Most of the characters within the story are from the Anime Series,
Ranma 1/2, or the Sega Genesis video game, Shining Force, and are
property of their respective owners. I write this without permission
and do so with no attempt to profit off of the marvelous works.
Rather, I do so for everyone's benefit. Please enjoy and tell me what
you think.


In an age long forgotten by mortal men, in a dimension outside the
realm of Earth, an ancient evil lurked, conquering every reality
within the limits of its power. It slowly grew in strength, until it
threatened all existence. Then it met the denizens of Rune, a small,
Earth-like planet deeply enriched with the powerful essence of magic.
With his evil hordes of Darkness, the being showered the land with
its dark energies. Only, something happened that it did not foresee:
the people of Rune fought back. Wielding the Powers of Light, a force
of good beyond all imagination, the Ancients of Rune shattered the
evil being's army and cast it into another dimension. The Lord of
Darkness vowed to return in a thousand years after it collected
enough energy to break the seal upon Rune.

Time passed, bringing with it the destruction of countless
dimensions. Though it had been weakened, the defenseless worlds fell
to its awesome power. The dawn of evil has arrived here, and no one
on Earth is safe from its dark powers. The sole hope of an entire
universe rests upon the shoulders of a few people, both young and
old, to defend what is left of the universe.

Warning: This fanfiction has adult themes and situations which may be
offensive to some parties. Viewer discretion is advised.

*******************************************
*A Ranma 1/2 Fanfiction: The Fires of Hell*
*******************************************
by Ryan Erik


                   Prelude: Shining in the Darkness


    Never in his life had he seen so much blood. Looking at his
hands, he doubted if it would ever wash off. His lifeless blue eyes
stared into the dingy bathroom mirror without seeing himself, as if
looking past his reflection, into the void that his life had become.
Pasted to his skin, his shirt had stiffened after being splashed with
the salty, red liquid a countless number of times.

    Retching across the porcelain covered, cast-iron sinks, Saotome
Ranma emptied his stomach of its contents and knelt to the floor with
his head in his hands. The stench of his vomit mixed with the wreak
of death filled him with the need to retch again, but was only met
with dry heaves. He turned his head to avoid his reflection, as the
vision of his friend Daisuke's motionless corpse burned in his mind.

    He stood, gazing into the depths of his own soul in an attempt to
recognize what lay there, trying to discover which demons awaited him
within. He had killed. It had been of self-defense and to protect
others, but that failed to ease his conscience. Even if the blood did
fade from his hands, the memory would still remain. He shut his eyes,
not wanting to see the gruesome blood-bath Furinken High School had
become. Though the villains behind the massacre had yet to name him,
he knew that in some way he was responsible...responsible for their
arrival. Every strange event that erupted within Nerima always seemed
to be his fault, whether true or not.

    Shattering his thoughts, a small humanoid, green creature,
wielding a crude medium-length sword, burst into the bathroom that
Ranma occupied. Its eyes scanned the room looking for any potential
victims, but what it encountered, it least expected to find. A quick
combination of punches sent the little beast sprawling, causing its
weapon to slide carelessly across the bloodied floor. Ranma's foot
then finished the creature with a powerful blast to its neck.

    Slowly pushing the bathroom door open, he peeked his head out,
surveying the area. Lifeless bodies of students and teachers alike
lay scattered about, their cries having long since been silenced. The
demons behind this slaughter oddly remained missing though, as he
cautiously stepped out, making as little noise as possible.

    Ranma searched the halls very any activity, but failed to find
any. The small green beast that he had ambushed in the bathroom must
have been astray from the main body of the army that assaulted
Nerima.

    Hearing a commotion coming from one of the rooms, Ranma peeked in
seeing two creatures debating loudly. A large half-horse, half-man
with a glowing red lance caught his immediate attention. Standing
nearly seven feet tall, it apparently had entered the room by the
large hole that had been blasted open through the side of the school
building during the early stages of the slaughter. The second was a
figure completely robed in red. His height placed him nearly two feet
shorter than the abomination that he stood next to, but, from the
mysterious black aura that silently radiated from him, he was the one
to watch out for.

    In their heated debate, they failed to notice Ranma enter. He
struck quicker than any human should have been able, knocking the
robed man to the floor and striking the horse-man's hand with a
sickening crunch, instantly disarming him. To Ranma's surprise, the
horse-man drew a sword with his uninjured hand and slashed at Ranma's
unprotected head. Unfortunately for the centaur, Ranma easily evaded
the blade and brought his right leg down on its left foreleg, then
followed it up with several palm strikes to the thing's nose.
Needless to say, it fell to the floor broken and bleeding in more
places than one.

    The robed figure still had not recovered, but Ranma had already
made the mistake of thinking that these creatures were out of the
game too early and was not about to do it again. A couple of
bone-jarring stomps later, he surveyed the room for any more
potential opponents. Averting his eyes from the corpses that littered
the classroom, he did not want to see someone that he knew. Stepping
over the red robed corpse, he noticed that it lost a lot of mass.
Testing it with his foot, he realized that the corpse itself had
disappeared, leaving only its robe.

    Upon seeing the source of the heated argument between the two
creatures, his heart skipped a beat. A pretty young girl, most likely
a freshman, lay unconscious on the professor's desk. Leaping to her
side, Ranma pressed two fingers against her neck, feeling for a
pulse. Finding a strong one, he pushed black locks of hair out of her
face, locating a large bump on her forehead. The top of her school
uniform was nothing more than tatters, not enough of it left to offer
any decency. Her skirt faired a little better and remained in one
piece, but had been badly torn. Fortunately though, he failed to find
any visible injuries besides the concussion upon her brow.

    The girl stirred ever so slightly, a breath passing from her pale
lips, when Ranma noticed something was wrong. Hovering his hand above
her mouth, his eyes bulged when he failed to feel her breath. Shock
wreaking havoc upon his mind, he stood for a moment, staring at her
slowly dying body.

    Quickly, yet gently, he placed his left hand under her neck and
his right on her forehead, tilting her head backward. While pinching
her nose shut with his thumb and index finger, he took a deep breath
and then leaned over her, sealing her lips with his. Exhaling
strongly, he watched her bare chest rise with his breath. Ending the
kiss, he silently counted to five, listening as the air left her
lungs. At the end of his count, he repeated the procedure several
more times.

    Not receiving a physical response from her, he snarled, unwilling
to lose.

    "No, no, no!" he whispered frantically. "Don't die!"

    Resting his arms upon her chest, he released a distraught
whimper, closing his eyes as a tear streaked down his cheek. He would
not let her die; he simply could not allow that. Thinking furiously,
he felt a torrent of emotions rush through him, from guilt and sorrow
to anger and raging depression. Gritting his teeth, he felt the cold
flesh under him grow warm and he opened his eyes, staring in shock at
his glowing hands.

    Coughing violently, the girl surged forward as life and breath
began to flow through her body once more.

    "Can you hear me?" he whispered into her ear.

    Sapphire blue eyes fluttered open, focusing upon his face. Ranma
guessed what her initial reaction would be and gently covered her
mouth with his hand. "Shh! Please don't scream. Some of those
monsters might hear you!"

    She slowly nodded and he released his hold on her.

    "It wasn't a dream," she muttered, sitting upright. He realized
that she probably had to convince herself of the horrible reality
that was laid out before her. With unshed tears beginning to form in
her eyes, her gaze darted about her classmates.

    "They're all dead..." she whispered, her voice trailing off into
quiet sobbing.

    Tugging his once white, bloodstained shirt over his head, he held
it out to her; the tatters of her blouse did little more than cover
her shoulders. Their eyes met for a moment until she looked away,
slipping her arms into his shirt, though it was quite too large for
her small torso. Pulling her ponytail out from the collar, she
sniffled once more before sliding off the desk and testing her
strength.

    "I'm Tao Wei," she whispered as he wrapped his left arm under her
shoulders, supporting her.

    "Saotome Ranma," he replied, smiling grimly. "We have to get
outta here. Think you're strong enough to make it?"

    "Yes," she answered weakly, draping her arm over his shoulder.
"I'm scared."

    Feeling a tingling sensation upon the back of his neck, Ranma
immediately pushed Tao Wei towards the corner of the room and dropped
to the floor, narrowly avoiding a crackling bolt of energy, which
crashed into the wall violently. Launching himself at the blue mage
whom had just materialized in the room, Ranma passed through thin air
as the mage vanished as abruptly as it appeared.

    This time Ranma had no time to dodge the energy bolt as it struck
him in the back, sending him flying into the professor's desk. Though
the blast itself hurt very little, the waves of nausea that rippled
through his body certainly did not feel pleasant. Unable to move a
muscle, he sat paralyzed as the demon glided over towards his prone
body, its glowing red orbs gazing through the blue cowl that shadowed
the devil's face. He had no need to see the thing's expression to
know that it grinned at him.

    With all of the strength he could muster, Ranma smirked
knowingly, causing the beast to draw itself back a foot in
preparation for any possible counter attacks.

    "I shall have thy soul," it rasped in a deep, scratchy voice and
began to chant fluidly.

    Drawing in all of his confidence, Ranma began to glow bright
blue, eerily illuminating the room. His chi firmly gathered around
him, he focused his energy towards the mage. As the beast raised its
arms, Ranma yelled, "Mouko Takabisha!" and blast ripped from his
chest, exploding into it. Unable to see the results of his energy
projectile, Ranma continued to lay numbly paralyzed in the particles
of the ruined desk.

    After a few dangerously silent seconds passed, the nausea faded
and the feeling returned to Ranma's body. As if he had been struck
several thousand times by a truck, he painfully tried to sit, but his
severe chi depletion left him with little if any physical or mental
energy. The chi bolt that he launched against the mage normally would
not have been so draining, yet something had weakened him earlier,
though he had no idea what.

    Soft hands crept over his shoulder, gently turning his head
sideways.

    "Are you okay, Ranma?" Tao Wei inquired, smiling weakly.

    "Uh-huh," he muttered, his eyes closing wearily.

    "Can you stand?"

    Ranma could only mutely shake his head as he drifted into
unconsciousness.


    With sobs jarring her petite frame, Tao Wei gazed at Ranma's limp
figure and let his head rest against the cold floor. Fearing for not
only her life, but his as well, she swung her right leg over his
prone body and propped herself over him protectively. Wedging her
arms under his shoulders, she grasped the back of his neck and buried
her face into his broad chest, bawling until she, too, fell asleep.

