Death is an innocent guilt. Bringing its shame upon the bearer, the victim, and the witness. Only those that sever their soul and, thus, their humanity, could ever claim to stare into its hallow eyes with not a flinch. The one who truly fails to fear its grasp is but a legend. And, that, she had become.

It would be saddening, she thought. Although she had long bathed in the crimson stench, swam within, and thrived in revealing it from the pores of her victims--she was only human. Till this day, the misery of her life was ever her regret. She had claimed the injustice the world dealt her and followed the thorned path since she could first walk. Yet, she also knew, everything was by her own blood, soaked, hands and everything would end through it.

"My own shadow," He sighed, reminiscent of the events that led to this point. His pure white draconic staff shook in his thin hands, the golden orb atop it's structure gleamed and reflected the lights of the chandelier.

For a brief moment, she thought she could laugh. However, that very taste of emotion had been wiped from her as well. Truly, this master of hers, had created the perfect blade. From an unsharpened rock came a gleaming edge soothed spotlessly for cutting.

"Nothing more," She murmured onto herself, unwilling to remember the torture of her training. Her legs shifted across the pristine marble floors of the grand hall. She couldn't help but glance at her hazy image that shone upon its surface.

A cold figure glanced back, unwavering.

With a flicker of her blade, as if it were sand, the image vanished, replaced only by the piercing gaze of her silver eyes etched into her sword.

"It was long fated," She looked at the man, sitting upon his throne as if an emperor, overlooking this world of pure purgatory.

"Everything returns to the beginning. Humans become ash and overlords fall back into the infinite slumber of the earth. Even you knew the last blood I would draw could only be yours."

He chuckled, his youthful face unnerved, "I don't need to be reminded of my own teachings. Inevitable, we clash...you grew too fast."

16 years.

What a cruel life she had lived. She knew nothing but battle, nothing but fighting, nothing but killing, nothing but war--knowing nothing but the sword. The countless screams her blade had tore through still rung fearless in her ears. Thousands, men and beasts alike, he killed all in the midst of his path. She killed any that dared oppose his words. He wanted Ascension and she was his perfect Shadow.

She stared at her weapon. Herself.

Her silver eyes streaked in tears, she cried, seeing the forever hazy silhouettes of her parents. A glimmer of a moment, elapsing upon her blade and vanishing just the same to be replaced by determined eyes.

White lightning sparked, coursing through her weapon as a verse left her lips, "This world is a cage. This world is beauty, holding legends. This world shines in luster, vain to the dangers that creep within. This world is held so dear, in stark bain of the chaos it brings. In the end, everyone suffers for this beautiful world."

His staff raised, the very world felt heavy upon her shoulders as she readied her weapon.

"Everything, in fate, one step at a time," She rang those words she would forever believe.

Grasping her blade with both hands, a streak of lightning coursed her very being. She took a step. Her figure shot forwards, the area exploded, shattering the marble floor.

"I am Maria Springfield."

With each step, her face inched closer to his grin.

She produced a dry smile.

She was built to battle. Even at the edge of death, she would forever enjoy the delight.

"Forever a Crimson Blade."

Her silver blade gleamed crimson. A color she was all too familiar with, a warmth long accustomed to.

She swung.