Fan Fiction ❯ Birth of a Warrior ❯ Birth of a Warrior ( Chapter 1 )

Birth of a Warrior

A Soul Blade/Soul Calibur fanfiction by regie27

 

Standards disclaimers apply. You know the drill: I do not own and can't even wish to own Sophitia, Cervantes, Taki or any of the Soul Blade/Soul Calibur characters. They are the sole property of Namco.

 

 

Asturias, Spain

Sixteen Century

 

Sophitia Alexandra eyed the pirate with a mixture of dread and anticipation. At last, the reason why this humble baker's daughter had left the safety of her home to trek treacherous lands and face dangerous foes had come to an end. The pirate's cold glance was even more frightening than the maniacal cackle that had answered her challenge. After perilous voyages and dangerous opponents, she had finally found him and his legendary ship, the Adrian, at the Spanish port where they were believed to appear from time to time like an apparition from hell. But it was the eye embedded at his right hand's sword that filled her very own soul with a primal fear the Athenian just couldn't shake. She could swear the eye was looking at her with boundless hunger.

 

"Soul Edge. So this is the cursed weapon. At last we meet" she whispered to herself. The grip on her sword hand tightened, her knuckles became white due to the strain. “At last I will complete my task.”

 

She cleared her throat, praying her voice wouldn't reflect her true emotions. "Cervantes De León! Lay down your weapons and your life will be spared." She had been indeed granted a blessing. Her voice sounded firm, full of conviction and confidence, and didn't hint of the terror she felt deep inside.

 

"¡Muchachita insolente!" the Spaniard spat back with his gravely voice drenched in utter derision. "Insolent brat! Who do you think you are to talk to me like that? Don't you know that I've defeated warriors far more capable than you in the blink of an eye? But if you are feeling suicidal, I cannot do more but comply with your soul's wishes. Prepare yourself to give your life to Soul Edge."

 

As he had done in countless other showdowns, the cursed corsair held his two swords firmly, as his falcon eyes assessed his rival. Behind her rudimentary stance he could sense her nervousness. The weapons, a short sword and a round shield of exquisite manufacture were held too tightly, and he could see the veins on her neck and forearms bulging with tension. “This will be a quick kill” he concluded after the visual assessment of his latest victim. The Athenian waited for him to execute the first move. Her waning confidence was giving way to panic. She braced behind her blue and gold hoplon, hoping her death would be quick and painless. Her mind reminded her that if she were to fall, the pirate would grant her neither. Suddenly, with blinding speed, Cervantes rushed her, the glimmer in his steel blue eyes as deadly as the edge of the cursed weapons he held.

 

“I'll see you in hell!” Cervantes said with a malevolent laughter as Soul Edge traced a path towards her.

 

Taken by surprise, the girl only managed to scream:

 

"Hephaestus, protect me!"

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~

 

Outside the city gates of Athens, Greece

2 years before Spain

 

It was a beautiful day. Helios blasted and blazed above the Aegean lands with some of its most scorching darts that particular afternoon and the blonde maiden felt the sweat slipping down her forehead. Golden bangs fell dampened by the moisture over her forehead. She took every step with a tired stride. She had been walking nonstop for the past hour, tracing back the road that had taken her to the nearby villas and unto a wealthy customer's home. Usually her father would have done the delivery himself but he had been wrapped up in special orders. Everybody requested Achelous Alexandra's services for the commemoration of the city's founding and the girl knew well more orders awaited her, but the heat was just suffocating. She stopped, hoping for a merciful blow of Boreas' winds to refresh her but such was not her luck. Instead, her heart's desire was suddenly rewarded by the sight of a spring hidden by bushes and olive trees sitting in the apex of surrounding slopping hills. She had never noticed it before and found the fact strange, since she was used to taking this road for her customary deliveries.