                          *       *       *

    The bright afternoon sun blazed over the city streets of Nerima,
lighting even the darkest of alleys. With all of the dump trucks
overturned and unmanned, the smell of garbage drifted through the
air, penetrating the nostrils of anyone walking within a several mile
radius, though very little movement could have been recorded. One
could not say that people were not out, for the citizens laid
sprawled out everywhere along its streets, butchered. In the
distance, a fire hydrant sprayed large columns of water into the air.

    One figure leapt across the vacant expanse between two buildings,
traveling out of sight from ground dwellers. Though he moved quickly,
he carried a heavy load, consisting of a young woman with short black
hair and a very bloody school uniform. His clothes were even dirtier
than hers, though.

    The two sailed across the sky, until the young man landed heavily
upon the concrete. He continued to travel at an amazing speed with
the girl in his grasps.

    "Let me down!" the raven-haired girl cried out, struggling in her
captor's grasp. "I can run just fine on my own!"

    "Hold on a second," Ryouga replied, slowing himself to place her
on the ground. "I'm sorry, Akane. I hope I didn't hurt you."

    "No," she replied solemnly. "I just don't like being carried like
a sack of potatoes too much."

    He nodded and they re-established his pace, leaping over the many
bodies that lay scattered across the asphalt.

                          *       *       *

    A severe pain aching within his head alerted him that he still
lived, but he could almost wish otherwise. Almost. He tried to stir
any of his appendages, but his sore muscles refused his commands.
When he weakly opened his eyes, intense rays of sunlight poured down
upon him, but he strangely failed to feel it upon the majority of his
body. Instead, warmth from another source radiated atop him, weighing
down upon his chest and stomach.

    Mustering enough willpower, he placed his right arm over his
chest, expecting to feel just that, but rather his hand gently
brushed a hair, soft and long. His eyes widened with surprise as his
senses sprang to life. Listening to the slow, gentle breath, he slid
his hand from the mane of hair across the silk contours of a neck and
lower, sliding his right hand over the harsh surface of a shirt --
his bloodstained shirt.

    Purring gently, Tao Wei stirred, grasping his right arm and
pulling it completely around her thin waist. Quietly yelping, Ranma
struggled to sit, but the rippling pain sent up his spine forced him
to do otherwise. Very aware of their close proximity, he tried to
nudge her awake but he could not muster enough strength, so he
resigned and contentedly wrapped his arms around her. His head still
spun and his ears rang, but the majority of his pain began to die.

    Never in his life did he recall hearing such an eerie silence.
The only thing his ears could detect was the faint sound of dripping,
the sound of blood dripping. No birds chirped, no cars honked and the
snores of the students were silenced. The halls of Furinken would
could never again echo with the voices and hurried footsteps of
teenagers running its halls. It was as if life ceased to exist.

    He nearly shivered, though not from the cold. If he had not
experienced the whole event, he would not have believed it. The day
had started particularly well and he had made it to school on time.
Akane was in a pretty good mood as well, for once. Hiroshi passed him
some candy from his seat across the room, but sucking on a lolly pop
in class would not have been such a good idea, so he had decided to
save it for later -- to eat it in his girl form, of course. He
remembered looking at Akane and the tentative smile they shared. He
had thought that nothing could break such a perfect day...and yet
something had.

    The first sign that anything was wrong came from outside. Sirens
blazed and scattered screams sounded on the streets, so most of the
class moved to the window to see the origin of the commotion. Large
columns of smoke billowed on the horizon and overturned cars laid
across the street, but that is not what stole their attention. Nearly
twenty flying creatures were in a bunch, hovering at their level, the
third floor. They appeared much like the centaur whose corpse still
occupied the room he lay in now, but beautiful white wings sprouted
from their shoulders in place of the heavy metal shoulder plates.
Pulsating white lances were in one of their gauntlets, large shields
occupying their other.

    It took no more than five seconds and the beasts were upon them.
One from the group swiftly flew towards the window. Its eyes glowed
red underneath its helmet, burning with hatred. It had cocked its arm
and then sent it jarring forward, shattering the window. Instincts
had taken over Ranma at this point and he managed to pull Akane well
away from the blast of flying glass. Many students had been injured,
although nothing but the battle occupied Ranma's mind.

    With its lance protruding from his back, Daisuke's body was
lifted into the air like a trophy, then tossed haphazardly at Ranma's
feet. The image burned into Ranma's mind, but he regarded nothing at
the time being. He took into the air so swiftly that the beast had
yet to even recover from its first kill. In his descent, he slammed
into its weapon arm, jarring the spear from its hand. It brought its
shield up to block his next attack, but it did that little good.
Ranma's punch tore through the metal, shattering it like glass, but
it did manage to prevent it from hitting its body. Unfortunately for
the Pegasus knight, his follow up punches tore through its armor,
tearing flesh and bone. It all had happened so quickly that he was
out of breath after it fell to the floor, dead.

    His arms dripped with fresh blood and his heart beat quickly. He
looked down at his fallen foe in horror, realizing that it now lay
dead by his hand. Akane cried on his shoulder while Hiroshi supported
his other, but the screams of other students brought him back his
senses. His friends and classmates were dying. Half of his class had
fled at the time, later he learned that they all were butchered by
the blades of those green humanoid creatures. He tried to keep the
remains of the group calm, but when the first wave of monsters broke
into the halls, they fled to be murdered liked their classmates. That
left him and Akane.

    The courtyard was filled by half a dozen groups of the green
beasts, and sneaking past them with Akane was by far too risky to
even think to undertake. That left their escape through the halls of
what was once considered a place of learning. He could only hope that
the two of them would be able to deal with whatever butchered the
others. It was too bad that he was dead wrong.

    The two of them crept out into the hall, but the beasts were
already upon them. Five, standing no higher than his upper chest,
charged, flashing their makeshift blades. One, two, three, four and
five, they fell, disarmed almost the instant they attacked, and
killed the very next, two by his punches, and three by a berserk
Akane. There was no time for praise, so he quickly pulled her forward
with him, streaking down the hall.

    She tripped, over a corpse most likely, and he barely managed to
catch her without slowing his momentum. Like a child, he carried her
across the tiled hall, down the stairs, through shocked beasts and a
few stranger, shorter ones wielding broad axes. Akane gave him not a
word of protest, though she held him uncomfortably tight -- but he
enjoyed her closeness to him, her reassuring presence against him, to
know there was something worth fighting for here, amongst the ruins,
amongst the dead.

    How he managed to escape without being attacked, he might never
figure out, but escape he did. Lancing through a few alleys, he
stopped, completely out of breath. Rather than letting Akane down, he
fell to the concrete, bottom first, but he kept her from the impact.
She had paid little heed, quickly throwing her arms around him. In no
time, his shirt was nearly soaked with their tears. She continued to
sob uncontrollably. Whether it was from shock, fear, the loss of her
friends, or for having killed, he did not know. All he knew was that
she was in pain, and that hurt him more than his own.

    He could sit there and wonder how or why they survived, or
whether it was right for them to survive while everyone else did not,
but joining the dead would not solve anything, now or ever. His
father had always taught him to win, to pull ahead, at all costs. The
teachings had never been more useful, in his opinion, now than ever
before. To win used to be for pride, honor, and being the best. Now
it stood for revenge, justice and survival. He did not wish to mull
over it, nor waste anymore time than necessary.

    With a gentle push, he helped Akane stand and quickly yet
gracefully, he also stood beside her. She forcibly took his arm and
pulled it over her shoulders, as if finally recognizing the warmth,
the protection, and yes, the love he had to offer. He did not resist.
They calmly, yet purposefully strode towards the entrance of the
alley.

    And how Ryouga found them was probably the greatest yet least
thought of mystery of all. The lost boy's eyes glittered and fresh
tears streaked down his cheeks. Blood, too, soaked his clothes, and
there was no doubt in Ranma's mind that poor Ryouga had been forced
to kill also. Ryouga brushed aside tears, bloodying his face. Akane
still looked scared, as scared as he felt but did not show.

    None of them spoke a word as Ryouga took up Akane's other side,
putting his arm around her, touching Ranma's. They were alive and
each felt the other's pain, as if one. None asked questions nor
needed the answers. They were one as they walked the cold, empty
streets.

    The images of the students burned in his mind, replaying every
murder he witnessed, every face of every body he saw sprawled out
upon the once clean hallways of Furinken High School. Their faces
would not leave him, nor could they leave him ever. It was a force,
stronger than love, stronger than faith, stronger than anything he
had ever experienced before in his life. Fate gripped him in its icy
grasp, and he knew what he had to do.

    "I have to go back," he told them, but made no move to turn. They
must have felt it too, for none of them seemed surprised by it. None
of them questioned him, nor tried to persuade him from rushing into a
death. Akane appeared terrified of his decision, but like Ryouga, she
nodded solemnly. "Guard her with your life." Akane gave him a gentle
squeeze and Ryouga seemed hesitant, but Ranma told him, "I know,
Ryouga. I know. I'll return after I see if I can save anyone."

    Then he broke physical contact with the two and turned, not
looking back once as he quickly made his way back to the school,
which led him to the uncomfortable place he rested on now. He had
killed many of the centaurs, several of the wizards, and countless of
the green beasts, but none of the white winged horse-men remained. He
had paced every hall, searched every room, every body, but somehow he
missed this one, the one he now lay in and the beast that intruded
upon him in the first floor bathroom. Tao Wei stirred gently.
Luckily, he had found her and revived her before those creatures
could do as they planned.

    Something about the whole situation disturbed him, though. Her
clothes were in tatters, yet she remained completely whole. Not even
a scratch marred the perfection of her skin. Added to it the fact
that she had been near death without an injury, something seemed to
be pulling together the facts. A flash of memory came to him and he
saw the glow enveloping her before he entered the room. The creature
had used some sort of magic. Maybe it had healed her, but for what
purpose, he had little idea. Why would they want her alive when they
killed all the rest? He pondered on it further as the strength slowly
returned to his body. And somehow he had revived her.

    The answer came to him. He had summoned his chi energy when he
thought she was about to die, maybe lending it to her since hers had
all but evaporated. He guessed that it would have to suffice as an
explanation, until he could further inquire about it with Cologne, if
she survived, if he survived. Tao Wei stirred again, this time drawn
back to consciousness. Her eyes blinked open and she lifted her head,
looking back into his eyes.

