The Final Ending

The Final Ending

Cold. The rain was cold, as cold as a thousand souls trapped in the depths of utter blackness. The ash made into a sticky grey mud where the city once stood, as if it were the water of sins. He had done this, this unspeakable act. He had condemned the lives of the innocent, and so many of them, silenced in mere moments to satisfy his lust for chaos. Was I to blame for this? I promised to protect them, to bring light to the darkness in their lives. Instead I lead the darkest thing in existence straight to them. So who is the real monster here? Him, or me?

No, I may have led him here, but this was him, his doing. I may be too late to save them, but I still have the power to avenge them. All those who died because of him, the warriors of the past, they had strength, courage, wisdom and kindness as did those who came before them. They knew he was always more powerful, yet they kept fighting, holding onto the small hope, that glimmer of belief he could be beaten. Now all I ask from them is there strength and guidance, the strength I will need to defeat him, and end this torturous creatures rain. End it for the rest of time!

This is it, he has seen me, heard me, sensed my presence. He is coming, I hear him draw near, faster then light itself. Now I can feel it too, his breathe, his power, it is growing, it is drawing closer. Closer, yet I still must not move, not falter, deny the seed to grow. Deny that plant which is fear to take route in my soul. I shall fight him, I shall defend the people of the past, and I shall stand my ground. He is ready, as am I.

He strikes, missing by a hairs length. My turn to strike, but he is gone, too quick to keep track of. Is he beside me, behind or, ABOVE! Too fast, just too fast, his strike is as strong as the gates of hell, and the pain is as cold as black ice on an open wound. I am falling, faster and faster now, but I must not give up. I stop in time, but he is gone again, this time behind me. He strikes with his tail, but I am faster, more agile. I strike back, hitting it, cutting through his thick hide of skin. He roars with rage, his tail falling to the ground, still moving as it hits the floor.

He glares at me with the eyes that sealed the fates of thousands. They are darker then blackness itself, filled only with rage against my actions. He moves faster now, not holding back, and I move away, avoiding him but only just. His power still growing, while his patience thinning. He is too slow now, too clumsy to hit me with those fists of his.

I strike his arm, my sword imbedded into his flesh, but he smiles at this? What is he planning, why does he laugh at my obvious advantage? Then I look down, only to feel his knee in my stomach. He laughs as he grabs me by the hair. He smirks at me, spitting in my face. He throws me to one side, tossing my weapon into the burning embers of the ruins, while I lay in the rain-drenched ash. He is still stronger then me, still faster, still more powerful then me.

Can I still beat him? Do I have the strength, did I ever have the strength?

He still floats there, laughing at me as if I were a joke to him. That smirk still on his face, still saying I am pathetic in my mind. I can't give up now, I wont give up now, not yet. My sword, I must reach it. He watches me as I crawl to my knees, laughing to himself. I am nothing but amusement to him, but I wont give him the satisfaction of waiting to die.
I raise myself up, grasping my swords handle and ripping it out of the burning remains. He will pay for this act of sin. Now I charge him, I scream out with rage, charging him with full force. Almost there, but not yet, just a little further. Now!

I strike him, the impact smacking him to one side. But I cannot give him time to regain his strength. I strike again, bouncing off of his thick hide. Then again, but he grabs my sword and hurls me around like a simple toy. He let go, but why?

I stop and look around, scanning for his presence. Is he gone? Did he run away? Then he emerges, striking me in the back. I feel my rib cage crack under the stress, the pain burns into my body until it is as cold as winter snow. This does not matter, and he sees only an opening with this new wound. He strikes again, my head twists around with his fist, and my body spins with it. I fall back down again, down to the mud I just crawled out of. He mocks me, asking if this is my best.

