs Kuroi

enjoy, comments and critques most welcome.

[This message has been edited by Khementi (edited April 29, 2002).]

[This message has been edited by Khementi (edited April 29, 2002).]

 

heh are you the one Shura mentioned thats doing the Kuroi story?

 

Aye that i be
And presenting, Shura the 13th Vs Kuroi Itezuru.
Shura Vs Kuroi

[This message has been edited by Khementi (edited April 29, 2002).]

 

That's Shura the 15th, man...

And I can't wait for him to put up his story...

 

i guess i should post something so shura can post again. As for the picys, well, i actually haven't bothered to look at them yet

 

Eating only ashes, and drinking only blood, he shall go forth alone. Who would walk with him?

Who can walk with him?
********************************************

Mikealus fought at the head of a column of church knights, their armor gleaming in the dim light of the weak moon. Behind them, warrior priests of the Celestial Knight channeled divine might to bolster their strength and heal their wounds. They drove the dark tide of undead before them, shattering their ranks and sending them back to oblivion. The few surviving townsfolk gave ragged cheers as their saviors destroyed the ghouls but the faces of the knights were grim. They had not anticipated such utter and sudden devastation. Already, they were mourning the horrible deaths of their charges.

The paladin cut down two ghouls with a mighty sweep of his glowing blade, and then slammed his shield into another, sending it flying through the air, disintegrating as it did so. Outrage and remorse were evident on his face. Due to his overindulgence in his faith, he had indirectly brought about the deaths of hundreds of the townsfolk. Guilt tore at him, but he drew upon the strength of his faith to sustain himself, a strength gained through his trials when he left the Cypher citadel on a suicide mission against the orcs. No further justification was relevant now, he knew. The only thing he could do was to save the lives of as many of the townsfolk and peasants as he could.

“ Sir Blek-Lance! What fiend could have perpetrated such evil?” A young knight asked him, tears streaming down his face as he slew a ghoul that had just finished feasting on the torn body of a child. The paladin bit back his own anger and kept his voice smooth and authoritative. He now lived by strength, discipline and honor, the three creeds of the true holy warrior. Mikealus Blek-Lance would not let his own emotions defeat himself.

“ The worst kind of fiend, my friend. Fiends that have had a taste of humanity and chose to turn away from it are the worst monsters.” He said. Three knights that surged too far ahead were surrounded by ghouls and overwhelmed swiftly. Their screams of agony and terror gave little evidence of their noble birth and zealous religion. Clawed parodies of human hands peeled off their armor easily, along with most of their flesh. Skulls were cracked along with burnished helms and their contents eagerly devoured.

Mikealus took a swift stride forward and swung his sword mightily, cleaving into the pack of ghouls feasting on his hapless brethren. Undead flesh flew apart beneath his holy blade, clearing the path between him and the remains of the knights. The church knights behind him cried out in terror at the sight of the half-devoured bodies. Swords and maces began to tremble in their owners’ hands and more than a few took indecisive steps in retreat.

“ Do not!” The paladin’s mighty voice had a startling effect on the demoralized church army. He swung around to regard his brethren, totally disregarding the swarm of ghouls moving up on him. “ Your faith has gifted you, but it has also tasked you. Who shall defend the people if the favored of our god abandon them?” Mikealus’s tone was not a berating one. He did not demand anything from them. If need be, the paladin would stand between the ghouls and the peasants himself. He was simply reminding them of their duty. Shamed, many of the church warriors regained their composure and moved forward with renewed conviction. Mikealus smiled in satisfaction and turned his gaze back towards the ghouls.

They crawled on all fours towards him, decaying faces contorted in grimaces of insane hunger. Their eyes shone with something else, though. Mikealus saw terror and untold agony displayed in them. The ghouls formed a semi-circle around the paladin, snapping their drooling jaws at him. The church knights cried out in alarm and moved forward to aid the paladin but he halted them with a stern gesture. Anger welled in Mikealus’s heart, as he finally understood the torment the ghouls were subjected to, but he quelled it. Lowering his sword, he approached the nearest ghoul, reaching out with a gauntleted hand. The undead creature snapped its’ jaws viciously but failed to deter the paladin. Mikealus rested his hand on the creature’s rotted forehead, his expression one of gentle remorse. A pale glow emanated from his hand and a look of peace entered the ghoul’s tormented eyes.

“ Rest, my friend.” Mikealus said softly. The ghoul crumbled to dust; it’s remains falling in a pile at the paladin’s feet. The swarm of undead fell silent, their attention captured utterly by the holy warrior. Ghouls broke off from their feeding and raced to where Mikealus was. Calling upon his divine power, Mikealus suffused his body with a pale light. The radiance pierced the darkness that the horde of ghouls was and undead flesh crumbled where the light shone. Voices were raised in awe as the surviving townsfolk and church knights gazed upon the miracle that was Mikealus Blek-Lance.

The last of the ghouls soon disintegrated and Mikealus was left standing alone, a sudden gust of wind whipping the ash-like remains of the ghouls into a swirl around the radiant form of the paladin. He raised his eyes to the moon, a grim expression on his face.

He knew who was responsible for such carnage and what she wanted. Sheathing his sword with a violent heave, Mikealus turned and walked through the ranks of the awed church knights, giving them terse instructions to retrieve the wounded and comfort the survivors.

The paladin was eager to measure his divine might against the ungodliness of Katherine.


Jo-annia finally managed to hush the crying child with soothing but ultimately empty promises. She and Feros had managed to herd a group of children to a part of the citadel where they hoped it might be safe from the ghouls. The terrible carnage that they witnessed along the way had done more than a little to unhinge the fragile minds of her young charges. The young woman was terrified beyond her worst nightmares but she kept her composure, knowing that she needed her wits to guide the children safely away.

She had not been able to save every child, though. Grief tore at her as she was forced to turn the heads of the children away every time they came across the half eaten remains of a child. Jo-annia turned to regard her friend, the young mage Feros. He was weeping openly at the sight of so many people killed so horribly, but he moved doggedly, with stubborn perseverance.

A ghoul suddenly dropped from the ceiling, landing on all fours before her. The children shrieked in terror and many of them began crying again. It crawled towards them; drool dripping from its slavering jaws. Jo-annia flinched at the sight of the abomination, but she barred its’ way to the children with her body. She could not allow such a horrible fate to befall them.

“ Jo-annia!” Feros cried. The mage started to move to her side but the shrieking children clinging to the hem of his robes made such an endeavor impossible. She did not look back.

“ Get the children away, Feros.” She said, her voice trembling but resolute. A choked sob was her only answer. “ You have to!” Jo-annia raised her voice slightly, gesturing impatiently behind her. “ Go! It shall have to take some time with me. Don’t waste that time!”

The mage started to voice a horrified denial but it died in his mouth as the ghoul fastened a claw around Jo-annia’s neck. A wave of nausea rose up in the pit of the woman’s stomach but she flailed at the ghoul’s arm futilely.

“ Go, Feros, go now!” She cried as the ghoul ignored her batting arms and leaned forward, jaws agape. A terrible shriek of victory issued from the undead creature’s rotten throat as it prepared to feed. It was cut off abruptly as a flashing katana severed the ghoul’s head, sending it tumbling to the stone floor with a hollow crack. Kuroi caught her falling form as the ghoul released her.

“ Are you hurt?” The old swordsman questioned her. His face was etched with weariness and he was covered in blood, though none of it was his. Jo-annia nodded numbly, too relieved to say anything. “ The way is clear down these corridors. You should get the children to a safer place.” Coughing a few times to clear her throat, she got to her feet, dusting off her skirt absently. The woman was instantly enveloped in a mass of crying children as they hugged her in relief. Feros stood at arms length, trying to brush away his tears. She embraced the mage, trying to impart some semblance of reassurance that she herself needed terribly. Kuroi ruffled the hair of a few children fondly. Many of them were less than a head shorter than him. He smiled fondly, then sheathed his katana and started to walk off.

“ Where are you going, Kuroi?” Jo-annia called after him. The swordsman paused, and then turned to regard her with a ruefully amused expression and a raised eyebrow.

“ I have to make sure a certain bungling fool stays alive.” Kuroi said lightly. “ It’ll be a miracle if he has not shaved off his own eyebrows by now. How can anyone as inept as him ever aspire to become a swordsman?” Jo-annia managed a small laugh as she realized who the old swordsman was referring to. “ Seriously! I can not even leave the idiot alone for a while!” His string of complaints grew less and less audible as he walked further down the corridor, away from them.

“ Keep him alive, Kuroi.” Jo-annia whispered softly as she kept her gaze on the diminishing back of Shura’s mentor.


Shura battered away at the intricate defense of Katherine. Frost Spike and Flame Nail weaved and danced in perfect synchronization, picking off his strikes. The vampire smiled infuriatingly at him from behind the screen of whirling blades that separated them, though she could barely spare any of her concentration from the battle.

Catching the point of Flame Nail in a parry with his wakizashi, Shura heaved both weapons above their heads. The black sword swept in to disembowel Katherine but she blocked its advance with Frost Spike. The vampire leaned in close and tore her shorter weapon free. With a flick of her palm, she reversed her grip and thrust it at Shura’s abdomen. The swordsman twirled his wrist and deflected the blade with the hilt of the black sword. Disengaging his wakizashi, Shura brought it down in an abrupt chop onto Katherine’s shoulder. She leaned away from the blow and the swordsman took the opportunity to bring his longer blade to bear, drawing the black sword back as if to make a mighty slash at her midriff.

Katherine bared her fangs in apparent victory at streaked forward, both blades flashing towards Shura’s throat in a simultaneous thrust. Shura smiled grimly. He had baited the vampire and knew that with her aggressive nature, she would not be able to resist such an opening in his defenses. Spinning the black sword in his hand, he sent it around his back and out beneath his left sword arm, using his body as a pivot for the blunt side of the longer blade. Katherine gasped in astonishment as she saw the black sword emerging from the other side of Shura’s body. She tried a desperate parry with Frost Spike but Shura altered the course of the black sword with a subtle tap of his wakizashi upon its pommel. The vampire’s eyes widened in horror as her parry caught nothing but air and the black sword rammed heavily into her chest.

Shura sent his will down into his blades, empowering the point of the black sword so that it tore into the vampire’s chest. Katherine shrieked in pain and stumbled backwards. The swordsman caught the hilt of the black sword in his right arm again and drove it into the vampire’s black heart with all his might. The blade sliced through her spine and exited from Katherine’s back. Shura exhaled heavily, thinking that the battle was over. Frost Spike and Flame Nail fell to the floor with metallic rings, their elemental blades freezing and scorching the stone surfaces respectively.

Elle started to walk to combatants held in the macabre pose. Her heart was pounding wildly in her chest. The duel between Shura and Katherine had been beyond anything she had ever witnessed as far as swordplay was concerned. Her gaze drifted to the pool of blood forming on the tiles beneath Shura’s splinted foot. The swordsman had over-exerted the limb, to dire consequences.