    Neither of them spoke what was on their mind, nor did either have
any intention of doing so. Ranma could only hide his shock when he
looked deeply into her sapphire eyes. There was something
unmistakably familiar about them, something that took his breath from
him. Her mind must have been elsewhere, for her face turned a slight
shade of red, but she did not even attempt to move from atop him. She
only gripped him tighter and pushed her head on his chest, hiding her
only too evident tears from him. A muted sob sounded from her.

    With his increasing strength, he lifted his arm and stroked her
hair gingerly, whispering, "Shush, it'll be okay. You'll see." She
nodded against his chest, calming. "After we're rested, I'll get the
both of us out of here. I promise." He removed his hand from her
ebony hair and curiously noticed a small lock of it attached to his
hand. He looked at the spot in which his hand had occupied and
noticed that the patch did not reveal her scalp or more black hair,
but rather, red hair, fiery red, the same blaze of surreal hues that
he knew from someone else -- from his head, or more precisely, his
female form's.

    "Is your hair naturally red?" he quietly asked, trying to sit
himself up. She helped him into a sitting position, but did not get
off of him, and she adjusted to sit on top of him. Once more, she
wrapped her arms around him and buried her face into his chest.

    "I have black hair," she replied. He felt her body pressed
against his, and her heartbeat was normal, unnaturally calm. She did
not feel at all strange, pressed up against him in what most would
consider a lover's embrace, but something about her felt...different.
He could not put a finger on it, but her presence felt very strange
-- not unpleasantly so, but substantiallly different from anyone
else's he had ever felt. Most people's auras were so faint that it
was nearly invisible to all but for chi masters like Dr. Tofu,
Happosai, and Cologne, and yet hers was far from it. He knew that she
knew no form of martial arts or chi manipulation, but her aura blazed
like the sun. It was almost as if he could feel it upon his skin. It
was warm to the touch, and it felt wonderful. This was more than
something strange; somehow, she was replacing his lost chi energy,
without draining her own.

    He clutched her back and more of her warmth rushed upon him, and
the regeneration began, mending his bruises, though slight, and every
last injury upon his chi and his person, almost completely removing
the agony of seeing his friends dead completely, but he held onto
that firmly. He would not forget what those things did to them. But
slowly, it ended, and so did her embrace. As she slowly pushed
herself off of him, he realized just how close they had been with her
legs wrapped around his waist and her arms under his, hands firmly
grasping his back.

    She almost gaped as much as he did as she held her hand out to
help him stand. Without a thought, he took it, but he needed little
assistance. Energy seemed to resonate within him, requiring release.
He needed battle.

    "Let's go now, okay?" Tao Wei's lips curved into a pout, and she
appeared like she would cry.

    "Yeah," he replied, steadying himself, calming his nerves. "What
exactly did you do? One minute I felt drained and now I feel like I
can level Tokyo."

    She looked at him curiously. "What do you mean?"

    "Never mind," he told her, leading her out of the school. "Let's
get outta here."

                          *       *       *

    His fist jutted through the other side of the goblin, splattering
its guts over the brick wall. He grinned as another of the fearless
beasts attacked him. Blood dripped from him, but not a single drop of
it was his. Never before in his life had he felt such a rush of power
and now nothing could stop him! Smashing the stupid creature's blade
from its hand, he then quickly backhanded it to the floor and it met
its date for a long nap. He grinned again. This was entirely too much
fun.

    Slapping up against his thigh as he fought, his canteen beckoned
to him, to transform and utilize his powers for more destruction, but
he would save the magic of Jusenkyo for later, when he really needed
it. So far, it looked like he would not.

    The smile on his face broadened when a much more imposing
creature filled the goblin's place. Standing nearly as tall as his
minotaur form, the centaur-like creature lanced forward with its
javelin. Tarou easily dodged, bounding up the wall and landing on the
thing's back as if it were a horse to ride. The horse-man reared its
hind legs in attempt to dislodge him from its back, but Tarou easily
held on, raining devastating punches down its length, breaking its
spine.

    Catapulting himself off of the creature, he scanned for more
things to kill, but the road was empty. He brushed himself off, but
there were far too many blood-stains to notice anything. He looked
towards the sky. Reds and oranges occupied the horizon, reflecting
off the clouds in a beautiful array, but his eyes focused on
something rather alarming. A legion of centaur-like creatures hovered
against the back drop of the sky. If centaurs could exist, why not
flying centaurs? Hell, why not dragons and wyverns and faeries for
that matter?

    Though he may have enjoyed the fight, Tarou's world was turned
upside down in a matter of seconds. This was one of the few days he
took off from searching for the old man, and low and behold, mythical
creatures started sprouting out of the ground, attacking him without
hesitation. So far, he had killed uncountable goblins, nearly twenty
dwarves and two elvish archers who were killing people from the
building tops. They were certainly startled when a nine foot tall
minotaur with wings and tentacles came flying down upon them. He bet
that one of them shit their pants too.

    "Hee hee," he chuckled. Elf shit. That was a good one.

    "Killing my troops is very amusing to you, is it?" an inquiring
voice demanded. Tarou spun on his heels and charged his opponent
without the slightest hesitation. Unfortunately, he only took about
two steps before his muscles started tingling, paralyzing him. For
that matter, he could hardly blink his eyes. "No need to be rude."
Tarou looked the cloaked person dead in the eyes, or what would have
been eyes if he could see through its cowl.

    Reaching back, the cloaked figure pulled back its hood, revealing
its face. Pale blue skin and elvish ears were not her only abnormal
features. She also was remarkably beautiful, if you did not mind her
burning red eyes. Her sharp chin and nose were almost petite, but the
evil sneer on her face erased whatever attraction he felt for her,
that and the fact that she know held him against his will with some
sort of dark magic. Her dark blue cloak swayed with her equally dark
purple hair as she sinuously sauntered towards him, and her eyes did
not blink even with the wind in her face.

    "You're a pretty one, aren't you?" she rhetorically asked,
brushing his cheek with an extended finger. "And very strong. I sense
powerful magicks from you." Cupping his chin, she leaned forward, but
a resounding shock blasted from a nearby building, causing her to
pull away. "What the?"

    With every ounce of strength and will, he strained his right hand
and removed the cap from his canteen. The witch's back was still
turned towards him and her concentration low, so he managed to fall
over, spilling the water onto his leg. The tingling feeling vanished
instantly and he charged her, but a sudden jolt of energy sent him
sprawling backwards.

    "Oh my, we do have surprises, don't we?" she chimed, walking
towards him once more. "I do love surprises. You will be perfect.
Darksol will be pleased when I return with you. Oh yes, very
pleased." Her smile sent chills up Tarou's spine.

    Tarou stood, ready for whatever she had hit him with last time.
She would not catch him off guard a third time.

    "I am called Mishaela." She raised one hand and a ball of glowing
white energy began to gather within it. "May I have the pleasure of
your name?"

    "Go fuck yourself," Tarou growled back, his voice extremely
intimidating in his minotaur form.

    "Such language," she admonished, releasing the crackling ball of
energy towards him quicker than Tarou could possibly believe, but he
was used to much more tricky opponents and he dodged easily. "Very
impressive, my pet. You will be serving my lord, Darksol, very soon,
so I will have to teach you manners. But I will enjoy it very much.
The fact that you are so pretty makes things that much easier for me.
Now tell me, how does your transformation work?"

    Having had enough talk, Tarou took to the air and swooped towards
her, but she dodged and smashed an open hand against his right wing,
stealing his momentum. He tried to right himself, but another blow to
his abdomen sent him reeling to the cement again. Silvery words
caressed his ears as he struggled to stand. Then, he lifted into the
air against his will, still prone, but it set him down, right in
front of her.

    Before he had a chance to react, she kissed him deeply, sucking
the breath from his lungs. Fighting the ecstasy of her lips, his
resistance slowly withered and he began to return the kiss eagerly.
So soft were her lips, and her face went far beyond beautiful now.
How he did not notice it before her struck Tarou as insane. She
radiated more beauty than the sun did light, and yet she was safe to
view. Her eyes drew him like a moth to the flame, and he realized she
was not safe to look at, for he did not know if he could resist her
every whim. He needed her, needed her to be pleased, needed her
presence to fill his every day life, and yet if she were to berate
him, he would take that also, as opposed to not being near her. If
she told him to die, he would, for her.

    "You see me much differently now, do you not?" Her voice was
ambrosia, and her breath was sweater than a rose.

    "Yes, mistress," he replied, enthusiastic to do her bidding.

    "You wish to serve me, to serve my lord Darksol forever, do you
not?" Her eyes flashed, but with what he did not know, nor care. He
was in the presence of his goddess, his sun, his moon, his stars.

    "More than life itself!" he assured her, not moving a muscle
unless she told him to.

    "Good, my pet," she whispered, running her hands through the hair
on his broad, minotaur shoulder. "I am very pleased by that answer.
We have hours yet before my spell runs out, so let us walk, and
chat."

    "If that is what you wish, mistress," he replied, happy that she
wanted to be near him too, happy that she did not cast him away for
another servant. Oh, to serve her was greater than anything and
everything. No beauty was greater and no light brighter. The red hues
glowing along the horizon shined off Mishaela's glorious, dark purple
hair. He smiled, as much as a minotaur could, reveling in her
presence.

    "How do you change to and from your minotaur form?" Mishaela
asked him, disturbing his thoughts.

    "With cold and hot water, mistress," he answered quickly. "Cold
turns me into this shape and hot returns me to normal."

    "Interesting," she replied softly. "Stand still." He stopped as
he had been walking and stood as still as he possibly could manage.
Words flowed from her mouth as a chant, but he did not understand
them. When she finished, he felt a warm bubble of water splash him.
"Oh yes, this will do very well. My lord will be extremely pleased."
She pressed her cold hand against the naked flesh of his left arm and
ran it along to his neck, over the green dragonscale and to his face.

    Coiling one of his long side burns around her finger, she
whispered, "Yes, strong and pretty." She paused. "You have not told
me your name yet."

    "I am called Tarou, mistress," he whispered to her. He did not
tell her the whole of his name, however, for he feared that she would
revile him and cast him out of her presence.

    "Tarou," she whispered to herself. "Tarou." She hummed in thought
and then spoke again. "Tarou is not a complete enough name for one
that will serve my lord Darksol. You shall now be called..."

