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Chronicles of the Sword
This is yet another tale of souls and swords...
Once, there existed on a great continent three countries--
The Grandall Empire, the Kingdom of Dalkia, and the Halteese Republic.
The Kingdom of Dalkia and the Halteese Republic waged a great war against one another for countless years. The Grandall Empire stayed out of the conflict, amassing their army quietly. Then, the impasse was suddenly broken as the Dalkian Kingdom declared war on Grandall Empire. Amidst the conflict and conspiracy, a new republic, Maletta, emerged...
At the time, a great tactician Chester, who instigated the conflict which later came to be known as the Mantis War, had not yet appeared in the annals of history. And the individual who was to be a key figure in the war was a mere cadet in the Grandall army...
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Abelia Schillfelt
Attractive, brilliant... the brightest student at the Grandall Academy.
No one doubted her skills as her aptitude became more and more apparent under the tutelage of her soldier father.
Ever since she can remember, she was called an "elite," the constant object of everyone's envy and admiration.
She gradually came to expect this, and she did not feel discomfort.... rather it pleased her.
She would stand tall and proud, lending a hand to the weak and breaking the will of the strong.
She came to believe that that was her reason for existence, her rightful place in the world.
Until the day he arrived.
He was in the same class at the academy as her, but he had no exceptional talent or sophistication. He was beneath her.
Yet he possessed an unknown appeal. A certain charm that could not be taught.
Abelia felt a force trying to steal something within her heart.
At the same time, she realized that her sense of justice which was the supporting force of her brilliance, was merely a feeling of superiority and the pleasure of recognition.
A voice spoke to her from nowere:
"Who is this that threatens me?"
She took her sword and shield to defend her own justice.
She headed to the battlefront of her own will, where greed and conflict embraced.
"The justice that protects this land was the justice that protects me..."
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Aurelia
"Happiness" could be a fearful word.
If someone had designed humans to pursue happiness, there should have been limits set to the means of doing so for this woman.
The woman who mourned the death of the King Dalkia could not hold her laughter once she entered the secret cell in her room.
Her peers trusted the proud, resilient and beautiful woman, unaware of her arrogant and greedy true nature.
If anybody knew of her true personality, it was Roin, the military commander.
When she took the throne, many objected for she was just a concubine and not a real heir to the throne. However, it was welcomingly accepted by the military the clenched the real power.
Ascending to the throne while poisoning was still not ruled out as the king's cause of death, brought suspicion on her, but it was again the king's guard that testified for her.
A possessor of unmatched intellect and leadership, she did not have to hide her true personality for long
Withdrawal from the peace treaty with Halteese and declaration of war against Grandall.
Such eagerness to go to war, what would bring happiness to this woman?
The poisonous fangs that she bears searches for the next "happiness" to thirst on.
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Chester
"If a prerequisite of desire was purpose and motive, then it could be said that I was a person without desire.
If pleasure was defined as an emotion that was charged by desire, then I might be a person that cannot feel pleasure."
He pondered such thoughts next to a corpse that was human a few seconds ago.
Duels, gambling, fraud, murder, women, nothing seemed to satisfy him.
At times he felt satisfied, but the feeling was always immediately followed by emptiness.
The only moment he could feel life was when his life was on the line, the final moment between black and white.
He had stopped having a purpose, having desires.
Even if he fulfilled those purposes to satisfy his desires, they would all turn to emptiness.
He was able to, more or less, obtain everything he wanted. But it all got old too quickly.
...Was it right after the war?
As he prowled town where flames were kindled, he saw a child with a doll crying.
He remembered how he used to play with dolls when he was young.
Dolls have no soul and could be controlled to one's every whim.
At times, there were dolls that would not move exactly how he wanted.
But the dull sound which resulted from applying more pressure satisfied him just as well.
It was these moments, perhaps, that he enjoyed more.
If he was going to have fun, why not do it with live dolls.
If he was going to have fun, why not have a stage as big as this continent.
Why not make them act out an epic drama full of life and death, tears and inspiration.
He started humming.
He closed his eyes and delightfully waved his knife like a conductor's wand.
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Demuth
The mystic water shined in the moonlight as the trees and wind played a soothing melody.
As he savored the fine wine harvested from the fertile land, he was drunk...
The wine took his mind off his empty stomach.
Demuth was the third heir to the Halteese throne.
The man approached him while he was still living in the Halteese castle.
The man eloquently explained the situation in which Demuth is placed and the future that lies ahead of him, and what he needs to do in order to change all that.
Demuth was third in line to the throne, which meant that without an "unfortunate event," his chances of becoming the king were next to nil.
There was no way for a local lord of a small province to ascend to the throne over his two older brothers.
As Demuth was contemplating the assassination of his brothers, the man simplistically told him,
"If you want to be the king, become one."
It was indeed simple.
Demuth claimed independence from the Kingdom and began rule of the province for himself.
Everything happened exactly the way the man had explained.
The castle, town, people, and services were all developed at astonishing speeds. The Halteese army, said to be the mightiest on the continent, fell one after another.
It did not take long before the Halteese recognized the Maletta as an independent kingdom.
As Demuth finished his wine, he remembered that he was hungry.
He was craiving for a huge piece of meat.
Tomorrow, the kingdom will probably expand.
Demuth was sure that a big chunk of Halteese would satisfy his hunger.
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Girardot
In the stillness of time, he bequeathed the name "Absolution" upon the lance that possessed a part of his very being
As a soldier, he did not have a specific means for winning, rather he was simply driven to win.
This gratified him, and as well, he believed that this honored those who risked their lives for their country. Ambushes and stealth attacks at night, his tactics were considered almost ruthless--but in such a time of chaos, victory was the only justice in the world.
Girardot of Grandall.
There was once a time when he was accused of selling his soul to the accursed sword that had been passed along throughout the land.
Despite the shower of accusations and countless arguments made against him, there was nothing stronger than his will to overcome such a tragic fate.
When he came to be responsible for his underlings at the Academy, self-doubt began to grow.
One after another, his pupils would be sent to war, vowing to return to his guidance but not a single one being fulfilled.
He came to realize his sins, when he received news that the young girl that he'd regarded as a daughter, was killed in action.
Girardot was fostering death.
His pupils' lives had become instruments of war, and in turn he was instructing them on how to die.
His very position as an instructor was founded on the corpses of his young students.
He had to face reality and stand firm.
He would become the shield and lance for the country and its people; this was the path of atonement that he chose to follow.
Standing on the very line between reality and ideals, he faced a battle that he'd never experienced before, and vowed unto the lance that possessed his very being, never to make the same mistake again.
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Luna
She could still hear the shouting
"Take your sword if you want to live, you worthless scum!"
As the tears swelled from the pain, she had nowhere to hide and no peace in sight.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Please, give me another chance. I will not disappoint you again.."
She had heard of kindness and warmth, but had never experienced them.
Her natural talent as well as her gruesome past was how she reached her present level of brilliance.
Self-defense instincts, survival instincts, that was all it was.
No one protected her.
No parents that cared and loved her.
No friend to have emotional ties to.
Only a single sword.
She had to be stronger.
There could not be anyone stronger.
Today, she flies across the battlefield.
She cuts through the enemy like a flash of light.
She feels no mercy to those that flee, that surrender, that beg her to spare them for their family's sake.
She feels no mercy because she does not know how.
She was never given the chance.
All this to simply to exist, that was her only reason.
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Strife
On that day, Strife took the Emperor's throne.
At the age of 10, not even a hint of a smile was to be seen.
For days after, he did not eat.
For days after, he did not sleep.
For days after, he concealed a dagger.
His own kin had made attempts on his life for the crown.
Trust was nowhere to be seen, and betrayal had become a daily routine.
The vile avarice of humans and fear of his own brutal death, slowly ate away at his sanity.
One day, a voice was heard from deep within the castle.
This voice was heard each time he sat at his throne.
Gradually, this voice became a part of him. He began to speak these words as though they were his own.
From that day forward, he would be a different man. He would execute anyone who dared oppose him.
He would ruthlessly torture anyone who aroused his suspicions.
He would wield the very symbol of Empirical power, "Ambition."
He would declare non-intervention in other lands while expanding his military.
...Today, a cadet visiting the Academy caught his eye.
Something in his demeanor was unsettling but it was just for a moment.
He did not realize at the time that this cadet possessed what he has long sought after.
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Soul Calibur 3
Chosen by history, a man becomes a hero.
Engraved into history, a hero becomes a legend.
--14th century troubadour song
Transcending history and the world, a tale of swords and souls, eternally retold.
--A story from the end of the Middle Ages, author unknown
Some called it the ultimate sword. Some described it as a demon sword in which a powerful spiritual power dwelt. Some said it was the sword of heroes, the savior of kingdoms... Numerous rumors and legends surrounded Soul Edge, but its true nature was that of a cursed sword that devoured human souls.
It was originally a single sword created by the hand of man. It was merely a warrior's tool, possessing no will of its own. But the sword bathed in the blood and hatred of countless battles throughout its dark history, and eventually came to emit an evil aura. It learned to devour souls as it rent the flesh of men, and its power steadily increased.
In one age, a hero acquired Soul Edge. With his iron will, he controlled the sword freely and brought peace to the violent land. He was revered as a king.
In any age, however, there are those who resent great men. The one who took Soul Edge out of envy was none other than the king's own son. Sadly, his soul stolen, he became a puppet to the sword's dark will. The king fought against his son. At the end of their fearsome battle, the king's desperate blow shattered Soul Edge, but also took the life of his son.
When the chaos subsided, the source of the conflict, Soul Edge, had disappeared.
The king was tormented by remorse. Most would have submitted to the overwhelming grief, but the king did no such thing. The abominable Soul Edge would certainly appear again, bringing tragedy with it.
This ill omen steeled the king's resolve. For the sake of the world as well as his own redemption, he vowed to create a holy sword that could fight against the evil blade's powers. With the aid of the greatest sage of the era, the king began work on his grand plan.
Purifying fragments of the cursed sword that he still had, the king finally succeeded in creating the holy sword, Soul Calibur. But it cost him his life.
A sect of guardians was created to carry out the late king's will. These guardians lived in seclusion, passing down the sword secretly from generation to generation in preparation for the day when Soul Edge would unleash its fury. Each time the sword fell into the hands of powerful warriors and those with evil intentions, Soul Calibur appeared to prevent the cursed weapon from committing unspeakable atrocities.
Stories of the never-ending struggle between the two swords were passed on from one generation to another, giving birth to countless legends and fairy tales.
Time passed, and it was now the end of the sixteenth century.
Over the long years, the two swords had increased their power. Now, they had appeared once again upon the stage of history.
During the course of their conflict, Soul Edge was shattered and Soul Calibur was contaminated with evil energy. The will of the cursed sword appeared to have burned out, but in reality, it had merely been reduced to a smoldering ember. The life of the holy sword, too, was thought to have withered and died, but it was quietly burbling like a spring at the bottom of a deep abyss. Even now, the ancient swords were awaiting the chance to regain their true power.
There was a young knight who had been controlled not merely once but several times by the evil sword. When he broke that curse and stabbed through the heart of the cursed weapon with the holy sword, the gears of fate began to creak into motion. A new page would soon be written in the tale of the two swords, opposite in power and bound by destiny...
Hear with your ears the best things; look upon them with clear-seeing thought, for decision between the two Beliefs, each man for himself before the Great consummation, bethinking you that it be accomplished to our pleasure.
-"Avesta"
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Abyss
story=The body without soul no longer to be sacrificed:
-"Les Centuries," Michel de Nostredame
Soul Edge and Soul Calibur...If a human were to absorb the power contained within these two swords...
Zasalamel put this idea into action. It was an idea no normal person would ever consider, but for Zasalamel, it was his only chance to attain true death.
He hid behind the scenes during the battle between the cursed sword and the spirit sword, appearing only when their powers reached their zenith. Then, using a secret art, he connected his body to the world of the abyss and created a jet-black sphere that absorbed all forms of energy. His plan was to use this to draw out the essences of the swords and take them into his own body. It was an act that only Zasalamel, with the knowledge gained from an eternity of lifetimes, could have performed.
Clusters of light, most pure and fierce, were released from the swords. For a moment, they seemed to struggle as if they had a will of their own, but then proceeded to be absorbed into Zasalamel's body. The power coursed through his entire body, and he began to transform.
At the end of an experience completely different from his countless rebirths, he had obtained sharpness of senses, overflowing power, and a voice that thundered like an echoing roar. Zasalamel thought that, having acquired this power, his goal had been achieved. The peace and death that he had sought were right before his eyes. But deep within him, something other than himself was beginning to awaken. He had invited into himself an inhuman power...
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Abyss
Soul Edge and Soul Calibur... if a human being were to absorb the power contained within these two sword...
Zasalamel put this idea into action. It was an idea no normal person would ever consider, but for Zasalamel, it was his chance to attain true death.
He hid behind the scenes during the battle between the cursed sword and the spirit sword, appearing only when their powers reached their zenith. Then, using a secret art, he connected his body to the world of the abyss and created a jet-black sphere that absorbed all forms of energy. His plan was to use this to draw out the essences of the swords and take them into his body. It was an act that only Zasalamel, with the knowledge gained from an eternity of lifetimes, could have performed.
Clusters of light, most pure and fierce, were released from the swords. For a moment, they seemed struggle as if they had a will of their own, but then proceeded to be absorbed into Zasalamel's body. Power coursed through has entire body, and he began to transform.
At the end of an experience completely different from his countless rebirth, he had obtained sharpness of sense, overflowing power, and a voice that thundered like an echoing roar. Zasalamel must have thought that, having acquired this power, his goal had been achieved. The peace and death that he had sought was right before his eyes. But deep within him, something other than himself was beginning to awaken. He had invited into himself an inhuman power...
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Amy Sorel
The nights were cold and serene. The moonlight was so strong it seared and appeared to give power to the darkness.
Tonight, as always, she was to be enshrouded in this darkness. In the dimly lit room, she sat like a doll, motionless on the chair and staring out into the dark night. Far below, torches blazed amidst the acrimonious clanging of armor moving about.
This light and sound she experienced before.
"Be a good girl, I'll be back in a while...."