 

The water sparkled under the bright sun as if below the waters, diamonds and precious gems laid under. Shades of green and brown blended with turquoise, gold and sapphire as the surrounding woods were mirrored into the shimmering water's surface. The sight was far too tempting for the girl to ignore. Her throat made her aware of the thirst that was now almost unbearable. The damp white blouse that now clung over her skin due to the profuse sweat that cooled her body made her realize how uncomfortable she was feeling under the punishment of the sun and the sweltering heat. Without any further thought, her feet moved downhill swiftly towards the forest spring. Sophitia wondered if it was one of those illusions the desert dwellers witness when affected by the sun. A mirage it's how they named the visions of soothing oasis of lakes and palms amidst the sand dunes. She hoped this wasn't one of those. The cool air around the thick foliage and the soft breeze that caressed her cheek confirmed the girl this wasn't one of those “mirages.” Her fingers slid over the surface and the water felt cool over her fingertips; small circles gave way to larger and larger circles that rippled over the serene surface. The calming landscape brought soothe to her tired body and spirit.

 

“I don't think Father might notice if stay for a while here” the girl said to herself, as she sat down and once her sandals abandoned her tired feet, she proceeded to sink her feet into the water. The contact of the water against her legs felt wonderful. Some sunrays managed to filter through the trees and gave the place an almost mystical aura. The baker's daughter looked around carefully, for what she was about to do she did not want any witnesses around. Moments later, her clothes lay carefully folded along with the basket that carried the pastries, as her body sunk quickly into the cool water of the spring. Strands of golden hair floated about her as she drifted contented. It felt even better than she imagined, and the girl sighted loudly as her eyelids closed, taking in the soothing feeling of the water against her skin. The girl basked in the serenity of the place and refreshing sensation of the water for several minutes, silently swimming around, the heat, the hard and long road and the bakery forgotten. So distracted was the maiden in her little world, that she did not notice how an almost blinding sliver of light became wider and brighter, until the form of a bearded man could be distinguished surfacing from the lake. Leaves began to rustle and the wind whistled gently, breaking the silence.

 

“Sophitia, Sophitia Alexandra.”

 

The girl jumped slightly, startled to hear her name called all of a sudden. Her hands went over her upper torso trying to cover her state of undress. Her cheeks colored a deep shade of red and fear could be seen in her green eyes.

 

`Who's calling me? Who are you?” the girl answered as her body sunk until only her head was above surface. Her voice trembled slightly by the sudden intrusion.

 

“Sophitia, Sophitia Alexandra, I have finally found you.”

 

Her glance finally saw the source of the voice. On the opposite side, a giant figure of a man emerged until it was standing up, looking down on her. The figure was bathed in a dazzling light, and she stood amazed yet shocked by the sight. The man had a long beard, yet his face seemed ageless. He was dressed in the manner of the ancient Greeks, with a tunic of shimmering white and purple, a golden crown of laurels adorning his forehead. Upon his right arm laid a hammer. The maiden's mind jogged to the pages of the books that narrated the old myths of her country in an effort to recognize who was addressing her. His deep, solemn voice interrupted her thoughts, and strangely enough, brought calm to her agitated state.

 

“Sophitia, do not fear. I only want you to receive an oracle. I am Hephaestus, the god of fire and forge. I am been sent in a holy quest and you are the recipient of my message and the mission ordained to you by the fates. You have been chosen by the will of the gods of your ancestors to become a sacred warrior. The mission you have been appointed to requires a pure heart and a strong faith. You will rid the land of the curse of the wicked blade of evil, Soul Edge. Among all the weapons that mankind has created, one sword has grabbed the attention of the gods. The sword is true evil. It was forged blindly and now absorbs the hatred and pain of its victims. Many deceived seek the wicked weapon. If any of them find it, disaster will surely follow. I will not let a creation of the forge such as this ruin my reputation. I want you to find that wicked sword before anybody else and destroy it.”

 

 

The girl stood dumbfounded, her mouth agape. Her mind was still struggling to make sense of what she was seeing and hearing. Making use of every inch of courage she could muster and fearing she might be hallucinating from the heat, she replied almost in a whisper:

 

“But how this can be? I'm the simple daughter of a baker, not a soldier or a warrior. I am a mere mortal. Can I fulfill such a big task?”

