[Wild Goose]

Originally Posted by Nijiru

I've just discovered something called "The Universal Mary Sue Litmus Test", ( http://www.springhole.net/quizzes/marysue.htm ) and was wondering if anyone else here has used it before.

It's a revised version of the original "Mary Sue Litmus Test" which was tried out a bit.I ran two charecter concepts into it: 1st was an Airborne officer who was among the 2nd group of paratroopers, nominated for the Medal of Honor (highest US Military award for valor), received the Distinguished Service Cross (2nd highest award for valor), led a 12-man team in an assault on a fixed position with only 1 casualty while being outnumbered, had that same assault studied for the next 60 years as a classic example of what to do right, was a badass and ass kicker in his own right, and was widely respectly and greatly loved by his men.

2nd was a kid from the country who competed in the Wimbeldon Cup, set the world record for longest sniper kill, and was hailed as THE one and only Marine Sniper, setting a recond and a reputation that continued to be upheld as the gold standard of sniping in the Marine Corps, creating a legacy of training and teaching that survives to this day.

Both of them scored ratings of: "TOTAL SUE KILL IT WITH FIRE."

The names of those two men: Major Richard E Winters, Easy Company, and Gunnery Sergeant Carlos Hathcock, Marine Sniper.

Originally Posted by mamott99

Show that to Kha and he'll emo over the results.

Probably that's what caused the whole breakdown and "Kha is dead! I am Meister Babylon! I have a Canon!" e-drama a while ago. Nevermind that in thought, word and deed, Kha remains very much alive, legend and name notwithstanding, or that he only exists, by his own admission, to troll and post khrack, worldbuilding being a secondary concern.

Originally Posted by MeisterBabylon

Yeah.

*kicks the corpse of Kha*

Hilarious results indeed.

Now now, you should be true to yourself. Even if you've changed the name, the core is still the same. All you killed was just a legend - but the core remains the same, even if you've changed your legend.

Explanation in advance: A legend, also known as a cover (though legend is the industry term and refers to the person, wheras cover is the whole packacge) refers to the personal identity details of the person; for example, in NCIS Season 4, while undercover, the legend used by Tony DiNozzo was that of Film Professor Anthony DiNardi. The legend referred to his personal details: name, mannerisms, habits etc. The cover as a whole referred to the other aspects of his identity: job, house, etc.

Originally Posted by Tempest Dynasty

Ehh.

So I wrote this in as a way of jumpstarting my brain to write more. I should have Gospel done by the end of the month.

In any case...

Spoiler for a bedtime story:

Babysitting was not a common job for a knight to have, especially in a close-knit “family” of the
Four Aces. If one babysitter was unavailable, a number of replacements were usually ready to
take up the role. Yet, some days, everything just comes together and ties everyone up. Nanoha,
Fate, and Yuuno had gone off for a private night out; Hayate had to work late, as did Keroko;
the Wolkenritter all had their own thing to do – Babysitter Prime Zafira was actually on a well-
deserved outing of his own with; the Harlaown family were away on a short vacation. All the other
possible choices were unavailable as well, leaving poor Vivio and sleepover friend Syn to their
lonesome in an empty home… for a total of three seconds.

Then Noland Reiniger stepped through the front door with a large pizza and chocolate cake for
dinner. Approval was immediate.

One unhealthy dinner later, the children were left to discover new ways to amuse themselves with
their fresh victim. These activities included events such as braiding the knight’s long hair, make
Noland speak in that funny accent, hide-and-seek with the blind man, and climbing the moving
giant Mount Noland. Syn in particular was a great fan of the first two activities. Alas, time waits
for no one, and the dreaded bedtime soon reared its ugly head. However, the girls were far too
excited to simply plop down in bed and close their eyes.

Oh no. They needed something to carry them to sleep.

“We’re not tired, though,” Vivio looked at her babysitter with still-very-awake eyes.

“I know, lady Vivio, but your mother specifically said that you be put to bed at this time,” Noland
said while tucking the child in.

