act five: nothing left to fear
He kicked up the dust of that long abandoned battlefield, that place where he had came to reclaim his legacy, his right to be called the god of war. He stared at the skeletons that littered the battlefield, the dark yellow-brown sky that loomed over the faded landscape of ghosts and nightmares. Some of the fallen still clutched their weapons in their hands, others were broken and scattered across the land.
The scavengers of the world had abandoned this place long ago, as mother nature herself seemed to keep all her children from expanding into the wasteland left behind by their war. No plantlife, no insect, no living organism remained... nothing but memories of life and the horrors those lives faced at the end of it all.
He smiled, a smile of those memories he held... memories that many would call nightmares of their own mind. Memories he cherished more than anything else in life, those memories of the day when he had finally risen back to the top of the world.
Many years before that day, he had been such a name and a force among the people of the land... he held a place of higher authority and respect, and he prospered in the landscape of the time. He was happy in those days, among friends he could trust in and people who cared for him. Yet as those days then turned to months, and those months did turn to years... he felt the times change around him, and suddenly he was a forgotten name, a face of a past that no-one seemed to even recall.
It was a terrible thing, those days of realization for him. He felt as though all he had ever known was simply taken away from him, and he was left to pick up the leftover fragments of his past life and try to move on. Because of this, he grew determined... determined to do more than simply make a new life for himself, he was determined to start over as someone who could never possibly fade away.
Thus, from that day forward, he set out on his mission. He had heard the rumors, wars were brewing in the far north, and a field of battle had been chosen for the final showdown of the great generals of the nations. Soon, his time would come to rise to the front of them all... and while it was true that he himself was no general, he knew that the battle would attract more than just power-hungry generals to the fray.
He knew there would be others who too would come to try and take control. Former leaders, rulers thirsting for that power again, everyday people simply overcome with greed. The place of battle would be a field of dying dreams and bloodshed at the end of it all, and the land would be choked by the blood of the fallen.
Ryan Coleman, a man who considered himself the finest of all the elite soldiers of his nation, chose to step into battle that day... and he emerged from the sea of sticky red behind him as the sole survivor.
He remembered his battles well, and all the struggles he had gone through to make it out of the field alive in the end. He remembered the young warrior who came upon him in the beginning, his warcry fierce and his weapon held high. He remembered their battle, the fierce thing that it was... and he remembered the sound of that young warrior's head making impact, alone, with the ground below. He remembered the sound of that young warrior's body making impact shortly after.
Yet beyond that moment, the war still continued. It was a war seemingly without end, yet as the numbered whittled down there were only three still fighting forward. One was himself, and all the desire he'd held to finally pull out from the fade he'd fallen into. A young woman whose desire for greatness seemed to outshine all the strength of the men who had faced her in battle. An old man he'd remembered entering his nation towards the end of his prosperous years.
The two of them did give each other hell as he tried his best to rest after the grueling struggles he'd been through, and that rest alone was enough for him to capitalize as one did triumph over the other. He stood and was quickly upon the victor of the battle, striking them down before they'd even the chance to realize what had happened.
The god of war smiled, the memory was a wonderful one. No longer was he in danger of fading away thanks to that day... because of his actions, because of his urgency, he had overcame the odds that had faced him. As he came upon the place where that great battle had taken place, where he had earned his right to be hailed above all others... he wondered how nature had treated his place of glory. Was it, too, nothing more than a wasteland? Was it a place of honor, or of mourning? A place of celebration, or hatred?
His questions would soon be answered as dust turned to solid ground, and ground soon gave way for the lush of growing grass in a place where grass should have never been able to grow again. The god of war stood in confusion, wondering why such a thing was before him, wondering how on earth that small patch of land continued to live despite all the death that did surround it.
In the center of the lush green grass lay a lone skeleton, its hands still clutched around a fallen sword. Beside it sat a shadowed figure, its own weapon shining in a sunlight that seemed to come from nowhere at all. The figure was dressed in heavy robes and had its head lowered, but as Ryan Coleman took a step into that field of grass... he realized exactly what was before him.
The old man stood from his place and chuckled softly, turning and letting loose the robes that had concealed him all along. His eyes locked with the shellshocked god of war, and the old man carefully drew forth his weapon.
"I have waited for this day to come... and you have made it so."
Standing before the god of war was a man he had thought he'd struck down all those many years ago, a man who had triumphed in his own battle only to fall at its end at the hands of an unknown assailant.
At the hands of Ryan Coleman.
The god of war drew forth his own weapon, a foreign emotion seeming to fill his mind. For all too long, he had known nothing but the glorious feeling of battle, and the satisfaction of cementing his memory across the land. Yet, now, a feeling he had felt all too long ago seemed to finally be coming to surface once more... and he did not recognize this feeling. He did not know what to do about this feeling, nor how to handle himself because of it.
Thus, he did the only thing he truly did know how to do... the god of war fought forward.
Against a man who had waited all those years for him to return, against a man he never thought he'd have to face again.
Against a man who had nothing left to fear.