Katherine’s eyes opened suddenly and she bared her blood-flecked fangs in Shura’s face. Grabbing the swordsman by the collar, she flung him bodily across the room, tearing the black sword free from the wound in her chest. Shura crashed into the wall and slid off, leaving a bloody trail against its surface. The swordsman went into convulsions, coughing blood as his limbs jerked out of his control.

“ Shura!” Elle ran to his side and tried to raise him to a sitting position but a flailing arm knocked her over. Katherine laughed horribly at the sight, blood bubbling from her grievous wound. The vampire tried feebly to retrieve her weapons but her arms failed her. The wound would take some time to heal.

“ Fiendfog overdose. Ha! The fool!” Katherine laughed. The swordsman’s convulsions were dying down now. “ Why do you defend these sheep so, Shura? You know full well the after effects a human suffers from imbibing Fiendfog!” She winced at the agony of her torn chest. “ Have you fallen so low?”

Elle turned to regard Katherine curiously. Shura was obviously an old acquaintance of some sort to the vampire. The scraping sound of leather on stone caught her attention as Shura dragged himself to his knees behind her. The battle-mage caught him by his shoulders, supporting him.

“ Fallen…? I have never fallen.” Shura replied, blood flowing freely down the corners of his mouth. “ I have always fought in this manner.” Grinding the point of the black sword into the stone floor, Shura started to pull himself to his feet. Elle put her shoulder under his arm to help him up but the swordsman pushed her aside, not unkindly. He gave her a sideward glance as he did so and Elle knew that he wanted her to strike at Katherine with her spells when she could.

“ Yes, you have.” Katherine laughed. The wound on her chest was almost half-healed. She picked up her swords and squared off against the swordsman again. “ Never looking back, you live solely for the battle. That is why my brother values your blades so much.” Shura raised his blades and started to move forward but he found that his broken leg would no longer support him. To keep that fact hidden from Katherine, the swordsman remained stationary, letting the vampire come to him. His swords were trembling in his hands, an unpleasant side effect of Fiendfog. There was no hiding that from Katherine, however and a confident grin appeared on the vampire as she closed. Elle drew her sword and put herself between Shura and Katherine. The two of them stared at her in shocked surprise for a moment. The vampire had not considered her a threat at all and Shura had fought too long by himself to expect any ally to come to his aid.

“ Let me take over where Shura left off, vampire.” The battle-mage issued her challenge. “ We will not allow you to get your hands on the essence shard.” Katherine regarded her with a curious look, then threw back her head and laughed again, this time in genuine amusement.

“ I would not think you had it in you, swordsman! I could never tell if you were a man or not in all the years we have fought together!” She doubled over, cackling violently. Shura stared at his adversary in complete bewilderment before his expression hardened again.

“ I have no idea what you are talking about, vampire!” He said impatiently. “ Move aside, Elle! Let me finish this bitch off once and for all!” The battle-mage shook her head resolutely, much to the swordsman’s irritation.

“ You have done so much for us already, Shura.” She said softly. “ Let me do my duty as the guardian of this Duchy, at least.”

“ Your duties do not involve getting killed in a foolish battle against someone beyond your abilities!” Shura snapped. “ Now move aside!” Elle turned and gave him a smile. It was the only reply he would be getting out of her, he realized.

“ What’s the matter, Shura? Can’t you just walk forwards and push her aside?” Katherine mocked him. She had spotted the puddle of blood forming underneath Shura and understood the nature of that injury. “ You do not wish to? Or you are unable to?”
The vampire dashed forwards as the words left her mouth. Elle brought her sword up and thrust it towards Katherine. The vampire avoided the point easily and stepped within Elle’s reach. Frost Spike streaked towards Elle’s throat but the battle-mage spoke a word and the vampire found herself suddenly standing a few yards away from her original position. A quick glance down allowed her to spot the metallic disc stuck to one of her boots. Elle had teleported her a short distance back with a prepared spell.

A short chant was followed by a vague gesture and a single resounding syllable that echoed from Elle’s lips. A bolt of fire materialized in the air beside Elle and it streaked towards Katherine. The vampire dodged deftly aside, avoiding the projectile easily. The battle-mage made another gesture and the fiery bolt veered off course in mid-air to slam into Katherine’s side. The vampire screamed as the bolt exploded, enveloping her in flames. Frost Spike flared a cold blue and the flames were instantly extinguished. Katherine had a bloody wound in her side and a fair amount of singed hair to show for Elle’s spell, though. She gritted her fangs in obvious agony and snarled.

“ Maybe you should not be so quick to underestimate me.” Elle said quietly, readying another spell component in her free hand and leveling the point of her sword towards Katherine’s face. Shura tried to take a step forward but searing agony wracked his body. Clouds of worry dimmed his mind. Elle was no match for the vicious Katherine, despite her early advantage in their battle. Swinging the point of the black sword down, he ground it into the cold stone underfoot and rested his weight on it. Having lessened the strain on his injured leg, Shura pushed himself forward slowly.

“ Die, fool!” Katherine cried suddenly, lunging towards the battle-mage with incredible speed. Elle flung a small horseshoe shaped stone into the air above Katherine’s head and spoke a series of sharp, unintelligible words. The air-borne stone glowed with a sudden radiance and both Frost Spike and Flame Nail were torn from Katherine’s hands towards the stone. They clashed together in a harmless shower of sparks and clattered to the floor.

Katherine recovered from the shock of their loss in an instant, though and she immediately snapped her gaze back towards her opponent just in time for Elle to hit her in the chest with a globe of magical force. The impact tossed the vampire a few steps back, slightly dazed but otherwise unharmed. Elle repeated the spell again and again, launching a barrage of magical energy on Katherine’s staggering form.

The vampire growled through the stinging pain, however and brought up her forearms to shield her head and eyes. Crouching low, she sprang off from her perch, her momentum overcoming the impact of Elle’s magical projectiles. Before the battle-mage could utter a single cry of alarm, a cold pallid hand wrapped itself around her face and lifted her bodily into the air. With a violent heave, Katherine sent Elle flying across the room to crash into Shura. The two of them tumbled backwards into the table that held the essence shard and fell heavily to the floor. It slipped off the askew surface and rolled across the chipped surface of the stone floor, coming only to a halt when Katherine rested a booted foot upon it. She promptly scooped up the foul artifact in her hands, baring her fangs in a grin of feral delight.

“ Finally!” The vampire held it before her eyes, proffering it almost reverently. “ I was beginning to think that this object was more trouble than it was worth!” Averting her eyes from its hypnotic glow, she tucked it into her leather suit before retrieving her blades. Katherine regarded the tangled heap that was Shura and Elle with a contemptuous grin before she left, though. “ Farewell, old comrade! I am sure we shall have plenty of chances to even the score!”

“ Damn you!” The vampire’s mocking tone enraged Shura. He struggled to a sitting position, resting back heavily on his elbows. Elle lay across his chest and he could barely summon the strength to push her dazed form off. “ Let us finish this now!” Ignoring his challenges and curses, Katherine left. A sudden spasm of agony wracked his body and Shura fell back, blood bubbling from his mouth. He fumbled feebly for the pouch that held the Fiendfog stems. The drug had worn off and his body was paying the price. The only way to put off the hellish after-effects of the drug was to consume more of it.

To his ultimate frustration, Elle’s body covered it, allowing him no access to its contents. The battle-mage’s deceptively petite frame was packed with muscle and in his weakened state, she proved to be a dead weight indeed. Her eyes opened suddenly, much to Shura’s relief. Elle stared blankly into the swordsman’s face until he opened his mouth to give a blood choked wheeze.

“ Get…off…heavy…” She complied hastily, her eyes wide in concern as she eyed Shura’s wretched form. His arm free, the swordsman jerked open the pouch containing the Fiendfog stems and extracted one. The thorny stem trembled violently along with his hand and he was not confident that he could apply it to the correct artery for the drug to take effect. Elle plucked it from his grasp easily, wincing as the thorns caught in her heavy leather gloves but failed to penetrate. With as little effort, she divested him of the pouch while shaking off the stubborn stem in one hand. A soft chant and a flick of the finger resulted in a small blaze that consumed the pouch of drugs.

Shura watched on incredulously, an expression of utter horror fixed on his face. Elle patted her hands, looking grimly satisfied. With a choked scream of insane frustration Shura grabbed her collar weakly.

“ What have you done, fool? How am I going to fight now?” His voice grew more frantic and Shura realized that he was losing control over his mental faculties. His body demanded the drug. He had felt so alive, so carefree, soaring high on the wings of his own bloodlust…until the effects of the drug had worn off. “ How…?” His voice trailed off into a near desperate whine. That same desperation had driven him to a kneeling position, his hands scrabbling feebly on the stone floor. Soon, his fingers began to leave bloody marks on the stone.

Elle, seeing his distress, wrapped her arms around his neck in a vain attempt to offer some comfort. She whispered soothing yet utterly meaningless consolations in his ears but the swordsman did not seem to hear them. He broke off into fits of violent coughing, gobbets of blood pouring forth with each violent heave of his shoulders. Convulsions shook his body as his limbs underwent involuntary muscle contractions. Shura’s fingernails tore themselves off and minor veins just under his skin ruptured. All the while, Elle held his writhing form, tears of horror streaming down her face.

Eventually, his struggles died down and Shura lay facedown on the floor, a pool of blood forming beneath his body. Elle knelt beside him, crying softly. An occasional twitch sent a tremor through his body.

“ You have bled so much for us already, Shura. Do not do more than that.” Elle told him. “ Do not lose your soul to that foul weed. Do not lose your life to this trial. Come back to us. Come back to me.” The battle-mage pleaded with Shura but he did not hear her. An entire lifetime’s memories flew apart under the terrible strain and the swordsman found only one thing solid and dependant in his entire psyche to anchor to: the well of hatred his sensei had implanted in him as a child.

Katherine leapt lightly along the corridors, through an archway, and into an area open to the skies. The citadel’s walls were close by and the vampire was confident of scaling them and escaping into the surrounding forests before the sun came up. She spun as a glint of silver streaked through the darkness and snatched an arrow out of mid-flight with one hand. A mere twitch of her fingers snapped the shaft and she tossed it away contemptuously as she turned to regard the archer. Aalariel readied another arrow, drawing a bead on the vampire from her perch on an exposed set of stone stairs that lead up to one of the citadel’s obsolete towers. Her injured arm burned with agony but she loosed her next shaft. Katherine sidestepped it easily, letting the silver-tipped arrow splinter harmlessly upon stone. Frost Spike and Flame Nail came singing from their respective sheaths as Katherine drew them and advanced on the elf menacingly.

“ You mortals are like insects!” Katherine said coldly. “ Weak, inconsequential, easily stamped into extinction but irritating nonetheless.”

“ This insect packs a lethal bite to your foul kind, vampire.” Aalariel shot back, drawing another arrow and setting it to her bow. Fear crept into the ranger’s heart, however. She could not forget how easily Shura had beat her in that chamber and this vampire was apparently the equal, or judging by the fact that she, not the swordsman, was standing here now, more of Shura. Katherine swept aside another arrow and broke off into a fearsome rush towards Aalariel.