“But we won’t be able to sleep at all!” Syn supported her friend from her own sleeping
arrangement: the other side of Vivio’s bed.

“I understand, but please realize that I must also follow my instructions, lady Syn,” he went about
tucking the other girl in, earning an unseen blush from her. She rather liked this doting behavior,
and she secretly loved being called ‘lady.’

“Booooo~!” Discontent in stereo.

“Then, what shall we do?” the knight plopped down on to a stool near the two girls. “The
instructions stated that you be in bed, but there was nothing said about being asleep.”

They were silent for a moment due to surprise, but soon enough they were racking their brains for
possible things to do while trapped under blankets. A few ideas passed between the two, but
neither could come to an agreement on something. Finally, they took to simply bouncing ideas off
of their babysitter, seeking something that could be worth their while. Many failed, except for one…

“Um… then, what about… a bedtime story?”

“A bedtime story?” Noland echoed, his head cocked slightly to the side.

“Yeah! A really good one! None of that already-written book junk!” Syn put her two cents in.

“Well, I do know of one, but are you girls sure you are not too old for it?”

“Story~! Story~!” the girls were soon chanting.

A quiet chuckle escaped the blind knight, “Haha, very well then. I shall tell you a tale I heard
many a frozen night from my grandparents. But I warn you, it is not your typical tale.”

Vivio and Syn were watching Noland with rapt attention as he took a readying breath.

“A long time ago, in a place and time far removed from our own, there was a knight and a fair
lady—”

“BZZZT! Penalty! Cliché beginning!” Syn made a large X with her arms.

“Erm…”

“Syyynnnn! Stop that! He didn’t even start yet!” Vivio jumped to Noland’s defense. “Let him
start!”

“Oh fine…” she grumbled and settled back into her sheets “This better be awesome…”

“Ahem, yes…”

A knight and his lady, a pair you could find in any fantasy. Yet, she was not some meek fairy of
a girl, but a powerful sorceress in her own right. Whereas the knight was a master of arms and
war, the lady was master of the arcane. Indeed, she was like a kind witch, tempering her powers
to protect the meek and the poor.

“Like Nanoha-mama!” Vivio chimed in.

“Yes, like lady Nanoha,” Noland nodded with a smile.

The people loved her, and by her compassion she brought the strong Knight to her side.

“Like Auntie Vita!”

“Hmm, I suppose you could put those two in…”

“Ne, could Noland be the Knight too?” Syn asked

“I could, but who would be the storyteller? Worry not too much of appearances, lady Vivio,
lady Syn, and focus on the story instead” he ruffled the girls’ hair playfully with a chuckle. “Now
then, where was I…? Oh yes. The Witch’s noble actions caught the attentions of a brave and
strong Knight…”

However, they were not immediately attracted. On the contrary, the Witch was suspicious and
guarded, while the Knight thought her loud and unworthy of such praise. Despite their mutual
distrust, they possessed the same mission: to protect the people that needed them. Over time,
they grew to understand each other, the two seeing the other’s strength. The Witch learned the
Knight to be loyal and honorable, yet firm – The Knight discovered the Witch to be fierce, just,
but humble. Together, they defeated bandits, toppled tyrants, purged the corrupted and freed the
oppressed. And together… they found love. The people cheered, seeing that their beloved Witch
had found happiness, and for a little while, they were content.

Until one day, mysterious men in dark cloaks rode in on black horses upon the tiny cottage that
stood on top of a small, quiet hill. In the shadows of night, while her lover was out, they attacked.
Despite her strength, the Witch was subdued and captured by these dark riders.

“You are a sin! A curse upon this world!” they cried, dragging her from her warm home. “Your
very existence dooms us all!”

“No! Stop! I do not know what you mean!” the Witch cried fruitlessly, her struggles strangely
useless against her captors. What of her magic? Why was it useless?

“Be silent, wretch! We will free your damned soul from this cursed life, and you will find peace
then.”

