Destiny

Destiny As the clash of swords quickly rose to a roar, Raiden the Insurgent sought out his main target. Dressed more elaborately than nearby subordinates, the Head of the Imperial Guard soon found himself locked in combat with the Insurgent whose name was already spoken as a legend. “Surrender,” spat the Guard after a series of defensive blows, “and perhaps the Emperor will spare your life.” “Never!” cried Raiden with a fierce strike. “His reign ends with the day!” “You fool,” said the Guard, even as the movements of his sword became more frantic. “You cannot hope to withstand his might.” “I must,” responded Raiden. With one last strike, he disarmed his opponent, then raised his blade for the killing blow. “It is my destiny.” The Emperor looked down from the peak of his citadel and mourned his city in flames. The rebellion, led by the madman Raiden, had already breached the citadel and had risen almost to its peak. But to the Emperor, that mattered little. Within moments, Raiden burst into the room, sword in hand but leading no forces. “No mindless throng to accompany you?” asked the Emperor. He still kept his back to the door as he watched smoke waft up from the flames below. “I thought it fitting that the guide of the new age confront the guardian of the old… alone.” Raiden carefully advanced toward the Emperor, his sword not raised but still at the ready. “And do you ever wonder why the old age still stands? Do you fail to realize the unifying power of an invincible ruler?” “It never seemed important. It certainly won’t be soon.” At last the Emperor turned, his eyes searing Raiden with a cold indifference. “And if the guardian prevails,” he said with a voice more frigid than his gaze, “will your ‘new age’ go away and let me be?” “Your guards know, or knew, I suppose, as well as I do that my death would end the rebellion, just as yours will end the Empire. Even if the rebels came to avenge me, you could easily escape, returning to reclaim your position after the dust settled.”

The Emperor pulled his sword from its sheath on his back. The regal blade gleamed wickedly in the light as it streamed in through the windows. “Surrender, Raiden,” he said. “Even hermits know of my skill, and only fools think they can match it. Your dreams of ‘destiny’ cannot stand in the face of reality: I am better than you.” As he gazed at the Emperor’s sword, Raiden felt himself gripped by an icy fear. Truthfully, tales of the Emperor’s swordsmanship were legendary. He could stand against forces that would destroy normal men with ease. “And if I surrender,” managed Raiden, his throat dry, “will I be spared?” “Of course,” replied the Emperor. “You would have no reason not to fight me if both decisions resulted in death by my hand.” Raiden threw his sword to the ground, where it clanged loudly on the tile. “I suppose… you must be right.” He hung his head. “If destiny even exists, it is not mine. I cannot be destined to perform great acts.” He pulled a small knife out of his pocket, making as if to throw it on the ground with his sword. “But why should that stop me?” With a sudden set of fluid motions, he sent it flying toward the Emperor’s heart. The knife was destined to hit its mark.