Two forms materialized from the shadows to bar her way, however. Zheng Long, a whirling quarterstaff in his hands and H’siao Fen, saber and short sword at the ready. The warrior monk brought his staff low in a wide arcing sweep that was halted by a neat parry Katherine executed. H’siao Fen swung her saber but it was dashed aside so violently by Flame Nail that she tumbled aside, landing heavily on her rump. The vampire twisted her other blade free from its clinch with the quarterstaff and slammed the pommel heavily into Zheng Long’s chest, driving him back. She swung the short blade above her head and sliced it down, seeking a swift end to her battle with the warrior monk. A streaking arrow knocked the blade askew and it cut past Zheng Long’s shoulder, slicing open his tunic but leaving nothing more serious than a sore red line upon his flesh.

The warrior monk hopped back swiftly, bringing his staff to bear. Taking a step forward, he let go of the staff with his right hand, twisting his body and extending his left hand so that the staff’s wooden point streaked forward towards the vampire like a spear. Twirling Frost Spike in a tight circle, Katherine tucked the blade in close to her body and pushed out, knocking the staff aside. Her lead foot rose with the speed and force of a lighting bolt, slamming into Zheng Long’s knee, hip and face in rapid succession. The warrior monk swooned from the force of the blows.

Katherine did not bother to finish off the defeated monk. She stepped sideways and dashed aside a swift thrust from Aalariel’s magical elven sword. The ranger gritted her teeth in grim determination and struck again and again. With a mocking smile on her face, Katherine avoided each blow easily, not even bothering to raise her blades in a parry. Loosening her grips on her elemental blades, the vampire allowed them to slip out of her grasp. Just before they struck the ground, however, she brought her empty hands up in a brutal, slashing motion. The two falling blades reversed their momentum abruptly and spun upwards towards the ranger’s flailing form.

Aalariel cried out in terror and twisted her body adroitly in an attempt to avoid the twirling blades. Frost Spike clipped her sword arm, sending her sword flying and Flame Nail cut a deep gash across her side. The ranger stifled a scream of agony and fell backwards. The two elemental blades spun high into the night sky, tracing eldritch patterns in the air. With a snap of her wrists, Katherine jerked them back to her grasp. Aalariel spotted the silvery cord that connected the vampire’s leather bracers to the pommels of her swords and cursed bitterly. She could not believe that such an evil creature could possess such skill and prowess.

A heavy boot pinned the hand that was scrabbling for the dropped elven blade and Katherine leered into the ranger’s anguished expression. Snapping her other foot forward, the vampire kicked Aalariel brutally in the face and chest repeatedly, utilizing her supernatural strength to the fullest. She felt the crack of bone beneath the impact of her blows and ceased, letting the hapless ranger slump to the ground in a bloodied heap.

“ NO!” H’siao Fen shrieked in denial. The vampire had already stolen the lives of her previous family. She could hardly believe that the fell being was about to do the same thing to her current one. The peasant girl charged forward, thrusting her blades towards the vampire. Katherine batted the worn weapons from her feeble grip with a sidelong sweep of Frost Spike and drove the pommel of Flame Nail into her abdomen. H’siao Fen fell to her knees, retching, gasping for breath that would not come. The vampire seized her by the hair and lifted her to her feet. A slight smile of recognition came over her face as she studied the eastern girl.

“ Well, well. The world is a small place indeed.” She laughed lowly. “ Too long have you evaded me, little one.” The vampire dropped her to the ground and tore a strip of the peasant’s tunic. She bound her hands brutally together and hoisted H’siao Fen easily upon her shoulders. Katherine turned to leave but found that Zheng Long had recovered sufficiently to bar her way.

“ Put her down, fiend.” The warrior monk spat. Spinning his quarterstaff menacingly in one hand, he advanced upon the vampire. Katherine shrugged and flung H’siao Fen’s bound form towards Zheng Long. He was forced to release his weapon from his defensive posture to grab the screaming girl.

A blur of motion was all that he saw as Katherine dashed in after her projectile. The warrior monk aimed a desperate kick at the vampire but the weak blow missed badly. Three quick steps brought Katherine behind him and she fixed an iron like grip on the back of his neck. A swift kick brought Zheng Long to his knees and he barely had time for a terrified scream before Katherine sank her fangs into his throat. H’siao Fen heard the liquid tearing sound of cartilage being crushed between the vampire’s powerful jaws and the breathless gasp of Zheng Long as Katherine tore her head free, along with a huge chunk of the warrior monk’s throat.

Zheng Long’s body lay twitching on the grass as Katherine scooped up the girl once again, the peasant’s eyes glazed with horror and loss.


“ Draw your sword, murderer.” The helmed face of Bu-Shin demanded. “ Face me, killer! Do you not wish to salvage the last scrap of honor before you die?” The legendary samurai walked a slow circuit about the fallen form of his nemesis. Shura trailed his path with his eyes as much as he could. Agony misted his senses and choked his voice. There was no way he could offer a reply, let alone do battle with the samurai that had haunted his nightmares for years.

“ Get up!” Bu-Shin kicked him
brutally in the ribs, sending searing waves of agony throughout his body. A woman’s distressed voice sounded faintly in the background but Shura hardly paid it any attention. “ Let me prove the inferiority of the Shura Sword! Let me prove the superiority of the elves over the humans as a race! On your feet, murdering scum!” Another kick brought an agonized gasp from the swordsman.

His rage mounted and he managed a slight growl of defiance. Tucking an arm under his body, Shura attempted to rise but the pain stole the strength from his limbs and he hit the floor again.


“ Kuroi!” Elle cried. “ Stop it! You’re killing him!” The battle-mage pleaded with the old man as he kicked viciously at Shura’s prone form. He was dressed in his full battle armor and his gentle features were hidden behind the snarling visage of his war mask.

“ He will die anyway, Elle. Why should I let him depart so painlessly? Hundreds of your people have undergone unthinkable terrors this night and many of them have died horribly.” Kuroi said fervently. “ Meanwhile, this fool sought to throw his life away in a selfish and foolish attempt to die a warrior’s death! I cannot abide such a dishonorable act! If he should die, he shall die in agony!”

Elle tried to reason with him but the old swordsman pushed her aside roughly. She winced as he slammed his foot again and again into Shura.


“ Die, self-righteous scum…” Shura managed a single curse of defiance. He caught the foot with his hand but Bu-Shin tore loose from his grasp and kicked him heavily again, this time in the face. His dimming vision exploded into a myriad pattern of red and white spots.

With a stifled growl, Shura leapt to his feet, pushing off against the cold surface he was lying on. Unbelievable agony tore through his senses but the swordsman blanketed the pain under his hatred. He kicked the black sword off the floor, into the air where it spun a full circle before he caught it by the hilt.

Elle found herself caught between a gasp of joy and a choked scream of horror. The swordsman’s apparent recovery had delighted her but the look on his face, so twisted by hatred and bloodlust terrified her. Kuroi drew his sword wordlessly, his features fixed into a look of grim determination behind his war mask.

“ One strike.” Shura said, coughing up the dried blood caught in his throat as he did so. “ We shall finish this in one strike, Bu-Shin!” He slid the black sword back into its sheath and adopted a semi-crouching stance, one hand resting on its hilt.

“ Kuroi! He’s delirious!” Elle pointed out urgently. “ Make him stop! He’ll hurt you!” The old swordsman’s only reply was a low and slightly mocking laugh, along with an amused shake of his head.

“ Come then, murderer.” Kuroi told Shura. He had deliberately lowered his voice and made it more guttural so that it resembled the tone of the legendary samurai Shura mistook him for. The Black Crane slid Whispering Edge smoothly back into its ornate sheath and adopted a stance similar to Shura’s.

Shura’s vision swam in and out of focus. He could barely make out any of the distinguishing features of his opponent. He knew, however, that no matter how great his hatred for Bu-Shin was, there was only so much strength left in his body. The brutal techniques of the Shura Sword were beyond him now. If he tried to use them, he would surely rip apart the tendons and ligaments of his limbs and rupture a few internal organs as well. Gritting his teeth, Shura willed his body to take a single step forward but found it impossible to rest any of his weight on his shattered leg. Meanwhile, the menacing figure of Bu-Shin radiated waves of menace that threatened to sweep him off his feet.

The swordsman was courageous. He had faced foes of great power and conquered them all. He had fought beside Blackmire against forces both angelic and demonic. The great fiend Gathra Deuas lost his life to Shura’s blade and his soul to Blackmire’s will. He had fought off a War Angel, pitting his mortal frame against a mighty celestial warrior. The swordsman had slaughtered paladin and orc alike. Never had he failed to shake off the waves of terror such opponents had inspired in him. Why, then, did he feel such horror in facing off against Bu-Shin, a mere samurai?

As his blood hit the floor in little drops, Shura contemplated the single factor that had held him back from the pinnacle of his craft. The countless innocents that had lost their lives under his blades plagued his thoughts constantly. He was never rid of them. Their death cries, whispered insidiously into his ears each time he wielded his swords, kept him that little bit off balance, that little bit off the mark, that little bit slower. Shura could feel their specters tugging at his limbs, their ghostly mouths agape in wordless agony. So close to death, the swordsman could see the specters of his victims surrounding him, beckoning him to his judgment.

“ Blackmire!” Shura gasped, swaying from his weakness. “ He would never be so distracted! Such paltry things would never obstruct him in his never ending quest for power and glory!” The swordsman coughed up another mouthful of blood. “ Kalvairn would never doubt himself! Ander would always crush his foes without hesitation! My friends, if only I had your strengths!”

Kuroi watched Shura’s inner struggle wordlessly. This was the crossroad of the young swordsman’s life. If he chose the wrong path, Kuroi would kill him. That notion pained the old man’s heart but he knew the death and destruction an evil Shura would bring to all he came across.

A thought forced itself into Shura’s raving consciousness. He remembered a person who was the incarnation of perfection itself. That man challenged the heavens with his blade and drove back the forces of hell with his skill. Kuroi Itezeru, the Black Crow, was all that Shura, a lost and misguided individual since the day he was born, secretly longed to be. Upon that realization, he stood up straight, his chin raised resolutely. Turning his back on his opponent, Shura sought out his wakizashi and retrieved it. Wielding it in his left hand, the swordsman confronted the specter of Bu-Shin again.

“ One man has defeated you in the past, Bu-Shin.” Shura said calmly. Spinning the wakizashi deftly, he brought the blade away from his body, his left arm outstretched. The swordsman brought the short blade to a halt as it reached a horizontal position in its arc. To him, Bu-Shin tensed and drew back his body in readiness to strike.

“ Oh? And what is his name, murderer?” Kuroi replied, his tone contemptuous. Shura lunged forward, leaping off on his good leg, intent upon a single blow.