Into the night, they rode. By morning’s light, nary a sign they had come. The Knight returned to a
broken home, a peaceful life forever shattered. Fury burned deeply within his soul as he gathered
his armor and readied his sword, a single-minded desire to save his beloved and punish those
who would dare defile their peace.

Over great distances he traveled, following the dark ones in their desperate exodus. The hills and
the valleys did little to slow him, his rage granting him strength beyond his limits. When he finally
cornered the ones he sought, he discovered his beautiful, wonderful Witch garbed in purest white,
lay quietly upon an ancient alter. She seemed much more frail here, her thin arms and pale, lithe
body were like porcelain. Her hair fanned out like a giant, glorious halo, and her gentle face
seemed to be at peace. Indeed, there was his angel…

Dead.

The Knight was too late.

“That’s not fair!”

“It seldom is, lady Syn,” Noland gave her a sad smile, nodding empathetically with the girl’s
frustration. “But do listen longer, for this tale is not yet over.”

The Witch was supposedly sacrificed to prevent some unknown foretold disaster, her soul
released from its cursed destiny. There was nothing more the Knight could do, his anguished
tears falling upon the cold, lifeless flesh of his beloved. In a howl of rage, the Knight drew his
blade and slew the priests that had conducted the ceremony, their blood staining the sacred
temple in which this had all transpired. Despite their frightened cries, the Knight showed no
mercy in punishing those he deemed guilty.

“This is the very calamity you feared!” he bellowed as he cut down an acolyte, barely in his teens,
yet as guilty as the rest of them. “You bring this upon yourself! Your own fears, not her, have
brought this tragedy to your doorstep!”

His sword flashed and split the air, striking down the final man responsible. Amidst a sea of
corpses, the Knight stood alone.

“This is only the beginning.”

With bloodstained hands, he gathered the Witch into a thick blanket and departed. He
remembered a story from long ago, of the power of dragons. Ancient wyrms, the greatest and
wisest of all living beings, they possessed powers beyond mortal comprehension. Good and evil,
cruel and benevolent, dragons were almost like gods. In particular, the Knight recalled the tale
of the Black Dragon. Amongst the mightiest of his kind, the Black Dragon established himself as
an extremely powerful magic user. Though the rest of his draconic brethren could wield arcane
might, the Black Dragon tapped into strange and mystical energies that no other could. This
greed and desire for power would manifest itself when the Black Dragon obtained the most taboo
of forbidden magicks: control over life itself.

“Of life?” Vivio interrupted.

“Yes, life,” Noland nodded. “You see, before the Black Dragon’s rise, death was a natural thing
that no living being could avoid. Though others have struggled against it, they are ultimately futile.
Even those whom the powers of necromantic magic could not reverse a man’s death. But the
Black Dragon… he could bring a soul back to its body and effectively resurrect a person. He
had unlocked immortality. This unnatural manipulation of life was a grave insult to the processes
of nature, a power that no one should ever be able to have.”

The other dragons and their servants were quick to realize the implications of such power,
rallying together as a grand army to oppose the Black Dragon. Yet, those who feared the
embrace of death flocked to the Black Dragon’s side, the promise of eternal life too great to
pass up. Though the combined dragons’ forces were mighty, the Black Dragon possessed an
army that almost rivaled it. There was great and bloody battle, and at its end, the Black Dragon
was defeated. His power was sealed away and split up between the remaining dragons: the red,
the yellow, the orange, the green, and blue, the white, the gold, the silver, the bronze, the copper,
the brass, and the iron. Scattered throughout the land, the Black Dragon’s power would never
been seen again for millennia. Today, only remnants and memories of these beasts remain.

The Knight had heard rumors of a shrine dedicated to the Black Dragon, still standing after all
these years. Following these whispers, he came upon lifeless ruins, long ransacked and devoid
of life. There were no markings or signs that attributed the ruins to the Black Dragon, yet he
knew they were in the right place. Upon a flat alter he lay the wrapped body of the Witch, still
beautiful and unsullied by their journey. The temple was silent save for the whispers of a gentle
breeze with the quiet rattle of tall weeds. A still pool with crystal clear water was nearby.

