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Max sat, he folded his legs and hung his arms off his knees. And then he closed his eyes. Pale fingertips nestled themselves in the cool grass. A breeze caressed his cheek, a bird chirped. The world churned, and through it all Max focused.

He started with the sound of his own breath, the deep rhythm pulled him inward. Next as the world started to silence and fade, he focused on his heart beat. Each thump took him deeper...and deeper...

""

It was so gentle, so soft, he nearly missed it. But now that he had heard it, it pulled him in. That question...it could be taken and answered so many ways. Where was he going? Now? In his life? He realized how hard it was to answer something that seemed it should be so obvious. He started from the outside and worked his way in.

He was going...

Forward...

Because he was going...

...to find the Glass Dragon...

Because on the deeper level, his life was heading towards...? He was aiming for...? Going to...?

...I dont know...

And that worried him.

In that silence Maximos feared he had found an answer. There was nothing, this was nowhere, and there was no one...was nothingness where he was headed. Was he going no where, alone with no one?



He knew the answer. But that was his problem, he knew it. He did not feel it, he knew it like the text from a book. His answer was in no dictionary but it easily could have fit into one.

Justice...it's equality. The resolution of an issue in a way that appeases both sides, giving both what they deserve.

A pause as the veneer came off his definition and it continued.

Though one or neither side may be happy with the result. Justice is not nice...justice is fair...justice is cold.

Maximos voice trailed off, silently fading. Justice. He truly felt that to be what it was and yet...he served it. A justice "divine". What did that make him? Was he just...?



He fell silent. Was it Death that ruled him? No. Two of his close friends were gods, he considered a soul that should have passed into the system but that he anchored to reality, his family. Maximos broke the laws of life and death daily. Was it in death? No, that was the last time he felt right. He died so that he could be at peace, so that he could end a threat to many lives.

Then he remembered. He smelled crisp wet Arian air. He felt that cure in his hand, he saw the faces of his most beloved friends and comrades in arms, as they were swallowed up. Panic on Laguna's face as he dug his clawed arm into the ground. Horror on Angeltear's face as she summoned roots to hold her and one by one they snapped. Shock on Ruuvan's face just before he was swallowed by the void. All while the rain gushed from the heavens over the windows like a sheet of blur, washing away the world...washing away everything...

He felt pain. He felt anger. He felt the injustice that was done to him was unforgivable.

How long could he pretend that he had moved ahead? For how long had he surrendered his life to the whim of that hurt?



Backwards? Back to that? Relive that?!

No, no theres nothing backwards, the past cannot be changed.

He returned to the voice.

You lose everything if you dwell on the past! You go no where!

And even as he damned the voice, he damned himself. He saw it, its what he had done. He had halted everything that made himself back then, and hid it behind pain and loss. He had died, far after his life, and far before his death. Now nothing drove him, a leaf on the wind. But if went back, if in that moment before his heart broke he stepped another way...the only way out is back through everything he's running from. Not to give up. Not to lie down. But...



His tone fell solemn. Crestfallen. Lost for a moment under the realization presented him.

Yes...but...

A pause, a thousand thoughts with no words. A wave. And behind them all a glimmer of hope. A glimmer he couldnt reach...He simply did not know...

...How?

He'd always felt it, that pain. It was a wound he woke to every morning, a wound he slept with every night. He thought his fight was to persevere and maybe find a peaceful day. He thought each day and night, he was being brave.

Or at least he wanted to think it. In truth in his heart of hearts he knew what he was doing. He was giving up...



...But it was starting too. Every time his heart ached, he had learned to shut it away. He took his emotions and sealed them in small packets and locked them in a dark deep corner of himself. Distant. Cold. Empty.

And each time a bit less returned. It had spread from his past, to the pain of living. The pain of loving. The pain of being...Bit by bit, Maximos as everyone knew it was dying. He was killing himself, sacrificing his soul piece by piece to something inside.

He ignored it, or maybe he hadnt really noticed it. But piece by piece it was happening.



He could feel the unbearably familiar weight on his shoulders. He felt his body ache, his legs struggled to keep him upright but he gave, crashing to his knees. There was alot of motion in that fall.

He saw a blast of light tear through Maxine's chest and fill her face with white like only veins should before it was obliterated.

He felt the smooth glass vial of the Cure that he had his allies traversed Aria to deliver. The pain of knowing that if he gave the Dark Lord this....his people were cursed forever. If he gave it to his people, then the world was cursed...the weight of being something good, of being a hero...

The memory of treachery as a comrade, a party member, sold himself to there enemy. The visage snapped across him like a whip, stinging and biting.