That is what he said before leaving with his sword. The raucous night then became quiet, but that did not last long
And now, he was gone. He had left her--for her own sake.
The light and sound will intrude their world any moment now. Violently, without regard, engulfing his world....
She rose from her chair and headed toward the door, stopping at the entrance. She looked back at the grand hall. Her exquisite face clouded over for a second, then she quickly turned and opened the door.
She mused over those words once again. This time, her lips parted slightly into a smile.
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Arthur
Arthur was born in Britain, sailed across the sea when he was still young and was adopted in Japan. But there he was considered a more novel property by a local warlord, never treated as a human being.
As he grew older, he sought something that he can prove himself with--a sword. He immersed himself in battle, losing an eye along the way, but he gained unshakable confidence, a companion and a daughter in exchange.
Now that he has gained something worth protecting, he desired an achievement that everyone would respect. He needed recognition and acceptance to shield his companion and daughter from public scrutiny.
The Azure Knight and the legendary Soul Edge...it was only one of many rumors that drifted from foreign lands. Still, Arthur felt his greatest achievement would be to defeat this inhuman knight and claim this sword as his own. He thus left his companion and daughter in Japan and headed for the continent.
But the journey to capture the fabled sword was perilous. especially with no leads in a foreign land. The deformed knight's whereabouts eluded him, and he was constantly reminded of his powerlessness. He gained valuable experience though--he grasped the vastness of this world and realized that regardless of the situation, for better or for worse, humans were only humans.
He now appreciated what was important in life, understood what he had to accomplish and that his agony was trivial.
A year had passed since he set off to obtain the sword, and he begin his return back home to Japan. He carried with him a single proof of his journey, the one lead he found in a deserted town--a piece of metal said to be a fragment of Soul Edge.
His companion waited faithfully for his return to Japan. Without a word, he embraced her and presented her with the fragment that he no longer needed. They exchanged their vows, and he returned to the life he knew, going from one battlefield to another, in order to feed his family. No matter how distinguished his accomplishments were on the battlefield, he was treated no different. Still, those curious stares no longer caused him distress or torment.
For a while the rhythm of life did not change. Two years after he wed, a pandemic broke out in the village they lived in. Fortunately, no one in Arthur's family caught the disease and his wife, who believed that teh metal fragment from the foreign land saved them, was ecstatic. She started carrying the fragment wherever she went. As the epidemic subsided, the village returned to normal, but his wife became frequently ill.
One day, Arthur returned home from the battlefield and heard what sounded like a body collapsing in the back room. He opened the door to find his wife slumped to the ground with his daughter crying next to her. As he approached her, he saw that her body had turned an alarming color. Her breath was shallow, yet her eyes were gleaming with life. Realizing that this was an emergency, he brought the most prestigious doctor to examine her. All he could do, however, was tell Arthur that she was near death. He could do nothing but watch her suffer, in vain, until one day she left his life for the next.
A short man robed in bizarre attire visited Arthur immediately after the incident. He claimed to be a traveling physician, who visited because he heard of his wife's condition. However, engulfed in anger and sadness from the loss of his wife, he barked at the man to go away.
"Probably caused by the fragment..." muttered the short man as he left.
His words stunned Arthur. He scrambled to call the man, but he was nowhere to be seen.
After the funeral, he put his crying daughter to bed and contemplated the words that were left by the short man. If what the man said was true, then the person responsible for his wife's death...was none other than himself. The path he must take was clearly set--the legendary sword, no the cursed sword Soul Edge, must be destroyed. In order to undo his wrongs, he must prevent similar tragedies from ever happening again.
The following day, Arthur prepared for the journey ahead, and then boarded a ship with his daughter to foreign lands once again. He had yet to lay eyes on the cursed sword, but his unclouded blue eyes seemed squarely locked onto it.
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Astaroth
In my bedroom Death dwells,and wherever I set foot there too is Death!
-"The Epic of Gilgamesh"
After recovering fully, Astaroth set out to bring back Soul Edge for Ares, the god of war and destruction. But first, he had to discover the location of the vanished sword.
Astaroth set out on the trail of the evil blade, but a problem arose. The grand priest Kunpaetku, the leader of the evil cult and Astaroth's direct creator, had realized that his golem was not behaving as he had originally instructed it. In order to reclaim Astaroth as his servant, the grand priest performed a ritual in the deepest part of the cult's temple and unleashed a powerful curse upon Astaroth.
Astaroth, however, fought back against the curse, for he had become an ideal host for Ker--the agent of death--who dwelt inside him, because of the fragments of Soul Edge he had taken in during his resurrection.
He would destroy all who stood in his way. To Astaroth, the evil cult was now nothing more than an obstacle in his path.
Astaroth entered the mysterious temple so that he might destroy his own creator. When the monster returned to his place of birth,
he became a whirlwind of destruction.
The roaring giant mowed down everything in his path. The curse that tried to stop him only fueled his anger. Dead or alive, it mattered not to Astaroth. He destroyed everything he saw.
Filled with cries and shouts, and enveloped in a thunderous roar, the temple of the heretics was transformed into a crucible of chaos.
Astaroth pursued Kunpaetku into the deepest part of the temple, but the grand priest managed to escape at the last moment. Only the hoarse words the priest left behind remained.
"You failure! You may have been modeled after a human, but in the end, you're nothing more than a doll!"
At those words, Astaroth stopped in his tracks. The very idea was ridiculous! He had been created in the image of a pathetic human? Searching the temple for his roots, Astaroth eventually learned that he had been modeled in the image of a man called the "White Giant."
Perhaps because he had destroyed the facility where the ritual had been performed, Astaroth's curse faded and he recovered his true strength. Letting himself act as the flowing torrent of strength within him directed, he reduced the already-destroyed temple to completely unrecognizable debris. After the storm passed, nothing was left behind besides chaos and rubble.
On this day, the cult that had called themselves the "Protectors of the Correct Flow" was wiped from history by the hand of a being they themselves had created.
The giant figure stood within the ruined temple. Astaroth thought quietly to himself. If the "White Giant" that he was modeled after was as powerful as himself, then that man should also be excellent nourishment for Soul Edge. The White Giant must be the greatest soul on earth. He didn't know who it was, but he would offer that soul to the cursed sword in order to facilitate its resurrection.
His next objective was set.
The giant set out, his silhouette disappearing into the mirages in the distance. Behind him, only a column of smoke rising from the ruins remained.
Perhaps Astaroth himself did not realize the hidden desire within him to destroy the White Giant so that he could become complete--a unique being with no model.
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Cassandra Alexandra
Courage is better than keenest steel,
when bold men bare their brands;
-"Poetic Edda: Fafnismal"
Determined to destroy Soul Edge on behalf of her sister, Cassandra left her home. Unfortunately, she did not have any clues with which to find the evil sword. She therefore made use of the fact that the fragment of the cursed sword that she possessed reacted to evil energy in order to conduct a thorough search as she traveled from land to land.
At first, she had been operating more out of sheer determination than on actual clues, but in a land to the east of Greece, on the other side of the Danube River, she encountered a powerful evil energy greater than any she had felt before. What dwelled in this land surrounded by steep mountains and deep ravines? As she struggled to walk along unfamiliar mountain paths, Cassandra saw a city before her steeped in evil energy. A sinister presence swirled throughout the city, and the residents had lost their minds.
"What's going on?" The fragment she held reacted strongly to this place. Soul Edge was somehow involved in this bizarre phenomenon. Cassandra recoiled from the sight before her at first, but she couldn't abandon these people infected by the evil power. She made up her mind to free the city, and began to investigate the cause.
"My sister was able to do it... I can, too!" she said to herself. The center of the evil energy turned out to be a castle rising from the mountains. Things had been going smoothly up until she located it, but then something unexpected occurred--cracks appeared in the sword and shield she had taken from the temple of Hephaestus.
"What?!" Cassandra felt deeply apprehensive. The people possessed by evil chased her relentlessly. They displayed a fanatical obsession with the fragment of the cursed sword, and showed no signs of giving up. Without a weapon with which to resist, however, there was nothing she could do. She had no choice but to flee the city.
Cassandra managed to escape from the city, but felt completely helpless. She was not a warrior--she was inexperienced in the use of weapons. Although she remembered having used them a bit roughly, Cassandra couldn't believe that this sword and shield made from holy ore could be damaged.
"Is it too much for me?! Is my sister the only one that can do it?" These thoughts joined the uneasiness already in her heart, and her resolve began to waver.
As she gazed at her damaged sword and shield, the image of her sister and her young niece and nephew flashed through the back of her mind. Her sister smiled happily, leading her children by the hand...
"No...I can't give up." Cassandra shook her head and forced her hesitation aside. "I have to do it for my family!"
When Cassandra raised her head, her eyes shone once again with determination. Perhaps even holy weapons could break when exposed to such powerful evil energy, she mused.
"Humph, I guess the power of the gods isn't all that special after all." Convincing herself, she returned to Greece. There would be other weapons left in the temple, and she could also consult with her blacksmith brother-in-law, Rothion. Unexpected news was waiting for her upon her return home, however.
"Sophitia's gone again?!" During Cassandra's absence, Sophitia had once again set out on a journey of her own. Rothion informed Cassandra that Sophitia believed it was her duty to destroy Soul Edge, and that she had set out of her own will.
"Damn you, Hephaestus! This is all your fault!" Cassandra cursed out loud, though she didn't consider her sister having regained her previous strong will to be completely bad news.
"Please help her." said Rothion as he handed her a new sword and shield. If she destroyed the evil sword, that would surely save the city infected by evil as well. She had to help her sister. She would stand by her and support her.
With the early dawn's soft light shining upon her back, Cassandra set out with a pure purpose in her heart.
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Cervantes de Leon
The Banners of the King of Hell Advance Closer to us,
-"La Divina Commedia: Inferno," Dante Alighieri
Cervantes had succeeded in restoring Soul Edge to its original form. As a side effect of the fragments of the cursed sword embedded in his body, he had also been able to maintain a hold on his own will. In the past, he had been controlled by the sword, but now that relationship was reversed. He would make the sword in his hand complete and obtain the other half of Soul Edge as well. The day when he would acquire ultimate power was not far off!
Cervantes set sail in the Adrian and terrorized the Atlantic. Control of that ocean had been shifting from his homeland of Spain to the countries to the north, but even this great wave of history was nothing more than surf upon the shore to Cervantes. No matter what flag others flew, be it merchant vessel or ship of war, all were merely prey in his eyes.
What he sought now, however, was not monetary treasure, but nourishment to help the cursed sword grow--the souls of strong men of the sea who had toughened themselves upon the raging waves!
Ships attacked by the Adrian disappeared completely into watery graves. A new chapter was added to the legend of the great pirate Cervantes: A tale of a demonic ghost ship and its inhuman captain.
Everything had been proceeding smoothly...up until that day. The unusually stormy sea was perhaps a premonition of what was to come. Cervantes avoided the tempest by mooring the Adrian in a cliff opening. That was when it happened.
The presence of the other half of Soul Edge suddenly disappeared. Recently, it had felt stronger than it ever had, and yet now he could not feel it at all. Then a terrible change began to occur in his body--his skin and the ends of his limbs changed color and, little by little, began to crumble! He could tell that the fragments of the cursed sword within his body that had acted as his source of life were losing their power. At this rate, his body would eventually turn back into a scorched corpse. The very power of the cursed sword itself he held was weakening.
Panicking, he sought after the faint remainder of evil energy. He sensed that the power given off by the other cursed sword was being held back by some great power. What entity could possibly possess such power as this?!
"Wow, looks like you're in trouble!" Suddenly, impudent words came from above his head. Turning to the voice's source, Cervantes found a girl clad in green clothes sitting on the Adrian's mast. Black birds flocked around her.
Cervantes was disturbed that he had not noticed the intruder. But what truly surprised him was not the girl's dexterity or stealth, but that she was emitting the same aura as the cursed sword.
"And just who in the hell are you?!" In response to Cervantes' intimidating voice, the girl responded calmly.
"I'm not of any concern to you, but I guess you could say that I'm a servant of the cursed sword." The girl grinned.
"It's great you managed to grow the sword so much, but that body of yours is just not going to cut it."
"How dare you mock me!" His voice was filled with violent intent.
"Oooh, scary, scary! But killing me won't do you any good. How about you take care of the one who did mean things to Soul Edge, instead?" According to the girl, an entity that opposed Soul Edge had appeared from hiding and had temporarily killed Soul Edge.
"It'll be for your own sake, too!" Saying this, the girl jumped from the mast and disappeared into the darkness.
Cervantes had no intention of binding himself to a purpose shared with the girl, but, in order to keep himself from being dragged back into the abyss of death, he had no choice but to destroy the source of his troubles.
He had never thought that his immortal self would feel the fear of death. Cervantes' face wore a troubled expression, one he had not shown in a long long time. He could probably delay his inevitable extinction for a short while by absorbing new souls. During that brief reprieve, his only hope was to revive the cursed sword!
His obsession for souls flaring, he turned the rudder of the Adrian. Its bow pointed out into the stormy waves of the great sea.
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Greed
The aged man wore a satisfied smile after finishing one of his "hunts." He had his poor victim's treasures in his hand, though he was not interested in them.
A member of a bandit group, "Greed" was his alias--a name that the public would never hear. He threw down the spoils in his dwelling while his thoughts wandered back to his last "hunt." As he eyed his faintly smeared blade, he could feel his contentment quickly turn to hunger. The aged man, who had a ferocious voracity, thought back to all the lives he had taken.
"I cannot stop."
A gold coin faintly shone on the floor of a barely lit room, yet his attention was fixated on the smeared katana.
Can this thirst ever be quenched?
The old man, never satiated, let his thoughts dwell on his next "hunt."
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Hualin
Her goal was to become the finest weaponsmith in the world.
There was a mountain where martial arts experts gathered and dwelled. At the foot of this mountain is a small village, where it was said that a man who led a caravan settled down and opened shop. Hualin entered the shop as an indentured servant, and thus began her life centered around weapons. While going through her daily chores and caring for weapons, she found her life's calling. From there on her training as a weaponsmith began.