“ His name is…” Shura swept the wakizashi down. At the same moment, Kuroi drew and struck, Whispering Edge flickering faster than a viper’s tongue. The enchanted blade met the wakizashi with a screech of steel upon steel. Both blades halted, then to Elle’s amazement, passed through each other. Shura’s wakizashi whistled down slowly, its arc straightforward. Kuroi tried to dodge the seemingly slow and unsophisticated blow but he felt the wakizashi cut into his armor despite his supreme dexterity. Blue flame ran down the short blade’s length and the heavily enchanted armor could not hold against its deadly bite. “ Kuroi Itezeru!” Shura finished.

The old swordsman cried out in pain as Shura sliced him from shoulder to hip, cutting his armor apart. Whispering Edge tore apart Shura’s black tunic but did little damage to the swordsman’s flesh. Once again, old age proved to be Kuroi’s downfall. Kuroi sank to his knees, expecting to see his blood all over the stone floor. Instead, he felt a strong arm around his shoulders, holding him up, supporting him. Shura’s wakizashi had barely left a nick on Kuroi’s skin.

“ That was my technique…yet…not.” The old swordsman remarked, nodding his head in weary approval. “ What do you call it, Shura?” Shura’s eyes were lucid again and he stood straight and tall despite his injuries. He set Kuroi down on the floor, propping him against the wall, covering him with his cloak before he deigned to reply.

“ Discordance.” Shura’s expression was grateful as he regarded the figure that was a teacher and friend to him. “ I have named it in your honor, kensai.” Pulling the sheath of his wakizashi from his belt, he fashioned a new splint for his broken leg, as Kuroi looked on murmuring to himself in contentment.

“ Yes…how much that suits you, my young friend.” The old swordsman said. “ Choosing neither justice nor tyranny, you walk your own path. Discordance with the songs the rest of the world sings.” Kuroi laughed lowly, his tone self-deprecating yet filled with genuine humor. “ It looks like all my lectures on you have been a waste of breath. But at least I know you will not walk down the same path as your sensei.”

Shura grinned at him, patting his shoulder. He a slight sting in the dull agony of his broken leg and found Elle squatting beside him, tying the makeshift splint on deftly with strips of her cloak. The battle-mage was blinking back tears amid her choked sobs of relief. Shura let her finish the job.

Elle tied the last knot and got to her feet. She slapped Shura’s shoulder heartily in an attempt to mask her relief. With an annoyed glare at the red-haired woman, the swordsman turned to leave the chamber.

“ We have to retrieve the essence shard from Katherine, Shura.” Elle ‘s tone was brisk. Shura nodded his agreement. A monster like Katherine could not be allowed to gain access to a demon lord’s power. As the two of them left the chamber, Shura met Kuroi’s gaze one final time.

“ Thank you.” The swordsman said.


Elle regarded the barebacked form of Shura with a mixture of awe and revulsion. Countless scars formed a veritable map on his body. She could barely count the number of stab wounds, slashes and claw marks on the swordsman’s skin. He stumbled many times, weak from the loss of blood and his recent trials. The battle-mage had reached out to support him many times but Shura had rebuffed her indignantly. After he slipped and nearly crashed headfirst into a wall for the umpteenth time however, he finally accepted Elle’s strong shoulder under his free right arm.

The battle-mage knew that now was not the time for such thoughts but she could not help but be thrilled to be in such close contact with the swordsman. The pair hobbled awkwardly down the corridors of the Cypher citadel. The elation wore off, however, as they came across the first victims of Katherine’s ghouls. The half eaten bodies of three servants were scattered about a small chamber. Elle was stricken with horror and grief as she studied the agonized expressions of the dead. Apparently, they had taken a long time to die.

“ Don’t look.” Shura’s right hand interposed itself between her eyes and the horrifying sight. “ Just keep walking in the direction I tell you to.” The swordsman’s voice was tense. The mental agonies of the slain servants hung in the air and they tormented his mind. Elle wrapped her arms around Shura tightly, seeking comfort in the killer’s embrace but the swordsman simply gave her curt instructions on where to walk. He did not remove his hand from her eyes, however.



“ For the deaths you have caused, vampire, you shall pay!” Mikealus raged. He swung his glowing sword but Katherine dodged aside adroitly. Tears ran down the paladin’s cheeks as he confronted the vampire. He had found the broken bodies of both Aalariel and Zheng Long. Even his divine power would not raise them from death.

Katherine regarded the paladin cautiously. The holy warrior was far more powerful than any foe she had ever fought against before. That was the difference between Shura and her. The swordsman would rely on his blades and seek out a fight to the death with his opponents. Katherine, however, preferred to rely on traps, numbers and terrain to win her battles. She enjoyed a good fight against foes that are blatantly weaker than her but head on confrontations against an opponent as mighty as a paladin worried her. After all, it had been a paladin that ended her mortal life.

“ I have no patience to battle you, fool.” Katherine snarled, her eyes darting to and fro as she sought an escape. Mikealus barred her way to the citadel walls. A flash of inspiration came to her then and she grinned. Swinging H’siao Fen down from her shoulder, Katherine caressed the girl’s chin in her pallid fingers. “ How delicate children are, don’t you think? One might easily get the impression that their heads come off upon a good tug.” The vampire tightened her grip on the girl’s chin, causing her to cry out in pain.

“ Release her and fight me, vampire!” Mikealus challenged her, though he knew that it would be a futile attempt. He seethed at his own helplessness as he regarded H’siao Fen’s semiconscious form held tightly in the vampire’s deadly embrace.

“ I think not, tin can. Now step aside.” Katherine’s tone grew cold. The paladin had no choice but to obey. With a triumphant laugh, the vampire slung the girl over her shoulder again and scaled the wall swiftly, leaving Mikealus glaring balefully and impotently at her from below. The paladin would not be able to scale the wall like her. He would have to pursue her via a stairwell up the only turret set in that particular section of the wall. She flung her burden over the wall’s railing and clambered over it swiftly.

A streaking bolt of fire tore into her arm as she reached down to retrieve the prone form of H’siao Fen, however. The vampire screamed in pain, spinning around to regard her attacker. Elle walked out of the turret’s entrance, her eyes blazing with wrath. Behind her, Shura followed, an ominous figure wielding his two swords.

“ What…?” Katherine gasped in puzzlement. How did the two reach this area ahead of her? Unknown to the vampire, Shura had used his mental powers and Elle’s knowledge of the citadel’s structure to estimate the vampire’s destination and a way to intercept her. Apparently, they had succeeded.

The heavy tread of steel shod boots on stairs broke her out of her reverie. Mikealus was charging up the stairwell. In a moment, Katherine would be facing three foes. The vampire retrieved a small green sphere from a hidden pocket. With a flick of her wrist, she sent it streaking towards Elle. Shura pulled the battle-mage aside but the vampire’s real target was the door to the turret’s entrance. The green sphere shattered upon impact and a web of woven steel materialized upon the door, sealing the portal.

Elle fingered the ring Cypher had given her and said a word etched onto its surface. The battle-mage disappeared from sight, only to reappear again beside Katherine. Before the shocked vampire could react, Elle snatched up H’siao Fen and invoked the power of her ring again, this time re-materializing by Shura’s side. She hastily examined the peasant girl. H’siao Fen was unconscious and slightly battered but her condition was stable. Katherine’s roar of anger at being thwarted took her attention from her young charge, however.

“ You shall suffer!” The vampire shrieked. Katherine was tired of being interrupted at every turn just as she was on the verge of victory. The stone of the parapets cracked under the furious pounding of her boots as she charged towards Shura and Elle. The vampire did not bother to draw her weapons this time, so frenzied she was. Her great strength was a menace enough to them, however. Behind them, Mikealus pounded on the turret’s door furiously.

Shura ran forward to meet her charge, wakizashi drawn. He halted some distance away from Elle and H’siao Fen and set his feet, weapon at the ready. Katherine did not slow, her fingers outstretched as if she meant to totally disregard the swordsman’s weapon and tear off his head with her bare hands. Above them, storm clouds gathered and rain fell upon the splitting of the dark heavens by the crackle of lighting. Ironically, the rain that brought life to the fields of the Cypher Duchy met death this year.

The note of Discordance was strong in Shura’s mind as he called upon his new technique. His wakizashi cut in deeply, slicing off one of Katherine’s arms and burying itself halfway in her torso. Blood poured from the vampire’s mouth and wounds, drenching Shura a red crimson that the pouring rain did little to dilute. Shrieking in agony, Katherine seized Shura’s throat and drove him to his knees with her unearthly strength. A bolt of fire slammed into her again but she ignored it, intent on killing her old comrade once and for all.

Elle ran forward, her face grim. Forsaking her sword, she seized the vampire by her collar and started chanting. Waves of magical energy ran down her arms, turning into a searing electrical blight that she visited upon the vampire. Katherine released her grip on Shura’s throat and shrieked in agony. Pulling the swordsman’s wakizashi from her torso, she drove it into the battle-mage’s ribs with all her might, feeling bone shatter and organs rupture under her strength. Elle fell back limply, her eyes wide in disbelief, blood flowing copiously from her mouth.

Shura roared in rage and surged to his feet. He struck Katherine across the face with his fist but succeeded only in bruising his knuckles. The vampire backhanded him, sending the swordsman sprawling. He tried to get to his feet but Katherine ground her boot heel into his back, pinning him to the floor.

“ So…much…pain you have caused me…yet I still prevail…” Katherine’s triumphant, if pain-filled proclamation was cut off as she noticed a metal ring caught in her leather tunic. Away from her, dying on the cold stone, Elle opened her mouth and gasped breathlessly.

“ Ignos.”

The Cypher ring exploded in a huge gout of flame that engulfed the vampire. Katherine shrieked in agony, beating vainly at herself in a futile attempt to put out the fire. Her burning figure flailed wildly for a few moments before she toppled off the walls, to become a screaming torch all the way down into the depths of the forest.

Shura crawled his way to Elle’s side. He regarded the hilt of his wakizashi jutting from her ribs and his face blanched with horror. The wound was fatal. The swordsman beat the ground angrily with his fist, moaning softly in denial. Elle’s trembling hand reached out and stroked the side of his face. Shura found that the woman’s eyes, fast losing their radiance, were fixed on him, but the swordsman had nothing to offer her beyond a look pained and apologetic beyond despair.

“ Do not die, woman!” Shura said fiercely but Elle could hear nothing by now. Her hand, bereft of the strength of life, fell from his face and her sparkling green eyes dimmed. “ NO!” The swordsman cried. “ WHY DO MY CLOSEST ALLIES ALWAYS PERISH?” Raising his eyes to the heavens, Shura screamed his defiance against fate, his puny mortal voice drowned by the clashing symphony of the storm.


And that was how the paladin found him after he tore through Katherine’s barrier, with Elle’s corpse before him and his face, haggard with agony, turned to the sky.

 

er, what can I say besides, well, wow. Damn that was good.

 

great story, we want more of this (at least I want)

 

Do the fires of hell fade before the radiance of an angel? The answer is ‘no’.