                          *       *       *

    Strained tears streaked silently down her flushed cheeks, though
she tried to restrain herself. Blood had smeared across her red
dress, but she held the still, young man to her chest none-the-less.
Sobbing with grief, she looked at the man's eyes, his blue sightless
eyes. They once had been beautiful to her, though he had to keep the
encased beneath corrective lenses for vision. Now, they were wide,
not with fear, but with love, his love for her that she could never
appreciate until now, after he had saved her from death by
sacrificing his life.

    Squeezing her eyes shut tight, she rested Mousse's head across
the tile of the Nekohaunten floor. Breathing in deeply, she opened
her eyes again, looking into his one last time, though the glaze of
death had already taken them. Sliding her hand across his forehead,
she peered down at his face. He seemed so serene in death.

    Amazon warriors were tough, and she would take this in stride.
Shampoo would avenge her friend, and she would weep no longer. Crying
was for weaklings, she reminded herself. Biting her lip, she stood
and neatly straightened her clothes.

    Stepping over him and towards the back room where her Grandmother
had ran to gather her things, she looked around the destroyed
restaurant. The demons had attacked so suddenly that even the
sometimes omniscient old one had little warning, though Shampoo had
been running an errand at the time so she could even not benefit from
that much. Luckily, Mousse had followed her on her delivery today,
though she would have thought differently just hours before. Screams
had alerted her that something was amiss, so the two of them went to
investigate, and that is where they saw the slaughter. Small green
creatures, much resembling the mythical goblin, were cutting people
down with their swords right in front of her eyes. She rushed to
rescue as many innocents as she could, but there were far too many of
them. Mousse had jumped in the fray with her, she later realized, but
at the time her focus was on survival.

    There was no warning for the attack that caught the two of them
off guard, but Mousse jumped in front of it. It appeared nothing more
than a flash of light, but she knew it to be some sort of dark magic,
and the spell had been meant for her. She cursed under her breath.
Who did he think she was, a china doll to be protected? No, she was a
warrior, and she should have taken that bolt, not he. That should be
her corpse lying on the floor, growing colder by the minute.

    When Mousse had fallen, Shampoo went into a battle frenzy. She
still remembered the adrenaline bursting in her veins, crying out for
bloodshed. And blood she did shed. Uncountable goblins fell until she
located the source of the magic. A humanoid in black robes was
preparing another blast, but she beat him to the punch. Any other
attacks were cut short when her Grandmother arrived, telling her to
collect Mousse's body and to flee.

    Clenching her teeth, Shampoo looked at the fallen young man once
more. She had the right to die in combat. She was a warrior, a
soldier, and yet a man, the one who loved her more than life itself,
chose for her.

    "He will be remembered by our people forever," her Grandmother
remarked in Chinese, putting a wrinkled hand on her shoulder. "He
gave his life for you, so that you may live another day. Do not make
his sacrifice a vain effort." Shampoo turned to face the old one and
solemnly nodded. "Now come child, help me gather a few things so that
we may leave to Joketsuzoku for aid."

    "Yes, Great-grandmother," she replied softly, following Cologne's
lead. A tingling sensation rippled through her body before she took
more than a few steps, paralyzing her. Her eyes shot wide open, but
her jaw fell still.

    Bursting into action, the old one launched herself into the air,
and Shampoo heard a sickening crack. With her back turned to the
melee, she could only silently pray that Cologne pulled ahead in this
fight. Her hopes seemed to die when a powerful crash knocked her off
her feet and onto the floor. Wooden shrapnel shot across the room,
narrowly missing her. Staring straight at the ceiling, she watched
the edges of a fireball shoot over her frightened, prone form.
Another crash violently shook her, but with no where to fall, she
only stared up in fear.

    A moment passed as the sounds of combat quickly drifted away from
her, but the tingling sensation and the paralysis had yet to fade.
She ached to sit, or even move an arm, but whatever magic held her
did not wear off quickly.

    The faintly disturbing sound of someone silently crossing over
the Nekohaunten's floor sent a chill up her spine. If this was an
attacker, there would be absolutely nothing she could do about it. If
her teeth could have been chattering right now, they would have been.
The strange, smooth words that addressed her, or what she assumed
addressed her, obviously were not from a friend; therefore, she had
to assume it was a foe. Straining against the magic, she managed
wiggle a finger, but nothing else responded.

    A shaded face in a midnight blue cloak loomed over her. Its red
eyes gazed into hers, sending shocked fear through her. The figure
bent down and reached a hand out of its long sleeves, a pale white
hand which could quite conceivably be a human hand, though it was
somewhat more slender than normal. It breathed lightly as it dragged
a finger down across her face and under her chin. More melodic words
flowed from its mouth, and she could not distinguish whether it was
male or female, if any. When it began to unbuttoned the top of her
dress, a tiny whimper escaped from her throat.

    Shampoo closed her eyes as the hand reached under the unbuttoned
collar of her dress, groping her right breast. An icy chill emanated
from its hand, but she refused to show any more concern than she had
to, focusing all energy to breaking the paralysis.

    The pitched battle cry caught both Shampoo and her attacker off
guard, and while she could not move, the robed figure dived out of
the way of an attack. She quickly concluded that whoever her rescuer
was, it was not her Great-grandmother. The quick glance she viewed of
him was enough to realize that it was a male, and someone powerfully
built for a medium frame. His white tank-top was stained red with
blood and his black pants had probably seen better days with all the
holes and gashes.

    The fight did not last long. Her savior quickly sent her attacker
flying over her and the bar, crashing into the wall with a loud thud.
She heard no movement, but he stood over her shortly, offering his
hand to help her up.

    "Are you okay, Shampoo?" Ranma asked, his voice softer than his
usual cocky tone. Upon seeing his face and hearing his voice, tears
steadily began to flow down her cheeks, but she could not take his
hand nor respond. "Shampoo?"

    A second later, the tingling sensation wore off and action sprang
back into her body. It took her less than a second to stand and jump
into Ranma's arms.

    "Shampoo can no say how happy she is to see you!" she managed to
murmur through sobs. He seemed a little taken aback by this, but he
slowly put his arms around her, whispering that all would be well
now.

    "Where's the hag?" he asked, still holding her soothingly. "And
where's Mousse? I didn't see either of them."

    The gentle sound of footsteps from behind Ranma sent Shampoo to
alert and she forcibly pulled him behind her. He tried to tell her
something, but she focused on whatever her next opponent was, more
than happy to deal out damage to her attackers. The sight she saw,
caught her off guard, once again. A pretty raven-haired girl of no
more than fifteen years of age stood a few feet away, bashfully
staring at them. She wore Ranma's white Chinese shirt and a badly
torn Furinken high school girl's skirt. Shampoo blinked once,
noticing the girl's bright auburn roots.

    She immediately let her fighting stance fall a bit, and she
turned to Ranma for an explanation.

    "Shampoo, this is Tao Wei. Tao Wei, Shampoo." He gestured between
the two of them with his free hand -- Shampoo gripped one of his
arms, protectively entangling it with her own.

    "Hello," Tao Wei tentatively greeted, looking at her shoes.

    "Nihao," Shampoo replied carefully. The girl was definitely no
fighter, so Ranma must have saved her. The fact that she wore his
shirt backed that thought.

    "So, where's Mousse and Cologne?" Ranma did not sound impatient,
but rather rushed. She undoubtedly knew he had cause for such
urgency, but every time he mentioned the name Mousse, Shampoo visibly
winced.

    "Cologne fight some monsters." Her second answer took much more
effort. "Mousse die saving Shampoo." She pointed to where Mousse body
had been laid, but it was gone. She yelped and leapt to the spot,
scanning the room. "He gone! They take him!"

    "Calm down," Ranma whispered, putting his hand on her shoulder.
"You mean Mousse is dead?" She nodded, fighting tears again. "Oh God,
I'm sorry." He drooped his head for a second but brought it up to
look at her seriously again. "You think Cologne's still alive?"

    Unsteadily, she replied, "It take more than an army to beat
Great-grandmother." Shampoo looked around the restaurant, wondering
what would come next. Home seemed so far away, and without her
Great-grandmother there to advise her, the road looked grim. "Where
Akane?" Her concern sounded a little false, but it would be enough to
fool Ranma.

    "Ranma?" Tao Wei whispered, touching his shoulder. Ranma turned
and Shampoo looked over at the girl curiously. "Someone's here." Her
brows curved in concern, and she bit her lip.

    Blinking in confusion, Shampoo fell into her guard slowly, unsure
how Tao Wei could sense something before she. Ranma protectively
pressed Tao Wei between the two of them before falling into his
stance. A strong gust of wind rattled the entire frame of the
Nekohaunten, sending the few unbroken plates to shatter against the
ground. Shampoo held her own but Tao Wei was forced to grab onto
Ranma to hold her position.

    An uneasy feeling began to build up within Shampoo. At first, she
disregarded as nothing more than anxiety, or even fear, but something
was going to happen any minute now, and if they did not act now, they
would be helpless. Dropping her guard for a second, she walked to the
place where the door had been over broken glass. Peering outside, she
looked around the empty streets.

    "What are you doing?" Ranma asked, walking towards her. She
motioned for him to be quiet and took a tentative step out onto the
sidewalk. A deep rumbling echoed from a some place a long distance
away. "Are you okay, Shampoo?" She motioned for silence again, and
took a step out further. Only her lightning fast, catlike reflexes
saved her from the missile that shattered against the concrete a
millisecond after she rolled out of its way.

    A second one followed shortly, slicing the skin off her arm and
cutting a hole in the sleeve of her blouse. By this time, she stood
next to Ranma in the safety of the restaurant�s walls.

    "They've got some sort of sniper up on the roofs," Ranma
whispered for Tao Wei's benefit.

    "We have big problem," Shampoo whispered to them. "I not know
what will happen, but it not good."

    "I feel something too," he replied, rubbing his right arm. "I
feel itchy all over. It's like when you rub your feet on carpet and
then touch something metal, but not that strong."

    "Static electricity," Tao Wei whispered from his side. She still
pressed herself to him as if glued.

    "Yeah," Ranma muttered. "That."

    Testing Ranma's theory, Shampoo pressed her finger against the
remains of the metal door frame. Yelping quietly, she quickly pulled
her hand back and rubbed it. "This remind me of time when I and some
friends went out with one of the village elders. We camped on the
side of a hill." Shampoo drew back, pressing Ranma and Tao Wei behind
her. "When late at night, elder woke us up and showed us this static
electricity. She messed our hair and showed us the signs of when
lightning going to strike. While we pack our stuff, I pick up a sword
and it zap me like just now." She paused poking her head outside
slightly. "No clouds."