The shop sold weapons from all over the world, but naturally because of the geography, Asian weapons seemed to predominate. Nonetheless, she also encountered western weapons and Arabic knives from the Middle East. Yet there was still so much she had not seen. Hualin gradually wished to see all the weapons of the world.
Hualin first met old man Cepheus one day near the end of the year. Cepheus was on his way back from a city in Ming after making a huge purchase and stopped by to visit an old friend. There, he was astonished by Hualin's skills, praised her and lamented her situation. Hualin's skills handling Ming weapons were phenomenal, but her handling of other weapons was inexperienced at best. He saw her potential and gift, so he asked the shop owner if he could take her with him to work in his shop. Cepheus' shop was located in a city where east meets west, and there Hualin would be able to see and experience more. With Hualin's talent, there was no question that she could eventually learn to handle any kind of weapon.
The weapons shop owner also recognized Hualin's potential, but at the same time, it would be a huge loss for the shop to let her go. Upon much agonizing, he made his decision, and Hualin went on her way to Cepheus' shop.
Day after day, Hualin sat in Cepheus' workshop whetting all kinds of weapons. As he looked at the razor-sharp edges honed by Hualin, Cepheus was sure that it would not take long for her to become the finest weaponsmith in the world.
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Hwang Seong-gyeong
Hwang returned from his second quest for Soul Edge to the navy that daily prepared for invasions from neighboring countries. Upon returning, he reported that Soul Edge was a destructive sword, not one of hope. Hwang was then challenged by those that believed Soul Edge was the sword of salvation. General Li of the navy defended his subordinate from as much criticism as possible, but he still had to suspend Hwang for a month. Hwang returned the sword, Blue Thunder, to the general and left the navy. He did not believe that his report was incorrect, but he had failed the general whom he had the utmost respect for.
While under suspension, Hwang stayed at his master's dojo. There he sensed a presence near the dojo. He captured, interrogated the suspect and learned that the suspect was a spy from Japan. The next day, Hwang was called by senior officials. It seemed that Japan was planning a search for Soul Edge. It was hard to believe that Japan would only send one spy. It was more likely that they had obtained information of Soul Edge -- that it was a weapon that they were searching to fight Japan.
The senior officials feared the invasion of Japan with Soul Edge. Within that day, Hwang received a new mission. It was a selection based on his past record. He had no real achievements from his two previous journeys, and some feared he was not suited for the mission. However, he was the only one with knowledge of the outside world.
"Travel the world and find those agents that seek Soul Edge for Japan and dispose of them. Make sure it does not fall in the hands of the enemy. And if possible, bring back Soul Edge."
General Li gave Hwang his mission and returned Blue Thunder. Hwang immediately read between the lines. The General trusted him. The general believed that his mission will lead to the defense of this country.
Hwang, convinced that Soul Edge was evil, headed toward the capital before his departure. Luckily, the Soul Edge zealots had gathered fragments of the cursed sword, and Hwang stole them to dispose of them. It pained him to lower himself to stealing, but he felt that leaving behind remnants of the sword was for too dangerous. Before the commotion grew, he left the capital and headed for the west border and then to the great continent of the west.
If a person of power in any country were to become obsessed with the cursed sword, it was readily imaginable that the country would fall into turmoil. Enemies or not, he was not ready to watch the innocent suffer. Hwang promised himself he will stop the cursed sword from taking any more lives.
He had learned from Seung dojo that his fellow disciple Yunsung and his master's daughter, Seung Mina, already departed to the west. If they would join him on his journey, nothing would be impossible -- even the destruction of Soul Edge.
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Ivy
No coward souls is mine
-Emily Bronte
Ivy set out on her journey determined to remove all traces of Soul Edge from the world forever. There is no hope for those seduced by the cursed sword. No cure besides death. Her resolution had resulted in much spilled blood--she had sometimes struck down the innocent, but nothing swayed her determination.
Over the course of her journey, her blade began to change. Seeing it become more unstable than it had ever been, she decided to return to the Valentine mansion to investigate the cause. Once she returned to her alchemical lab, she would have access to her research equipment.
On the way back, she stopped at a certain academic city in England and bought texts and books of the secret arts, both ancient and new, gathered from around the world. After returning to the Valentine mansion and looking over them, she found one particular volume that captured her interest.
It was clearly much older than the others. It contained detailed descriptions regarding the nature and origin of the cursed sword. As far as she knew, this book contained the most detailed information ever written about the cursed sword.
Feeling her excitement grow as she deciphered the ancient text, she soon found an account of the spirit sword, Soul Calibur--a sword that restrained the power of the evil sword and lent its power to fight against it. The story was hard to believe, but the precise nature of the text did not feel like fiction.
After a month of work, she had managed to decipher every detail of the spirit sword's description, and was convinced it was real. Ivy closed her eyes and sank into deep contemplation, numerous thoughts flashing through her mind. She opened her eyes at the sound of the door opening. Slightly startled, she looked at the entrance to see a tall, dark skinned man in a white robe.
"Who are you?"
Unfazed by the sudden intruder, Ivy questioned him with a firm tone.
"Did you read the book?"
The man replied with a question, his voice quiet and cold. In the silence that followed, the two of them found the answer to their respective questions.
Ivy grabbed the book and, taking her distance, drew her weapon. From seemingly nowhere, the white-robed man had produced a gigantic scythe.
Fierce combat began at once. The man swung precise strikes with his scythe, while Ivy unleashed a storm of fury with her freely-transforming sword. Sparks flew as their blows collided and each deadly strike was deflected.
"Dammit..." Ivy clenched her teeth. She had to expend more mental effort than usual to make her sword obey her will. A moment of hesitation left a slight opening in her defense, and she stumbled from the force of a heavy blow.
She managed to regain her distance, but the book was no longer in her hand. The man with the scythe slowly picked it up.
"This is a mistake from my past. The world no longer needs this..." As he spoke, crimson flames engulfed the book in his hand. Ignoring Ivy's gasp, he dropped the burning book onto the floor and turned to leave. The flames spread with an unusual fervor, separating Ivy and the man.
"Stop!"
The man responded to her voice.
"If you wish to learn everything about the cursed sword and the spirit sword, then follow the knight you know well..." With those words, the man disappeared behind the curtain of flames.
The wall of flames surrounded Ivy. She did not fear a fire of this size, but she could not risk her alchemy lab becoming engulfed in flames. After a moment's thought, she gave up on the pursuit.
Looking out into the darkness, Ivy pondered. She had lost the book, but the information concerning the spirit sword was etched into her memory--a spirit sword possessing power equivalent to and the opposite of the cursed sword. With such power, she might be able to destroy the cursed weapon once and for all. The abnormality in her sword might also have some connection to the spirit sword.
She cursed the man for the way he had treated her, but strangely, she felt that the words he had spoken were true. Ivy made up her mind. She was going to find the truth. If Soul Calibur did in fact exist, she would obtain it for herself!
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Kilik
The way I follow has one unifying principle.
-"The Analects of Confucius," Confucius
He would purify the evil sword itself. With this great ambition in mind, Kilik set out for the west. Along the way, he encountered Xianghua once again. The difference in their opinions led them to argue, but they wound up traveling together in their search for Soul Edge.
With these unanswered questions going through his mind, he worked with Xianghua and, using the power of the fragment of Dvapara-Yuga, purified the residents of the city who had lost their minds.
Then a man with a scythe appeared before them.
"You who are close to the spirit sword--leave this place. A great evil is poised to sweep over this land. Without your mirror, you cannot infuse your weapon with that power." The man possessed an extraordinarily forceful presence, but Kilik could not back down. Their weapons clashed, and Kilik lost.
"I see that you possess arts for purifying evil, but do not underestimate the evil sword. If you challenge it unprepared, you will surely find yourself trapped within its dark abyss." That was the last thing Kilik heard as he lost consciousness.
Kilik awoke in a familiar hermitage. It was the residence of his teacher, Edgemaster. He learned from his teacher what had happened. After the fight, Xianghua had carried him here. Sensing a terrible energy radiating from Kilik's wounds, Edgemaster had performed a secret ritual to treat them. An entire month had passed since the battle.
Kilik realized his lack of skill. It would not be possible for him to seal the cursed sword with his current strength. The words spoken by the man with the scythe flashed through the back of his mind. Merely training in the arts of purification was not enough. If he himself was not strong, he would be unable to face off against great evil. As he thought to himself, he casually placed his hand on his chest and realized something.
The fragment of Dvapara-Yuga that he had always kept on himself was gone.
"Xianglian..." The face of the woman who had died protecting him appeared in his mind. For the sake of the woman who sacrificed herself to the evil sword by entrusting the Dvapara-Yuga to him, and for the sake of the people of Ling-Sheng Su, he could not give up. But what could he do? The cursed energy that he had felt from the west had not abated. In fact, it felt as if it were still spreading. There was no time to waste.
Reading Kilik's thoughts, Edgemaster quietly ordered him to begin rigorous training. His teacher intentionally surrounded himself with dark energy, becoming like someone affected by the Evil Seed. Kilik would have to face off against this opponent with nothing more than his staff. It was the most difficult challenge he had ever faced, but he had to overcome it in order to get stronger.
The power of Edgemaster, now enveloped in dark aura, was greater than Kilik had imagined possible. As fast as lightning, as powerful as a wild beast, with the spirit of a raging hurricane--Kilik's master was like a demonic god. Kilik could not hope to win by attacking directly. He realized that he should focus on exorcising the evil energy that dwelled in his teacher's body.
Within three months, Kilik succeeded in striking Edgemaster with an attack filled with purifying power. This blow, unleashed with an unclouded heart and unwavering mind, was sufficient to restore his teacher's mind, but it wounded him deeply at the same time.
"You still lack skill. True purity of spirit strikes only at evil and harms not the body...but you have done well for such a short time." After tending to his wound, Edgemaster handed the fragment of Dvapara-Yuga to Kilik along with a letter that Xianghua had entrusted to him. With her words in his heart, Kilik set out west once more in pursuit of the evil which dwelt there.
"I'm sorry, Kilik. I couldn't do anything. I will work on my skills, grow stronger, and regain my courage. For now, please go on ahead without me. I'm sure that we'll meet again. And next time, let's put an end to all of this. I believe in us. I know that we can do it, if we're together...
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Li Long
It was supposed to be just another ordinary day of "warrior hunting" for Li Long. But the fate that awaited him in the devastated Spanish harbor was on of despair. After disposing the jet black hawk that suddenly attacked, a man who appeared to be a pirate captain stood before him with a sword in each hand, radiating a cursed aura. Li Long fought with all his might and power...and lost.
Li Long desperately ran, barely clinging to his life. He thought the man would hunt him down for the finishing blow, but for whatever reason the man left him alone and wandered off. On the verge of losing consciousness, he looked back and witnessed, with one eye remaining, the single column of light soar high into the heavens...
As Li Long gradually regained consciousness, he realized his body was devastated. His wounds were deep and it would take him time to heal. But the psychological damage was far greater the the physical. A sense of worthlessness overwhelmed him. His hands trembled from an unknown fear. His unflappable confidence was suddenly shaken.
Were his past deeds righteous? Did he, unknowingly, repeat terrible atrocities against those warriors that he "hunted"? And maybe even towards Chie?
As a piece of his confidence fell, the rest crumbled with it. All in this world seemed to condemn him and drag him to the depths of hell. Guilt, real or imagined, haunted his mind. In time he came to the point where he could not even hold his weapon straight. Something essential within his being had been "consumed".
His life was changed completely. Until now, he could effortlessly thwart any danger that came his way...the so-called "shinobi" from Japan, the hunters from his motherland sent to assassinate him. The suddenly, all that seemed an insurmountable threat, haunting him like a shadow. Li Long eventually felt more and more concerned, fleeing like a fallen warrior. He now traveled under an alias, constantly changing his guise and never walking in daylight. He was supposed to be avenging Chie, but the predator had suddenly become the prey.
For how long he continued like this, he was not sure. He had lost his sense of time. He came upon a town by the straits, hoping to seek anonymity within its vibrant population. But his pursuers would not relent and their powers eventually reached that town. Just as he was resigned to death, he was unexpectedly saved by a girl. He would normally walk away without a thought. But something stopped him, and it was not the girl's kindness--it was the faint gestures that hinted she too had lost something. Normally, he wouldn't think twice about using a false name. For some reason though, he gave her his real name, something he had not done in a while.
He accepted her offer and stayed, knowing that peace would only last so long. His pursuers were ruthless and relentless. Furthermore, looking upon the girl would often remind him of Chie, stirring his guilty conscience.
But why was he finding it so hard to leave?
The girl faithfully took care of this foreigner, he would sometimes stare at her with deeply sad eyes. It may have been that this girl, who had lived all her life weak and powerless, simply could not turn her back on Li Long, who looked like he had lost everything.
One day, when the heavens were covered by grey clouds, they finally appeared. The men said something to the girl in the entrance. The girl was trying to tell him something with her gaze, but he intentionally ignored it and stood in front of his pursuers with his weapon in hand. He fought while trying to control his trembling hands. In the past, it was unheard of for Li Long to be slow to react, even if it was of the slightest margin.
He barely defeated his foes. But the experience registered something inside him--he remembered what it was like to fight for something. As the commotion subsided, the girl stood froze in silence, staring at the scene. No matter. He was planning to leave anyway. He had nothing more to say to her. But she quietly hurried to his side, and gently touched his back, communicating her feelings more clearly than words could possible express.
Li Long left town that day. Now he knew. Having revenge would not save him. There was something he had to do, for those that urged him to live...it was still there. He had left half of himself with that dreaded blade. Now was the time to regain it. But he did not yet know. The woman he loved was searching for him, and the proof of their love was taking breath inside her.
Will the day ever come, when he will discover the truth? Will he ever regain what was lost, and finally find the peace that he yearned for?
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Lizardman
Where there is much light, the shadows are deepest.
-"Gotz von Berlichingen," Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
He had woken, but he had no way of knowing what had happened. All he remembered was the feeling of being suddenly pulled up from the dark abyss.
During the finale of the terrible battle that had taken place at Ostrheinsburg Castle--when the spirit sword Soul Calibur had struck the cursed sword Soul Edge--the waves unleashed by the spirit sword had shaken his consciousness from its long slumber.