 

 

“For what you will face, skill isn't as important as the purity of your heart and determination of your soul, for this evil feeds in the fear and weakness of man. You are not as weak as you think. I have heard of you from Pallas Athena. She says you still believe in the Olympians. We are very pleased by your faith and loyalty. We know most of your countrymen regard us as mere children's tales, stories of a time long lost, but you have been listening to our voices since you were a child. We have been watching you, and now the time has come for you to take your rightful place as our chosen one. “

 

“But Hephaestus, I have no weapons. I do not know how to fight!”

 

“Trust us, dear child. Trust your instincts and your heart. At sunset, you will climb your way to the temple of Eurydice. The path lies now closed but it will be opened for you to climb. There, a statue dedicated to me will be holding gifts for you: the weapons and armor I have forged for you to use in your quest. You will also meet some of the other chosen warriors. Most of them have already left and I fear many of them will not return. You will train until the time comes for you to also leave your home and begin your quest. Do not let fear disturb your spirit, Sophitia. You have more strength than you realize! We depend on you, my child. Do not ignore your calling, for it is your destiny.”

 

“But Hephaestus, Hephaestus…!”

 

As the girl screamed his name, the Olympian started to fade and in instants, only specks of golden light were left in his place. In the blink of an eye, he was gone and the girl was left alone again. In a matter of instants, her life had been irrevocably changed.

 

“Hephaestus, I believe in you. I will be obedient and do what I've been chosen to. I will follow my destiny.”

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~

 

“¡Pardiez! I thought you were going down quickly but I must admit you've been a more capable opponent that I had thought. I underestimated you, girl.”

 

Cervantes' mouth curved into an evil smile as he parried the Greek's thrust. In turn, his left aimed for her sword arm but was stopped by the solid shield. Her sword whistled over his head, but he realized she had not hit flesh but had been very darned close as he noticed pieces of the white feather of his hat floating about his face. He couldn't still believe her weapons had resisted the fiercest of his blows. The corsair remembered the other Greeks he had faced and slain before, their weapons breaking in pieces as Soul Edge began to penetrate with its poison their feeble hearts. They had been skilled, yet they had been no match for the raw power of Soul Edge. However, this girl had managed to resist the curse that the menacing eye inflicted upon his enemies and as soon as her initial fear had subsided, she had fought fiercely and valiantly, pushing him to a defensive stance. He could feel Soul Edge's frustration and hunger increase. Its voice punished his mind, screaming for him to finish the battle so it could take over her soul. Cervantes could swear he could sense a hint of fear in the frantic obsession the sword dedicated to this particular victim. He knew soon Soul Edge was about to take over him and make him lose the control of the battle. He couldn't allow that to happen. Whenever Soul Edge had taken over, he would feel as if he were falling into a dizzy spell and much later, after recovering his conscience, witness countless disfigured corpses lying at his feet. Most of those times, he had found himself drenched in blood, both from the victims and also his, as the pain had made him realize in frustration and pain. The Spaniard had been Soul Edge's owner for longer than he could account for, yet he had never managed to completely submit the enchanted blade to his will. He possessed it yet he was not its master. He was merely a pawn, a tool of the sword when he had expected the opposite to happen. This fact enraged him yet he couldn't resist the utter seduction of the immense power he felt when he wielded it.

 

“Hurry up and finish her, Cervantes. I want her soul!” Soul Edge hissed in his mind. Cervantes didn't need to see the eye that stared at him furiously. He could feel the glare, burning him like a brand in his very own skin.

 

“Maldita espada del demonio. ¡Déjame en paz! No dejaré que me sigas manipulando. ¡Yo soy tu amo!”

 

“Oh, no, my dear Cervantes. You have it all wrong. You belong to me. You are mine, MINE!”

