This is the epilogue. If you haven't read the story, go and start at the first post.
With the last sword he would ever make between his hands, Ling walked to the Emperor himself. All his sons were around him. Beautiful, in its own way, these four men with the power of a nation. Tyrants were beautiful for being able to hold onto the power they had, but not much else. “As Sora’s crimes were avenged,” Ling said, “So too will yours be.”
Gripping the blade, Ling swung from the left to the right, blade extending itself to reach each neck in its way. Once the last cut was made, he fluidly moved and ran for the exit of the huge room he had found himself in. Guards were running at him, so he slashed at as many as he could, more charging through the halls. “Others like me will rend the evil you bring to this world, for justice must be done! I am not the last! MY FURY IS THE HERALD OF CHANGE, OF REBIRTH! OUT OF THIS WORLD IN DARKNESS WILL COME FRAGMENTS OF LIGHT, WHICH WILL ILLUMINATE WHAT IS KNOWN AS “TRUTH”! THE RIGHTEOUS WILL BE FREED, AND IN THE FINAL HOURS OF THIS EXISTENCE THE HEROES OF OLD WILL RISE FROM THE GRAVE TO STOP THE ENCOMPASSING DARKNESS! YOU WILL BE DESTROYED! YOU WILL BE—“
Finally, one man stood up in front of him and stabbed him in the chest. Mercy for a madman, but cursed for killing a prophet.
As it was foretold by Ling, as the world stepped out of darkness into what we call the present, glimmers of light were shining on a darkened world. Nearly destroyed by the chaos and evil caused by Sora and the Emperor, fragments of existence were being mended, healed. Justice, flawed by concepts of right and wrong, is still broken. Ling’s swords haven’t been found. Yet.
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