"Pow! Ow! Pow! Ow! Pow! Ow!" Wailed Atari Bospheramus, the evil king of Hyrule, as he repeatedly punched the unconscious valor below him. Each blow made him shed tears and clench his teeth, yet this was the only way to harm Kylia.
Being a valor, Kylia is naturally very sturdy and durable, able to withstand the forces that come with flying at Mach 1. Punching Kylia with your bare hands is the equivalent of punching steel. It was very painful for Atari.
He couldn't use his sword as it was held tightly in Kylia's hands as she laid in a fetal position. Every attempt to pry the sword from her palms would only be met with the same painful black energy that had incapacitated Kylia.
He wanted to get the four Hylian leaders to help him end this troublesome foe, however they were busy redirecting targeted artillery shells from the Kylian Blue Army. Plus, King Atari said it himself that he would end Kylia's life with his own two hands, he must not go back on his word.
So he could only keep punching the sturdy body beneath him with black lines all over his face and a crooked smile.
Meanwhile up far above who knows where, a large metallic figure was busy playing who knows what on his large screen acer computer.
"Come on! Come on! Let my Tannu Tuva conquer the Mongolians already!"
{Japan declares war on Tannu Tuva}
"Arhhhhh! !@#$%^&*()_+-={}|[]\:";'<>?,./" The being, Gawd, cursed and smashed a flaming fist down onto the white impervious desktop.
"Bling bling!" That moment the game he was playing closed as a notification popped up.
"Hmm? Oh…it appears those hundred millions of souls were put into some good use." Gawd was good, what he thought of just screwing around with some petty earth gods actually ended up with such an unexpected fate.
Looking 'down' at the battlefield, Gawd took a glimpse at where all the souls resided. "Wha! She looks just like her…" Gawd said as he looked at the sprawled figure on the ground, broken memories resurfacing of a different multidimensional figure from a long time ago.
"No, it can't be." Gawd reasoned. "It had been too much damage over such a long time. No way could even the most powerful omnidimensional being survive that, hehehaaaa…"
Staring at the dim computer screen, Gawd was not good. "Such a pity, such a pity! Right God, Brahman, Waheguru and Allah?
"Mmm! Mmmmm!" The four, wrapped in comical strapjackets next to Gawd's desk, could only make sounds of approval from their gagged mouths, if they even had mouths as gods. Either way they could not or dare not speak. Also, they were more than slightly interested in who could provoke such a reaction from such a powerful being.
Content with their answer Gawd sighed. "Well, lets see if-"
{f!@#$%^ 0 GB of 1.81 TB}
"Damn you TheRussianBadger!"
And Gawd was good.
…
Meanwhile deep down in Kylia's soul, energy that had emanated from King Atari's Dark Master Sword condensed into a petite figure. The entity was made up of shadow with skin that glimmers like black glass – smooth and cold. Her, assuming swords have pronouns, face was disturbingly emotionless and mask-like. Yet the blood red eyes felt fierce, like the feeling of being watched by a painting in your bedroom at night.
She looked around. Behind her, a view of the outside world was slowly warped into oblivion, an effect similar to falling past the event horizon of a black hole. From the front, left and right of her was the dark expanse of Kylia's soul. Here Kylia's memories floated about, fluttering white blobs in the ethereal darkness.
The sword spirit drifted slowly, noiselessly, as if she were underwater. The light of Kylia's soul flickered dimly, those fluttering white blobs—memories—pulsing with faint warmth. Some zipped away the closer the shadow came, others hovered, defiant and still. One drifted directly in front of her, trembling gently.
Without touching it, she stared. The memory flared to life.
A snowfield. Kylia appeared to be around five years of age, her hair and feathers being black instead of a royal blue. Her feathers were all short and fluffy looking, likely because of the remaining dowry feathers. Next to the laughing Kylia, a Rohati girl—possibly a childhood friend—had tackled her into the snow. Both were red-cheeked and breathless, faces aglow with childish triumph. A bright bird wheeled above them in the evening sky.
"One day," the girl declared proudly, "I'll become the strongest swordsman to protect those I cherish!"
Kylia laughed, brushing snow from her face. "Then I will become even stronger! When I grow old enough to become a Valord of my own state, I'll make you my knight!"
The girl's eyes widened. "Really?!"
"Really really," Kylia beamed.