 

“Give up now Cervantes, and your life will be spared. I only want Soul Edge” De León managed to hear the Athenian say amidst the confusion of voices inside his head. The tip of her sword found his upper arm, leaving a crimson trail on his jacket. The pain clouded his mind and Cervantes felt his conscience slip away as Soul Edge took over. Soon, the cursed blade was again in complete control. He thirsted for the kill, he hungered for her blood. He was frantic and without any control or care, the possessed pirate lifted the mangled blades. As the girl deflected one furious attack, the other weapon managed to slip over her shield and the sharp edge found her soft, fair flesh.

 

Sophitia yelled as a scarlet liquid oozed from the white of her shirt. She moved backwards, as her hand instinctively went over her injured shoulder. Her fingertips sensed the dampness of the red substance that was now slipping down her arm.

 

Cervantes jumped towards his victim and the evil eye focused solely on the victim and the precious life it would take. Soul Edge was avid to taste her blood in its blade and to possess the pure, strong soul she had.

 

“Prepare to meet your doom!”

 

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~

 

 

Eurydice Shrine, Athens, Greece.

18 months before Spain

 

Surrounded by the spectacular background of the cloudless sky, two warriors met in fierce battle. The loud banging of metal against metal broke the serenity of the temple. Hours ago there had many several fighters meeting in mock fights, but as the sun began to hide, tinting the landscape in soft oranges and pale yellows, only two figures persevered in their practice. The taller one was muscular and tall, his head covered by a helm. The slimmer one moved with more difficulty, the tired state of her physique manifesting. The tall one suddenly managed to break the woman's defensive stance as his weight and strength seemed to have been concentrated on his shield arm, tracing a dazzling arc that ended over her own.

 

“I've got you now!”

 

“Ouch!”

 

The blow was devastating and her arm just couldn't hold it. The sheer strength of the impulse brought the maiden down. Her weapons clattered and made an awful sound as they fell alongside her. As she lifted her head, the glimmer of the tip of his sword greeted her at eye level. The warrior removed his helm and lowered the steel. His fierce expression softened, and a grin took the place of the scowl.

 

“Sophie, you need to remember to keep your balance” the warrior scolded. “You could have easily died had this been a real fight.”

 

An angry glare was all the answer she volunteered back.

 

“Easy for you to say, Ayax. It wouldn't be hard to believe you came out from your mother's womb already armed and trained.”

 

The armor-clad man chuckled and extended a hand to the girl. Hesitantly, she grabbed the man's hand and soon she was back on her feet. Her face was all red and the pain of the fall came to join the soreness of her arms, hands, legs, back and pretty much every single muscle and bone of her body. However, the physical pain wasn't the most urgent of her worries.

 

“Sophie, are you alright? I hope I wasn't too hard on you today.”

 

“Yes Ajax, I'm fine, just a little sore, but nothing a good warm bath and some sleep can't cure.”

 

“I don't mean physically. I think I`ve sparred long enough with you to have learned a thing or two about you. You seem particularly worried today. What's eating you?”

 

Sophitia sighed loudly, her shoulders slumping forward. Her countenance turned serious and a touch of sadness clouded her eyes.

 

“Ajax, do you think I have what it takes to become a skilled fighter? Do you think that this training will be enough for me to face Soul Edge?”

 

The warrior stood pensive, as a compassionate look arrived to his visage. He understood well what Sophitia was going through. Every warrior came to this epiphany in their lives; the moment when they must face their biggest foe: their own fears and doubts.

 

“Sophie…”

 

 

“I want you to be brutally honest. Just because I was chosen too doesn't mean I'll become a competent fighter all of a sudden. I'm not that naïve to think that with a couple of fencing lessons I'll be as good as you or any of the other warriors. It would be most pretentious of me to think that I can learn in months what you and the others have learned and practiced for years. I mean, while you were putting your life on the line for our country, facing pain and death, I was in the safety of my house, just going about the business of a normal girl.”