    "Well, what happened?" Ranma impatiently asked.

    "We pack up stuff fast and get to a safe place, and then we watch
lightning strike where we camped before." She turned to them solemnly
and saw the calculating look on Ranma's face. "What you think,
Ranma?"

    "Those magician guys use magic," he replied, staring back.
"Lightning magic."

    "You think maybe...?" Tao Wei whispered, trailing off as Ranma
turned to her and scooped her up in his arms. "Huh?"

    "On three, we make a run for it, Shampoo!" His voice sounded
frightened, if that was possible. Shampoo nodded, and prepared to
run, though a part of her wished that Ranma would have picked her up
instead of Tao Wei.

    "Three!" he hissed, bolting past her and out the entry way. She
took a deep breath and dashed forward after him. Most people would be
slowed by carrying someone as they ran, but not Ranma. He managed to
clear the street quicker than she imagined he could, all while arrows
flew past him. One bolt nicked her shoulder, but she managed to keep
her heading and jump through the shattered window of the shop across
the street from the Nekohaunten.

    The instant her feet landed upon the shop's tiled floor, a
pulsating blast knocked her forward into Ranma. The three of them
fell onto the floor as the blast tore through the Nekohaunten.
Covering her head with her hands, she listened in a stunned shock as
the thunder roared behind them. She turned in time to see one last
bolt explode off the remains of the restaurant.

    Ranma wiggled out from beneath Tao Wei and Shampoo and quickly
stood, hardly fazed by the blast that could have annihilated them.
Shampoo tried to stand with him, but she was still stunned.

    "Make sure Tao Wei's safe, and don't leave until I say so!" he
commanded loudly, staring at her. "Don't you dare come after me." The
ferocity his voice commanded surprised her, and she weakly nodded in
compliance. "I'll be right back."

    Just as quickly as he entered the shop, he left it, readied for
battle. Shampoo gathered her nerves and pulled Tao Wei aside behind
the cashier's counter. Clearing the broken glass from the ground, she
sat and motioned for Tao Wei to sit also. Pressing her back to the
counter, she closed her eyes, silently praying for Ranma's well
being. It took less than a moment for her to fall asleep, the effects
of the poisoned arrow flowing through her veins.

                          *       *       *

    A bubble of bluish white energy erected itself around Cologne's
shriveled form, and yet her aura burned more brightly than the
protective shield surrounding her. It had been years since she had
been forced to use her chi energy in such a manner, but her ability
had not faded in the time, and her proficiency with it had even
increased. Powerful shards of ice reflected off the shield, sending
Cologne reeling back from the shock. Her opponents did not rank in
the more powerful she had ever fought, but the fact that five of them
were simultaneously using magic against her did not make things easy.

    Two men in red robes on her right flank bore down on her with
incredibly hot fire magic, but like the ice, it harmlessly passed by
her. Their powers had been seriously drained from fighting her, since
she had been methodically killing their ranks for the past few
minutes. One gray robed female launched a particularly powerful
barrage of lightning blasts against her left flank, but it bounced
off, harmlessly lancing upwards into the sky. The ice from the two
blue robed mages in front of her struck her shield again, and as it
did, she let her shield fall momentarily.

    The mages spared no time to attack her this time, and all of
their magicks launched at her simultaneously. The fact that they did
this confirmed Cologne's belief that they were prepared for her
shield to fall. It was most terribly too bad for them that they had
no idea of the extent of her powers. Calling up the ice within her
soul, the aggression of their attacks aggravated her chi energy.

    She raised her arms and smiled faintly. Never before had she been
able to focus so much power into one of her attacks.

    "Hiryuu Shouten Ha!" she cried as the winds picked her up,
beginning to consume everything around her. The passiveness of her
chi and the aggression of their magic mixed, resurrecting the
whirlwind, a symbolism of balance, of chaos and order, light and
dark, good and evil, the contrast of yin and yang. She closed her
eyes, barely able to grip her staff because of her relaxation within
the storm of energy. She was vaguely aware of tempest's victims who
screamed in absolute horror.

    Her eyes snapped open wide and she stared in shock at the power
her Rising Dragon Ascension technique produced. Approximately a dozen
mages occupied the winds, and she realized with growing awe that they
had waited for her to drop her guard to pounce upon her. The utter
folly of their surprise attack sealed their fate. No one but she
would survive, and her body would descend unscathed.

    As quickly as the storm had began, it ended, and she sprightly
landed on her feet. The victims of her technique were already dead as
they gruesomely became apart of the street. After that, not a single
soul that had not been caught up in her attack remained to fight. She
grinned grimly and quickly left to check upon Shampoo. There had been
little choice to leave the poor child alone, for they targeted her
with their magicks and Cologne did not want any stray fire to strike
her granddaughter.

    Gritting her teeth, she forced herself to remember the face of
every single innocent fallen in today's conflict. If only she could
have warned the proper authorities sooner so that they could have
prepared for the world destroyers, things might have been different.
Their magicks had been entirely too powerful to contain by herself,
and even then she only figured out that this would happen moments
before it actually did.

    Who they were, she did not know; what they were, she did. In an
ancient script stolen from a library in the far west, most likely a
small church in a country in the Middle East, she discovered the
words of a prophet, which by all means should have been burned by
most religions as the words could easily be considered heresy.
Thankfully, it remained fully intact with all of its dark prophesies.
Never once was the identity of the prophet mentioned in the text,
every ounce of it dedicated to the grim words which spoke of some
dark force entrapped between dimensions. With all of the theoretical
hypothesis aside, it revealed the name of the force, very roughly
translated into Chinese as "Dark Dragon." Its powers were supposedly
that of a minor god, and yet it was entirely mortal.

    The connection between the text and today's slaughter occurred to
her when she first encountered one of the mages. "Robed in every
color of the rainbow, they will descend upon our children's,
children's children, unleashing their unholy powers against us. Their
leader, the darkest soul to have ever been conceived, will crush our
world in search of Champions to aid him in his quest to release Dark
Dragon. Nothing can stop him from murdering everyone who cannot
defend themselves, but he must be stopped from seducing even a single
human being from this plane, for he can harness their power beyond
that which our minds can conceive." The text continued rambling about
the mindless destruction of every civilization within the world, and
more prophesies dealing with the ones who could stop him.

    The man the scriptures spoke of existed in her dimension now, and
if its word's spoke truth, he was in search of people to fight for
him, while the rest of the world would perish as ants beneath his
foot. They had to have concentrated their attack on this district of
Tokyo, because the amount of power expended so far exceeded that of
all of the world's greatest chi masters combined, and that only
included the surrounding area. It made plenty of sense to her,
though, for some of the greatest warriors called Nerima home. If that
was the case, Ranma and his friends would be great in danger.

    Stealing her conscious thought, an incredibly loud blast shook
the earth, nearly knocking her off her staff. Estimating the location
of the noise, she sped as fast as she could will herself to move. The
weight of the world weighed on her heavily as she turned a corner,
witnessing a light show that easily rivaled that of New Years Day.
Bluish-green lightning bolts streaked across her vision, fruitlessly
smashing into the buildings around it. The intended victim of the
destructive energies leapt from another bolt, throwing himself into a
blue robed mage.

    "Ranma," she whispered, nearly chuckling. Nearing the site of the
battle, she spotted a dark figure peering over the roof of a building
to her right. Springing into action, she leapt incredibly high,
descending to land upon the dark woman's back, hitting several
pressure points and deftly landing to her feet.

    A muffled whimper murmured from the darkly garbed woman's mouth,
and she was unable to even look towards her assailant.

    "Shooting at my son-in-law?" Cologne scolded, rapping her cane on
the back of the woman's head. Flipping her over, she struck another
pressure point in the person's thigh. She was rewarded with a muted
sob. "I shall return for you, child. In the mean time, enjoy a little
of the pain you have inflicted on the citizens of Japan." Using her
staff as a wedge, she flipped the woman over onto her back. Brilliant
green eyes burned through the cowl.

    Turning to the conflict below, she peered out over the streets,
and was met with silence. Furrowing her brow, she scanned in every
direction in a vain attempt to locate her son-in-law.

    "Hiyah!" A male voice cried, blazing through the position she
occupied milliseconds before she hopped aside. With a wry grin, Ranma
visibly dropped his guard, catching his breath. "I never thought I'd
be so happy to see you, Cologne."

    "And I you, Ranma," she replied, meeting the gaze of his blue
eyes. His usual jocularity had vanish from his attitude, and dark
bags had formed underneath his eyes. Dried blood stained his once
white undershirt and a tear on his right pant leg exposed a vicious
cut from a straight edged blade. "You're hurt."

    His grin faded as his eyes brushed over the incapacitated and
whimpering crossbow assassin. He looked up at her and paused for a
moment. Sighing, he fell onto his backside. "Yeah. Some of those guys
with swords were better than they looked." He pushed a lock of black
hair out of his eyes, staring at the assassin again. "Friend of
yours?"

    "This one was inches from putting an arrow in your back,
son-in-law," she answered, hoping back to the woman. Falling to her
feet, she lifted the crossbow with her staff.

    "Hardly," he responded, standing. "She must be as blind as
Mousse..." He paused; she did not even need to glare at him for his
apology. "Sorry, I didn't mean that. She isn't very good with that
bow, 'cause she missed me nearly ten times. Not one of her arrows
came close."

    A garbled response from the woman caused Cologne to look down at
her. "Have something to say, butcher? Shall I let you speak?"

    Ranma walked over to stand on the opposite side of the woman, and
sat next to her. The look on his face said all she needed to hear.
Cologne knew he detested fighting woman, and since she was almost
sure that he had killed at least a few so far, she easily drew a
conclusion. Inside, he must have been tearing himself apart.

    For his sake, she lifted the black cowl, revealing the assassin's
face. Fresh tears slid down the side's of the woman's face, and her
puffy red eyes vaguely recognized Ranma's presence hovering over her.
Her thin facial features and sharp, long ears were the first of her
characteristics to become blatantly evident. The green hue of her
wide eyes seemed unnaturally brilliant, and the silvery locks of
dirtied hair were all too natural to be dyed. By her appearance, she
could not have been any older than eighteen, but Cologne was not
ready to judge her by her appearance. Her chest quickly rose and
fell, and she gulped air as if drowning in sobs.

    "What do you think, Ranma?" Though her voice was low, it seemed
to carry out across all of Tokyo.