“I know you are there, fallen dragon god! Hear me! I beseech you! I need… I need your
power…”

His words were swallowed up by the silence.

“You know of desire. That is why you became what you are, and that is why I am here! I
desire… I desire the power of life!”

Nothing.

“Please! Do not forsake me… Do not abandon me as this world has…”

The breeze tugged at the dirtied cloak on his back, but he would hear nothing. Despair had nearly
engulfed his entire being when suddenly, he heard…

How far man has fallen, mewling to a long forgotten existence such as I…

It was a mere whisper, easily mistaken to be the wind, but the Knight could hear the ancient
wisdom behind those words.

The Knight’s heart leapt in excitement. “You heard me!”

A child such as you… has such a strong desire. At the very least, my curiosity is piqued. Why
do you desire the forbidden magic?

“She… My Witch… her soul was sacrificed because of fear. They called her a curse, that she
would bring calamity upon the land. I… such a thing is impossible for a kind soul like her! She
had given so much, worked so hard to better the lives of the people around her, and they reward
her with death?! I reject that! So I come before you, dragon god, to help bring her back.”

A moment of silence passed, as if the spirit was mulling

Typical humans, fearing that which you do not understand. I know your pain, for I too was
punished for those reasons. However such a request is impossible for me. I am but a mere ghost
of my former glory, and possess little power beyond watching over what very little I have left. I
can do nothing to help you.

“So… there is nothing…?” Despair threatened to crush his very soul.

No. Not the current I. However, if you believe yourself capable, there are… solutions.

“There are? Then please, tell me!”

My power was stripped from me and sealed within the bodies of the twelve ancient wyrms, the
eldest and strongest of the dragons, one of every race. It is their burden, passed on with every
successor. However, if that dragon is to perish without the proper ritual, the power would be
released into the world… and back to me.

“I… I see… t-then my quest would be…” the Knight trailed off, already knowing what he would
have to do.

Slay the twelve dragons and return to me my power. Then, will I grant your wish and bring back
your beloved Witch.

“But such a task… it is a feat to even find a dragon, much less slay one. How could I kill an
ancient wyrm?!

Do you not wish to see the Witch alive once more? Then you must perform these tasks.

“I have no greater desire than to see her with me once more, but what you ask is too much! I am
but one man! How can I defeat twelve of what man call gods?!”

It is indeed a difficult quest. Nothing can be done to make it any easier. Even so, you know the
prize you will receive. Will you not even try?

“This… this is my only path. To stray from it now would be to lose everything that I have ever
held dear to me… I am… I am incomplete without her…”

Go, then. Seek out the White Dragon to the south, in the frozen lands. He sleeps within the
mountain of ice, and is the weakest among us. Dip your blade into the pool of water, and you
will have guidance to your goals. Go, and return quickly in victory.

The Knight unsheathed his blade, a once brilliant and shining sword that identified him as much
as he himself could, yet now it was a ruined weapon with still uncleaned blood from before.
However, upon touching the pure water of the pool, the weapon was cleansed of taint and
returned to its brilliance. He gazed at the Witch once more, her form seemingly sleeping upon
that stone alter. Soon, soon they would be reunited, be it in death or once again in life.

The White Dragon of the south slept within a giant glacier, an unforgiving land of ice and cold.
Men rarely stepped foot on in this harsh place, yet the Knight carried on. The White Dragon was
supposedly the weakest of all the dragons, as well as the most feral. It was still a dragon,
however, and the strongest of its kind. The Knight did not find it easy to traverse the glacier, let
alone climb the merciless ice to face his foe. His will was strong, his soul forcing his tired and cold
body through this world of rime and guided by his sword, until at last he faced the mighty White
Dragon. Ancient and powerful, the Dragon breathed a cone of frost that froze the very air, an
onslaught that the Knight could barely defend from. Yet, he mustered on, weathering through the
raking claws and icy breath and struggling to pierce the beast’s thick hide. The battle was long
and arduous, both combatants bearing wounds of battle. Despite his mortality and weaker
presence, the Knight managed to strike several decisive blows against his opponent. As the
dragon reared his head back for another breath of frost, he dashed in, thrusting his sword into
the beast’s breast. It pierced! And it would be the deathblow, as the dragon gave its final roar
of agony… then fell over dead.

