Fantasy Shorts

Fated Fighters

A story inspired by the poem I wrote and by the story in Super Smash Brothers Ultimate. One warrior walks the fighting path, awakened from control of the light to find her loved one who was taken for the side of darkness. They've dueled many times before, but this time there's lives at stake.

~~~

The world had been torn asunder. Agents of light and dark warred endlessly, being brought back to life by the gods that summoned them. Did they laugh at the torment of the spirits that sacrificed their energy? Or look down upon them as pawns?

Likely it was both.

On a warped path she walked. Dents and scratches marred her amor. There was no time to repair it. She was looking for one who used to share these battles with her. He was taken for a soldier of darkness, though she knew it was a lie. It was his strength that the darkness wanted, not his noble soul.

How did she escape? She didn't. She was set free by another warrior who had come upon her altered state. The light had taken her, but used her just the same as the darkness. Were they really that different when they wanted the same thing?

The answer didn't matter, not right now. She would deal with them later. They would deal with them later.

Her sword fell into the temple of another puppet. It evaporated around her and in her breath. The battles never ended. Most were quick, thankfully. The tedium was getting tiring.

The area warped into something unlike anyone had ever seen. Pieces of different worlds collided and separated, making a mush of land types and formations. Navigating it was not an easy task, but after some logical thinking it was able to be traversed.

Huffing, she stopped. Over a hill she lay eyes upon him. Standing still, doing nothing but waiting for commands. Tendrils of darkness bound him, and the pawns separated themselves from after they were complete. She caught her wind and approached.

His own defenses showed signs of battle. She could sense traces of vanishing light, likely the victim of the two handed sword he wielded. Other warriors had tried to free him, to recruit him to their cause. She would have them chase the defeat of the gods, yes. Only after he was freed.

She approached, weapons holstered. Her auburn hair blew behind her untied. Gray eyes scanned the warrior for any signs of movement. Would he surprise her with an attack or just stand there, waiting for the bite of her weapon?

"Isaac?" She called quietly, resting a hand on her hilt. The man's eyes slowly opened, a red glint to his normally blue eyes.

"Are you here to fall like the others?" His voice was not his own. It was replaced with a multifaceted blasphemy.

"I will not be defeated." Her eyes narrowed in response, her hands clenching.

"And I will submit to no one." He rumbled, pulling his sword to ready. She swallowed thickly; he wielded the weapon with only one hand.

"Let us begin, then." Adrenaline spiked and she shot straight at him. Her saber glinted dangerously in the low light, ready for blood.

The tendrils let go of his body, yet he did not move. She was not deterred by this for she had seen it before. She raised her sword, ready to swing. He brought his sword up in expectation of the attack, a counter. The dark god must not have put too much memory to the battles she'd waged against it, for it started most battles this way. She moved to the side long enough that he lowered the counter, and she swung.

He dodged, but not fully. A wound on his bicep began oozing blackness. "Ah, the sword lady. Yes, I remember." He brought a hand up to the cut, ebony staining his hand. "Aella."

"Don't you dare speak my name." She growled at him, swinging at the band around his head. He leaned backwards unnaturally, smirking.