The first time the Destroyers sword felt heavy, and he was able to peer over the boundless rage and see an ocean of guilt.

Bravely Maximos tried to push through his own memories and agains the chains to freedom, but found each painful though dug deeper than the last. He was trapped. Restrained by himself, tortured by the reality of his past. And never more alone...

That shape....that form, those laughing skulls, everything about its essence...

Instantly he recognized it, though in the same breath he had no idea what it was. He knew it was cold, he had no concern for anything, and yet it got a sort of sick cold pleasure out of the lives it took. He knew that behind that hood, in the blackness it was laughing at him, even before it made a sound.

And he knew, deep inside, with his whole being what was to come next. For the first time in what felt like a lifetime, he felt...fear.





His thoughts were solemn, reserved, accepting and quiet. His voice showed defeat...loss.



It wasnt fear that held him though, it was pain. He had no fear of death, he saw it everyday. He had a fear for those he loved. He had a fear that he would never seen those that mattered again. Lucind, Teira, Ryugi..faces and soft memories flitted across his mind. Flashes...glimpses...He was about to lose everything...but he had seen enough to remind him why he deserved nothing. Why he could keep nothing. Why he would lose everything eventually, because he could not save it all. He knew what he had to do, but he could not do it alone.

He was alone, and he would die as such. He recognized his demon given form, the pain given a blade...it was himself. If he did not stand and act this would be him. Twisted by darkness and forged in ice. A monster...



He decided to let go. To sleep. Maximos couldnt look, he broke eye contact, bowing his head.

The sword fell.

Pale mismatched eyes gently shut, and he accepted his Demon. He accepted his fate. And in his darkest and lowest moment, he felt it. Like a hand reaching for him in the dark, a grip placed in his grip. A friend, an ally, a tool, a sword.

The dark blade drew closer, crawling through the air as if time itself held it at bay for the sake of what was to come.

He was not alone. A thousand gentle voices rode on a wind only he could hear. They reminded him they were always there, they reminded him he was never alone, they reminded him that if he gave up and lost that not only would he never see his loved ones again....but they would be slave to this....his demon. That suffering untold would be visited upon them, and no one would protect them...no one could save them. They told him he had a duty....they reminded him who he was. The reminded him why he was.

Maybe his arm wasnt long enough to reach the light, but with his sword in hand he could touch it.

The resounding echo of metal on metal filled the void as the dark and twisted blade met the true Ankokuko and the two immediately locked. Maximos' head came up slowly, his white eye igniting and gazing straight into his foe as he spoke. He spoke firmly. He spoke resolutely. He spoke in a way that he had not spoke in, in years.

I will not become you.

He burst off his knees, shoving all his force forward to push the enemy sword away. And then, with all of his resolution, he swung at it, viciously.



No matter the Demon's defense he slashed again, harder, the fingers of his right hand so tight they threatened to cramp. He shouted, his teeth gritting.



His swung overhead, stomping forward so that the bladed contact would resound like a gong. He did not care if it slashed him, if it cut him, he would keep swinging even in the face of death. He dared the Reapers to come for him! His voice grew louder, firmer, more powerful.

He slashed harder, faster.

I will not break!

His hand protested the violent volley. But Maximos did not care. He would defeat this Demon he would see it driven from him! Lucind would not be there to help, nor Teira, nor Walter, or Ryugi, or Ruuvan, or Tomorrow or anyone!

This was his fight! He felt his heart well up in his throat. He felt a warm pride spread across his body.



There faces were clear as day now. Everyone he knew, everyone that truly mattered. Every person worth fighting for. Its was 7000 years ago. It was Aria. He felt every reason a man lays down his life for a cause and smiles in death.

He saw Teira struggling with language but taking a silent glee in holding his hand and running randomly through the halls.

He saw Lucind brewing up a fresh caramel macchiato and serving it to him beside a slice of Cherry Chocolate cake.

He saw a sparring match with Ruuvan, a simple pleasure old warriors shared.

He saw Tomorrow, utterly defeated in chess. Chess...on a 30ft mountain the avatar had made with a single swift punch to the ground during there match a few minutes ago.

Both hands moved to grip Ankokuko, and slash it with all of his might horizontally, to clear space.



....The chorus rose and churned, rolled and drove him. He saw Ankokuko. His sword. But beyond it, he saw Ryugi. The sword a gift, a symbol of their friendship. For all of its greatness the Caller of Darkness would never have been forged if not for the dragon. Ryugi...Light...an untouchable brightness. An unstoppable will to do what is good, and just. Thats what Ryugi showed him, taught him. He felt a kinship in that desire that burned in his heart. It brought an irresistible urge, it just rolled right out of his mouth.

Because I...