For several long moments, he did not move. The stress of the battle kept him still, his arm still
extended in the thrusting stance. Slowly, he fell to his knees, exhaustion finally catching up to him.
Rest was well deserved, but the Knight still needed to return to the shrine.

His return was without fanfare, to a shrine still untouched. Upon the alter, the Witch lay still.

Well done, Knight. With the White Dragon’s demise, a portion of my power has returned.

The whisper was louder now, stronger. It was no longer a sigh of the wind, but a solid voice that
spoke to him from all around. Was this a sign of the Black Dragon’s power returning? Then his
quest was not a wholly fruitless one.

However, your mission is far from over, and the other dragon broods have no doubt sensed the
White Dragon’s death as well. They will be more wary now, but so long as your conviction stays
true, then perhaps victory is not impossible. You have little time to waste. The Brass Dragon waits.

Without another word, the Knight returned to his impossible quest.

Within its maze-like spire in the desert, the Brass Dragon fell.

The Yellow Dragon’s corpse now lay upon blood-soaked sand of the coast.

Deep inside an ore-rich mountain, the Iron Dragon breathed its last.

The great Orange Dragon lost its battle amidst a deep sea of trees.

At the top of a tall, rocky crag, the Copper Dragon’s labyrinthine lair failed to protect it.

Hidden by gargantuan trees, the Green Dragon’s blood fed the mighty forest.

The Bronze Dragon found its final resting place at the bottom of the sea.

Lightning scorched the land upon which the Blue Dragon dwelt, though its thunderous breath
would nevermore split the skies.

Pure white snow was stained a brilliant red, the end of the Silver Dragon.

And the mighty Red Dragon, feared by all that knew it, melted into the magma of its beloved
volcano home.

The world was vast and uninviting, time having taken its toll upon the Knight. Days become
weeks, to months, to years, yet the Knight pushed on. With every death of a wyrm, the Black
Dragon’s might grew. Its voice transformed from a whisper to a deep, echoing rumble, and the
shrine seemed to almost glow with power. Yet with victory, the Knight suffered an encroaching
corruption. Perhaps it was a lingering curse of the eleven ancient dragons he had slain, his cloak
becoming tatters and his once-silver armor rusting into a corroded black. Even his flesh, a pallid,
deathly white, reflected his fall. The Knight’s travels become difficult, as rumors of his ill-fated
quest spread and spurned the rage of the faithful. The Knight fought not only dragons, but their
loyal soldiers as well. Despite their best efforts, however, eleven of the twelve dragon gods were
killed.

The Gold Dragon remained.

Strangely, the Gold Dragon dwelt not within a cave or in the wilds, but inside a magnificent
mansion-like place hidden by a simple, uninspiring door. Stranger still was the utter lack of
human presence, his travels here oddly uneventful. The space was a place of magic, a door a
mere gate to the dragon’s abode. The lair was spectacularly designed with intricate architecture
and furnishings not unlike what would be seen in royal households. Priceless pieces of art
decorated the walls, while valuable pieces of treasure lined path the Knight walked on. None of
these would deter him, however, as he made a straight path for the dining hall. There, in that
massive room, was a long and elaborately carved table, upon which a small feast was laid out.
At the far end of the table, a lone woman sat, aged but still possessing a brilliant spark of life in
her eyes. This person… was no mere human; the Knight’s sword was warm in his hand.

“I welcome you, sir Knight. I have known of your arrival for quite some time,” she greeted from
her seat, a strong and noble voice that held millennia of wisdom behind it.