    "I dunno," he whispered, drawing himself closer to look straight
into the woman's eyes. "Question her, I guess?" Though she knew he
had little idea what effect he was having upon her, his close
proximity left whatever nerve the woman had shattered. He pulled back
and looked at her expectantly.

    "I'll release the paralysis from her face," she told him before
striking a point on the assassin's cheek. Drawing very close to the
girl's face, she whispered, "If you yell, I shall leave you alone
with him." The threat delivered more dread into the assassin's mind,
and she nodded with extreme effort. Cologne then struck another point
on her neck, and the girl lifted her head, yawning deeply.

    "My body is not my own," her melodious voice whispered as she
began sobbing uncontrollably.

    "Huh?" Ranma questioned, drawing closer. "What did she say?"

    "She said that her body is not her own," Cologne solemnly
answered.

    "What does that mean?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. "Her body
isn't hers? She one of those body snatcher aliens from the movies?"

    "No!" the girl hissed, turning her head to glare at him. "I am
the one who is controlled!" She closed her eyes, wincing as if in
pain. "He controls all of my people."

    Sitting down next the girl's head, Cologne placed her staff
across her lap. "Who, child?" Her voice sounded as tired as she felt.
"Who controls your people?"

    "They call him Darksol," she replied, staring towards the sky.
"He cast a terrible spell upon the Keilekii, and since magic flows
strongly through our veins, he easily controlled us. Only a few of
our people managed to resist his powers."

    "What is your name, child?" Cologne asked.

    "My birth name is Sharaleitha," she answered quietly. Cologne
recognized the significance of her answer and the tone in which she
spoke it. Shara closed her eyes, inhaling slowly.

    "I am called Cologne, and this is my son-in-law, Ranma," Cologne
said, indicating to herself and the pigtailed boy. A moment's silence
passed them, and she questioned the assassin again. "Does he still
control you now, Sharaleitha?"

    "I am not sure," Shara slowly whispered. "In case he does still,
please take the knives from my boots and belt."

    Indicating for Ranma to disarm her, Cologne nodded. As the sound
of the metal knives being drawn from their sheaths caressed the her
ears, she intensely stared at Shara, or more precisely, her aura. It
seemed to appear natural, but something else caught her eye.

    "Careful, they are coated with poison."

    Within a thread of a thread, a faint tarnish within Shara's aura
revealed itself to her inspection. It seemed to be intertwined with
the girl's entire being, even her physical body. Cologne shook her
head warily, frowning at the discovery. If the irregularity within
Shara's aura was Darksol's control, there would simply be no way for
her to unbind it. The natural magic in the girl's blood, and the rest
of the Keilekii for that matter, must have been the conduit for
Darksol's influence.

    Cologne returned her attention to the two children before her.
Ranma carefully held the four poisoned knives, while Shara still lay
flat on her back, paralyzed.

    "I cannot break his hold over you, Sharaleitha." She sighed
helplessly, angry with her own inability. "If I were but fifty years
younger, I might have been able, but even then it would have consumed
my energy for days. I am truly sorry."

    Shara sobbed once more, closing her eyes, teeth clenched. A few
more tears spilled onto her cheeks, but she quickly started to calm
herself.

    "Cologne?" Ranma asked nervously as he set the knives on the
cement roof.

    "Yes, son-in-law?" She looked at him as he stared at the girl.
She understood the look in his eyes, the look he held as he stared
into the flames, burning to learn the Chestnut Fist technique, that
same stare she had seemed countless times as he analyzed the defenses
of other martial artists, whether in combat himself or not. Only this
time, that look scared her.

    "I think I can fix it." Those simple words he spoke sent a chill
down her spine. And yet, she had no doubt that he could, and that is
why her fear began to grow.

    "Be careful, Ranma," she warned, though she knew it would go
unheeded. "Tampering with someone's chi is far more dangerous to you
than it is to the victim." He nodded absently.

    "Remove the paralysis," he commanded as he took Shara's limp
hands.

    Staring at him quizzically, she said, "If I release her, she will
attack us."

    He looked up, and stared straight through her. "Do it." His words
were empty, spoken by another, and he just the vessel. His sapphire
blue eyes burned with conviction.

    Cologne looked down at Shara witnessing her terror and feeling it
herself. Apparently she knew what Ranma was about to attempt. Wasting
no more time, she struck the pressure points, releasing the assassin.
Instantly jumping to her feet, Shara frantically tried to pull her
hands from Ranma's grasp.

    "Sharaleitha," Ranma hissed, easily maintaining his firm grip. As
the sun slowly sank into the Earth's horizon, the night began to
descend, but the light only grew brighter. Cologne watched in silent
awe as the two children's clenched hands glowed white, and as the
energy surrounding them accumulated, Shara's struggling lessened,
until the old woman could hardly keep her eyes open and the girl lay
slack in Ranma's close embrace.

    After moments passed, though they felt like hours, the light
instantly withered. Opening her eyes, Cologne watched the pigtailed
boy slump to the ground, though Shara stood straight and firm.
Approaching the two cautiously, she inspected Shara's aura, and her
jaw dropped open.

    "What did you do, Ranma?!" she demanded, but her question went
unanswered. He lay still at Shara's feet. "Sharaleitha? Are you all
right?"

    As if being drawn from a deep trance, the silver haired girl's
eyes focused and she returned Cologne's look. "What?" Her eyes shown
with confusion.

    "I asked if you were all right, child." Cologne hopped atop her
staff and put her hand to the girl's head.

    "I-I feel wonderful," she replied, blinking slowly. "It's as if I
had been carrying a great weight upon my shoulders for the longest
time, and now it has been lifted." She smiled and immediately pulled
Cologne in a hug.

    "There, there, now," the old woman cooed, patting the girl's
back. She looked at her aura once more, checking to see if her
initial assessment had been wrong, but it was not. Her aura appeared
almost exactly the same, except the tarnish was no longer a tarnish,
but rather a brilliant green cord, just as intertwined with her chi
and body. Ranma did not unbind the girl; he simply replaced Darksol's
presence with his own.

    "Ranma," Shara whispered suddenly, releasing Cologne and kneeling
to the fallen boy's side. "Will he be all right?"

    "Yes, child," Cologne replied, peering at him. "He simply has
exhausted himself of his own chi, and he barely clings to this
world." When Shara's eyes widened, she finished. "Do not worry,
though. If he was to die from his experiment, he would have already.
We simply have to wait for him to awaken."

    As Shara comforted the unconscious youth, Cologne pondered the
cost of his unrivaled bravery. He did show that he could save her
people from the slavery in which they were bound, but now they did
not have him to fight. She could only hope that Shara was better with
her knives than she was with her crossbow, if her skill was as Ranma
stated.

    "What now, elder?" Shara asked with Ranma slumped over her
shoulder. Cologne scanned the ground, noticing that the crossbow and
the knives were gone.

    "Now we find my Great-granddaughter," she answered.

                          *       *       *

    Tears blurred her vision as the raven-haired girl pushed past a
dark-haired boy. Sprinting across the brick pathway to the front door
of her house, Tendou Akane leapt over the debris that was her front
door to begin her frantic search for her family. Peering through the
walls, which could easily have been mistaken for Swiss cheese, she
almost completely searched of the bottom floor of her house, but to
no avail. As she entered the kitchen, a tea pot squealed with steam.

    A smile bloomed on her face when she saw her eldest sister enter.

    "Kasumi!" Akane cried, flinging herself at the young woman. "Oh,
thank God you're all right!" Kasumi barely was able to stable herself
from her young sister's forceful embrace.

    "Oh my, Akane-chan," she whispered, returning the hug with nearly
as much enthusiasm. "I was so worried, with all those creatures
running about and all." She pushed her little sister back, looking
her up and down. "You're covered in blood and dirt! Are you okay?"

    "I'm just fine now that I know you're okay," Akane replied,
noticing that Ryouga patiently stood in the entry way of the kitchen.
She smiled at him before questioning her sister. "Are Daddy and
Nabiki all right?"

    Kasumi smiled as she walked over to the screaming tea pot.
"Nabiki is just fine, but Father was injured by some nasty little
creatures, though he should be fine with a little medical attention."
Her eyes looked past Akane, and the younger girl turned to face the
lost boy.

    "I'm going to check the premises to make sure nothing's still
creeping around," Ryouga stated, but as he turned to make good on his
word, Akane lunged and snagged his hand.

    "Ryouga, we can do that in a bit," she told him hastily,
releasing her grip on his hand. "I want to make sure you don't get
lost when we need you."

    He blushed faintly, shoving his hands into his pockets. "Oh,
okay." Akane frowned slightly; she disliked embarrassing him. "I
guess I'll just follow you then?"

    "I can use your help, Ryouga-kun," Kasumi suggested, lifting the
tea pot. "Akane, Nabiki is upstairs in my room tending to Father. Why
don't you go tell him that you are fine?"

    The raven-haired girl nodded and rushed to Kasumi's room, finding
the door ajar. She peered in as she pushed it open, finding Nabiki
sitting in a chair, slumped over on her father's prone body. She
eased the door close as she walked in, creeping to the two slumbering
people.

    Soun's eyes popped open and his mouth opened wide with a grin.
"All of my daughters are well! Oh, I am so lucky!" Tears of joy
rained from his face, but his cheer was ruined by a pain-filled
cough.

    "Hush, Daddy," she whispered, walking to kneel by his side. She
kissed his forehead, and pushed her fingers through his damp hair. "I
was so worried about you guys."

    Nabiki stirred and drew back, rubbing her eyes weakly. Yawning,
she sat upright and turned to her younger sister. "Huh? Akane?"

    "It's me, elder sister!" the raven-haired girl replied, hugging
her sister who began sobbing. Akane paused and gently pushed her
back. "What's the matter?" Nabiki turned her face away, wiping tears
from her eyes. With a sniffle, she returned Akane's concerned look.

    "Nothing," Nabiki replied, smiling deviously. "You appear to have
seen more action than we did." She then lifted the right sleeve of
her navy blue blouse, revealing a blue and black bruise on her inner
biceps and a nasty cut along her forearm.

    "You didn't tell me you were injured, Nabiki!" Soun protested,
promptly moaning and closing his eyes again.

    "Because I knew it would upset you, Daddy," she quipped, patting
his arm. She turned back to Akane. "Some of those green munchkin
things attacked the house, but luckily Daddy was here to beat the
living day lights out of them. He took one too many cuts and
collapsed at the end of the battle, though." She wearily eyed Akane's
blood-stained clothes. "How 'bout yourself?"