The two lay back in the snow, side by side, talking about castles and monsters and saving each other from terrible fates. The bird wheeled again above them, as if it too had heard a promise worth carrying through the years.
The memory dissolved, and the sword spirit tilted her head slightly before heading deeper inside.
…
As the sword spirit drifted deeper inside Kylia's soul, another memory—smaller, dimmer—floated forward, as if summoned by the shift in emotion.
A forest at dusk and silent except for the sound of haggard breathing.
The girl stood bleeding. Her sword broke in half. Her eyes wide with pain, and disbelief.
Behind her, Kylia stood frozen, too shocked to even utter a word of what just happened.
A hooded Sheikah agent, cloaked in tight fitting garments, laid there in front of them, unmoving.
The girl stumbled backward, reaching for Kylia with trembling fingers. "Are you…okay?"
Kylia caught her. The ground beneath them grew red.
"Why…?" Kylia asked, tears already welling.
But the girl only smiled, the kind of smile that has nothing left behind it. "I told you… I'd protect those I cherish…"
And then she was gone.
With the memory dispersing, the sword spirit transverse deeper into the starry void.
…
Even deeper inside the density of memories flying around increased, forming a cloud that blocked the sword spirit's path. Most of these memories were pushed aside by the spirit's dark energy.
Then, another memory slammed right into the sword spirit. This one was sharper. Colder.
Kylia stood in a massive wooden hall. Her father, Vladislav, towered before her, still bloodied after killing all hidden sheikah spies in Viskov City.
"Kylia?"
"Yes father?"
"Are you sad?"
"...No."
"…" Vladislav studied her face for a moment, unreadable. Then he exhaled through his nose and spoke.
"Let me tell you a story."
He walked slowly toward the wooden window overlooking the snow-covered city, voice distant now, turned more toward memory than toward her.
"When I was your age, the world looked very different. There was no Viskov City. No Pavo City. No cities at all in the West—just tribes. I was born into the Valor tribe, one of four: the Valor, Lavovy, Nihovy, and Rohati. Life moved slower then. We aged slowly. I was fifty years old before I reached the maturity you have now."
He paused.
"That's when the Lynels came."
His fists clenched at his sides, the blood on his gloves cracking faintly.
"There were ten of us. When the dust settled, only your mother and I remained. My parents, her parents—dead. They died trying to protect us all. I only managed to save her."
A bitter breath escaped him.
"My two younger brothers… gone. Her older sisters… gone. And when the Lynel left, the other tribes came. They chased after us like wolves."
He turned to look at Kylia again, eyes colder now, harder.
"You don't know what it was like back then. The tribes in the West weren't people—they were monsters. They cannibalized their own to survive. Savage didn't begin to describe them. Only the Valor had any semblance of order in the west."
His voice lowered.
"And then the East came. Hyrule. Their first incursions cut across the west like wildfire. Whole swathes of territory—gone. Reduced to ash. The western population, already hollowed out by the last calamity, collapsed further. I saw what was coming. I knew my family—what was left of it—was next."
He turned fully to her now, gaze like iron.
"So I trained. For decades. Until I was strong enough to conquer the Lavovy tribe with my own hands. After fifty more years, I carved a place out of the blood-soaked mud and called it the State of Vladislav."
"With that power, I swept the West. Unified what was left. And after hundreds of years of war, diplomacy, betrayal, and sacrifice—I formed the Vladislav Confederation, an empire that lasted hundreds of years before your older brother Viskov was born."
He took a final step toward her.
"This world is cruel, any bonds with those weaker than you would only bring pain in the future. If she had not died, she may have lived for 300 more years before succumbing to old age. Then, you will have to live with that loss for the rest of your very long life."
"I don't want you to repeatedly experience what I did when I lost my family. Only those with strength can live pleasantly in this world. For now on you will keep interactions with other short lived races at a minimum. You will also train harder to become stronger. Got that?"
"Yes father!"
…
The memory then dissolved into countless particles of starry light. The sword spirit impatiently moved onwards, annoyed at the fact that she was stopped three times during her journey.
Swimming against the white current of memories, the sword spirit came across a solid silver core of memories. The core dwarfed the sword spirit and shone with such intensity that the once starry black surroundings now resembled more of a white background of a comic strip.
Glancing over her shoulder, the sword spirit could still see the familiar dark void behind her.
Then—
She reached for the core.