They stood there, watching the being called the Fallen Prince laugh into the air. After a few minutes, a sound was heard. He rose slowly from the throne. Now Xadion saw him fully.
The man was a giant, easily six feet tall. His hair was jet black and fell past his shoulders. His form was solid, unmoving, like stone that had learned to breathe. His eyes were filled with madness as he looked at the two of them. He raised his right hand. The sword pointed at Xadion.
A chill ran down Xadion's spine.
"You took the journal." the Fallen Prince said. "That's the only way you could have known about me."
Xadion frowned, but said nothing.
The Fallen Prince laughed again. "You know… after spending a hundred years here, I realized everything I did was a waste. So I gave up. That was, until I found that book."
"After reading it, I realized how much of the world I still didn't know," the Fallen Prince said. He laughed again. "Alas, you won't finish it. Today is your end."
Ezekiel stepped in front of Xadion. He met the Fallen Prince's gaze without looking away.
"How about you go through me first."
The smile on the Fallen Prince's face widened. "Count yourself lucky. After this fight, this damn world will record you as its new master."
Ezekiel's smile was faint. "When Xadion told me what he saw in that room, and how you were trapped here, I didn't think about who you were. Not until I saw the sword in your hands."
The Fallen Prince's smile dropped as he looked at Ezekiel. Ezekiel's smile instead widened.
"A majestic kingdom turned to dust after a young and foolish prince fell in love with the wrong person. Because of that prince, his entire Kingdom, Family, and People were destroyed.
Legends say that he escaped with his life and trained to become a Lord rank. But then he found a mysterious sword that made him mad but increased his power by a thousandfold. He massacred villages, towns, and even cities. He was all-powerful. No one could be his match, until the now royal family's ancestors clashed with him.
They fought and battled for days until the two disappeared, and months later the old ancestors appeared. This story was well known even after hundreds of years had passed, because of one thing the ancestor said: 'Even after gaining that much power, he forgot the reason for gaining strength.'"
There was silence in the hall once again. Ezekiel chuckled. "You became a bedtime story for kids, to never become like you. Once you gain power, you should remember your roots, and not blame an object for turning you mad. To you, the title Fallen Prince means you were a prince who lost his kingdom. But to everyone else, you are a joke who was given the title of Fallen. You are the Prince of Failure."
Cold sweat ran down Xadion's back. He knew the story of the Fallen Prince. His mother had indeed told him the story as a bedtime lesson.
But he was nervous because he didn't understand why Ezekiel was saying all this. It would make the Fallen Prince's anger rise, and then battling him would be even more difficult. Because at the end of the day, this was still a King rank, even if he had lost it.
The Fallen Prince stayed silent for a full minute, staring at Ezekiel. His breathing grew slower, but louder. Then, out of nowhere, he disappeared.
Xadion panicked and tried to move, but before he could, Ezekiel lunged forward and grabbed the Fallen Prince's wrist. He punched the Fallen Prince in the face, sending him flying. He then landed in front of Xadion.
"Follow the plan."
With that, Ezekiel engaged the Fallen Prince. Xadion exhaled and stepped back, watching.
The clash began on another level. They moved with speed he couldn't track. Xadion couldn't follow properly. All he saw were afterimages, and the sound of impact rolling through the hall.
Still, it was enough for Xadion. He could read the two fighting styles now.
Ezekiel was like a hand-to-hand god. His fists could block sword strikes directly. But what made him dangerous was his legs too. All four limbs moved together in sync, and every strike was effective.
The Fallen Prince was different. His style was madness. It looked brutal and random. But Xadion could see faint traces of technique in it. Every strike was meant to kill, but he always had a backup if it failed. One hand held the sword. The other was for surprise attacks or defense.
Xadion understood what Ezekiel meant about the sword now. It looked like the blade had a mind of its own, fighting its own battle.
The two Lord ranks kept clashing, trying to take the other down. The fight tore across the hall and eventually moved toward Xadion. Xadion braced to defend, but Ezekiel used a core move and pushed the Fallen Prince back.
The Fallen Prince smiled. "Why is he even here?"
He dashed toward Xadion again, but Ezekiel blocked him, taking a little damage.
"As much as that boy can be of use to me in this fight, I do not want you dead."
As he said that, he tossed his sword toward Xadion and laughed madly.
Xadion raised his new sword and blocked, but was still sent a few feet back. He found his footing and looked up.
In front of him, the sword floated in the air, as if someone were holding it. He was already mentally ready. He dashed toward the sword. The goal was to keep it busy while Ezekiel fought the Fallen Prince. He couldn't defeat the sword — it was just an object.
'Maybe I can break it?' Xadion thought, but instantly cursed.
The sword moved with undeniable, graceful waves. In just a few minutes, he was only defending. He hadn't attacked once. Well, he couldn't attack either, since he didn't have anything to cut with. Still, he was in a very bad position.
After a few minutes, he avoided a dangerous attack and took a glance at Ezekiel and the Fallen Prince. It seemed the Fallen Prince was losing, and Ezekiel was actually pushing him back.
This should have been good news. But in that moment, the sword struck twice.
Xadion's sword fell apart.
The Fallen Prince's blade stabbed forward. He grabbed it, blood running from his hands. But it wasn't his hands that hurt the most. It was his head.
Voices. Dozens of voices.
He felt like he was going mad just from listening to them.
The sword pulled away.
And before he could think again —
It drove into his stomach.