“Then you know my purpose this day,” the Knight spoke.

“Eleven of my brethren, the eldest of great wyrms, have all fallen to your blade. I have felt each
and every one of their deaths, as well as the rise of a power I long hoped never to detect ever
again. I would ask you why you serve the Black Dragon, but even a newborn can guess: you
desire his forbidden power.”

The Knight smirked. “I thought it would be more obvious to the wisdom of dragons. Yes, I
desire that power. I wish to bring her back to me.”

“How ludicrous. You seek something that united the world against it. For so long, peace has
settled throughout the land, yet you threaten to throw it all back into darkness?”

“Peace?! What peace is there? Humans squabble over the pettiest of reasons, warring with each
other for something as silly as land and water. In the decade alone, entire nations have crumbled
from strife and conflict. Thousands of children cry and hundreds of mothers mourn, begging for
a savior. Yet when one appears, they crucify her! What is more ridiculous, my damned quest or
your belief that the world is at peace?!”

“And you threaten to unleash a power that no human can combat alone. Should the other
dragons muster their forces, then perhaps an united army can once again put down the dark one.
But you, you killed the eldest and most powerful, throwing the entire brood into utter chaos.
There is no chance now. You have betrayed the world.”

“The world betrayed her—betrayed us!”

“Do you really believe that she would be proud of what you have done? Do you think that for
even a moment, she would be happy living in a land that is cursed by the Black Dragon’s
presence? Millions have not died long ago for nothing! The Black Dragon’s power is a vile,
corrupting thing, manipulating the very laws of life and ruining all that is just and good stand for!”

“Am I to ignore minor evils for the greater good? To sacrifice the few for the sake of many…
Why did she, a beacon of light and hope to the people, have to die from old men’s fears?! We,
who have done nothing but rescue them from the dark of despair, this is our reward?!”

“You can only blame yourselves for that.”

“I reject it! Even if she rejects me, even if she is horrified by the world that I have created, at
least she will know, at least the world will know, that I refuse to be thrown aside without just
cause. The needs of many do not outweigh the few, but reflect the selfishness of the world! Am I
to simply bow down when fear-filled men come and demand that I die by the words of a prophet
whose name we do not even know? We are no better than the savages that sacrifice humans to
their barbaric gods! No more! I have been selfless for so long. Let me have one selfish request.
Let me bring her back!”

The dragon shook her head sadly. “You have gone insane.”

“Have I? Perhaps. In my sorrow, I may have lost my mind. Mayhaps this is but an empty shell,
the spirit of a knight long passed but his flesh still living. Perhaps, yes, I am insane. But I will not
be alone. If one man can defeat the greatest of dragons, then perhaps humanity can defeat a
dragon god. I am not afraid.”

The dragon sighed, already realizing that no further talk would do any good. Still, she had to
try… “Will you not retreat?”

“I am too close to my goal. I will not step back!”

“Then state thy claim, human!” the old woman stood and with a wave of her arm, battered aside
the grand table. “And show me the strength of a mortal man.”

The Knight brought his weapon up, pointing the blade at his foe. “I have no name to speak of.
A man as damned as I has no right to have one. But witness Balmung, my sword, as it pierces
your heart as it has your brethren. I come forth!”

She shook her head sadly, lowering her gaze to the ground. “How I wish it did not have to come
to this…”

A grand fireball engulfed the entire room, the scorching flames washing over the knight and
furnishings. Elaborately carved chairs and furniture were set ablaze, the room transforming from
dining room to a deathtrap. And there, in the center of it all, a gigantic Gold Dragon.

“Your final warning, human! Turn!” the beast spoke in a guttural roar, spokes of flame spewing
from its mouth.

The Knight’s eyes bore into the dragon’s gaze, nary a single shred of fear behind those tired
orbs. “No.”