The first thing he had seen upon awakening was his own figure, transformed into that of a monster. Fragmented images that might have been either real or imaginary rose up from his memory. In his nightmares, he served a grand priest who hid in a dark temple, and he had taken countless innocent lives.
"No! I am a human being!" he screamed inside his mind.
As if to destroy that thought, an inhuman growl escaped his grotesque mouth. His memory was in chaos. He was living a nightmare from which he could not wake. Terrifying reality assaulted him. Was his memory of being human actually a dream? The sword and shield in his hands saved him from this horrible thought. That was definite proof that he had once been human.
"I am Aeon Calcos. I was entrusted with my duty by Hephaestus, the god of the forge. I am the disciple of a god!"
Seeking a way to restore his cursed body to its original form, he set out on a journey, keeping hidden his monstrous, scale-covered form. He returned to his homeland only once. When he reached it, he realized that he was no longer the person for whom his family was anxiously waiting. Just what did he plan to say to them with his grotesque mouth, when he appeared before them with his terrible body? He fell into despair.
"The fate you have bestowed upon me is too cruel." He cursed. As he turned his face to the heavens, even he himself did not realize that a faint doubt had been born in his heart.
He continued his journey for a long time, but he could not find a way to return himself to his original form. It might be that the answer could only be found in one place. He thought about this as he considered giving up. This whole time, there was a place he had chosen to avoid. It was the evil temple that fueled his nightmares.
That place was a dungeon to him. If he returned, he might have his soul stolen once again and be reduced to nothing more than a puppet. But even this fear was overpowered by the terrifying thought that he might have to spend the rest of his life in this form. If he went to that place, he should be able to learn something.
As he approached the temple with a mixture of anxiety and expectation, what awaited him was neither the light of freedom nor the darkness of enslavement. The temple he returned to had been destroyed. There were no clues left to find in this place.
With his last glimmer of hope extinguished, something tiny, yet important, crumbled within him. He could not stop the seedling of doubt that had taken root in his heart from spreading. Why had his god aided him in his time of crisis? Why did his god remain silent?
To his god, he was no longer a disciple. His god was the same as his family, with no need for his abominable self. Cursed, steeped in darkness, he was nothing more than a monster.
"My god has forsaken me." The despair in his heart transformed now into anger at the god who had abandoned him.
The sword and shield that had served to reassure him were now nothing more than symbols of despicable betrayal. He cast his tools of combat into the ruins of the evil temple and put that place behind him. To challenge a god, he would need sufficient power. In his memory existed something that would serve that purpose: the ultimate weapon, possessing power surpassing the gods themselves--Soul Edge.
He would use the very weapon his god feared to strike him down. It would be the ultimate revenge.
Awash in immeasurable anger, a brutal impulse welled up from the depths of his grotesque body. The idea of becoming a cold-blooded beast no longer frightened him.
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Lynette
Her dream was... still undecided. At present, that was what she was searching for.
Lynette started working in the shop at a young age, and she had only seen the outside world over a counter. The shop that old man Cepheus ran was located in a town where the cultures. She spends her day tending to clothes and armor, but she has yet to come across something that she would like to pursue for the rest of her life. She went through a period where she would compare herself to her fellow workers, some of whom already had a passion in their lives and became proficient in their chosen specialties.
"You have to be patient. There is no reason for you to be the same as the others," old man Cepheus would kindly tell her. "Take your time and find an answer that works for you."
From then on, Lynette searched for an answer that she could be satisfied with. She would go from one shop to another and listen to people's stories or try working there for a while. She would ask for stories of the outside world from customers. She would even take walks outside. She took up non-work related hobbies like dancing, playing music, and even self-defense. Nonetheless, the answer refused to present itself. Everything seemed appealing to her. All the vast world lay in front of her. Everything was so full of promise.
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Maxi
Strides a stranger, the heart within him
A wilder thing than wind or billows.
-"Die Nacht am Strande," Heinrich Heine
In order to avenge his comrades, Maxi continued his journey in pursuit of Astaroth.
"I'm coming for you, you freak!" He followed the rumors of a giant with a huge ax to a ruin half-buried in the desert sands. From a distance, it had appeared to be an ancient ruin, but it seemed it was actually some sort of temple that had been destroyed only recently.
In various places throughout the rubble were signs that an enormous power had rampaged through here. It was almost certainly the work of the one he sought. Though he had reaffirmed the danger of Astaroth's power, he could not allow himself to falter.
Continuing his search for clues, he found a lone man in tattered clothes sitting, clutching his knees in the remnants of the temple. He gripped something in his hand and mumbled incoherently. Maxi cursed at the pitiful sight of the man and looked around the area once more.
It was quiet. The sky stretched to the ends of the desert. There was not a cloud in sight. It seemed that his sworn enemy had already left this place. Any clue might help his search. Not expecting much, he asked the apparent survivor of the catastrophe if he knew where the monster had gone. Up until then, the man had completely ignored Maxi, but he jumped when asked about Astaroth. From his mouth came a stream of curses.
"A cursed failure. Useless piece of junk. Damned clay puppet..."
A cold shock ran through Maxi's mind. "A failure?" As he looked upon this disheveled man, Maxi felt an irrepressible urge to kill rising within him.
"You made...that thing?" Maxi felt a cold, calm emotion, far beyond anger. The man did not answer. When Maxi drew his weapon, the object the man held began to change. It was a small metal fragment that glowed with a faint red light. Noticing the light, the man looked at Maxi for the first time. Madness showed in his eyes.
"You have Soul Edge inside your body? Marvelous! What a marvelous specimen. My--"
Two dry thuds echoed in place of the end of his sentence.
The fragment of the cursed sword fell from the dead man's body and landed noisily on the stone floor. Maxi looked at the red light given off by the fragment and murmured to himself.
"I have Soul Edge inside my body?" It was true that he felt some sort of impulse, almost like a resonance from within his body. It was then that he felt an uneasy throbbing inside his heart. It was a dark, evil emotion, born when he felt the desire to kill the man that had given birth to Astaroth. A terrifying sensation filled him, as if trying to steep his entire self in darkness.
Feeling an unidentifiable sense of dread, he kicked away the fragment that lay on the floor. The fragment slipped through a crack in the rubble and disappeared deep into the earth. A regretful echo sounded out across the empty sky.
Cold sweat poured from his entire body, and he began shuddering in fear. He felt like he was about to let go of his own will. A certain figure flashed through his mind. There was someone who had lost himself, and then turned to darkness after he lost everything. Maxi remembered the suffering figure of the man after the man had returned to his senses. But now Maxi couldn't remember who it was.
It wasn't someone from his family, but it was definitely someone important to him...
Only that memory was missing. It was a frustrating feeling. No matter how hard he thought, it was just beyond reach. Had he forgotten something very important? He felt a tinge of uneasiness, but he soon raised his head. Right now, he knew what he needed to do.
Setting out once again in search of Astaroth, he put the silent ruin behind him and soon disappeared over the horizon.
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Miser
There was a dark, unknown place where sunlight barely reached. That was her favorite place. There in the darkness, was that a gold coin giving off a faint glow? But beware! The bloodied blade of "Red Crow," her weapon of choice, was also shining.
She was part of a band of thieves that traveled the world, but few knew of this fact. Even fewer knew of the organization, shrouded in mystery. Thus her upbringing, her master who trained her in swordsmanship, the circumstances surrounding her becoming a thief...all untold, as mysterious as the organization. Of course, the name "Miser" was not her real name, and it was unlikely that her real name would ever be recorded in history.
She makes her way down the dark, quiet road, unnoticed as she slips in and out of alleys and houses. Everywhere she goes, she takes gold and lives, leaving behind only the gleam of her weapon.
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Mitsurugi
One should not look for anything else in the Way of the Samurai.
-"Hagakure," Tsunetomo Yamamoto
Mitsurugi thirsted. Thirsted for an opponent stronger than himself.
Even what he had once considered his greatest enemy, the Tanegashima rifles, no longer concerned him. There was no doubt that they were terrible weapons, but they were no threat to Mitsurugi. The fact that he had crossed countless battlefields, defeating every conceivable enemy--including those with rifiles--was the greatest proof of that.
Even Soul Edge, the ultimate weapon which he had sought in order to destroy the Tanegashima, had become meaningless to him. Having lost his purpose, Mitsurugi felt an indescribable sense of emptiness and grew restless. He wanted to fight a fearsome opponent--one that would make his pulse race and excitement well up from the depths of his body.
It was at this time that he was suddenly attacked by unknown forces. Mitsurugi fought off his attackers easily and learned that their objective was to obtain the fragment of Soul Edge that the dying man at Xiwei had entrusted to him. Judging by the outfits worn by his attackers, they appeared to be ninjas from Japan. They were most likely assassins sent out by a power-hungry Japanese noble.
Now that he thought about it, their sword technique was familiar. He remembered the female ninja who interfered every time he drew close to Soul Edge. She was from Japan, just as he was. Mitsurugi's thoughts drifted, wondering what was happening in Japan. His anticipation growing at the thought of a showdown with the female ninja, Mitsurugi decided to return to his homeland.
It was the end of the warring states era. The powerful feudal lord, Nobunaga Oda, was dead, and the leaders of the states were faced with the decision of whether or not to align themselves with Nobunaga's general, Hideyoshi Toyotomi.
Upon returning, Mitsurugi stayed with the Noujima Murakami clan, which chose to not give in to Hideyoshi Toyotomi. The MurakaMi-navy, once feared as pirates and rulers of the Inland Sea, refused to bow to the people of the land. They chose to protect their existence as proud men of the sea.
They paid a great price for their resistance, however. Having caught the attention of Hideyoshi Toyotomi, the Murakami clan was chased from the Inland Sea that was their home. Unable to accept this situation, the Murakami prepared to make their final stand.
Mitsurugi found no sign of the female ninja he sought, nor did he hear any rumors of powerful warriors wandering the country. It had been some time since he had seen battle, so Mitsurugi agreed to join the Murakami's fight.
Not intimidated by the enemy forces' massive size, the MurakaMi-navy commenced their nighttime raid. Centered around their large imposing warship, the "floating castle," a group of smaller ships formed together like scales on a fish. At the designated signal from a lantern light on the shore, they rode the tide in and charged the enemy fleet. It was the traditional secret strategy of the Murakami. Using the tide and wind, they could change their formation at will, matching the enemy and always maintaining the advantage.
The battle began. Splinters flew as ships from both sides collided. Cannon fire lit up the night, and the sounds of drums and horns were drowned out by the soldiers' battle cries. The smell of combat, the same in every age, drifted up. Feeling a rush he had not felt in some time, Mitsurugi stormed onto the enemy ships like a hurricane. His instincts took over, and the sight of him swinging his sword was like that of a savage beast freed from its chains.
However it was not enough for him. After the victorious battle, he was decorated for his service and invited to see the Murakami commander, but he still could not fill the emptiness in his heart.
"We are indebted to your strength. But there is no future for those of us who bear the MurakaMi-name. We were proud to live freely under no man's rule, but the age of war is over."
Hearing the commander's words, Mitsurugi could not help but respond. "I wouldn't be too sure about that. If they have enough ambition to unite the country, then surely their next target will be foreign lands. I'd wager that the age of war will continue."
Calming his subordinates who had stood up at Mitsurugi's rude words, the dauntless, white-haired commander looked at Mitsurugi and smiled. "Perhaps so. You have traveled to many countries and know many things. But have you heard this rumor? In a land far to the west, a warrior clad in azure armor who boasts the strength of a god has appeared."
At those words, Mitsurugi looked up in surprise. A warrior in azure armor? It could be none other than the knight whom he had lost track of before, the wielder of Soul Edge! Mitsurugi quickly bid his farewells and ran to the port.
"Take me west! Now!"
Giving his entire reward money to the boatman, Mitsurugi fixed his eyes on the horizon. He had no need for money or fame. He had but one desire--a fierce duel in which his very soul would clash against his opponent's! His heart, yearning for battle, beat rapidly in his chest. It was a reckless impulse similar to that which he had felt in his youth.
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Night Terror
...all things come to one dread Charybdis...
-Simonides of Ceos
When an action is so reckless that it will bring about one's own destruction, it is often too late by the time one realizes it. For Zasalamel, the appearance of Night Terror was a perfect example of this. Even Zasalamel had underestimated the power of the cursed sword. It far surpassed that of his secret arts. During the ritual when Zasalamel attempted to take the power of Soul Edge for himself, it fused with not only the summoned Nightmare, but with even the power of Soul Calibur, becoming a terrible incarnation of pure destructive will. It is likely Zasalamel never even saw its form--Night Terror. Perhaps it had retraced the memories of the blue armor, or perhaps it had a remnant of the self-will that had formed while it used Siegfried as a host. Whatever the case, this entity bore a slight resemblance to Nightmare. It easily escaped Zasalamel's control and appeared behind him, wielding its power like a raging current, and obliterated him.
The man who had craved death met his end--though not in the way he had intended. In his place, an unprecedented catastrophe gained wing and claw and was released upon the world.
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Nightmare
To the Light a season was set; but everlasting and boundless is the dominion of the Night.
-"Hymnen an die Nacht," Novalis
In the instant that the evil sword was pierced by the holy sword, no one noticed the evil flame dwelling within Soul Edge flowing out. Throughout its long history of slaughter, the sword had obtained its own immortal soul. This invisible entity--the will of the cursed sword--chose to cling onto the remains of some armor strewn on the ground. That armor belonged to the azure knight, Nightmare, who had unleashed his reign of terror across Europe.
The evil soul flowed into the fragmented armor, but trying to manipulate a bodiless host was no easy task. It could not even move, much less hunt souls. With the loss of its own physical body, it lacked the strength to accomplish anything--all it could do was resign itself to its current fate. Calming the burning flame of its will, the will of the evil sword waited for an opportunity.
Some time later, a man bearing a large scythe visited the location in which Nightmare's strewn armor remained. The man could read what had happened by studying the armor and the evil energy hanging in the air.
A thick, unbroken fog blanketed the sky, blocking off the sun's blessing light. In this heavy, humid air portending rain, the spirit of the evil sword and the man with the scythe carried on an unspoken conversation. Perhaps each sought to outwit the other, or perhaps they shared a strange connection that could only be understood by those with an ancient bond...After a few moments, the man agreed to aid the sword.