Shura

The next few days went by in a haze of pain for the people of the Cypher Duchy. The ghouls had killed more than half of the population and they had lost three of their champions, Elle, Aalariel and Zheng Long. Worried mutters spread amongst the peasant and townsfolk as they regarded the church soldiers and the surviving mercenaries of Kervast the Wolf. The former had made no move to depart, despite their stance as ‘defenders’ and ‘peacekeepers’. The latter had packed up their things and stood by to leave as soon as their leader gave them the word.

A new church had been built even before all the slain could be laid to rest. Strict sermons and admonitions were lavished upon members of the populace who did not agree with the tenets of the Celestial Knight. White cloaked church knights patrolled the streets, telling people to have more fear for their souls than their lives.

Elle was given a grand and solemn funeral. Every commoner of the Cypher Duchy participated in her funeral wake, grimly holding back their sobs as they mourned the loss of their heroine. They buried her atop a grassy knoll some distance away from the citadel. Her gravestone overlooked the fiefdom that she had fought all her life to defend. Children wept and draped garlands of flowers over her grave. One child, however, a little girl from the east, cried the hardest. Her wails of misery tore at the hearts of the gathered people as she clung tightly to the gauntleted hand of a somber man clad in shining armor. An elderly half-elf shook his head sadly at the scene. No wise words of comfort would issue forth from his mouth this day.

Aalariel’s kin emerged from the forest to claim her body. The elves were battered and bloodied. They had not escaped the ravages of the orcs unscathed. Seeing this, the people of Cypher could begrudge them nothing and they handed over the proud ranger’s corpse, offering as many phrases of condolences to the elves as they could. The forest folk vanished amidst the trees without a single word.

Zheng Long, the eternal prankster and storyteller always had a smile upon his face. The grimace of terror and agony that his features were locked into however, sent cold chills down the spines of any who gazed upon his remains. The warrior monk’s corpse went missing the night before he was due to be buried. They found his coffin torn apart, along with the rest of the room that it was kept in. The implications of such a discovery were too horrible for the people to contemplate, so they put it out of their minds.

As for Shura, the savior of Cypher, he sat upon a broken piece of masonry in the middle of an un-cleared patch of land in the citadel grounds and stared into space. Some distance away from him, two curved swords lay on the ground as if they have been hurled there. The swordsman refused any conversation, nor any form of sustenance. Kuroi had cleaned his wounds and set his broken leg properly for him again but the old man could do little to pull him out of his despair.

Occasionally, his gaze would stray to the pair of swords lying abandoned on the ground and he would reach out for them. Brushing his fingers across their hilts brought him such great agony that he reeled back. In his fevered dreams, he killed Elle again and again. Sometimes, his blades did not tear apart the battle-mage but their keen edges sliced open the flesh of Jo-annia. These were the times when he woke screaming in terror. It was during such an occasion that Dlevkias found him.

The smith picked up the swords and examined them. The wakizashi was chipped and cracked beyond repair and the black sword had an extremely visible notch along its length. He whistled under his breath at their condition and tucked them into a leather case. Dlevkias noticed the swordsman staring at the swords with an expression filled with both longing and horror.

“ I’ll take them off your hands for a while, Shura.” Dlevkias could not even be sure that his flat voice registered in Shura’s consciousness, but he had no comfort to offer the swordsman. After all, he had done worse deeds in his long, long life and had needed no moral justification for them. Why would Shura, whom he considered a kindred soul, require any as well? “ When I return, you will be ready to wield them once again.” He said firmly, and walked off, leaving Shura behind.

The swordsman reached out his arm in protest and tried to pursue the smith but he collapsed onto the grass. Shura lay there, helpless and unconscious until Jo-annia happened to notice him. The woman tried to move him but such a feat of strength was beyond her. Eventually, Feros had to drag the swordsman back to his room and deposit him unceremoniously onto his bed. Shura regained consciousness partially just as Jo-annia pulled the covers over him. She offered him a tremulous smile that did much to make him forget the horrors of his recent battles. With a grateful sigh, the swordsman fell into a dreamless slumber.




The sunlight falling on his face roused Shura from his slumber. He rose to a sitting position numbly. His broken leg throbbed with a dull ache and he did not feel inclined to rest his weight upon it. The sleep had done him much good. He could now bolster his will with his renewed mental strength against the terrible memories and his swirling emotions.

The swordsman half-turned his head, almost expecting to spot Elle sleeping with her head atop the table again. He sighed when he saw that he was completely alone. At length, he became bored and seizing a pole that was left lying around in his room for use as a walking staff, limped towards his door and opened it weakly.

Shura hobbled down the familiar corridors of the Cypher Duchy. The citadel used to abuzz with the chatter of the servants and the sound of the common people going about their business in the town. Now, only deathly silence prevailed. Looking out of a window, he saw patrols of church knights lecturing any whom they came upon on the way they should live their lives. The swordsman knew then what was going to become of Elle’s people and he could not hold back a sigh of frustration. Yet another land had fallen under the thrall of the Church. The Celestial Knight would be pleased to acquire new slaves.

“ We have no further business here, my young friend.” Kuroi’s voice shook him from his musing. The old swordsman stood behind him, his face somber. He too, recognized the new threat that the people of Cypher faced but he obviously felt that it was not his place to fight it. Shura, his bloodlust more than sated, nodded in agreement. He cared little for the Duchy’s common folk but he despised the church a great deal. Perhaps one day, when his travels took him here again, he would tear down the Celestial Knight’s influence in the Cypher Duchy, he promised himself.

“ Let us set off as soon as possible.” Shura said his tone more than a little resigned.




Kervast lead his mercenaries off that very day. He clasped Shura, Kuroi and Mikealus heartily on the shoulders and laughed boisterously at their well wishes.

“ May we meet again on a battlefield someday!” He offered the typical mercenary’s farewell and with a coarse bellow, called for his soldiers to depart. The mercenaries gave a ragged cheer and moved off in a great cloud of dust, which marred the white cloaks of the church soldiers manning the gates. Jeers and self-righteous admonitions were exchanged between the soldiers of fortune and the soldiers of the church.

“ Good fortune to them.” Mikealus smiled fondly at the departing mercenaries. The paladin was far more tolerant than his brethren by far. He too, mounted a warhorse laden with saddlebags. Shura and Kuroi regarded him curiously. Where was the paladin bound? They asked him.

“ A great force of evil has risen in the southern lands.” Mikealus gazed in the direction he was speaking of, an expression of calm confidence upon his face. “ I ride forth to battle it.” The look of utter bewilderment upon the two swordsmen’s faces made him break out in a low laugh.

“ Do you mean to spend the rest of your life seeking out evil and destroying it?” Shura asked incredulously. “ I would have thought that the Celestial Knight would prefer you to be converting the masses to his brand of dogma instead!” Kuroi nudged Shura warningly. The young swordsman’s tone regarding the Celestial Knight was less than respectful. Mikealus shook his head patiently.

“ I do not follow the Celestial Knight.” The paladin’s proclamation stunned both Shura and Kuroi. “ When I left the citadel that day, I was…put through a trial. Somehow, an orcish shaman’s curse went awry and I was sent hurtling into another plane of existence where time and space were unlike this one. After what seemed to be years of struggle, I discovered a truth: one does not need a deity to embody his ideals. My power comes from the very belief in goodness and righteousness itself, not from the Celestial Knight. With that power, I was able to return and do battle beside my friends.” A sad smile creased his face. “ Much good that did them, though.”

“ You have fought well, paladin, do not doubt that.” Kuroi told him. “ Countless more would have died if not for you.”

“ I thank you for your words, Kuroi.” Mikealus replied. His gaze went to the distant horizon again, however. “ My resolve has not faltered. That is why I must go forth on my quest.”

“ Mikealus!” H’siao Fen’s shrill voice caught their attention. The girl tore free from a middle-aged woman’s grasp and ran forward. Mikealus swung down from his steed and embraced her warmly. “ Don’t leave me alone here! Take me with you!”

“ You have seen too much strife and bloodshed, H’siao Fen.” The paladin told her. “ Stay here and lead a peaceful life. Madam Daw is a good woman. She will take good care of you.” The girl shook her head in tearful protest but Mikealus would not be budged. He stood up and mounted his steed again.

“ Walk in the light.” The paladin reached down and patted her head fondly once more. He turned his steed towards the gate. The mighty warhorse reared, and the image of the radiant paladin astride the beast tall, upright and noble burned itself into the minds of all those gathered there. “ BLEK-LANCE AU RADIANE!” His battle cry lingered in the air long after he had departed. The people of Cypher would chant it as a litany to bolster their spirits in the dark times to come, taking comfort that somewhere, a mighty champion of righteousness fought for all of humanity.

H’siao Fen knelt weeping in the dust. Madam Daw’s attempts to comfort her were coldly rebuffed and it pained Kuroi’s heart to see the despair present on the kindly peasant’s face. Shura walked over to the sobbing girl and glared down at her.

“ Be gone, peasant!” He growled at Madam Daw. She backed off hurriedly. A metallic object clattered to the ground beside H’siao Fen. The girl looked up into the menacing visage of the swordsman. The object was a razor edged dagger that Shura always carried around on his person. “ Does it hurt, weakling? You can end it now!” He gestured to the dagger.

“ Shura!” Kuroi raised his voice in rebuke but the swordsman raised a hand to silence him. H’siao Fen reached out for the dagger and took it up with trembling hands. She positioned it over her chest. Madam Daw moved forward to snatch the dagger away but Shura knocked her aside with a sweep of his hand. The peasant tumbled into the dust. Kuroi hurriedly helped her up.

“ Do not interfere in the decisions of others!” Shura reprimanded her. “ If it is one thing you peasants have a right to, it is the right to decide whether to live or die! Would you deprive one of your kind that right?” He sneered at H’siao Fen’s hesitation. “ Do it, weakling! Or do you lack the courage to do so? No wonder Elle took you in: you are as spineless as she was!” The girl’s expression changed from one of terrified sorrow to one of utter hatred as she met the swordsman’s gaze.

The dagger flashed towards Shura but a heavy backhand sent the girl flying. She landed on her back, one cheek swollen and blood flowing profusely from her nose. Shura bent to retrieve his dagger and started to limp away. Kuroi gave a resigned sigh and turned to follow the swordsman.

“ Shura!” The girl’s cry of rage halted them in their tracks. He half turned to regard her. “ I will kill you! This I swear by the gods! I will put an end to your life someday!” Her pretty face was contorted into a hideous snarl of hatred. Shura gave her a mocking grin.

“ Good. You are free to try anytime, anywhere.” The swordsman turned his back on her utterly and limped off.



A rap on his door drew his attention away from his packing. He opened it cautiously, wondering if the foolish peasant would be stupid enough to make an attempt on his life now. Jo-annia stood in the doorway. As soon as the door was completely open, she leapt forward and threw her arms around Shura’s neck. The swordsman nervously scanned the area for any signs of Feros. Detecting none, he reached out with his mind and shut the door behind her.