In such a room, the dragon had no space in which to spread its wings, yet this would be of little
consequence. Its scales were like adamantine and its strength was unparalleled. Its breath could
scorch the hide of a red dragon, yet here stands one man, facing a god? The Knight answered the
small mote of fear in his heart with a mighty warcry, bringing his sword to bear as he charged the
monstrosity. Some would think it impossible for a weapon of man to harm the flesh of a dragon,
yet like many times before, Balmung bit into the dragon’s flesh with little difficulty. In the course
of its existence, the Balmung had taken many, many lives, reforging and tempering the weapon in
the flames of war. Having tasted the blood of dragons now, the sword had become a bane of
draconic kind. Just as its master became infamous as a dragonslayer, so did the sword in its
purpose and power. The Gold Dragon foresaw this, and yet despite its great wisdom and power,
could do nothing to defend from the Knight’s onslaught. Using every dirty trick he knew and
learned from battles past, he fought harder than ever before.

The battle raged on for unknown times. The Knight’s armor and flesh were raked by the dragon’s
mighty claws, torn by its teeth, burned by its breath, and beaten by its wings. Any other man
would have long perished from his wounds or turned and ran. But to the dragon’s amazement,
the Knight remained standing.

“It is a shame that you must die, but I will remember you; not for what you have done, but what
you are: a broken soul with a will so great that not even the gods may equal.”

“I…I bear no ill towards dragons,” he breathed, every part of him aching and screaming for
relief. “But for the sake of my mission, you must fall!”

He charged, quite possibly for the last time.

“Fool,” the dragon inhaled and prepared its breath. The Knight would not reach his foe in time.

Suddenly, a glimmer of shadow sailed through the air, the last desperate attack. The sword,
thrown by its master, split the air and pierced the neck of the great beast. The dragon coughed
and roared, its attack interrupted and its breath spilling from its mouth in ragged spurts. The
Knight leapt upon the buried grip, twisting and pushing the blade upwards and down the dragon’s
flesh. The dragonbane cleaved sinew and muscle like wet paper, splitting the dragon’s throat
wide open and severing vital blood vessels. Strength quickly left the monstrous creature’s body.
At last the dragon was brought to its knees. The mighty Gold Dragon had been defeated.

However, it still held on to its last moments of life. Taking his sword back, the Knight
approached the dragon’s head.

“All the world… for one girl?” the dragon wheezed with her final breaths.

“One girl…in all the world,” the Knight gave his reply before thrusting his blade into the dragon’s
eye. The beast’s deathcry was a mournful howl, its body shuddering to stillness.

The final dragon had been slain.

The Knight was victorious… but at what cost?

Gazing over the still warm body of the Gold Dragon, the Knight felt… nothing. Numbness,
stillness, the room was silent save for the crackling of breath fire. His vision moved to his sword,
its blade imbued with the blood of many men and dragons. It had changed, much like he did, the
blade almost obsidian with a carmine spine. Before, it was a glorious platina sword. Was it a
cursed weapon? Or did it reflect his own transformation? No, it did not matter any more. His
quest was complete.

Freedom! How good it is to be free of that wretched prison, to once again see the land not as a
spirit but as a living being! Well done, Knight. Well done, indeed.

The Black Dragon’s voice, it rumbled all around him like thunder. This was a sign of his return,
his power once again complete.

“I care not for your freedom or any more of your machinations. Uphold your part of the bargain!”
the Knight shouted in the empty room.

But of course. Return to the shrine. You will find your precious Witch amongst the living once
more.

“Finally…”

His body ached incredibly. His mind was exhausted. His soul trembled. But at last… he was
going home.

A quiet yawn interrupted Noland, drawing his attention to his audience. Syn’s slow and steady
breathing meant that she was out, and Vivio’s yawn meant she was just about.

“I believe we can end the story there, lady Vivio. Lady Syn has already fallen asleep, and you
seem ready to follow her,” Noland whispered as he quietly stood.

“Nnngh. Still up…” Syn murmured in tired protest.

“Nolan?”

“Yes?”

“Did they… did they ever find happiness?”