The man with the scythe performed an ancient ritual, using words of power to distort the laws of nature. The unsteady energy of the cursed sword and the spirits that circled this land were woven together and bound into the remains of the terrible armor. The resentful howling of ghosts roared out over the sound of thunder. An unsteadily wavering silhouette took shape, and the soul of the evil weapon had regained the shell of its former host. This revived being was clad in blue armor that shone with an evil light. Not a trace of damage remained. Out of its hand oozed a tremendous, unusually-shaped sword that resembled the cursed sword. From the memories etched into the armor, an entity that was supposedly gone from this world had found a new incarnation.
Sometime during this event, the tears of heaven had begun to fall. They struck his body futilely, as if trying to wash away the evil karma with which he was stained.
"Go and wreak havoc until you drive all life into the abyss of despair..." Murmuring these words, the man with the scythe left, his face expressionless.
Soul Edge had started a new existence as an individual being. This may have been the first opportunity the cursed sword had had to interact with the world as its own self. The azure knight soon made its presence known as a disciple of fear, death, and devastation as he devoured countless souls.
Starved for souls, he attacked and consumed all whom he encountered. Motivated by a pure impulse to destroy, and an unending hunger, Nightmare went on a mad rampage. The hearts of those he assailed were clutched by inescapable terror until the very last moment of their lives. Not even death would bring peace to their souls, for they were trapped in a fiery hell, their pain and anguish offered as sacrifice.
"More...more!!" In order to preserve his body and increase his evil energy, the azure knight sought stronger souls. Ultimately, the azure knight decided to try to free Soul Edge itself.
Rumors of a merciless butcher and the terror of the azure nightmare spread throughout Europe once again.
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Olcadan
The skies are painted with unnumber'd sparks,
They are all fire and every one doth shine,
But there's but one in all doth hold his place:
-"Julius Caesar," William Shakespeare
Once, in an age now found only in myth and long since buried in the shifting sands of time, there was a man known by the name of Olcadan. He was skilled in every kind of fighting art. His skill with weapons, in particular, could be compared with that of all heroes past and present, from East or West. He might even surpass them all.
It was a time of endless tribal warfare, and the troubled world sought a hero. But Olcadan had no interest in the affairs of the world. He found meaning in strength alone. The people were in awe of him and treated him as an eccentric, but Olcadan paid no attention to this and devoted himself entirely to honing his skills.
By the time Olcadan had reached manhood, there was no human being on earth who could challenge him. With one single exception that had ended in a draw, he could boast that he had been undefeated in the countless duels he had fought. So he turned his eyes to those with greater power--the gods. He began by hunting the great owls that were said to have been sent out so that the god of war might observe the world. By doing so, he could judge how close his ability had come to rivaling the gods. That confidence, which some would call vanity, was also backed by undeniable skill and courage. He took on the messenger of a god as an opponent and successfully defeated it.
Olcadan brought back the owl's head as proof of his victory, but the people did not extol his achievement, for they feared the wrath of the gods.
The gods' wrath came swiftly. Affected by the light of the moon and sun and the movement of the stars, Olcadan's head would transform from human to owl and back again. Upon seeing this curse, the people tried to obtain the gods' forgiveness by capturing Olcadan. Sorcerers known as the "Sages of the Oak" were sent after him. Olcadan resisted them, but they took advantage of the vow he had made in order to become strong and formulated a plan to capture him.
As Olcadan lay chained to the altar at the top of a mountain, the god of war appeared before him in the form of a headless great owl. Without a word, the god threw Olcadan down into an ancient ruin that sprawled deep beneath the earth.
"I shall give you time without end. Within this endless labyrinth, you shall realize your folly."
Much time had passed since Olcadan began wandering the sealed labyrinth in search of an exit. Time within the ruin flowed differently than in the outside world. Nothing changed, no matter what he did. He did not grow old, or hungry, or thirsty. There was nothing for him but the cold and endless corridors. Eventually, he gave up and accepted his fate, remaining in one room in the labyrinth and falling into a deep slumber.
The silence was suddenly broken. The deafening roar that shook the entire labyrinth and the great waves of power that followed were enough to wake even him. The sealed labyrinth had been opened--he could tell from the change in the way the air was flowing. The torrent of power that ran through the labyrinth in that moment must have forced open the door.
At that time, Olcadan had no way of knowing that this phenomenon was the power of the Evil Seed.
Stepping out from the labyrinth for the first time in an eternity, he learned that the world outside had changed greatly since his era. Just how much time had passed? The gods that he had once challenged had lost their power. The curse placed upon him would likely never be broken. He was not particularly troubled by this, however.
Those waves of power that had interrupted his sleep were undoubtedly the greatest power of this era. When he realized this, his body trembled with excitement.
Leaving the ruin to find the source of that power, he learned that to do anything in this world, one needed something called "money." It was a completely foreign concept to him, but if that was the way of this world, then he had no choice but to accept it. He earned an income by teaching people the fighting techniques that he himself had developed, and, over the course of several years, gradually learned about this era.
...And now, in order to restore the combat senses that had dulled over the course of his long sleep, he has once again severed all contact with the world by holing up inside the labyrinth.
He will challenge the most powerful opponent of the era. That opponent is a pair of swords. They had been young and weak in his era, but these weapons, crafted by the hands of man, now rivaled the gods...
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Raphael Sorel
That surface that tells the heavens it hath an end cannot persuade me I have any.
-"Religio Medici," Sir Thomas Browne
In his quest for Soul Edge, Raphael faced off against Nightmare in the land of Ostrheinsburg.
Unfortunately, he lost the fight.
His body weakened, his breath haggard, and his consciousness fading, he looked up to see the giant, ghastly sword wielded by the embodiment of a nightmare.
"A...Amy..."
For an instant, an emotion that was neither anger nor pride flared up inside him, and he overcame his pain and forced his body to move. The desperate strike he unleashed hit its mark, piercing the center of Soul Edge.
That was all he remembered. The last thing he saw before he lost consciousness was the sight of his opponent writhing in pain.
He should have been dead. Yet, for some reason, the azure knight had left without delivering the final blow. Raphael dragged his grievously wounded body back to his mansion. He spent several days on the brink of death, but he eventually recovered.
At this time, however, did not notice the evil energy radiating from the wounds he had received from Soul Edge--energy that was now eating into his body. The phenomenon of maglinity transformation--he had come across this terminology during his research into the cursed sword. By the time those words flashed through the back of his mind, it was already too late.
The symptoms even spread to Amy, who had nursed him back to health. Likely she had been infected when she came into contact with his blood...
No symptoms appeared to indicate that their minds had been infected, but evil blood pulsed through their bodies nevertheless. Their skin lost its color, and their eyes shone with a wicked light. During the day, they felt weak and sluggish, and when night fell, they felt a powerful thirst. The two of them were no longer human...
Before long, the people living nearby had learned of their strange behavior. They must have thought it was some sort of a plague, for they attempted to drive away their lord. Furious, Raphael contemplated taking revenge on the peasants for their impudence, but his priority was protecting Amy. He put aside thoughts of retribution and, together with Amy, left southern France.
It was a frustrating fate. This was the second time that the evil sword had forced him to endure this kind of humiliation.
"I shall make use of my fate, even this!" Raphael swore to himself. Raphael arrived in Eastern Europe. Taking advantage of the war that had spread throughout the land, he purchased a castle ruin in the mountains and began a life apart from the outside world.
Raphael had no intention of living life on the run forever, however. Amy had been transformed into a being that could not interact with the normal world. So, what he needed to do was to change the world! His plan, woven from threads of madness, proceeded in secret. The evil plague spread, starting with the area around the castle, soon moving on to nearby villages and the neighboring city. Eventually, this country, then this continent, then the entire world would change...
His plan appeared to be proceeding smoothly. But one day, an incident occurred in which some people who had been transformed to evil returned to normal. It seemed that something called a "Holy Stone," which a visitor had brought to this land, was the cause....
Raphael tried to touch the faintly glowing stone, but quickly drew back his hand in pain. His palm was blistered as if it had been burned. He destroyed the stone in a fit of rage. After calming down, he wondered whether other Holy Stones or objects with similar powers existed. He felt threatened by this prospect. He could not allow anything that threatened Amy or her world to exist.
Raphael decided to go on a journey to discover the true nature of the "Holy Stone" and obliterate it from this world.
Just as he made his decision, an army appeared at the base of the castle. They had noticed the abnormality of the area and come to attack its source. He would need to drive off these fools first.
"Amy, I won't be back for a while. Be a good girl while I'm gone." Raphael bid farewell to his beloved Amy and descended to the world that refused to accept them. The expression on the face of the reticent girl who watched him leave betrayed no hint of what lay hidden in her heart.
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Revenant
This man, now a slave to Zasalamel and his secret arts, used to be a famed man within the circles. But no one spoke of his name. The greatest assassin of all time, he never revealed his true name to others.
He grew up in the underworld, and he did whatever it took to survive. In the process, he had become a first rate assassin. He terminated his targets without fail, and if anyone even hinted at betraying him, he showed no mercy, not even towards his clients. He served no one. Many a scheming soul had sought to take him under their control. However, if they went too far a sure death awaited. Eventually no one harbored such thoughts, and even the most powerful men feared him. But even he grew old, and those that feared him dwindled in number.
One day a young man appeared before him. In his hand was a large scythe. His eye that gleamed in the most extraordinary way was the last thing Revenant saw as a living human being. As the scythe tore his flesh, he was reminded of an old man he had killed. People referred to him as a magician. In his final vision, Revenant saw that old man in this young man's eyes. Was this man, who would have his revenge even after death, a true sorceror...?
There his life ended and his thoughts froze.
Approximately ten years since that day, it looked as if his decayed skeletal body had forgotten everything. There may be memory still left in those hollow bones, yet he had no way of communicating them. A pawn in Zasalamel's quest to end his eternal life, perhaps Revenant also dreams of the day this quest would be complete, when he will be released from Zasalamel's grip.
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Rock
..he who is patient, free from hatred and fear, he is called learned.
-"The Dhammppada," Gautama Buddha
Several years ago, Rock successfully rescued Bangoo from the clutches of the evil cult that had kidnapped him. The cost of that battle was his trusty ax, but he did not regret it for a moment.
The two of them were once again free, but they did not immediately return to the New World. The journey across the sea was a long one, and Rock decided that the journey might be too difficult for the young Bangoo. He decided to wait until Bangoo was of age to return home.
The two of them headed north along the coast and settled in northern Europe. There, they were greeted by fierce winters and a different environment from that of the New World.
Nature is the best teacher. It holds limitless knowledge, and there is always something one can learn if one approaches in good faith. And, if necessary, nature will grant harsh but accurate lessons. Rock wished for Bangoo to learn and strengthen himself amidst Mother Nature's world.
The act of facing nature's power head-on is sometimes accompanied by danger. Bangoo's young body could not always handle the frigid cold or fierce storms. During those times, Rock gently supported Bangoo. Occasionally interacting with hunters and fishermen, the two of them continued their life in this land.
Some things are strong and reliable; others, fragile and dangerous. An important part of life is learning to recognize the true nature of things that cannot be observed through sight alone.
During one stormy winter night, Bangoo broke though some thin ice while crossing the snowy valley. He fell into a crevice and spent the night with no way to warm himself. When the sun rose and he was rescued by Rock, he was exhausted, but the light had not faded from his eyes. Rock asked Bangoo if he was frightened of nature. Bangoo answered slightly bashfully,
"Yes, it's scary. But I can't bring myself to hate it..."
Upon hearing this answer, Rock felt that Bangoo's time had finally come. For his rite of passage, Bangoo chose an act he had been unable to accomplish before--to cross the sea on his own. Rock saw Bangoo off on his solitary journey with a multitude of emotions in his heart. Bangoo had become like his own son.
Alone once more, Rock closed his eyes in thought. Bangoo had returned to the land of his birth. But he himself...this was something he may have been thinking about, little by little, as he watched Bangoo grow up. Rock's true homeland was not the wide plains across the great ocean before him. It was somewhere in this land upon which he now tread. The only clue he had connecting him to his parents was Soul Edge. He had traveled before in search of its whereabouts, but had never successfully reached it.
He stopped his thoughts at that point and lightly shook his head. Now that he and Bangoo had separated, had old regrets and attachments resurfaced? No, that wasn't it...He, too, had to become a man Bangoo could be proud of.
He once again laid a task upon himself. He had stopped in the middle of his search for Soul Edge, but now he would continue that search. Only when his search was complete, could he proudly call himself Bangoo's father.
He was not like he used to be, back when he had searched for Soul Edge with doubt in his heart about who he really was. Rock had matured as well during the time they had spent in this harsh northern country. This journey would be one in which he reaffirmed his own strength and will. And this time, he had a home to go back to.
The image of a boy floating in his heart, Rock looked one last time across the great sea before him, then quietly turned to leave.
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Seong Mi-na
The sun beyond the mountains glows;
The Yellow River seawards flows.
You can enjoy a grander sight
By climbing to a greater height.
-"On the Stork Tower," Wang Zhihuan
It all started from a coincidence.
Seong Mi-na traveled throughout Ming, continuing her search for Hong Yun-seong, a pupil from the Seong dojo, and Soul Edge, the Sword of Salvation. In one city, she got involved in a fight. After defeating a brawny man, one of the onlookers casually remarked, "Ah, that's the Ling-Sheng Su style! Very impressive, girl!"
When she thought about it, the man who had taught her how to use her weapon had never given a name for the style. This fighting art was a solid part of her now, but she didn't know where it originated from. Mi-na became interested and decided to visit this temple famous for its martial arts.
"It's a bit out of my way, but oh, well..."
Casually investigating the temple, she learned that it had been destroyed several years before. There were no survivors from those who had lived at the temple, and the cause of the incident was unknown. Naturally, Mi-na abandoned her plans to visit, but when she heard that a master of the temple's martial arts was still alive, she jumped at the information.