 

Sophitia's hand absentmindedly went to touch the hilt of the Omega sword that rested on her side in its scabbard. With a swift move, her short sword came out. Her hand ran over the smooth surface and the Athenian's glance was returned by pensive emerald orbs reflected on the fine blade. Taking in a deep breath, she continued:

 

“I can't really understand why he chose me, what he saw in me. He believes I'll be able to wield this and face great warriors and survive, but…but I don't know what to think anymore.”

 

“Sophitia, you know we have all been chosen for different reasons and because each of us has a special skill the gods believe it might serve to defeat Soul Edge. However, there's something you must remember. I know you must be very special to the gods to have one of their own approach you directly. You know very well we were picked by the priests, who in turn interpreted the oracles from Delphi. You, on the other hand, did not need their intervention. I can still remember when the sacred doors of Eurydice opened up for you. And remember the weapons? Before your arrival, there had not been any weapons placed on the statue of Hephaestus but a soon as you entred, they were there, waiting for you. Ours share the sacred iron, but they were forged by mortal hands, not by the god himself. The only other warrior who received the honor of wielding weapons created by the god was Captain Aeon Calcos, of the ancient order of the Spartan Knights. Sadly, no one has heard from him in a while.”

 

“What are you trying to say, Ajax?”

 

“That you are different from all of us. Your strength does not lie on your skills or your experience as a fighter. It resides in the strength of your faith and the purity of your heart. Your soul is untainted, Sophie. As long as you always remain true to who you are, I believe you will succeed where most of us have failed. Don't be discouraged. I believe in you and I know the gods made a great decision in choosing you. Besides, you have become a pretty decent fighter in just a couple of months. Your skills would have been unparallel had you been properly trained since you could hold a sword.”

 

“I don't think my father would have deemed prudent to have a little girl prancing around the bakery with a sword, but thank you for your kind words and the hope you still have on your apprentice.”

 

“It's nothing. Come, is nightfall already, and I'm starving. I bet you want to change into clean clothes and have some of the great meal Agenor must have prepared. If we don't hurry up, we might not even get the crumbs of the bread.”

 

Sophitia smiled, feeling as if her apprehensions and doubts had vanished with the last rays of the sun. Contended, she followed her teacher down the stairs hoping to catch a bite of the delicious meal.

 

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~

 

 

Sparks flew as metal clashed against metal. Under the Mediterranean dusk, the warriors clashed in mortal combat. One fought to keep what he believed in his insanity was his to keep and master. The other, fought for righteousness, for peace.

 

The pirate's left blade dug into the Athenian's right thigh before her shield could lower to protect the area. She hissed, gripping her teeth in an effort to smother the scream that had formed in her throat. She wasn't going to allow him the pleasure of seeing her in pain. The Spaniard smirked. He knew she wasn't going to last much longer. Her cute white and blue outfit was a disaster. Ripped, pierced and torn, tainted in blood and sweat, it reflected well the state of the warrior who was wearing it. Her face was pale, her breathing labored and her attacks were becoming sloppy and imprecise. With a boastful grin, Cervantes said:

 

“Why do you resist? You know you can't defeat me. Don't make this harder upon yourself. Give up and I'll make your death quick and painless.”

 

“Liar!” Sophitia spat back.

 

“Yeah, guess you saw me through, but that doesn't change the fact that you'll die anyway.”

 

“No! I have to defeat you. I have to destroy Soul Edge. It is my duty!”

 

“Cervantes, don't fall for her lies! She wants to take me away from you. She wants the power I possess. You have to annihilate her!” Soul Edge whispered inside Cervantes' mind. The sole suggestion of parting with his precious sword raised the insanity level of the pirate's already waning sanity to alarming rates. His eyes were almost bulging out of its orbits. The thick veins in his neck looked like roots of a deformed, leafless tree. A loud, bark of a laughter exploded out of his mouth.

 

“Ah, you want to make me believe you want to destroy it, but you're not better than the others who have faced me. You also covet its power; you are seduced by what it can do. But no one, not you, not anyone will take it away from me! Now DIEEE!!!”