Maximos leapt into the air, bringing Ankokuko overhead, with both hands. In seconds gravity came for him, his feet brought up ready to not only land but carry the full force straight down to the ground and along the curved edge of the blade for maximum cutting power. His muscles burned, his body ached and screamed even as the chorus of bellowed for him.

This was it, his everything in one cut.

There comes a time in every mans life where he must believe in something. And Maximos believed in himself. In his sword, in his friends.

He remembered light, lots of it.

Something....something dark being driven back.

He remembered the voices and hearts of his loved ones surrounding him, and a warmth and pride in his heart that brought the widest smile to his face.

He took a deep breath, and as if breathing for the first time in a long while and he smelled ocean air. He smelled warm sand...he smelled fish roasting and noct pear and juice, freshly cut. His hands twitched, he could even feel tension in his right and a dull burning in his muscles as they cooled off.

Birds played on the tree behind him, even as monks chanted. And a cool breeze awakened Maximos to wetness that rolled down his cheeks. Tear, he was crying, and his hand was gripped on Ankokuko so tight that it hurt to move his fingers to release it.

It was like coming out of a dream. He had a clear image of everything that happened but it was fading into his subconscious. He could feel Aria that taste of Aria inside him, he could feel a massive weight pulled off his heart and shoulders.

Max let out a sigh of relief, leaning back against the tree and replayed the entire scene in his mind, trying to keep it as fresh as he could, though he knew it was fading.

He wondered how Ryugi was faring.

----

Ryugi's mind may have been busy, a thousand thoughts bred by a thousand memories, due to thousands of years of being. Did his mind wander to old missed friends? To new absent ones? To loss? To love? Maybe it was drowned in silence so deafening it had trouble concentrating on anything else?

Either way, peace would come. And with it relaxation. Ryugi would be enveloped in himself, overtaking the rest.

This space was white. And empty. And yet bright, so bright that it was almost blinding, even for one such as the dragon. There was someone there, lost in the white. But who? Or what? And then a voice, it spoke, but without word just a thought that seeped through and was understood.

The light exploded as the exclamation was made.

Everything was white, and then slowly faded. Suddenly the location made sense, and no sense. It was a dismal gray space fill with a rolling white fog that rose around Ryugi to waist level.

But around him, in the sky, on the horizon, floating in the air, were words. Phrases, text in white letters that hung without hooks or help. It would take a second for him to realize these were infact thoughts. His thoughts. The business that kept from getting within now surrounded him and formed the walls and contours of his deeper mind.

The fog rolled back revealing a figure. Ryugi, with a small waist high wyrmling beside him. Ryugi looked different. He his hair was darker, his skin looked a tad bit more leathery, and a scar cut down his face claiming an eye that was shut. The dragon dressed in mostly gray and black and had two large wings folded up behind him. He turned to the wyrmling and said.

You hear that Eclipse? This kid thinks he's me. I'm the only Ryug--

He was cut off as another figure stepped out of the mist. Another Ryugi, older, with golden armor and half a draconic half a human face.

No I am!

That was cut off by another, this one was tiny, demure. He had a book and a pen, and no sword. Like he'd never fought.

Liar! Its quite clear I am the only true Kazamaru.

Another voice BOOMED above the others, a massive head of a dragon, not a man burst through the mist above the others. His body a shadow of proportions easily twice Ryugi's actual size.

SILENCE! I am--

This voice slithered in the mind like a snake, from a Ryugi dressed in all black, with black hair...he looked more like Ryudo than Ryugi, and looked more villianous than heroic.

Fools. All of you. We are all Kazamaru.

And finally a girl. She had Ryugi's eyes, even his nose and posture. A town boy, but was definitely a girl, she pointed over the true Ryugi.

Then who's he?

They froze like statues. Each gazing in there own way at the dragon before them. Some angry, some accusing, some innocent, some lost.



The mist pulled back gently, blowing in an unfelt wind to reveal easily, a dozen more such "versions". A dozen and counting, every choice bred a new man. Every man or woman was different from each other, some were very similar, but none, not a one was the Ryugi who stood first. The Ryugi who's mind they visited. What was it that made them each different? What led Ryugi from choice to choice properly, to be who he was today?

Surely whatever that force was, that guiding tool, it was who Ryugi truly was. Perhaps it was not his persona, but would his persona be what it was without it? But what was it?

The Hero. But what is a hero? Is it just one who fights and strives? Is it one who wins? Can a defeated man be a hero? Yes, truly. And more. It is confidence. It is heart. It is humility. But to unite them all...it is



The voice added on. And as it did, the white mist rolled in covering over the many Kazamaru as it swirled around him, and then toward him. It seemed to drift into a hand that reached for the dragons chest, and then without warning slipped inside and pulled something out.