It was a white-haired old man who awaited Mi-na in the temple cave deep in the mountains. This man, named Edgemaster, was rumored to be a master swordsman who had mastered every kind of martial art and technique. He had suffered an injury and was now resting his body. After she inquired about the staff fighting technique of the Ling-Sheng Su temple, she was unable to hide her disappointment at being unable to challenge him to a match.
Still, she had come all the way out into the mountains--it would be a waste to just go back. Also, while he did nothing to intentionally reveal his skill, her instincts told her that the old man before her was a true master. After she repeatedly begged him for a match, Edgemaster finally gave in to Mi-na's request.
"Fine, fine, if you insist that much."
The two of them stood silently for some time, weapons drawn. There was no opening for her to attack. Mi-na had not merely trained at the dojo, but experienced real battles in her travels through foreign lands. She could tell. The moment she stepped in toward him, what change would occur in the staff he held so casually? Facing his quiet yet overwhelming presence, she could feel sweat roll down her brow.
"We'll never get anywhere at this rate!" she thought to herself. The only way she would find an opening was to make a forced attack and strike when he left himself vulnerable. Breaking free from her paralysis, she charged at Edgemaster.
She suffered a total defeat.
No matter how many times she attacked, she received a decisive blow after trading only a few strikes. Their skills were on completely different levels. It was more of a training session than a match. The old man reassured her that she was doing well, but for Mi-na, the outcome was very disappointing. Seeing her frustration, the old man suggested that she spend some time training here.
Mi-na gladly accepted his offer. During breaks in the training, she told the old man stories of her travels. The man showed little interest in matters of this world, but when she spoke of the purpose of her journey and Soul Edge, he showed a reaction for the first time. Stroking his beard, he began to speak, informing her that Soul Edge was a cursed sword that devoured souls.
She found his story difficult to believe, but she knew that a man like him would not lie. That meant that Soul Edge was hardly a Sword of Salvation, but rather a Sword of Ruin. But Mi-na realized something even more important. Yun-seong, who sought Soul Edge just as she did, didn't know about this. She had to stop him! There was no time to waste. She thanked Edgemaster for everything and prepared for her journey.
"I'll see you again!" Mi-na yelled as she ran off. The old man waved his hand slightly in response to her enthusiastic farewell.
"It might be fun to bring Yun-seong along next time..." With that thought on her mind, Mi-na left with the rising sun and put the sword master's dwelling behind her.
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Setsuka
And when one have mastered the secrets of this way,
a flower is nothing particular.
-"Fushikaden," Zeami Motokiyo
It was obvious from her appearance that she was not a native of Japan. She had skin as white as the purest snow, glossy black hair, a starkly chiseled face, and her eyes were the deep blue of the night sky.
As a young girl, she was shunned by those around her--she was looked upon with disdain because of her appearance. Having no family to turn to, and exposed to hateful words and violence, she gradually closed her heart to those around her. Eventually, she ran away from her home.
Young and alone, she wandered to a city where a man took her in. The man's kindness gradually opened the girl's tightly-sealed heart. He named her Setsuka--Snow Flower.
Before she knew it, she had come to smile at this beautiful name. Her caretaker worked in the region as a bodyguard. He taught Setsuka the battou technique he used to protect his patrons--the art of fighting from the draw. It became a way for her to protect herself, but it was the joy she felt when he praised her that made her to devote herself to her training.
Eventually, Setsuka grew into a woman of stunning beauty. Some still looked upon her with cold eyes, but she learned to ignore them and let nothing trouble her. Modest as it was, she managed to settle into a fulfilling life.
One day, the man entrusted a letter to her. The letter's destination was far away, and it would take her many months to travel there and back.
Seeing her uneasy look, the man smiled and reassured her, "There is nothing to fear. This place will always be here for you. Go without worry..."
After a long journey, Setsuka finally found the man to whom the letter was addressed. The old martial artist ran a dojo in a small village. He asked Setsuka many times if she would stay and train there, but she refused his invitation and journeyed home.
Upon her return, she was shocked to find the man lying on the floor, grievously injured. Although he would not reveal how he received his wounds, she was certain that he had lost in a duel. His injuries would prevent him from wielding a sword ever again.
Nevertheless, the man tried to behave as he always had, but Setsuka could not hide her sadness and concern. His lessons, however, grew evermore strict and demanding.
On the other hand, he also showered her with overwhelming love, something she had never experienced until then. Their modest lifestyle could not afford luxuries, yet still he bought her an elegant, long-sleeved kimono. Wearing such a beautiful dress for the first time, Setsuka blushed under the man's approving smile. She found her feelings for him grow stronger than she ever thought possible.
It was not fondness for him as a father, nor was it reverence to him as her master of martial arts--it would not be until many years later, after his death, that she would come to recognize the delicate, tender feelings that had taken hold in her heart.
Visiting his grave, she recalled the words he had spoken to her on his deathbed.
"I did not teach you this art for the purpose of revenge...One who lives by the sword harbors no regret."
His fateful fight had been the most exciting moment of his life. He taught her the battou technique only because he wanted her to carry on the art. He wanted her to live freely, unbound by hate or fear. Before his death, he told her his opponent's name...Heishiro Mitsurugi.
Strangely, she shed no tears when her master passed away. Only later would she come to realize her feelings and finally understand what it meant to fall in love.
Her teacher had not wished for her to live a life bound by the shackles of revenge, but she could not be stopped. With undying love in her heart, she set out on a journey of loneliness and sorrow. Now that she had lost the only bond she had ever known, there was nothing in this world for her to fear...
Setsuka's target was a wandering swordsman who challenged swordsmen throughout the land, searching for a way to defeat the Tanegashima rifles. No one had seen him in Japan since he had crossed the sea several years before in search of a powerful swordsman by the name of Nightmare. She had few clues to go on, but she was sure that if she tracked down Nightmare, she would eventually find Mitsurugi.
Armed with an oilpaper umbrella containing a concealed blade and wearing the kimono that her teacher had left to her, her appearance was that of a beautiful goddess of war dressed in bewitching robes of mourning.
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Siegfried Schtauffen
But the strong man is strongest when alone.
-"Wilhelm Tell," Freidrich von Schiller
As Nightmare plundered powerful souls and recovered the shattered fragments of the sword, the cracks in the surface of Soul Edge healed one by one. His goal of reviving the evil sword edged toward completion. After some time, the azure knight returned to his old stronghold, Ostrheinsburg Castle. This land, which had once tasted the blood of many, was a fitting stage for the restoration of the evil sword's true power.
A lone man appeared in search of Soul Edge. He wielded a thin blade in his left hand. The two of them faced off in the ruins of the chapel, and the place became alive with flying sparks and blood.
At the end of the fierce battle, Nightmare stood victorious. The evil incarnate stepped forward to finish off his opponent. The wounded man muttered something incoherent.
Deep within the eyes set in the dark helm dwelled the faint light of a soul that was not that of a murderer. It was the will of Siegfried, the man who had been seduced by the evil blade. Siegfried struggled, as if trying to fight off a nightmare. The spirit of the evil sword sneered at him.
"Your strikes were weak. Fragile. Pathetic. Just like human souls."
"Silence...I will not obey you anymore. I will atone for what I have done..."
"The depth of human greed astounds me. You still seek forgiveness, after all you have done?"
"No! But one must reflect on one's sins and move onward!"
"...Even if the path ahead leads only to darkness? Only death awaits in the end."
"Is it because it is finite that people cling to the joys of life?"
"...Can you not hear them--the wails of the souls that were swallowed unto the abyss by your hand?"
"I am eternally sorry for what I have done...But listen to me!"
"...He sought death. He revered it. Death is beautiful. Your father, too, knew its allure."
"Yes. If I could, I would return to that time--"
"...He must perish. You shall cast his body into the darkness. He shall stagnate and rot, steeped in despair, as you squeeze the final gasp from his lungs!"
"No! That's an illusion! I can see it...I can see the proud way he faces his end!"
The battle waging deep within his mind caused the azure knight to stand motionless. Beside him, the wounded body of the fallen man trembled. Only the man's great will enabled his gravely injured body to move. Drawing on his last strength, the man unleashed a desperate final blow upon his enemy. The strike pierced the center of Soul Edge.
Nightmare let out an inhuman cry. Inside him, the crazed, wounded mind of the evil sword clawed at his consciousness. But he stood with an iron will against the raging storm. The time had come. The eyes that had been dyed crimson by evil were washed away, and the flame of life relit. He who had been host to the cursed sword for so long had reclaimed his body as his own. In response to the rapidly weakening evil, light poured out like the coming of the dawn...
When it was all over, Siegfried thought back in a daze over what he had done. It had been a reflexive action. A sword had appeared along with the light. As if guided by something, he took the sword in his hand and drove it into the evil eye that was the core of Soul Edge. That sword was the holy sword Soul Calibur, which had been trapped by the power of the evil sword.
The blow, however, was not enough to destroy the evil sword. The evil energy of Soul Edge had quieted, but the holy sword, still piercing the cursed sword, had gone silent too, as if it had lost its power.
"This isn't enough..." Forcing his tired brain into motion, he began to think. He threw off his detestable armor and smashed it into pieces. Then, picking up the two swords, he left that cursed land. "I will seal away Soul Edge for all eternity and atone for my sins. This I swear!"
His bloody fate would not release him so easily, however. From time to time, the feeling of that grotesque right arm rose from the depths of his memory. The residue of the nightmare tormented him. Those seeking revenge on Nightmare would occasionally appear in his path. Each time he was forced to fight them, his mind was wracked by guilt. Moreover, Siegfried did not realize that another dark omen was on the horizon.
Indeed, there was no way for him to know that an azure nightmare would soon reawaken...
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Sophitia Alexandra
It is only the light of heaven that shines pure and leaves no stain.
-"Maximen und Reflexionen," Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
With great determination in her heart, Sophitia set out on her journey to free her children from their cursed fate. She also worried about Cassandra, who had run off on her own. She had to reach Soul Edge as quickly as possible and destroy it...
Following the rumors of Nightmare, she arrived at the bank of the Rhine river, overlooking Ostrheinsburg Castle. The eerie silhouette of the castle was visible through the enveloping mist. This land was steeped in a sinister presence--not a beast nor bird could be seen.
Just as the sound of a bird's cry pierced the silence, a figure appeared out of the fog like an illusion taking form. It was a small girl dressed in dark green clothes. Her clothes were tattered and torn, and her skin was visible through rips in the fabric.
"Hi! Nice weather, isn't it?" the girl said casually.
Sophitia was not caught off-guard by the girl's cheerful smile, and readied her weapon. The girl was carrying an oversized ring-shaped object completely incongruous with her small frame. Sophitia recognized its deadly nature instantly.
"Soul Edge isn't in the castle anymore. Say, I'd really like to play with your children." The smile the girl directed at Sophitia was neither gentle or heartwarming. Without a word, Sophitia lashed out at her, but the girl pulled her body back and dodged the swing.
"Sorry, it's not time for that yet. When the time comes, we'll meet again, okay?" Giggling, the girl melted away into the fog.
"Wait!" Sophitia tried to follow her, but the thick fog blocked her way.
"On a moonlit night, the young siblings went into a deep, dark forest. The poor siblings got lost in the mist, and were never heard from again." The girl's voice echoed in the distance, as if singing a nursery rhyme.
Her children were in danger! Sophitia hurried home at once and was relieved to find her family safe. She couldn't relax just yet, however. The girl after her children was still out there. She had to destroy the threat of the cursed sword, but she couldn't leave her family alone. Uncertain what to do, she went to the temple to pray to Hephaestus, the god of the forge, in hopes of receiving some sort of guidance.
But instead of receiving guidance, the girl in green clothes was waiting for her there. Sophitia hurriedly picked up the sword and shield laid upon the alter.
"I won't let you touch my children!" Sophitia pointed her sword at the girl.
"Ahaha! You want to fight? That should be fun!" said the girl, with a tone of twisted madness in her voice, as she unleashed a strike with her entire body. While desperately parrying the blow, Sophitia read another emotion apart from madness in the purple eyes that gazed at her across the blades.
"You've never known happiness, have you..." Sophitia spoke slowly. At those words, the girl stopped in her tracks.
"Pity doesn't suit me." Sophitia was startled by the cold, rough sound of the girl's voice. Looking at her face, she saw a look of incredible hatred that was completely unlike the fake smiles the girl had shown up until then. The girl pushed away the stunned Sophitia and, weapon still in hand, took her distance. "Humph. I've lost interest in this. You're really irritating."
As the girl glared at her, Sophitia was unable to see any trace of the loneliness she had caught a glimpse of earlier.
"As for your children...When I need them, I'll come for them." The girl jumped out of sight, leaving only those words behind.
Left alone in the temple, Sophitia thought quietly to herself. She was worried about her children, but merely waiting in fear would change nothing. True, she was no longer acting under the auspices of the gods, but she could still fight for the ones she loved.
Even now, Soul Edge was spreading its evil influence. The disaster had to be stopped at the source in order to save her beloved children.
Returning home, she explained her decision to Rothion and prepared once again for a journey.
"Please take care of the children...Please, be safe." Sophitia spoke softly to her husband.
"You be careful, too. May the blessing of the Goddess Nike be with you."
She could still do it, even if she no longer heard the voices of the gods. Sophitia believed in what she must do. She would fight for those she must protect. In her eyes shone a light of hope that would illuminate the future.
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Taki
-...only the person who can remain essentially silent can essentially act.
-"A Literary Review," Soren Aabye Kierkegaard
Taki was concerned about Soul Edge, which had probably recovered its power. At the moment, however, she was more worried about Toki.
Fragments of the evil sword were being gathered by the head of the Fu-Ma clan, who possessed great power. That could only mean trouble--it might even lead to the birth of a second cursed sword.
She could not ignore the threat. Taki made up her mind, and first set out to shake off her pursuers. She deliberately leaked some information she had obtained about fragments of the evil blade in order to divert the attention of the Fu-Ma clan. After successfully scattering the agents sent by Toki, she headed for Japan.
The Fu-Ma clan was a group that hid themselves from the world, living to exorcise demons and beasts. The leader of this group of monster hunters, skilled in combat and the manipulation of spirits, was supposed to be Toki. Following their activities, Taki learned that the village of the Fu-Ma was suffering from a fierce internal strife. Sensing the clan leader's madness, a faction of the Fu-Ma clan sought to take over. Taki made contact with the faction and, in exchange for providing them with information regarding fragments of the cursed sword, learned of Toki's whereabouts.