“ I am so glad to see that you are fine, Shura.” Jo-annia said, breaking off her embrace. She regarded the swordsman’s features, noted the haggard look, the fresh scars across his face, neck and hands and the streaks of white across his temples. “ You look terrible!”

“ I am glad of your approval.” Shura said wryly, biting back an awed reply on her beauty and how grateful he was for her presence. He sat down on his bed, his expression as apologetic as he could make it. “ About Jaroem, I apologize once more. I should not have killed him.” Shura lied through his teeth. He would like nothing better than to slay the creature again and again. A somber look came across Jo-annia’s features.

“ You had no choice, Shura.” She took one of his heavily scarred and callused hands in her own soft and smooth ones and stroked it comfortingly. “ You must not blame yourself for his death. Neither must you blame yourself for the deaths of Elle, Aalariel and Zheng Long.” That last statement must have struck a sore spot in Shura and his expression must have changed as he saw Jo-annia regard him with worrying concern.

“ They were fools that fought badly and with little skill!” Shura said. “ They have no one to blame for their deaths but themselves!” His words were harsh but his tone was one full of despair and guilt.

“ Why do you always say words that hurt yourself more than others, Shura?” Jo-annia asked him. The swordsman had no answer. “ You drive off the very concept of happiness by your very demeanor. Know that this is a place where the sun rises, no matter how dark the night was.”

The woman’s beauty struck a chord deep within the swordsman. He reached out a trembling hand to stroke her face, wanting to ease the terrible ache he felt. Jo-annia was taken aback by the hungry look in his eyes. The swordsman’s pride halted him, however. He was Shura, the master of the hellish swordplay inherited from his sensei. His swords were meant to carve out rivers of blood throughout the world. He would not give in to such base desires! Shura forced his hand down into a grateful pat on Jo-annia’s shoulder.

“ My thanks for your words.” He averted his gaze, not wanting to look upon her face. “ My strength fails me, Jo-annia. I would like to rest.” The woman found herself breathing easier and nodded weakly.

“ Sleep well, Shura.” Jo-annia wished him. “ We are leaving for Terun the day after tomorrow. Kuroi has expressed his consent to travel with us. You will be joining us, then?” Shura raised a curious eyebrow, and then nodded. He had nowhere to go anyway. Besides, he felt that he still had a great deal to learn from Kuroi.

“ Peaceful repose.” Shura offered her. Jo-annia smiled and shut the door behind her, leaving Shura all alone in a room that seemed dimmer without her.



Blackmire roared with laughter at the cowering heap of charred flesh before him. He beat his mailed fist upon the armrest of his throne and doubled forward. Tears of mirth crept into the corners of his eyes. At length, the dark lord’s laughter died down and he waved a negligent hand, calling upon his fiendish power as he did so.

Negative energy swirled from his outstretched fingers, coalescing into an inky cloud that enveloped the burnt form of his sister. The vampire’s charred and blackened flesh reformed itself, turning back into the pale and smooth skin that it was originally. Before long, Katherine stood draped in the tatters of her clothes, quivering with rage before her brother. She let loose a primal shriek of anger the moment her vocal cords re-grew. Blackmire watched her with a bored expression, graciously allowing his sister to indulge in one of her tantrums.

“ That…that…ungrateful bastard!” Katherine muttered, after she was done with her shrieking. “ If we had not taken him in all those years ago, he would have starved to death in the gutters!” Blackmire grinned. He knew better.

“ In any case, sister…you have failed me.” The dark lord began. The look of terror that came across Katherine’s face was priceless, Blackmire thought. He could not be bothered to indulge in mind games with his evil sibling now, however. “ But it is of no consequence. The acquisition of the essence shard was not essential to my battle against the Church anyway.” Ah, now she’s angry again, Blackmire noted. A dreadful snarl was etched all across his sister’s face. The vampire was not happy to learn that she had been sent on what was apparently a trifling, whimsical errand for her brother. She did not dare speak a word of protest though.

“ Rest well and return to your duties within the week.” Blackmire continued. He picked up a tome that was left on a small stand beside his throne and opened it, taking his gaze off his sister. “ You may go now, little sister.” The dark lord flicked his fingers, a sign of dismissal. Katherine snarled, turned on her heel, and stalked out of the throne room. A grin pulled at the corners of Blackmire’s mouth. He snapped his book shut and leaned back on his throne.

“ Well done, my friend, well done.” He whispered.


Dlevkias was not surprised to see a cloaked form darken his doorway. He looked up into Shura’s face. Beneath the coldly detached mask carefully fixed upon his face, the smith could sense the trepidation and fear in him. Dlevkias shrugged and grunted as he reached under his counter for a package. Everyone had to deal with his or her own personal demons. Only weaklings ask for help.

Unwrapping the package, the smith revealed two curved blades. Shura stepped forward to examine them, doubts plaguing his heart. He gave a low whistle of awe at the smith’s skill. The black sword had been honed into a form resembling a katana. An elaborately carved crosspiece had replaced its crude rectangular hand-guard. The eastern character depicting the word ‘black’ was visible upon the crosspiece and carefully worked grooves were cut down the length of the hilt for an improved grip. The swordsman raised an eyebrow.

“ Slightly ostentatious, is it not?” He said wryly. Dlevkias grinned broadly. He gestured to the other blade.

“ Your wakizashi was beyond repair, swordsman. I made an entirely new blade for you.” The smith tapped his fingernail upon the flat of the shorter sword. Shura looked upon the sword that was to take the place of his wakizashi. The surface of the blade was a milky, swirling white that disorientated anyone who looked upon it too long. “ I added a new mineral into the steel during the forging of this sword.” Dlevkias offered as an explanation. Like the black sword, the wakizashi had an eastern character carved into its crosspiece as well. The eastern character depicted the word ‘white’.

“ How quaint.” Shura said dryly. Dlevkias gave a low laugh.

“ What is a warrior without style, swordsman?” The smith said. Shura sighed resignedly. He was not inclined to argue with the obstinate smith. Besides, the craftsmanship lavished upon the weapons was truly breathtaking.

“ You have not…enhanced them in any other manner, have you?” Shura asked. He was not particularly fond of enchanted weapons. Dlevkias shook his head.

“ Using magical blades would be an insult to someone of your skill, swordsman.” Dlevkias said. Shura reached out for the swords. His hands halted a hair’s breadth away from them, trembling. The smith noted this and frowned.

“ What is the matter?” He growled. Looking into the terrified expression now blatantly visible upon Shura’s face, Dlevkias knew. “ Doubt plagues you, swordsman. I would have thought you to be made of sterner stuff than this!”

Shura gritted his teeth. Sweat beaded on his temples. He willed his hands to close around the marvelous hilts of his new swords but images of Elle’s final moments kept creeping up into the edges of his vision. Dlevkias reached forward and punched him heavily across the jaw, felling Shura. He swept the blades off his counter to clatter noisily onto the floor of his shop.

“ Do not disappoint me, swordsman!” The smith roared at him. Shura cowered on the floor, eyeing the swords with an expression of terror mixed with longing. “ You were meant to slaughter thousands! Destroy the terror that fills your soul!” Dlevkias pulled a gleaming battleaxe from a rack and advanced upon Shura. “ Or I shall end your misery here!”

Shura said nothing. He got to his feet and walked over to where his swords lay. Staring down morosely at them, the swordsman remained silent. Dlevkias gave a great roar and charged forward, his axe held high above his head in both hands. All he saw was a blur before a terrible screeching sound filled his ears and he found his neck caught in a cross between the black and white swords. The swordsman had retrieved his blades and sheared right through Dlevkias’s battleaxe with a swiftness that astounded the smith. Shura removed the swords from the smith’s neck and regarded them, his expression unreadable.

“ My most sincere thanks, Dlevkias. You are the greatest sword smith I have ever met.” The swordsman slid the swords into the sheaths that lay atop the smith’s counter and buckled them to his belt. He dropped a heavy pouch of gold on the counter after doing so. It was all the money Kervast had paid him for his role in fighting the orcs. Without any further words, he turned and left the shop, leaving a bewildered Delvkias staring at him.

Elle’s grave was sited at a truly beautiful knoll. Flowers carpeted the ground and the lands of the Cypher Duchy were visible for miles beyond. A dark, cloaked form marred the tranquility of the place this day, however. Kuroi looked sadly upon his young friend regarding the grave of the woman that had fought beside him. Shura had stood before the grave for an hour, unspeaking and unwavering in his vigil.

At the foot of the knoll, Feros paced about impatiently while Jo-annia regarded Shura’s dark form with a worried expression on her face. Professor Renlia sat in his wagon, engrossed in a book. Kuroi walked forward to stand beside Shura.

“ Do you have anything to say to her, Shura?” He asked. The swordsman raised a hand to his head, brushing aside strands of white hair from his eyes. He nodded slightly.

“ Just three things.” Shura took a deep breath.


“ Thank you.”


“ Sorry.”


“ And goodbye.”


Shura turned. Wordlessly, he began to descend. Kuroi sighed sadly and followed him.

Professor Renlia established an educational institute in the town of Terun. The bumbling professor beamed with pride as the city’s rulers congratulated him on the success of his project, which apparently had been going on for a few years, long before he had to flee the capital of Gryloas. Feros and Jo-annia became teachers in the institute as prospective scholars from across the country enrolled. The comely couple became the subject of much talk and approval amongst the citizens of Terun. The kindly priest Attucks gave his support, despite his deity’s aversion to education. The school of Renlia imparted the lore of magic, science and religion to all who wished to learn.


Kuroi coughed violently. His health had gone from bad to worse since his return to his dwelling a day’s walk from Terun. He spotted droplets of blood on the hand that he used to cover his mouth and wiped it hurriedly on his sleeve. The old swordsman did not wish to alarm his radiant guest this day.

Jo-annia sat on the floor across the small room, trying to get used to the sitting position that Kuroi had adopted, folding his legs under him and resting his weight on his heels. The old swordsman had offered her a chair but she refused it politely. Apparently, she wanted to experience how the people of the Empire of Blades sat.

The paper door slid open, admitting Shura. He carried a steaming teapot in one hand. The swordsman placed the teapot on a small stand after filling two cups. He shoved one into Kuroi’s hands with a disgruntled air and handed the other to Jo-annia. The woman smiled and thanked him while Kuroi sniffed the tea critically.

“ The tea is too strong, Shura.” Kuroi said, a distasteful look upon his face. Shura scowled at him.

“ Bah!” The swordsman replied impatiently. “ The last time you called it ‘colored water’, saying that it was not strong enough!”

“ It’s really quite good, Shura.” Jo-annia interposed hurriedly. The drink was bitter but she wanted to humor the swordsman who was apparently in a rather bad mood.