A white light. It was impossibly pure, and bright, and yet would not sting Ryugi's eyes. It was about the size of basketball but it was utterly flawless. No spec, no marks, really with things of this purity even a pea would have been tremendous.



The light was so bright that the void space of Ryugi's inner mind seemed to be getting darker, as if this glow was the sun and the universe revolved around it. And it was. This guided Ryugi's every choice, be it righteous indignation, or a self sacrificing battle. This was why he had to protect, and why he had to guide, and help, and fight. In a world surrounded by darkness, Ryugi had unquenchable light.



The glow seemed to condense and compact until the ball, which was once just an open glow seemed more like an actual orb, and the space around it was very dark indeed. The misty hand seemed more like smoke and held the ball out just before Ryugi.



The hand shut, the light gone. The room went black. Ryugi, in a world without his guide, without his beacon...?

The dark was silent. The mist invisible in the black, as whoever it was let him speak. He had to come to it on his own. Ryugi had seen how many people in his thousands of years fall to the dark? Good people polluted and changed. His own brother was one such individual.

No the point here was different. It was about choice. The point here was that...



...Yes. That exactly. Without Light he had to make his own path. Without the light, he had to be himself. And without the light...

You will be us...

It sounded like Ryugi, but the tone and pitch was all wrong. This voice sounded raspy and dark, yet vicious in its own regard. It came from the home of all dark things, of all our darknesses, it came from behind.

A gentle pale light, like a moonlight cast itself on a several dark figures. A whispy drake sat coiled around itself like snake with glowing red eyes. A dark figure with impossibly pale skin, a shriveled old mans body, and long white hair. Be side him, a monster of a figure, several feet taller than the rest and covered in scales and hard muscle, two bloody feathered wings were strapped to his back. Another seemed lost between dragon and human, half mangled between the two, a sickening smirk on his deformed face. Yet another had a crew cut and seemingly no emotion on his face, he stood solid and stared at Ryugi. On his arm, was a mercenary band insignia...one Ryugi might remember very well. And behind him, on sat on the floor with the head of a female dragon in his lap, petting its hair as he mumbled something to himself about "saving". And atop it all, two massive eyes the size of small moons stared down, utterly silent, and yet hungry...

One small step off the road, and your one of the monsters...

The moonlight sifted back much like the light unveiling figure, after figure. As many, if not more hid in the shadow, than the light.



If without light Ryugi must see for himself, and if without light he saw dark...did that mean he was truly dark, only covered by light?



The world split, as the Sun rose opposite the moonlight. On one side an army of Ryugi's bathed in light and mist. On the other, an army of Ryugi's shrouded in darkness. And the dragon himself was placed directly between two frozen armies.

Was he the light? Had he made those choices, could he be that person if that purity was lost? Was he the dark? A monster in the wings waiting for the brightness to fall so he could emerge?

[Rage Awakened]





Just a few here and there, some on the dark side some on the light. A few tossed mocking words. A few just jeered, and a few seemed to ignore the remark entirely.

But what they all did, good and bad, was arm themselves. You see Ryugi was sitting on the fence. Literally the void was divided right down to where he stood. Being on the fence meant he was with no one. Being with no one meant he was against everyone.

Armies two of them. Bearing down on one dragon. One dragon without the light or the strength to fight.



His cry boomed outwards, it was audible, and tangible, as it knocked a few of the closest back onto there haunches, the weaker falling as it spread outwards.

Ryugi found it. His own strength. His own resolve. No it did not matter if the world said he was wrong, as long as his heart told him he was right. Was that light? Maybe, maybe not. What it definitely was, was right.

It didnt take them long, to recover, continuing there march. In the dark there weapons shone, in the light there claws and fangs and blades glimmered in gold. They turned to stand against the one who would not fight for either of them.



Light and Dark halted in a circle around the dragon. Teeth gnashed, weapons gritted against each other, all eyes fell on him. They heard his strength, it held them at bay for just a moment. Fear across some faces, rage across others.



This was not white purity, this was gold, this was his power, his strength, his resolve. He was no slave to the world. He was no pawn of the light or the darkness! He was a hero unto himself!





The armies burst forward. The world did not exist in black and white!



This was his the form of his intent. The shape of his resolve. The tool by which it was carried out.

Ragnorok split the divide. Crashing into the ground between light and dark and dashing the moon and sunlight returning the mind scape to gray. The armies drove inward. It stood beside Ryugi. It overflowed in a beautiful golden glow, its aura raging like flame. I pulsed and begged, calling for a hand to grasp it.