                          *       *       *

    Jolting upright to lean against the counter of the shop where she
had fallen asleep, Shampoo quickly awakened, listening for any
indication of intruders. The crackle of boots crossing broken glass
was barely audible, but enough to realize the subject was sneaking.
She looked over to Tao Wei who lay sound asleep after being on edge
for the entire day. Pressing her hand to the girl's mouth, Shampoo
watched her eyes snap open, but she did not even attempt to struggle
or scream. Instead, Tao Wei nodded solemnly.

    A few seconds passed and the intruder stopped, twisted on its
heels and called out. "There's nobody in here, Dreslem!" Its voice
was high pitched like a child's, but with a hiss exaggerating every
syllable.

    "Shut it, you fool!" Another voice, much deeper than the first,
snapped in reply. "We're supposed to search in silence."

    "Who says?" The first questioned, raising his voice in anger.

    "Lady Mishaela, dim wit!" The second voice seethed with contempt.
"Why they ever grouped me with a numb skull like you is beyond me."

    "Numb skull, eh?" The first's threatened the other. "We'll see
who's skull is numb when I'm done with you!"

    Shampoo slowly turned and peeped her head over the counter,
spying on the two figures. The first was a large, green-skinned
creature with a club and a shield much too large for it. The other
was a extremely tanned humanoid with a broad axe, a two-horned helm,
and a black shield bearing a red crest of a horse in its center. The
battle quickly ended though, with the first creature knocked onto the
floor, disarmed and unconscious.

    "Commander Jaelius will have yer head," the dark dwarf snarled,
spitting on its former companion. "I never liked you little buggers.
Never follow orders, you don't." Faint starlight glinted off his axe
as he turned it in his hand.

    Shampoo waited not a second longer. With his back facing her, she
quickly leapt over the counter and smashed the dwarf directly in the
back with a heavy kick. He fell face first, landing on his axe and
shield. Shampoo waited for any counter attacks, but then she noticed
the pool of blood forming below the fallen humanoid. Flipping him
over with her foot, she gritted her teeth as she saw his axe jutting
through his chest.

    "Let's go, Tao Wei," Shampoo whispered, waiting for the smaller
girl to appear. "We no have much time."

    "Didn't Ranma tell us to stay here?" Tao Wei asked groggily,
slowly coming to stand at her side.

    "No can stay," Shampoo insisted, taking Tao Wei's hand. "We go
see if Ranma's house still okay. Wait for him there if it safe."

                          *       *       *

    Wiping beads of sweat from his drenched brow, Saotome Genma
peered through the cracks of a dilapidated brick wall. Controlling
his breathing carefully, he tried to keep himself calm. The amazing
swirl of colors beyond his position through the wall was enough to
frighten anyone, especially someone as timid as he. It raged in the
center of someone's backyard, with a radius of twelve feet, spanning
in every which direction to form a perfect circle. Bolts of
electricity, of all colors, flashed within it. To the best of Genma's
knowledge, it must be some sort of portal in which the army of evil
beings used to enter Japan. Though he had seen the immense size of
the army, he wondered if there was more than just this one, since
although this one was large, it could hardly bring about the tens of
thousands of soldiers that now marched the streets.

    Black-armored soldiers stood at each side of the vortex, a
glowing red sword in each of their hands. Two horns protruded from
their black helmets, giving them the eerie depiction of devils.
Between them, a man in a bluish black robe kneeled, vacantly staring
forward. His hood rested on his shoulders, exposing the fine features
of his pale face. A light gray staff in his left hand bore an
expensive green gem on its head, glowing with a disturbing light.

    For nearly two hours, Genma stayed in place, watching the still
forms of the guards around the vortex, hoping to learn anything about
them. Unfortunately for him, nothing had happened in that time.
Neither the two soldiers nor the robed man had moved in that whole
time. Genma's patience was wearing thin, and if something did not
happen soon, he would leave to see if he could find his son once
more.

    As Genma turned to stand, the sound of activity from the center
of the backyard brought him back to his vigilance. The beautiful
vortex had begun to spin and warp its shape. The robed man stood,
backing away from the vortex, his back to Genma, but the two soldiers
had yet to even move a muscle. Crackling energetically, the vortex
expanded to nearly double its size, consuming parts of the wall to
its sides. Luckily from Genma, he was watching it from its face,
rather than its sides.

    Four figures took shape from the center of the vortex, their
luminous shadows taking shape as they stepped out of the portal.
Genma could only gasp in amazement as the four stepped out. Jackpot,
Genma thought with glee. He would learn something from this group for
sure, even if they did not speak a word.

    The first exiting the portal matched the description of the other
two black soldiers to each side of the portal, as did the second who
took a real form. The next to walk through the vortex startled Genma
with his incredible height. Standing nearly twelve feet tall, an ogre
materialized from the portal. In his right hand, he wielded a spiked
club, while his other was empty. He glanced around, before bellowing
into the portal.

    And then the last figure exited the vortex, taking Genma's breath
away. He stood many feet shorter than the large ogre creature, but
height was not what made this figure impressive. From the moment he
stepped from the energy portal, a black aura engulfed him, surrounded
him, encased him. Like a fire radiates light, he shed darkness. It
swirled around him chaotically, invisible to the untrained eye and
unmistakable for the trained. Witnessing such a being, Genma shook
with fear, though he considered himself safe in his position.

    Gray plates of metallic armor covered his shoulders, two spikes
on the end of each shoulder. It reached down to his upper chest and
circled around his center to cover his body, glinting with evil
perfection. Upon his head, he wore a conical, metal helm, two
downward curved horns on either side. Down its center, it lay divided
by two shades of black, the left side darker than the right. He wore
a deep royal blue cloak over his back, sweeping down to his feet.
Under that, an inner robe of red connected with the metal plate upon
his stomach. Greatly contrasting his aura, his bottom layer was
composed of white, only visible directly under his stomach and
thighs.

    "Report, Magus Ulranith," the dark being commanded to the dark
blue robed man who now kneeled in front of him.

    "All goes as planned, Master," Ulranith informed, never once
raising his head to view the dark man. "As we speak, the last
vestiges of the resistance is being sought and isolated."

    "Is it as I predicted, Magus? Or were the divination wrong, as
they were about Rune?" The Master's voice was monotone, exuding no
emotions, though patience seemed to emanate deep within the voice.

    "It is, my Master," Ulranith assured, his voice filled with
satisfaction. "As you foretold, human beings with extreme power roam
this dimension. They will be harvested as soon as the last are
caught. We have identified all but the most elusive."

    "And the defenses of Tokyo?" The Master's gaze scanned the large
backyard recently expanded by the vortex. His eyes glimmered orange,
seeming to glow beneath the horned helm.

    "Fell as quickly as you prophesied," Ulranith finished.

    With a grave nod, the Master took a few steps forward. Spinning
to face the portal, his blue cloak ruffled with his quick actions.
All stood motionless for a few drawn out moments, and Genma did not
even chance swallowing the extra fluid in his mouth.

    The portal took to life again, but this time he could not see its
center, for the Master and his minion's shapes covered his vision. As
far as Genma could tell, a few more beings exited the portal, for its
energies died almost as quickly as it began.

    "Report, Magus Mishaela," the Master commanded almost the instant
the portal regained its normal mass.

    "There were very few mortals worth our efforts that I could find,
my Lord," a sweetly feminine voice responded.

    "What is this that you bring before me then?" The Master
curiously inquired.

    "I bring before you, Kaine," the honeyed voice introduced. "This
is your master, Kaine. Bow before him!" Someone's body thudded to the
floor. Genma stopped spying through the hole in the wall, pressing
his ear to it instead, straining to hear.

    "What makes this an exception from the rest?"

    "Allow me to demonstrate." There was a slight pause. Swallowing
carefully, Genma closed his eyes, imagining what they could be doing.
Ulranith�s gasp excited his imagination even further.

    "I had no idea shape shifters existed in this realm," the Master
stated. "Did the water force the change, or disrupt his
concentration, returning his shape?"

    Genma gasped, ever so quietly, and clasped his mouth with his
hand. They caught a Jusenkyo victim. He could only pray that it was
not his son, Ranma.

    "It forced the change, Master. Tell him what you told me, Kaine."

    "Yes, Mistress," a man said, definitely not Ranma, nor did it
even sound human. The voice was very deep and guttural. "When I was a
child, an evil man dipped me in the waters of the valley of Jusenkyo,
a remote region on the main continent. Since then, I've been able to
change forms with the application of cold and hot water."

    "He is strong," the Master commented, satisfaction purring in his
voice. "Kaine, do you wish to serve me, to serve Magus Mishaela, and
help us achieve victory against our enemies?"

    There was not a second of pause. "Above everything, Master!"

    A deep, sinister chuckle emanated from the Master. Genma turned
to look through the hole, but the shapes of the ogre and the Master
blocked any view he might have gained of the two newcomers.

    "Stand," the Master commanded as his seven foot figure lifted off
the ground a foot. Glowing with an eerie, faint blue light, the
Master slowly slid forward. "Close your eyes. This will hurt, a lot,
but do not cry out." A bolt of electricity ripped across the
backyard, originating from the area in front of the Master. All Genma
heard was a pained grunt from the recipient. "Very good, now repeat
after me."

    Genma watched and listened in awe as the aura around the Master
rippled and shifted. Struggling to hear, he shifted his ear to the
hole in the wall.

    Repeating after the Master, the unknown man began chanting.
"Willing, I do pledge my soul to thine. I surrender my life for thee,
as I freely put on this mask. I swear to obey thee, Master Darksol,
in absolute servitude."

    Another bolt lanced from the area in front of the Master, but
this time it crashed into the him, an electrifying field encasing him
with bright energy. Both Master and servant cried out in pain.

    An agonizing moment past, and Genma waited in silence.

    "The compulsion spell has ended, my Lord," the honey-tongued
woman said.

    "We shall see if my bonding works now," he replied. Falling to
his knees, the Master cackled, his billowed cloak resting on the
barren dirt and patches of grass. The woman's shoulders and head
became visible, though her dark blue cloak and hood masked her
features. "Wake, Kaine!" Rising to his full height, the Master stood.

    "I serve and obey you, Master Darksol," a booming, vehement voice
echoed. It sounded similar to the man who had spoken before, but this
time it was deeper and it possessed a more definitive edge, as if two
completely different beings spoke with the same voice. "The essence
of a like soul burns nearby. I can feel his energies, his power."