 

The shorter sword in his left arm whistled as it cut the air vertically. Sophitia's survival instinct triggered a response that rushed from her brain's cortex to her sword hand. Both blades met in a strident clash as the fighters concentrated all their stamina and remaining strength into their sword arms. A flash blinded both as a shattering sound suddenly startled both. Spiderweb-like cracks appeared on the shorter twin of Soul Edge, covering the surface of the blade that wasn't smothered by the coarse skin-like organic material. The eye on the larger weapon grew, its unnatural pupil dilating and staring at all directions in utter desperation, shouting a silent scream as it witnessed how small pieces of its companion began chipping out, followed by larger shards.

 

“Nooo, it can't be! Half of Soul Edge is breaking!”

 

Cervantes's body began to tremble, violent spasms running all over him as he began to howl like a wounded beast. The ghastly light that emanated from the breaking weapon blinded Sophitia and her shield came up to avoid the piercing light. The sword floated about as more and more of the blade kept crumbling and the pirate kept his ghoulish wailing, his hands and knees hitting the soil. Suddenly, the larger pieces of the smaller blade seemed to stir as if the were alive and in a fraction of a second, they hurled themselves towards the person who had been responsible for its destruction. Sophitia managed to position her shield to cover her head and torso. The shield took the sharp shards as they impaled themselves unto its surface loudly with an almost deafening sound. Others, successfully deflected, lay lifeless on the ground. As the pieces kept impacting her sacred hoplon, she managed to see the pirate on the floor as he held his head like it if were about to explode as his wailing came out hoarse, his lips speaking words she couldn't understand. The Athenian did not see more of the corsair as her attention went to the cracking sound that came from her shield. In horror, she discovered that the shards had spliced the sturdy surface and it was now splitting in half. As what remained of her shield felt to the ground, Sophitia felt as she had been burned with a hot rod drenched in a hydra's blood, the pain and numbness running down her left arm. Her eyes managed to see a shard impaled on her forearm. The pain hit her again, now in the abdomen, as a larger shard had plunged into her lower torso. She couldn't hold the screams and the long tears that welled upon her eyes anymore. Her hands went to the injury as her mind fought the darkness that was clouding her consciousness and her sight. The Athenian felt her whole body was being possessed by a liquid fire that seemed to consume her from the inside out. The pain was unbearable and she realized she was passing out. Her legs folded under her and she fell down. As her cheek touched the irregular surface of the ground, she sensed a shadow hover over her. She steeled herself for her imminent demise.

 

“Gods, may you grant me your mercy and safe passage to Elysium” she managed to murmur.

 

Time stood still, and the Greek wasn't sure if it was provoked by the delirium from the pain. The sound of battle cries and the distant sounds of swords clashing reached her ears.

 

“Who, who are you? How you dare interrupt my vengeance?” Sophitia heard De León spew irritated.

 

“Now you will pay with your life the evil you have brought upon these lands. Oni, Shin'ne!!”

 

 

A bellow that seemed to shake the ground around her exploded out of nowhere, making the hairs on her arms stand on end. She could sense the temperature change to a haunting chill. The world seemed to sink into darkness and she braced for the end. The Greek had expected the sensation of cold steel splicing her body in two, extinguishing her life but instead, she felt as she was being lifted up. Warmth and an exotic scent surrounded her. A female voice with an accent she couldn't recognize murmured:

 

“You'll be alright, young one. Just be strong and you'll make it!”

 

Sophitia looked up and saw almond eyes as dark as a raven's wing lock with hers. Half of the warrior's face was covered by a mask, but by the coloring of the skin and the features she could make from what the mask allowed to reveal, she understood she was from the faraway lands of the Orient. Weakly, she managed to mutter:

 

“Thank…thank you.”