Toki was in Hoko temple, located in the capital. Taki was certain that Toki intended to take the power of the evil spirits that gathered at the temple. Avoiding the obstacles placed in her path by Toki's loyal followers, Taki snuck through the darkness and arrived at the unholy temple. She felt a terrible evil presence welling up from beneath the surface. There was no time to delay...
Taki entered the Great Buddha shrine that had been constructed below the temple and finally faced off against Toki.
"Oni..." The name of a legendary demon, passed down since ancient times, crossed her mind when she saw Toki. There was nothing left of the man that was once her master. His body should have shown his age, yet it was swollen and covered with sinewy muscle, looking as if he wore a suit of heavy armor. His skin took on a dark red hue, reflecting the wild flow of his blood. His fiery red eyes were filled with the bloodlust of a vicious beast.
Toki was drawing in all of the swirling spirits and energy of the temple. But no matter how powerful her opponent, Taki would not let it overwhelm her.
Taki drew her treasured Rekki-Maru and approached, but at that moment, a long, ghost-like tortured cry echoed throughout the shrine.
"Uuoohhhhhhhhhhhhh..."
She felt the presence of the great demon she had once defeated and sealed in this place. The disturbances in the energy field caused by Toki had broken the seal. Now, even that evil force was being absorbed into the vortex of dark energy Toki radiated. Taki steeled herself for battle.
The battle was fierce.
It was ironic what gave Taki her slight advantage. To defeat the powerful demi-demon, she used the Fu-Ma techniques that Toki himself had taught her. The blade that pierced his tough body was Mekki-Maru, the sword that he himself had conspired to obtain.
Looking down at Toki's aged and huddled body, Taki struggled to maintain consciousness. She had received grave injuries from the ordeal, and she had used up all of her strength in order to restrain Mekki-Maru from losing control in response to the evil energy. Her task, however, was not finished.
As Taki started to swing the final blow, a weak voice reached out to her.
"Taki...is that you?"
Startled, Taki gazed at the old man's face. His lips trembled as they moved.
"It is very dark...Bring some light..."
There was no sign of madness in his voice. Taki felt strong emotions well up within her. She opened her mouth to call out her master's name, but those words never reached him. Toki's eyes opened wide and an unidentifiable aura-like entity emerged from his mouth. Taki swung at it quickly, but her blade hit nothing. The entity flew off silently into the darkness.
Taki prepared to leave the country at dawn.
The entity that Toki had become resembled neither a soul nor an evil spirit. Taki didn't know if it contained the will of the Fu-Ma clan leader, but there was only one place Toki would have headed to revive his power. Taki had to find Soul Edge. She didn't have time to wait for her wounds to heal. She wasn't certain why, but the cursed sword's presence felt weak. Now was the time to pursue it.
The life of a ninja is fleeting. Now, after all this time, Taki found herself ruminating over this. For the sake of doing what she must, she became a crimson shadow running through the darkness.
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Talim
If I were a swift cloud to fly with thee...
-"Ode to the West Wind," Percy Bysshe Shelley
Ever since leaving the village of the wind, Talim had followed the aura of the evil fragments scattered throughout the world. Despite her nervousness at entering the outside world for the first time in her life, she continued her journey and collected several of the fragments, eventually learning that the source of the evil energy was an evil sword called Soul Edge.
Having sensed another source of evil energy, Talim traveled to a mountain range in a certain land. She gazed at the steep ravine and the giant row of waterwheels built in the flowing river. As if guided by the whispers of the wind, she arrived at a small watermill, where a group of small children lived. Learning that one of the children was ill, Talim entered. The area around him was filled with waves of evil. Talim realized that the boy himself was giving off the evil aura. Talim asked the boy what was causing this, but the boy, who appeared to be the leader of the children, just smiled sadly at her. Talim could not just leave him, so she decided to tend to the boy.
A young man paid them a visit about the time that she had grown accustomed to life in the watermill. He was a cheerful young man who carried a long sword and went by the name of Yun-seong. He announced that he was searching for clues regarding Soul Edge.
Upon hearing this, Talim warned him about the dangers of the sword. The young man appeared to give in to her harsh tone, and chose to stay in the watermill for a while, slyly waiting for an opportunity to obtain information. At first, he made Talim apprehensive, but she felt no evil from the young man and eventually came to accept him.
The boy's symptoms gradually worsened. After much thought, Talim came up with the idea of passing the evil energy through her own body and out into the wind currents flowing through the sky.
The treatment continued for several days. The evil energy released little by little would be purified in the atmosphere, but the impurities that remained behind in Talim's body slowly piled up like sediment, eating away her purity as a priestess. Talim's ability to read the wind grew weaker and weaker...
It was the first suffering she had ever experienced, and the greatest she could have imagined. She was losing something that had always been with her, something more important than words could express. Seeing her sunk in sorrow, Yun-seong said to her,
"There are some things you can't do anything about. When that happens, you just have to do what you can!" His words were largely meaningless, but hearing him say them somehow gave her courage.
Despite her best efforts to treat him, the boy's symptoms worsened. His fever persisted day and night. He would not last long at this rate. Talim pondered releasing all of the evil energy from within the boy into the wind at once. It would be more of a large-scale ritual than a "treatment." Performing this with the impurities inside her would be extremely dangerous. Even so, she knew it had to be done.
The boy, however, flatly refused her idea.
"It hurts too much...my body, and the burden I'm placing on you all, too. I just want it all to end." The boy vented his anguish. It was Yun-seong who stopped Talim and the other children from arguing with the boy and stepped forward to convince him.
After a long conversation between the two of them, Yun-seong grinned and spoke.
"I gave the little troublemaker a good talking to. The rest is up to you."
Talim gently embraced the frail body of the boy.
"No matter how bad I feel, I won't give up. So I don't want you to close off your future, either..."
It was quite possibly a miracle. When the ritual ended, not a single remnant of evil energy was left in either of their bodies. In the instant that Talim had opened the boundaries of her heart, overlapping her being with the serene winds that cross the heavens, something had flowed through their two bodies and exorcised the evil energy.
And in that instant, she had seen it. Past where the winds blew, far to the west, a shining light had appeared. Overflowing water, pure blue sky, and a single sword...It was a beautiful and fleeting vision, like a crystal formed over countless ages.
"It's beautiful..." Talim murmured. Without even understanding why, Talim felt her heart grow hot.
After watching over the boy to make sure he had recovered, Talim set out on a new journey, with the children's many thanks echoing in her ears.
Something waited for her to the west...
Every time the pure breeze touched her, her heart fluttered quietly with that premonition.
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Tira
"Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil!‐prophet still, if bird or devil!‐
Whether Tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore..."
-"The Raven," Edgar Allan Poe
There was an underground organization that hid in the shadows of the intrigue and war storming throughout Europe. They were affiliated with no single side, forming contracts with the powerful, and sending out assassins to eliminate important figures. The organization kept its existence secret, influencing the history of Europe from behind the scenes. It went by the name of "Bird of Passage."
Tira was an assassin raised by this organization. She was a bird trapped in a cage, stripped of the freedom to choose her own future. Even in her earliest childhood memories, she had already grown accustomed to taking the lives of others. She felt no sorrow, no guilt, nothing. The act of killing had become a regular routine in her life--so much so that she needed to kill on a regular basis for the stimulation it provided.
The young Tira worked to improve her skills. She displayed a cheerful demeanor, as if she enjoyed her job, but even she herself did not realize that this was nothing more than an act to hide the true feelings that lay buried deep in her heart.
When the Evil Seed rained down, Tira was in the middle of a mission. The evil energy burnt the mind of her leader, and the chain of command collapsed. The mission failed. Tira was suddenly set free from the underground world and found herself flying outside on unsteady wings.
She has since forgotten where she was when this event transpired.
For a while, she was taken in by an ordinary family in an ordinary city and lived a life amongst ordinary people. Unlike the world she had come from, there was nothing here to satisfy her desire, but she had casually thought to herself that this life might be okay, too.
However, her modest, peaceful days did not last for long.
The trigger was a simple event. She had set free a bird that the family's child had been keeping as a pet. She wasn't sure herself why she had done it. But the child had burst into tears, and the parents had scolded Tira.
By the time she had realized what was happening, an all-too-familiar sight lay sprawled around her. She was fundamentally different from other people. She could never live peacefully among them.
"I should have known I couldn't live without this..." thought Tira, as she gazed blankly down at her blood-stained hands.
Tira began a life of aimless wandering, taking the lives of others as she went.
It was around this time that the intensity of her emotions grew so much that she could no longer control them. The slightest occurrence would cause her heart to sink, and for her to feel like rejecting everything. Then her mood would improve suddenly, and everything she did would feel tremendously enjoyable.
She grew more and more confused, but she now lacked the will to even concern herself with it.
One day, she came across information about the massacres caused by Nightmare. She had found someone else like herself. Her heart leapt at the thought.
Tracking down the azure knight led her to Ostrheinsburg, where she met a mysterious man with a scythe. What she had really sought was Soul Edge itself. Nightmare was nothing more than a puppet...
Upon hearing this truth from the man, Tira was unable to hide her disappointment. A short time later, however, she heard rumors that the azure knight had reappeared. Following the trail of slaughter, she finally found Nightmare. This being, the physical representation of the cursed sword's will, was an incarnation of destruction and despair far beyond her expectations.
"Finally, someone to whom I can give myself entirely..."
Kneeling before the cursed knight, she opened the most sacred depths of her heart and accepted the dark will into herself...
Now a faithful servant of the evil sword, she operates behind the scenes, controlling a flock of ravens. She has been given two missions.
The spirit sword was driven into Soul Edge's main body, sealing it. Her first task is to destroy the spirit sword and free the evil sword.
Her second task is to locate a new host for the cursed sword. The power of the evil blade is being restrained by Soul Calibur. Soul Edge is controlling a temporary body, but its vessel is far too unstable to be used for long--it needs someone with both the spiritual strength to make full use of Soul Edge, and a body that can readily accept its evil will. Seeking the ultimate host, Tira spreads her dark wings and flies out into the world.
Those who meet with her approval shall surely have their souls burned by the flame of the cursed sword. Those who do not, Tira will surely take their lives to bring to joy to her own.
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Valeria
Her dream was to prove her worth to her father.
Her father entrusted her to an acquaintance, and went off to travel the world. If there was news that a rare find was up for auction in the east, he would travel night and day to bid on it. If there was an artifact found in the west, he would head straight west. That was his life. After illness took his wife and left him with an infant daughter, this was the only way he knew to provide for her. Of course, Valeria never could understand that and grew up resenting him, believing that she was abandoned by her father.
She was entrusted to an old man named Cepheus, who had a shop in a town where the cultures of east and west converge. Valeria, in time, also worked at the shop. It was Cepheus' way of giving Valeria a chance to understand her father's way of life. As time passed, she nurtured a genuine curiosity towards antiques, becoming a very good appraiser. Cepheus suspected that her career choice reflected her desire to beat her father at his own game.
Cepheus urged Valeria's father to stay in town and spend more time with his growing daughter. The man responded that he is delighted his daughter found a passion in life. And should that path be the same one he chose for himself, the only thing he knows, then perhaps they can eventually travel together.
But that day never came. Before Valeria could be considered an expert, her father went missing. He disappeared en route to an auction that supposedly included a sword called Soul Edge. Cepheus suspected something had happened to the man. It simply was not like him to just disappear and leave his daughter. A few years later, Cepheus was certain of his suspicion. He began hearing rumors that Soul Edge was somehow involved with Nightmare and the phenomena that rocked Europe.
Valeria did not know where her father was headed when he disappeared. Cepheus told her everything he knew. Valeria was no longer the little girl that had nothing but resentment for her father. She finally learned of his true intentions, how he longed to travel the world with his daughter, and she wept for her foolishness in ever resenting him.
Her goal was to become the most skilled appraiser of ancient artifacts. Though her motive had changed, that ultimate dream remained the same.
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Voldo
Blessed is he who has found his work; let him ask no other blessedness.
-"Past and Present," Thomas Carlyle
Obeying the orders of his late master, Voldo wandered the outside world in search of Soul Edge. Though unable to find the rare treasure itself, he did find several fragments that appeared to be pieces of the sword.
Returning to the Money Pit to offer up his findings to his master, Voldo was deeply hurt to discover that the vertical shaft had been ransacked in his absence. He emitted an otherworldly wail of indescribable sadness and begged his late master for forgiveness.
While inspecting the treasure, however, he discovered a new truth. The greedy thieves had taken the "false" Soul Edge he had obtained previously along with the fragments of Soul Edge he had collected. There was no sign that they had touched any of the other treasure...
This could only mean one thing--the intruders were seeking Soul Edge, just like him. If he could track down these people and force them to tell him everything they knew about Soul Edge, it would surely make his search easier.
Imagining his beloved master encouraging him and speaking to him with kind words, Voldo shivered with excitement. Of course, those thieves who had touched the treasure of his sacred master must die a fitting death. Voldo swore to punish them, and to recover the fragments of Soul Edge.
After resetting all the traps and preparing to leave the vertical shaft, Voldo sensed the presence of a new intruder. Until now, the numerous traps had stopped the thieves, but the incident this time had proven the danger of relying only on traps. He went out himself to meet the intruder, and punished him for his great sin with a painful death.
While disposing of the thief's body, he thought to himself in silence. Of all the treasures Master Vercci had sought, only Soul Edge was still missing. If only he obtained that, he would be able to dedicate himself to protecting the Money Pit. Thinking of this, a new fear washed over him. Someday, he too would leave this world, just as his master had. After that, how would he protect his master's slumber and treasure from the fools who would violate this holy place?
A successor was needed to carry on his will and protect the treasure. Someone devoted to serving the master and protecting the tranquility of the master's soul, just as he did.
Another guardian...Surely Master Vercci would approve of this idea. Feeling satisfied, Voldo considered this idea while preparing for his journey.
The guardian of the secret storehouse ascended from the dark abyss to the surface. In search of Soul Edge and his own successor, he wanders the outside world in silence...
