Heroes of Dreamland, Book 4: Kirby and the Heroes' Destinies (OLD)

The Beginnings of Dark Meta Knight's Revenge

Dreamland, Midsummer of the Year 836:

In disgust, I throw the book into the fire. My original... ha. He is not my 'original;' he is my pathetic impersonator. I feel nothing but the deepest hatred for him.

For a long time, I was not. I was not, and then suddenly, I was. The first things to come into my mind as I was brought into existence were these: Power, and perfection.

As soon as I had cleared my head, (being suddenly, when you had not been before, can be a tad overwhelming, even for one such as I;) the first thing I did was to see what sort of tools I had been given. A cloak, ragged and torn. I supposed this was meant to be a symbol of my brilliant darkness. Also, a silver sword with a blue gem in the hilt. Just by looking at it, I somehow knew its name: 'Foramen Nigra,' or 'Black Hole.'

The next thing I did was to begin to train. All I knew was that I had to have perfection, and that it had to begin with myself. I worked, all day, and many times, all night, to become the most powerful swordsman ever known by any of the planets in this galaxy, which was left desolate in many places by war. The galaxy was weak, and it still is. My goal was to one day achieve rule of all it, every last piece.

Whenever I did not do well enough, I forced myself to start over, until I was perfect. Perfection was all I would accept, anything less was naught but failure. I wanted the world around me to be perfect, as well. If I ran into anything that I found to be less than my definition of perfect, I disposed of it.

Then, one day, I learned of him. From the moment I learned of his existence, I hated him with a deep, immeasurable hatred. How could I have perfection when I had a weak impersonator, out there somewhere in the universe?

How was he weak, you ask? Ha. He had the same beautiful darkness within him that I am the incarnate form of, but rather than embrace it and become strong, he fought against it. He never understood that I am what he was meant to be, the greater being that he could still become. Alas for him, he lets that sickening 'Light' control his actions. Light, the Star Power... Those who are truly strong have no need for ridiculousness such as these. If the world was perfect, you'd never hear of those things. And, believe you me, I have every intention of making the world perfect.

But, to return to my narrative: Finding a way to end this other's life quickly became my obsession. I found another being, stronger even than myself, to assist me. With his help, (though how I wished I could do it all alone,) I lured my copy into the world of mirrors. It was pitiable, really. His adorable little 'heroic' side was all-too-easy to prey upon.

Once I had him there, I engaged him in battle, my sword against his. It was a battle meant to be from the beginning of time; for our swords were sisters, forged at the same time. This did not make them twins, however. His sword, Galaxia, was created to guide with the Light; Foramen Nigra was formed to blind with the Darkness.

It was a very short battle. Having his mind clouded as he did, he fought only to disarm. Without such foolery as a 'code of honor,' I fought purely to kill. As soon as I defeated him, I locked him within a mirror and shattered it, scattering the pieces; intending to return and slowly finish him after I had begun to destroy his home. His last sight would be his new homeland in ruins.

The excitement that the thought of ending him brought kept me from seeing some of the more obvious problems with my plan. Even though I had taken the time to slice the child hero into four weaker versions of himself, he still managed to find all of the shards of my mimic's prison and release him.

To this day, I hate myself for not ending my impersonator when I had the chance. For the child not only rescued him, but also fought me off, leaving me injured and weak.