He said that to me, me of all people. I suddenly feel this rage building up inside of me, a feeling buried beneath my feelings, buried under my very soul. No need to feel compassion, nor sadness. All I feel now is anger, anger against his ignorance towards the crimes already committed. I stand, grasping my chest and raising my sword in one hand. He looks at me with curious eyes as I begin moving towards him. He charges at me, striking at my head, but this time he is the slow one. Grasping my sword I swing my wait into his shoulder, my sword splitting passed his skin and slicing through his muscle. I feel it as it strikes the bone, scraping along it like a knife dragged against stone.

His scream of rage echoes across the fields, sending a shiver of fear even into the storm covered sky. His glare at me pierces with a sharp spike of fear. He grabs my arm and twists it around, breaking the bone in two before kicking me into the ground once more. My sword still buried into his arm, he lands down on the ground and stares at me with the rage of my actions swelling inside of him. Slowly he pulled out my blade from his arm, blood spilling across the ground. Throwing it back to me he made ready to attack. I saw this was the end of either him or me. He had finished his game and was ready to end it with one swift strike.

I stand up straight, using my sword as a walking stick to aid me to my feet. He waits, wanting a good strong will to be beat down like the ruins we stand in. He waits for me to attack, but I deny him this satisfaction. I will not do as he wishes, I will not be like cattle to the slaughter. His rage is almost un-containable, my actions infuriating him with every passing moment.

I look up, the rain patters against my skin. I clench my sword, squeezing water out of the soaked handle. Even the weather seems to be crying tonight, crying for those lost to his dark powers. He yells at me now, demanding that I attack. I simply stand still, ignoring he childish demands and yells. This place is so peaceful suddenly, no need for emotions of any sort, even with his screaming for blood.





His patience is used up now, he leaps towards me, raising his fist to strike me down. I stand perfectly still, no need to move yet. His roar passes me without affect, followed by his fist, I move to one side. He trips and falls, more enraged then before. He swings his body with each strike, missing each time. He is too predictable, too slow with his attacks. I spin with his fist as it finally hits my shoulder. I turn sharply, swinging my sword with my only good arm, striking his side. A clean cut, he holds his body as blood spills from his wound.

He seems so small suddenly, no longer the great demon of pasts since faded. Though his rage still remains. He stands and strikes at me, I am faster, but his attacks are many. I am swept onto the ground, smacking into the muddy ash covered floor. His foot smashes into my stomach, I cannot breathe, then he strikes my face, the pain is so great it feels numb.

He laughs as his hand grasps my head, lifting me up and tossing me aside again, with my sword barely staying in my grasp. I am too tired but must not give up, not yet. One more chance, just one more. He walks up to me, stomping me into the ground, mocking my efforts. Telling me the blood is on my hands, that they died because of me.

I tried to save them, I did my best to protect them. A tear falls from my eyes, and a feeling of failure strike me harder then anything he could do. He lifts me to my feet, only to punch me again. My chest, I cannot breath, the pressure of his fist still pushing against me. He walks away, readying to strike me for the last time.

I gather what strength I have, one last attack, one last battle. He charges, I raise my sword. His fist open and flat, glowing with his strength. I pull back my sword, ready to swing forth. His roars at the last charge, as I yell with the moment. For this moment, time stops, nothing moves and nothing breathes. Why is this moment so long, why not strike him and be done with it?

At last, my sword strikes him, and his fist strikes me. He smiles as his hand rips through my body like a knife would through meat. It has become hard to breathe, but I still find the strength to laugh. He looks down, realising my sword through his heart. I hear his breath grow dim, and his strength fade. He rips away from me and I crash to the floor. He is in pain, yet feels more rage then sorrow. I smile, for I did what so many wished to do, what so many had tried to do. I hear him fall to his knees, his breathing becoming gargled. My sword still lodged into his chest, and a whole in mine. My site begins to fail, but the pain fades with it.

I am tired now, so tired. Soon I shall rest, knowing my promised fulfilled. I still feel the rain, only just. I lay back, letting it wash away my spilling blood. My eyes are useless now, nothing but a blur. I hear nothing, the beast has fallen, his breathing stopped. True I could not beat him, but so was it true that he could not beat me. Now I rest, no need t continue my story. No need, for it is already...

Ended....