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Xianghua
What would life be if we had no courage to attempt anything?
-Vincent Willem van Gogh
"I couldn't do anything..." The pain she had felt since they had lost squeezed at her heart. In the end, she hadn't been able to help at all. She, who had said that she would destroy the cursed sword, hadn't even been able to stand up against a threat in their path...
She had been reunited with Kilik, but had then lost in the fight they had fought together. No, perhaps it would be better to say that the fight had been between Kilik and the man with the scythe. The man had shown no interest in Xianghua. After defeating Kilik, he had left without even a glance toward her. The only thing she had been able to do was fight back her tears and run away, carrying Kilik.
She had tended his wounds, and his life was no longer in danger, yet Kilik did not open his eyes. Frantically wondering what to do, Xianghua remembered Kilik's teacher, a man who lived in a hermitage. Since Kilik had no family, she couldn't think of anyone to whom she could turn besides that old man, Edgemaster.
When she arrived at the sword master's hermitage, the old man welcomed her warmly. He informed her that if he dedicated himself to tending him, Kilik would recover. Relieved by the old man's words, Xianghua entrusted him with a letter to Kilik and left the hermitage that same day.
After returning to her country, she followed the Edgemaster's suggestion and placed herself in the care of a certain retired general. Having run away from the military, Xianghua would normally have been arrested, but upon reading the letter sent by Edgemaster, the general said that he would shelter her. He had spent his younger days in training at the Ling-Sheng Su temple and remembered the old man who had taught him.
"I must become stronger." Xianghua pleaded with the general. He was surprised to hear this. He had thought that her skills, though self-taught, were nevertheless more than sufficient. Regardless, he did his best to aid her. Even though he had retired, skilled warriors still gathered under him. Amongst them was an exceptionally skilled man whom he had employed as an instructor. Noticing the swordsmanship of the Ling-Sheng Su temple in Xianghua's style, he became interested in her and approached her himself about becoming her training partner. Devoting herself wholeheartedly to her training, Xianghua increased her skills considerably in a short time.
Ever faster, ever sharper...Each time she swung, her power grew stronger and her aim surer. Despite knowing this, she was unable to wipe away the uneasiness that had fallen over her heart.
"Even if I increase my power, if I can't use it when I need it...When I fought against the cursed sword, Kilik was with me. But if I'm alone..." Xianghua thought to herself, but forced her doubts aside. "No. I mustn't fear. I have to keep my spirits up!"
"Your blade is keen. However, it appears that you are forcing yourself." One day, the instructor cautioned her. She was focusing too exclusively on her strength. Xianghua told him of what troubled her. After hearing her concerns, he began to speak softly.
"In combat, it is inevitable that one's heart will waver. But it is not wise to try only to reject and refuse these feelings. Sometimes, the path of the warrior requires letting in dark feelings, weighing them, then letting them go."
From that day forward, Xianghua began to train not her swordsmanship, but her soul. Her heart would be as water. A hard, solid heart will shatter upon the sharp point of fear, but when water is pierced or cut, it does not resist--by permitting everything to pass through, it does not break.. This was the truth which she had found. She no longer feared the swaying of her heart.
It had been several months since she had come to visit the general's mansion. Xianghua's blade now possessed both its past elegance and a newfound strength. She had grown strong. She now felt comfortable believing that.
Feeling that the time had come, she politely thanked those who had helped her and set out on her journey once more. Xianghua turned her thoughts to that which awaited her in the west. Inside her heart, she made a small promise to herself. When she met Kilik, she would proudly announce, "Sorry to keep you waiting! My skills have finally caught up with yours!"
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Yoshimitsu
Those who follow the will of the heavens, follow the will of righteousness.
-"Will of Heaven," Mo Zi
Yoshimitsu had set out on his journey to recover his sword and to destroy all of the items that had been tainted by the evil sword. Unfortunately, those items--including the fragments of the evil sword--had already been scattered to the corners of the earth. Finding and destroying them himself was impossible. Not only that, but while he was concerning himself with the cursed sword fragments, he wouldn't be able to spend time protecting the weak.
As things stood now, he was at a dead end. Faced with this situation, Yoshimitsu devised a plan.
He returned to Japan and recruited ruffians from throughout the land into an organized group of thieves. It was the birth of an organization of chilvalrous thieves called the Manjitou.
Using his exceptional combat skill, gifted decisiveness, and ability to put unconventional plans into action, Yoshimitsu became the head of the Manjitou and skillfully organized the group of outcasts. While stealing riches from wealthy nobles and merchants and distributing them to the poor, they destroyed the fragments of the evil weapon that lay scattered throughout the land. It was not an easy task, but with the power of the Manjitou and its carefully-selected, few-but-powerful members, his dream was no longer impossible.
One day, Yoshimitsu devised a robbery greater than any which had come before. During an annual festival, the group would infiltrate the mansion of a famously wealthy usurer and take everything he had. There was also information indicating that a fragment of Soul Edge was hidden in the money-lender's mansion. A careful plan was drawn up, and a massive operation involving the entire Manjitou was put into action.
Unfortunately, the plan failed. The vanguard force sent in specifically to target the fragment was attacked and wiped out in front of the treasure room. Yoshimitsu, who was leading a decoy group to distract the guards, did not learn of this until it was too late. The news that the Manjitou's best men had been eliminated destroyed the chain of command. In the end, half of theclan failed to escape and were either captured or killed.
Although many clanmembers were dispirited after this crushing defeat, they still had to save their captured comrades. Yoshimitsu led his remaining forces in a rescue operation. The jailbreak was a success, but the clanmembers he saved gave him an unexpected report. The fragment of the cursed sword had disappeared from the money-lender's treasure trove. This news puzzled Yoshimitsu, because the vanguard force supposedly never made it inside the treasure room.
To add insult to injury, information arrived that the body of the man to whom he had entrusted the vanguard force had not been found.
"A betrayal..." murmured someone in the group. It was certainly true that one explanation for what had happened would be that the leader of the vanguard force had attacked his men by surprise and had run off with the fragment. But Yoshimitsu couldn't believe that the man he had entrusted would do something like that. The vanguard leader had been exceptional in both his combat skill and his humanity. As his second-in-command, Yoshimitsu had carried great expectations for him.
Yoshimitsu spoke softly to the uneasy men.
"Wait. We knowest not for certain it was his work."
"But, the wounds on those that were attacked..." The men responded. The wounds on the bodies of the vangard force were not normal cuts like those dealt by blades.
"Yes. We wilt dealest with this matter. Findest the fragment. When thou findest it, thee wilt surely findest him as well." If the truth was being concealed in darkness, then the only thing to do was to search for it and drag it into the light. "I wilt goest as well. Dismissed." At this short command, the Manjitou went silently into action once more.
He could not allow the dark influence of the cursed sword to stay free. He himself had once desired that power for the sake of revenge. Is the one seeking it his subordinate, or was it someone else entirely? In order to discover the truth, Yoshimitsu joined the hunt.
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Yun-Seong
The greatest pleasure in life is doing what people say you cannot do.
-Walter Bagehot
Several months had passed since Yun-seong had left his home country in search of Soul Edge, known as the Sword of Salvation. However, he had also heard rumors that Soul Edge was an evil weapon. Mixed emotions ran through him.
One day, he heard the story of a fortress city overlooking a river that had warred with neighboring nations over a fragment of Soul Edge and had eventually been destroyed. He followed rumors of children who had survived the wars and were living in a city up the river. Tracing the riverbank and its line of giant waterwheels, he soon found the watermill he sought. He announced that he was looking for Soul Edge, and the children greeted him happily and innocently--all except one.
A girl named Talim who was living with the children looked at him with a stern gaze and warned him of the dangers of Soul Edge. Yun-seong was taken aback by being admonished by a young girl, but he quickly recovered his spirits. He then noticed the boy, the children's leader. The boy, who was lying sick in bed, gave a brief startled look upon hearing the name "Soul Edge."
"He knows something..." Yun-seong mused. He decided to stay in the watermill for a while and wait for an opportunity to question the boy.
While the children quickly grew fond of Yun-seong, the boy avoided him. This situation continued for a while. Talim had devoted herself to treating the boy, but the results were not promising. Seeing the look of sorrow that appeared on her face, Yun-seong felt that he had to do something, too. He spoke to her every chance he had, and the disheartened Talim recovered a little of her smile.
Seeing the boy's condition worsen, Talim announced that she would begin a drastic treatment. She said that she was willing to accept the risk, but the boy refused.
"It hurts too much...My body, and the burden I'm placing on you all, too. I just want it to end." The boy vented his anguish.
Yun-seong stopped the boy from arguing with Talim and the other children and stepped forward to convince him.
Once they were alone together, the boy looked sadly at Yun-seong and began to tell the story of his past. Yun-seong listened silently.
"I want to tell you everything." the boy said. The boy was the son of the lord of the fortress city. His father had obtained a fragment of the cursed sword and, possessed by the fragment's power, soiled his hands with terrible human experiments in an effort to draw out that power. He had even used his own son as a test subject. The result of the twisted experiment was the thick, dark energy now dwelling within the boy's body.
The neighboring countries had attacked, sensing the danger of the fortress city's activities. The lord of the city had eventually gone mad and begun an indiscriminate slaughter. Eventually, someone killed the lord, and everything had come to an end.
"These kids here with me were also going to be used in the experiments. I'm glad I was able to rescue them. But in order to do so, I..." The boy clenched his fists tightly and hid his face.
After the boy had finished speaking, Yun-seong stood up wordlessly, drew his sword, and placed the hilt in the boy's hand.
"This sword is a treasure passed down through my teacher's family. It is said that the blade shows what lies in the depths of the heart of the one who holds it."
The boy gazed at his own reflection in the blade.
"What do you see? The figure of a demon filled with twisted power? Somehow, I don't think so. Don't give up before the end. You made the right decision."
The boy was silent for a while after hearing Yun-seong's words, then, in a voice barely above a whisper, said,
"Thank you."
After the long ritual, the boy recovered his health. Yun-seong rejoiced at their recovery, but Talim, who had performed the ritual, appeared to be pondering a new puzzle. One day, she suddenly left on a journey.
"I still had things I wanted to ask her!" Yun-seong hurriedly made preparations to leave. As he bid his farewells, the boy said to him,
"I'll tell you everything I know about that evil sword. But I want you to promise me that you'll make sure with your own eyes that the sword is really what you think you seek. I trust in you." Yun-seong nodded fervently at the boy's words.
It was said that the knight with the giant sword ravaging the lands to the west was the wielder of Soul Edge. Having accomplished his goals here, Yun-seong set out for the west. When he reached his journey's end, his true strength would be tested--with this premonition building in his heart, he turned his eyes to the path before him.
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Zasalamel
Alas! Alas! Time eats away our lives,
-"Les Fleurs du Mal: L'Ennemi," Charles Baudelaire
This magician lives eternally, renewing his body each time his life ends, drifting endlessly through time.
Zasalamel was originally born into a tribe that protected the holy sword. "It is forbidden to use this power for ourselves."
This strict edict existed to prevent the holy sword from being used for personal gain. Zasalamel, young and talented in both mind and body, was not pleased by this edict. It was not that he did not believe in it, but if a crisis were to occur, why should the tribe have to entrust their fate to those weaker than themselves?
In order to destroy this foolish tradition, he prepared to take the sword into his own hands, but the tribe discovered his plans. After crushing his arm as punishment, they cast him out of the tribe.
The path of the warrior closed to him, Zasalamel was stricken with despair, but he eventually began the pursuit of ancient knowledge. What he sought was the art of reincarnation. He found this secret art--which many had sought and failed to obtain--within knowledge thought to have been lost long ago. After a long period of study and training, he obtained the power for his own and became a being that could cross the ages.
He could not have anticipated the great cost of this freedom. Every time he "died," he experienced a nihilistic feeling as if sinking into hell, and a pain as if his body were being ground into dust...He had distorted the laws of causality set down by the gods and torn off the shackles of time. His body would bear the burden of the result of his actions. In exchange for obtaining eternal life, Zasalamel had lost a peaceful death.
He reincarnated repeatedly over many generations. In the beginning, he was able to stand the suffering of death. He had thought there could be nothing better than the joy of life. Over time, however, the joy he gained from life waned and the pain of death increased. Time was infinite. Anything he wanted to do, he could accomplish. Any enthusiasm he felt for living had all but disappeared many lifetimes ago, but he could not escape the eternal circle of reincarnation...
During one of his countless lifetimes, he took possession of Soul Edge in hopes of cutting the bonds between his life and this world, but he ended up as a servant of the sword. He was together with the sword until his body collapsed and the last of his life faded. Still, he returned once again to the land of the living.
He then turned his hope to the spirit sword. Soul Edge lacked the power to take his life, but perhaps using something with even greater power...With this thought in his mind, he returned to his birthplace to take the spirit sword.
When he reached his homeland, the tribe was gone. Whether by force of nature or by human hands, everything was gone without a trace. Soul Calibur, too, had disappeared...
After reaching his current incarnation, Zasalamel tracked the whereabouts of Soul Edge from the massacres caused by the Evil Seed and Nightmare. He learned that the spirit sword had finally appeared, so he may be able to obtain both of them at once! It was the perfect chance. The cursed sword, however, had lost half of its body, and there was a seal placed upon it. The spirit sword lacked its true strength as well, having been infected by evil.
In order to revive the cursed sword, he lent his power to its evil will, which struggled for existence after having its body sealed. Zasalamel restored the azure knight to life. In order to aid Nightmare and increase the cursed sword's power, he needed to create conflict within the mind of Siegfried, the one who possessed both swords. Zasalamel searched out survivors of Nightmare's carnage and directed them towards Siegfried. The strong hatred and hostility that they bore would surely be enough to shatter Siegfried's will. If the cursed sword grew in power, then the spirit sword would also regain its strength. This, Zasalamel had learned from the legends left behind by his tribe.
"It should nearly be time..."
After sending out his sacrifice, Zasalamel decided that it was time to move. When the cursed sword's great power flared into an inferno, and the spirit sword swelled with its purifying energy to quiet its rival, he had to be there. When the conflict between those two opposing forces reached its peak, would he be able to use that ultimate power to achieve a final death?
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