    A chill shot down Genma's spine. Could the man be speaking about
him?

    "You do?" Darksol asked as a globe of translucent blue energies
formed around him. "Could it be a shadow assassin? Could one of the
Keilekii soul knights have found us here? I feel nothing. Mishaela?"

    "Neither do I, glorious one," she replied. "Kaine said it was a
kindred soul. I did not feel his aura at all, and that is how he
escaped our death knights for so long. I thought it might have
something to do with his shape changing powers."

    They knew he was there. Genma dared not look at them now as he
was already planning his escape. The wall he hid behind barely
covered one side of the backyard, and it might be able to hide him
until he escaped into a neighboring yard.

    "Very interesting," Darksol purred, satisfaction burning in his
monotone voice. "Where is it now, Kaine?"

    "Over there, Master," the booming voice replied. Its echoing
quality sounded much like some sort of voice modifier, as if he spoke
through something. Unfortunately, Genma would not chance staying any
longer to look at its wielder.



    The wall shattered with nothing more than a twist of his wrist
and a thought. Darksol watched in dark delight as he saw the
retreating form of an overweight human. He watched his bodyguards
began their pursuit, his captured ogre, Ikura, and three of the four
black soldiers around him.

    "Stop!" he commanded, bringing the four beasts to a halt. Ikura
grumbled, displaying his protest. The three dark soldier, his empty
souled and forever loyal warriors, only stopped. "I want him
followed. Ulranith."

    "Yes, Master," the silent Magus acknowledged, standing by his
side.

    "Did you distinguish his soul?" Darksol knew that the mage would
have, since that was his place, though he often commanded troops as
well. Magus Ulranith was an exceptional soul tracer.

    "Yes, Master," the emotionless reply whispered by his right side.

    "Have two squadrons readied and follow them. I want to know
everything about the human. Spare the strongest of them. And take
Ikura here with you." He paused as Ulranith's signal to begin.

    What did he hope to learn from this operation? he wondered to
himself. Hopefully, it would bring to light the mysterious soul
knight who murdered a complete Magus circle. Anyone with that amount
of power was worth serious precautions.

    "Mishaela?"

    "Yes, my Lord?" The pale skinned witch asked, hovering next to
him on his left. She even dared to put her warm hand between one of
the blackened mithril plates on his shoulder, against the spider's
silk tunic beneath. Any other, Magus or not, he would have killed
outright, but not her. He needed her power, and she knew it. The
touch stimulated something he was not used to, bringing uncomfortable
warmth to him. One of the misfortunes of human bodies was their
weakness to other humanoid bodies of the opposite gender. The
temptation was far too easy to control, though. Weak-souled humans,
he had observed, held no such power.

    "I want you to follow Magus Ulranith," he commanded, turning to
her with his full attention. Even she quivered under his stare, but
she did not release her hand from underneath his shoulder plate. In
fact, as he had turned, her hand had been pushed further upwards,
brushing the bare skin of his neck. Her hood fell back, revealing
lush purple locks of her hair and her beautiful face.

    "As you wish, Lord Darksol," she replied softly, staring into his
eyes. For some reason, he found her gaze discomforting. Hundreds of
years amongst the most vile and the most beautiful of people and
lands, and of one of his topmost lieutenants made him feel
uncomfortable.

    "Do not assist until the threat is neutralized. You are to
observe and capture those that Ulranith spares, especially ones like
our new friend, Kaine." Finished with her, he turned to face the
enslaved human. Her hand lingered on him, though. "You did well
bringing him to me, Mishaela."

    Finally, she took a step back, bringing her arms to her side. He
turned his head to look at her curiously. She had never acted like
this in his presence before, as if she were expecting something more.
He had already given his commanded, and she was becoming dangerously
close to breaching his authority. Her feral red eyes glittered with
emotion, far from her usual icy exterior. The whole reason he had put
her in command of the Magus circles was not only because of her
incredible magical abilities, but also due to her calm tactical
abilities. Occasionally she would feign interest in male of humanoid
decent, playing her charms and good looks, and that was what he
figured she had been trying before. Now, somehow he began to doubt
that it was faked.

    She turned and began to walk in the direction of Ulranith, but he
quickly grabbed her arm. Her body stopped, as did her heart, for a
second in hesitation. He faced her, holding her thin arm with his
gloved right hand. Her mortal body betrayed her anxiety for he could
feel her tremble slightly, hear her rapid heart beat and unsteady
breathing. She was scared that she had gone too far earlier.

     "Do you have a problem with your orders, Magus Mishaela?"

    "Of course not, Lord Darksol,� she replied firmly, calming her
body. "I serve without question or complaint." Even within that
answer, he knew something bothered her. She was rapidly building her
mental and physical self control, disguising her anxiety well. But
not well enough for a immortal such as he.

    "Something troubles you, Magus," he told her, loosening his grip
on her arm, but still holding it in his hand. "You will tell me what
that is." His orange-red eyes bore into her wide ones, tearing
through her defenses to see her soul laid bare. She stood so
insignificant in height compared to him, especially when she fell to
her knees, forcing him to release his grip, and bowed her head at his
feet.

    "I-I was hoping to be stationed with you, Master," she stuttered,
her words almost unintelligible and jumbled. Though he could not see
them, tears leaked onto her cheeks, the result of an emotional build
up. He had not known she was capable of such displays.

    He bent a knee and reached down, lifting her by her armpits to
his height. Keilekii were fiercely emotional creatures, drawn to each
other in comfort nearly every day, although they remained just as
fiercely loyal under his control. Mishaela was Keilekii, but she was
not under his power in any way. She had been the one who had
originally severed the gate to Rune, allowing Darksol�s master to
enter in full force. She had been the one who fell to his recently
ascended feet to beg to serve him. She had served him loyally,
blindly and with incredible passion. And now, she once more fell to
his feet, but this time with great trepidation, fear for her life
most likely.

    Why should she fear him? he wondered. Nothing short of treachery
would cause him to harm her, and he thought that she knew it. He had
extended her leniency beyond that of any normal general, mainly
because she was one of the few strong members of his army that had no
need for any sort of compulsion. Her service to him had been
incredible, beyond that of any servant that either he or his master
had in their service before. She stood on his side to watch the
downfall of countless worlds, most of which were almost conquered
before they arrived. She was the only non-charmed individual he would
trust with his legacy, if it came to that.

    He supposed that all mortals had a breaking point of emotional
stress, and Mishaela had reached hers. Her frail body, now suspended
above the ground in front of him, shivered in absolute terror. This
was nothing less than a complete surprise to him.

    "Mishaela," he said in his cold, monotone voice. She lay limp in
his extended arms, daring not to resist him, even should he rip her
heart from her living body. "I can accept your mortal behavior since
you have served my master so well in the past, but I will at least
have a valid explanation for it. You do not fear death at the hands
of enemies, blatantly risking death against hordes of foes every time
we jump planes. You do not question my authority, nor do you question
my reasons. I believe you that.

    "So why do you wish to be posted at my side? Why do you show this
emotional display, the likes of which I could never even have
imagined out of you? You do not fear death at the hands of my
enemies, and yet you fear death within mine -- mine whom you have
served for several millennium? We stormed Kalyandross together, side
by side, crushing and enslaving that vile populous of dwarves who now
serve us willingly, worshipping you as a goddess, although they know
you are mortal. We sacked Zanzband and Ukathera, barely surviving the
fights. I value your opinion, which I have chosen over my own at
times, and I value your remarkable service. Why do you quiver like a
small child?"

    As he placed her on her feet, her teeth softly chattered as she
opened her mouth to respond, but a resounding blast echoed across the
countryside, shaking the earth upon which they stood. Mishaela fell
forward, completely unready for the tremor, against him. She
instinctively reached around him to regain her balance. Her head
barely reached the top of his chest, in between the shoulder plate
and chest plate, the section directly above his heart. Clutching him
as she recovered her poise, her arms reached beneath his outer cloak,
lightly squeezing his ribs.

    A moment passed and she still held him, her heart beating as if
she had ran to him straight from her earlier destination, instead of
using the interdimensional gateway. She had always seemed so imposing
to him, secure with both her power and station. On the battlefield,
she was an elegant and deadly fighter, an inspiration to morale. And
when he would go over battle plans with his generals, she was a
domineering essence, often times controlling the whole meeting.
Shrewd, majestic, cunning and beautiful were all words that could
easily rest upon her, not timid, scared, fragile and defenseless, but
that is how she felt to him now, in his arms -- he did not even
realize he had put his arms around her in support. It was almost
enough for him to scorn his human body...almost.

    He looked down at her glistening, red eyes. They shined with such
hope and sadness, that he felt an intense urge to rip his helmet from
his head and kiss her, to lose himself in the moment and forget his
promise and duty. Human emotions stirred in his once mortal soul,
emotions he had possessed once so long ago but had forgotten about.
Suddenly, the imaginary crown upon his brow seemed heavy, immensely
heavy, weighing him down.

    "Darksol," she whispered, strengthening her hold on him. The lack
of honorific titles with his name sounded strange, and it tore at his
soul more. He knew she felt what he was feeling now, and somehow that
eased him. Two souls, one mortal and one immortal, drawn together,
though fate would not allow such a bonding.

    Holding her to him, their hearts yearned for each other, though
cloth and metal divided them. Darksol wished that somehow he could
stay right here, right in this moment, never to leave again. He
looked down at her. With her eyes closed, she had pressed her head
and body against him, clutching him to her. Her anxiety, her fear,
the bonds upon her soul all seemed to be dispelled, and she regained
her spirit.

    "Mishaela," I whispered to her and she looked up at me. "Thank
you for telling me."

    For the first time ever, he witnessed something more beautiful
than the rise and fall of a sun, the twinkling stars in the sky, or
anything else in his life, her smile. He had seen her grin, smirk and
leer, but never just smile. There was always a dark context behind
it, something that would make it less than innocent, but not this
time.

    "I shall do as you command, my lord," she stated, gently pulling
away from him.

    "Do not forget to take Kaine with you," he reminded, letting his
hand slide down her arm until they finally broke their physical
contact. And come back to me alive, he wanted to say, but could not.

    She nodded as if to say, I shall return to you, and calmly left
without another word.

                          *       *       *


Ryan Erik
ICQ: 2561463
ryanerik99@yahoo.com
http://www.geocities.com/ryanerik99