“ Humans!” Kuroi sniffed disdainfully. Jo-annia had to smother her chuckles as the insults started to fly between the two easterners. A month had gone by since their return to Terun and the woman had visited Kuroi’s abode a few times. She enjoyed the company of Kuroi and Shura and the latter had proven to be extremely helpful when she encountered a problem in her work she could not solve herself. In truth, however, she was delighted to see her friend, a perpetually roaming soul, dwell so contentedly with his mentor. For the first time, Jo-annia could spot the slightest signs of peace and contentment in Shura. She had no idea that the swordsman fell back into his dark contemplations in her absence, however.


Shura bid farewell to Jo-annia as she boarded one of the wagons that headed daily to Terun. The woman was well known for her strength of character and her frequent visits to Kuroi’s dwelling in the woods stirred up no rumors amongst the Terun populace.

“ I’ll see you soon, Shura!” Jo-annia waved as the wagon rumbled off. Shura smiled and watched until she was out of sight. He turned towards Kuroi’s house and started to walk back when his mental powers detected a hostile presence. The swordsman’s blood froze in his veins as an armored figure emerged from the forest to bar his path.

“ How many years have I pursued you, assassin?” The figure said. “ Seeking solace for the soul of my departed lord and my honor has led me across the seas to this vile land.” The figure tore off its helmet, revealing the features of a noble elf. “ My companions have perished in their quest, but I, Bu-Shin shall make sure that they have not died in vain!”

“ Bu-Shin…” Shura muttered under his breath. Cold sweat rolled off his body. The invincible samurai from his homeland had tracked him all the way here. His blades came into his hands easily and he adopted a battle stance. Jo-annia’s attempts to reduce his tendency of carrying his weapons everywhere he went had not met with much success. Bu-Shin drew the great sword strapped to his back and advanced menacingly.

“ Stop.”

The single word, spoken calmly, stunned both combatants. Kuroi stood by the side, his expression stern. Bu-Shin recognized the old swordsman and lowered his blade, if not his guard.

“ What do you want, half-man?” The samurai asked contemptuously. Like all elves, Bu-Shin held little regard for someone of mixed blood, like Kuroi.

“ Now is not the time for this battle.” Kuroi said. Bu-Shin laughed at his proclamation.

“ And who are you to say so?” The samurai raised his sword again. “ I shall not be denied my vengeance and honor!”

“ Your honor would be better redeemed in a formal duel, Bu-Shin.” Kuroi pointed out. “ Shura shall battle you three years from now at a location of your choice.” Shura stared in amazement at Kuroi, wondering what the old swordsman had in mind. Bu-Shin scoffed at the thought until Kuroi spoke again.

“ I swear this by my honor.” He declared. The samurai was stunned. He lowered his sword grudgingly.

“ Your name shall be disgraced throughout the Empire should this assassin fail to turn up, Kuroi Itezeru.” Bu-Shin said. “ But I can not deny your honor.” He sheathed his blade and regarded Shura. “ Three years from now, assassin! I shall await you in the Imperial Hall!”

“ You await death, samurai.” Shura taunted him. “ I shall be there.” Bu-Shin put on his helmet and strode off without a further word. Shura stared at his diminishing back for a long time, yearning to finish him off with a well-placed thrust through the spine from behind. He stood motionless until the samurai was out of sight and lowering his blades, let loose a heavy sigh. Kuroi walked over to him and bid him to sheath his blades.

“ Why?” Shura asked. Kuroi merely shook his head dismissively.

“ You still have much to learn yet, young man.”


Time flew by for Shura. He spent his days on meditation, chores and hours of ki training. Kuroi was insistent that he should strengthen his ki and Shura readily agreed. The swordsman would stand on his hands, then drawing upon his knowledge of the Third Sphere; focus all his ki into his fingertips. He would then rest his entire body weight upon his fingers. During his first attempt, Shura could barely hold that position for a minute. By the third day, he managed two.

By the third week, the swordsman would put himself into a meditative trance while in that taxing position for hours on end. The flat stone that he used for his training bore his finger marks, all of them etched clearly into its rough surface.

The old man then fashioned a harness that he strapped onto Shura’s shoulders. He slid a slab of stone into the harness. Sandals that bound the swordsman’s feet to soles of stone weighed down his feet. Calling upon his ki, Shura attempted to scale the hill some distance away from Kuroi’s dwelling with his burden. Within days, the swordsman would reach the peak within minutes, leaping from foothold to foothold, never using his hands. Shura would greet each new day perched atop that hill, an exultant grin on his face despite the terrible weight that pressed down on his shoulders. His ki had multiplied itself a hundredfold, although it still came nowhere near the level that Kuroi had attained.

In the evenings, he would read endlessly, browsing through Kuroi’s considerable collection of books. Sometimes, the two swordsmen would argue through the night about different philosophies and schools of thought. Dawn would find the two of them outstretched on the floor, utterly exhausted by hours of debate. Shura was taught to recognize and appraise art by his sensei but he only truly learnt how to appreciate when he came across Kuroi’s work. Beautiful landscapes brought memories of his distant homeland back to Shura. He found only one portrait though. An enchanting elf maiden dressed in an elaborately woven kimono sat by a pond, a parasol made of paper shielding her from the bright sun, as she looked dreamily into a horizon unseen by the viewer. When he questioned Kuroi about it, the old swordsman merely shook his head sadly and sighed.

The two of them drove a wagon laden with vegetables grown in Kuroi’s garden to the town of Terun for sale. After many months of hard work, the two swordsmen got four silver pieces from their harvest. Both had seen and handled much more wealth but they bought their provisions and left, hearts and purses lighter. Shura was surprised at how cheerful he was at the paltry sum he had earned. The four silver pieces were the only money that the swordsman had not earned through blood and death.

Jo-annia’s frequent visits did much to lift their spirits. The three of them were intellectual equals and had much common knowledge to share. The old man was sincerely thankful for her quick wit and great depth of thought that was accompanied by a cheerful demeanor. He knew, however, that her continued presence would cause more pain to Shura than the claws of the vilest demon ever could. She spoke often of the progress of her father’s school. The educational institute was flourishing and the numbers of students had increased. Hundreds of scholars from all over Gryloas flocked there, offering their services as teachers. Between Professor Renlia, Feros and her, the three of them were in the process of creating a standard of education that was to be made available to all seekers of knowledge.

Shura and Kuroi applauded her efforts. Their faces fell, however, when she asked them to become teachers as well. Shura had a deadly appointment to meet and Kuroi…the old man had not failed to notice that fact that his body was weakening.

Kuroi retired early one night, claiming he was tired. He gruffly refused Shura’s offer to brew his favorite tea. Not wanting to disturb the old man, Shura and Jo-annia went outside to continue their discussion, which died off and was forgotten moments after they stepped out of the house. Shura turned to regard the house worriedly as he heard Kuroi cough violently. Jo-annia beamed at her friend.

“ What?” The swordsman noticed her expression. Jo-annia chuckled lowly.

“ That look of consternation on your face really suits you, Shura.” She said. “ You would go far as a nurse!” Shura gave vent to a self-deprecating sigh and shrugged.

“ I have an old man on my hands. That is more of a bother than you can possibly imagine!” The swordsman intoned, just loud enough for Kuroi to hear.

“ One can not imagine the horrors I have to put up with, letting this inept young fool sponge off me!” Kuroi shot back. Jo-annia laughed and pulled at Shura’s sleeve, leading him further away from the house so that the old man could get his rest. The two came to the flat stone where Shura did his meditation. He spread his cloak over its cold surface and bid Jo-annia to take a seat.

“ You seem to be doing well here, Shura.” Jo-annia said as she settled herself comfortably atop the stone. “ I have never seen you so ready to smile and full of life.” Shura raised his gaze to the night sky, having no appropriate response. The rough work and constant training was agreeable to the swordsman and Jo-annia could see a sense of contentment that was never present in his rough features. Even with the streaks of white hair across his temples, Shura looked far more youthful than he did when they first met outside the city hall, so long ago.

“ All my life, battle has been my calling. I used to dread the time between each battle, seeking to immerse myself in endless bloodshed. Peace was an unthinkable concept to me. I could not live without battle!” Shura told her. He brought up his hands, letting Jo-annia look upon his palms. “ These calluses are from the hoe, not from the hilts of swords. Painting and gardening fill my mind instead of war plans.” The swordsman laughed sardonically. “ What has happened?”

“ You have learnt to live, Shura. That is all.” Jo-annia replied firmly but the look of doubt remained on Shura’s face.

“ Have I?” He muttered. “ My friend Kalvairn once told me that there is a fine line between enlightenment and escapism. He said that I must be able to tell where that line lies one day, lest I torment myself unnecessarily.” He brought his hands together in a soft clap, dismissing his plight utterly. Shura brought his gaze back to Jo-annia.

“ And you?” The swordsman asked. “ I am sure that you have no problem seeking happiness.” Jo-annia smiled, blushing slightly.

“ Life is good in Terun for my father. He has fulfilled his life-long dream.” She said. “ The people approve of us. Feros and I take much pride and joy in our work.” Shura did not like her mentioning the mage, but he kept silent and nodded emphatically.

“ It must be good…to walk in the light of acceptance…” The slight note of envy in the swordsman’s voice touched Jo-annia.

“ The people of Terun would gladly accept you as a teacher, Shura!” She said feelingly. “ You are more than qualified!” The swordsman looked into her eyes. Her expression was tender but it was a tenderness reserved for the many good friends of the kind hearted Jo-annia. He knew that he would get nothing more from her and the thought was surprisingly painful.

“ They would like me to teach them how to kill?” The forced tone of incredulity was hollow in Shura’s voice. “ I suppose I would not mind, as long as I get paid enough like the mercenary I am.”

“ Of course not! You are proficient in the studies of logic and numbers! I myself would not be able to lay claim to knowledge superior to yours!” Jo-annia recognized the bitterness in Shura’s statement but she was willing to let it slip past her notice.

“ I…” Shura bit back the words that would make him look like a fool before her. “ I am unable to give you an answer now, Jo-annia.”

Jo-annia was unsatisfied with that response and more than a little confused with her friend’s demeanor but she was content to let the matter slip. The two friends stayed out there for an hour before Jo-annia grew weary and was forced to retire.



Kuroi was sweeping his front porch when Shura came bounding back, the slab of stone he bore hardly slowing him down at all. Setting down his burden and kicking off his cumbersome sandals, the swordsman took a few deep breaths to stabilize his ki. The old man shook his head in amazement. Shura had made astounding progress in so short a time. Within a year, the swordsman would be able to rival the late Zheng Long, a Han warrior monk who had devoted his life to the study of ki. Together with his skill in the sword and his mental powers, Shura would become the most fearsome warrior the world has ever seen since the time of Bu-Shin and himself.

“ The seasons change.” Kuroi observed. Summer and autumn had gone by in the twinkling of an eye.

“ Yes.” Shura’s reply was laconic. He was lost in his own thoughts. Almost a year had gone by since he left the service of Blackmire. He had come such a long way, experienced so much, in such a short time. He once stood beside Blackmire, Katherine, Ander and Kalvairn. The five of them had created a legend amongst the community of adventures with the amount of glory they won and wealth they acquired. Their partnership ended though, with the deaths of Ander and Kalvairn at the hands of the Church and the defection of Shura.