 

The woman nodded and as Sophitia was being whisked away, her body and mind fell into a merciful sleep.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~

 

Athens, Greece

8 years after Spain

 

Sophitia stood up from her praying stance. As she accustomed to do on this date, she had awakened early and after sharing breakfast with her family, she had left for Eurydice. It was a special day for her; it had been eight years since she had received Hephaestus oracle that fateful afternoon in the forest spring; eight years her life as a common girl had been transformed into the life of a sacred warrior on a quest to destroy a wicked weapon.

 

Her emerald eyes went to the altar where her weapons laid. Beside, carefully folded, a golden papyrus was also kept. There, the names of the other heroes who had also been chosen were listed. Cyrus, Ajax, Hylas, Aeon…all of them had prayed and sparred and whn the time came, they had begun their quest from this very same temple. None of them had returned. None, but her. The evidence of her first quest, the shard that had almost taken her life, still remained covered by the crystal urn. Her mind listed other names that weren't on the papyrus, yet those resonated deeply inside her heart. Cassandra, Rothion, Patroklos, Phyrra. They too had also been reached by the long hands of Soul Edge, but through her intervention and the will of the gods, they had been spared from a most tragic destiny.

 

The strong, cold wind that blew over Eurydice seemed to whisper to her a message only she could understand; words of caution, of vigilance. For she knew well that sadly, Soul Edge was still somewhere out there in the world, and until it was banished for good, her spirit would always remain restless, her hand would be ready to pick up her sword once more and her feet willing to embark on a new adventure. Sounds of several feet climbing up the marbled stairs brought her out of her thoughts. The tall figure of her husband entered the sacred temple. Behind him, she could hear the muffled voices of her sister and children.

 

“Sophie. Did you finish your prayers?”

 

“Yes, Rothion, I'm done.”

 

“Sophie, hurry up. These two are really a handful!” Cassandra shrieked, as she ran towards her elder sibling with her nephew and niece closing in. The children giggled and Cassandra sprinted to the opposite side of Eurydice with the kids on tow, trying to lose them.

 

Sophitia smiled, admiring the scene of having all her loved ones with her at that very special moment. She knew it was most prudent to keep the news to herself until a more appropriate moment arrived. As she moved to join her family, she glanced back one last time to the altar. Yes, it was still there, the Athenian acknowledged. Sitting atop the figure of Hephaestus stood a white owl, its plumage as pure as the first snow of winter. The unusual bird was the unequivocal symbol of Pallas Athena, patron of her beloved city and goddess of prudent warfare. The bird had arrived at the same time she had and it had remained in the temple, observing the warrior carefully with its big yellow eyes. Sophitia nodded towards the owl with a slight shake of her head. The bird chirped and took flight in a flap of wings to the boundless blue sky as the children watched it enraptured. As she turned around, Rothion's dark eyes locked with hers. Words were not needed between them. The message the winged messenger conveyed was clear.

 

“When?” Rothion said softly, extending his hand towards his wife.

 

Sophitia took his hand as she leaned against him. They walked in silence for a few instants, listening to the laughter of the children, admiring the majestic and peaceful view of her homeland.

 

“Soon. Very soon, and this time, I will finish my task.”

 

 

~The End~

 

 

 

Glossary:

 

Hoplon - Greek for small, round shield.

Pardiez - Castillian curse; damn.

3.“Maldita espada del demonio. ¡Déjame en paz! No dejaré que me sigas manipulando. ¡Yo soy tu amo!”

Translation: Damned sword from hell. Leave me alone. I will not allow you to keep manipulating me. I am your master!

4. Shin'ne - Japanese for “die.”

5. Oni - Japanese for demon.

 

 

AN:

For those who haven't played Soul Blade or the first Soul Calibur, you might be unfamiliar with the events narrated here. This is an attempt to narrate Sophitia's transition from a baker's daughter to the sacred warrior of Hephaestus who defeated Cervantes. For those who have followed the Soul series from the PS1, well, here's finally a fic featuring the infamous bath scene from Soul Blade's intro! ^^; Hope you've enjoy it.

 

Comments, reviews, rants because your favorite character did not appear; send them all to regie027@yahoo.com.