His encounter with Elle drew him inexplicably into fighting for the forces of good. He slew orcs instead of knights, battled vampires instead of paladins. Such a change did not unsettle him much. Both good and evil beings died just as readily under his blades. Yet he could not find a niche in such an existence for him.

Yet, living in Kuroi’s small house, doing chores day in and day out, the swordsman did not feel the familiar wanderlust tugging at him. He had no desire to leave, despite the duel he had scheduled with Bu-Shin. Perhaps here, he might find a way out of the endless whirlwind of violence that his life had been all these years.

“ Do not go to the duel with Bu-Shin.” Kuroi said suddenly. Shura stared at him incredulously.

“ But you will be dishonored!” The swordsman protested. Kuroi laughed and shook his head at his statement.

“ I shall never see our homeland again, young man.” He said evenly. “ What does honor mean to someone like me?” Shura shook his head in denial at Kuroi’s claim but the old man laughed at his vehemence. His laughter became choked and Kuroi fell to his knees, coughing. Droplets of blood spotted the ground with every heaving exhalation.

“ Kuroi!” Shura cried out in alarm. He reached down and caught hold of the old man’s arm, realizing in horror how brittle the bones felt beneath his grip. Kuroi had fought in countless battles, suffered numerous wounds. His body had fought valiantly against old age but even the sword saint had his limits.


The old man was bedridden from that point on. Shura rarely left his side. He kept a constant vigil beside his friend, tending to his needs clumsily. After the third day, when Shura knocked over a shelf for the tenth time, Kuroi ordered him to go out for a breath of fresh air. The swordsman was happy to comply despite his concern for his friend.

He set out briskly for the forest, seeking to gather enough firewood for the impending cold weather. Within an hour, he had acquired a reasonable armful and made his way back to Kuroi’s house. To his horror, he found the old man sitting ambivalently upon his porch, an expression of mock innocence on his face.

“ What?” He said in response to Shura’s disapproving frown. When the swordsman failed to say anything, Kuroi broke out into laughter. His laughter lasted only briefly, however and his shoulders slumped in exhaustion. How fatigued the old man looked terrified Shura. He was obviously in great agony from his illness, yet his expression was serene, terrifyingly serene.

“ The Blade of Harmony shall soon fade from existence and memory.” Kuroi said weakly.

“ But the mark it has left shall always remain!” Shura protested. “ Your work will not be lost, Kuroi!” A sudden impulse swept through the swordsman and he fell to his knees, pressing his forehead to the cold ground. “ I shall never allow it to fade, sensei! “

“ You would consider yourself my student, arrogant Shura?” Kuroi’s words were mocking but his tone was one of fond amusement. “ You are more than worthy, Shura, but I am not. No, you will never have another sensei once you have won your name. I only wish that my teachings will be of help to you.”

Shura was speechless, unable to respond to the great honor that Kuroi had just done him. He had been elevated to a status equal to that of kensai in the old man’s eyes. Kuroi raised his gaze to regard the sky. A contented smile came across his face.

“ It was never for nothing.” His head fell, chin resting against his chest. “ I am…so…tired.” Shura kept his gaze on the ground, unwilling to get to his feet to face the reality of a world bereft one of its greatest heroes.

The Black Crane stretched its marvelous wings and flew into the heavens.


Shura buried the old man’s body under a shady tree beside the pond he was so fond of fishing from.


Magatsu Yagyu, known better as Kuroi Itezeru
Hero of the Black Crane.
Master of Harmony.
Teacher.
Friend.

The swordsman could not bring himself to carve anything further into the gravestone of Kuroi.

He spent the next two weeks packing all of Kuroi’s books, scrolls and paintings onto the wagon the two of them used to transport vegetables. Shura intended to hand it all over to Attucks. The priest would know what to do with them. So intent he was on his task that he never noticed a small scroll delivered to him by a messenger on horseback.

He drove the wagon despondently to the town of Terun. He was more than halfway there when he realized that he had packed all his traveling gear, cloak and weapons as well. His mind knew that he would not be returning to Kuroi’s house even if he did not. The journey took almost two days, the hired pony being more than grateful for the easy pace it was subjected to.

He handed the wagon to an attendant at the library where Attucks worked. The priest was strangely absent. When he enquired, the attendant, a pale young man coughed.

“ I seem to have caught a bad chill, sir, or I would not be here either. Father Attucks is conducting a wedding in the city’s cathedral.” He informed Shura. The swordsman noticed that the city was uncommonly quiet. “ Everyone has gone to the wedding, sir.”

“ The couple must be pretty prominent and of high status.” Shura observed. The attendant laughed.

“ Lady Renlia and Mister Feros have been the talk of the town for many months already, sir!” He said in amusement. His laughter choked as a terrible expression came over the swordsman’s face. It was only now that he noticed the pair of swords hanging by Shura’s hips and the warrior’s garb that the swordsman wore. His bowels turned to water as Shura turned his terrifying gaze upon him.

“ Say that again.” His voice was low and smooth but the undertone of menace had the attendant’s knees shaking violently.

“ La…lady…Renlia…and…” Shura’s furious backhand knocked the attendant into the wall, where he slumped to the ground, unconscious. The black katana came free of its sheath and Shura stalked off into the city, seeking the cathedral. He found the towering structure easily enough. A pair of church knights, clad in gleaming ceremonial armor, barred the main doors. They were chatting lightheartedly to each other but they looked with alarm at the dark figure advancing upon them with sword drawn.

“ Hold!” A church knight hefted his pole-arm. “ Weapons are not allowed beyond this doors!” Shura caught the knight’s pale hair in his left hand and rammed his head into a stone pillar. The other knight brought his pole-arm into a fighting stance but Shura cut the weapon into half with one sweep of the black katana. A swift kick to the groin dropped the knight and Shura stood poised over him, katana upraised in readiness to plunge through the back of his defeated adversary.

He regained his senses abruptly though. Looking at the bloodied and unconscious form of his first victim, the swordsman was awash with shame. His katana returned to its sheath and another kick sent the second church knight into a deep and dreamless sleep. He placed a hand on the door, then withdrew it. Calling upon his ki, Shura leapt ten feet into the air, scaling the walls of the cathedral. He entered the building through a window of a monk’s cell. The occupant was not present to raise any protest so Shura left the cell and made his way towards the altar room where the wedding was held.

He found her before the altar, radiant and beautiful in her wedding gown. Beside her, the mage Feros smiled contentedly at his bride. Attucks read out their vows awkwardly. He had been a warrior priest for far too many years of his life. Shura hardly heard the words coming from the priest’s mouth. His attention was riveted on Jo-annia. As always, her beauty stole his breath away. But this time, a taste of bitterness filled his mouth. When Attucks gave leave for Feros to kiss her, the entire congregation cheered with joy at their union. Shura remained in the shadows, unmoving, even long after everyone left and the altar boys came in to clean up the place.






“ Go outside.” A soft voice said in Jo-annia’s head. Bemused, the woman glanced around but failed to detect the speaker. Her husband was engaged in cheerful conversation with a group of his friends. Making a few excuses, she took her leave of the wedding feast and emerged onto the dark streets of Terun.

“ There. Just beside that pillar.” Jo-annia looked in the direction the voice was referring to, straining her eyes. A slight movement amidst the darkness caught her attention.

“ Shura!” She called out in delight. The swordsman was taken aback. He could sneak past the ninjas of the east yet the woman had detected his presence so easily. He stepped out of the shadows. He was already on his way out of the city before Jo-annia intercepted him. The woman ran to him, smiling widely.

“ I thought that you failed to receive my invitation.” Jo-annia said. “ We missed your presence during the day. Where’s Kuroi?”

“ He’s dead.” Shura said curtly. “ And I have received no invitation. I merely came to hand his belongings over to Attucks. “ Jo-annia gave a small gasp of shocked grief. She had become great friends with the old man. Tears rolled down her cheeks. Shura brushed aside the tears with his fingers.

“ Now is not the time for grief.” He said, moved by her regard for Kuroi. The swordsman extended his hand. “ Congratulations, my friend.” Jo-annia took it, accepting his well wishes weakly. After a moment, Shura pulled his hand free and turned on his heel.

“ May your happiness be eternal.” He said, and started to walk off. Jo-annia caught him by his cloak.

“ You’re leaving now?” She asked incredulously. Shura nodded, a forced smile fixed onto his face. “ Why? At least stay for the feast and tell Attucks about….about Kuroi.” The swordsman lost his mask of joy. Jo-annia saw the familiar lines of sorrow and pain across his face.

“ No. I…I can not…” Shura said. A feminine voice muttered ‘fool’ into his mind and Shura figured out how Jo-annia managed to detect him amidst the shadows. “ Deis, you meddler!” The swordsman thought.

“ Then what are you going to do now? Go back to Kuroi’s house?” Jo-annia asked. Shura shook his head. “ You are going back to being a mercenary?” The rueful, yet eager expression on his face told her as much.

“ Why return to such a life? Stay here, Shura! Work beside us!” She said. Shura shook his head again, his expression pained beyond belief.

“ No.” He grasped the hilts of his swords. “ These are all I have now, and I must live by them.”

“ Must you live your life in eternal conflict?” Jo-annia asked. “ You have fought enough, my friend. It is time for you to put aside your swords.”

“ Have you not heard my words?” The swordsman raised his voice harshly, taking her aback. His ire died down swiftly. “ They are all I have. They are all I am.” That statement was spoken softly, yet clearly. When he started to walk off again, Jo-annia did not attempt to stop him. He paused a few paces away, though, and looked back over his shoulder once.

“ I am sorry, my friend, for bringing ill tidings on such a glad occasion.” Shura resumed his stride, each step taking him further from Jo-annia who could only stare at his back helplessly. “ Farewell.” When she could barely see his indistinct outline, she ran forward a few steps, taking in a deep breath as she did so.

“ Seek your happiness, Shura! Find it! You can do so!” Jo-annia bellowed after him. “ You must do so!” She had the impression that her friend heard her, though she could not be sure. The woman saw her friend off at the top of her voice until she ran out of breath. By then, the swordsman had already left Terun far behind.


Shura crested a hill. The moonlight provided him with a clear view of the land before him. A thousand roads remained open to him. A thousand battlefields awaited him. His face creased in a bitter smile. He looked up into the heavens and drew his swords, the katana blacker than the night itself, the wakizashi a stark contrast against its dark background.

“ My grave shall have no epitaph!” Shura said quietly. “ I am a warrior, and my death shall be one in battle!” He strode off, footsteps unwavering and uncertain at the same time.



And so, folks, I bring this chapter of Shura's life to a close. The next part shall be up when it is ready.




[This message has been edited by Shura (edited May 26, 2002).]

[This message has been edited by Shura (edited May 26, 2002).]

 

excellent, the next part of this great series will find it hard to be better than this, but all the same it will be.