“Close your eyes, lady Vivio, lady Syn, and dream of the ending you desire. Reunite these torn
lovers and show them the happiness they have long fought for,” he placed a warm hand upon
each of the girls’ heads, as if gently guiding them to sleep. Tired eyes drooped shut, and together,
they sought to give a beautiful end to the tale.

Noland paused to take in the peaceful moment. A hectic day, a long and nostalgic story… he
felt strangely exhausted yet simultaneously refreshed.

Muffled footsteps came from behind him, and a soft hand gripped his shoulder.

“Hey,” came a familiar voice.

“Ah, lady Keroko,” the knight whispered his greeting. “When did you get back?”

“A little while ago. The others will be back soon,” Keroko murmured as she glanced around the
chaotic room, minding the bits thrown about. “Those kids were quite the handful, eh?”

“They are young, and their energy boundless,” Noland chuckled dryly. “An old knight such as I
may be ill-suited to keep up with them.”

“I dunno, you seem to get along with them pretty well. By the way, nice pigtails.”

“I thank you for not laughing, though they are steadily improving their hairstyling skills,” he
reached up to tug gently at one of the ribbon-laden braids that made up at least half his hair.

“Don’t worry. I got pictures.” Noland couldn’t see the giant grin Keroko had.

They retreated to the living room, a pot of hot tea waiting for them on the coffee table. Keroko
poured two cups of the brew, handing a mug to a grateful Noland before taking a seat next to
him on the couch.

“So… did they?” she asked as she gazed at her reflection in the tea.

The knight was blowing gently into his hot drink. “Hmm?”

“Find happiness.”

“You had heard the story?”

“Not all of it. Just a little towards the end. I got the gist of it though, but the ending seemed…
incomplete.”

“Ah,” he nodded his head once in understanding, then shook it slowly in negative. “The true end
to that story… is no, they did not. The Knight, having fallen too far down the path of corruption
and madness, was left a mere shadow of his former self. He had become known as a demon
knight of the Black Dragon. He returned to the shrine as fast as he could, but nefore he could
see the Witch’s face once more, he was slain by the same people he once protected. Arrows
pierced his body, blades clove his flesh, and before he could even set foot inside the shrine, a
spear pierced his heart. How ironic, that he who braved the lairs of twelve of the greatest
dragons in the world and survived every encounter, be defeated by the same folk he once
protected. The people could not cheer, however, as a mighty dragon’s bellow scattered the
group. A dark shadow appeared over the shrine, and the Knight’s body was never found. The
Witch, resurrected as per the bargain, would only find the Knight’s sword thrust into the stone
steps, his blood all around it. The sword had changed, much like its master, and it would be the
only memory the Witch would have of her beloved Knight. Alone, abandoned, the Witch was
engulfed by the same despair that had taken the Knight. What worth was her renewed existence,
if she could not spend it with him? Was it all worth it, to have the world turn against him and
revive a fallen dragon god… just to bring her back? No… not without him. How cruel it was to
have her live once more, but alone. This gift was wasted.”

“That’s… so sad,” she frowned, unsure if she liked the idea of a fairy tale with a terrible end.

“Indeed,” Noland nodded, giving the young woman a sad smile. “Not all tales end happily, though
perhaps in those girls’ dreams, they will find each other. Though there was a small glimmer of hope.
As the Witch was resurrected, so did the seed of life within her womb. Her hopelessness would
become elation; she was not alone anymore.”

“Mmm,” Keroko hummed, a little happier sounding. “Where did you here it from?”

“My grandfather. He often told the story to my sisters and I, and before us, my father. Though he
was an old man, he was still strong, sturdy, and had a sword sheathed by his side. He would
often tell us that the sword he had was the very same blade as the Knight’s, passed down from
generation to generation.”

“Oh ho! So our own Noland isn’t only a Knight of the Round, but also descended from a mighty
dragonslaying knight from days long past!” the redhead chuckled and nudged her friend in the side.
“You got quite the bloodline, Reiniger.”

“Haha… perhaps. Or perhaps not. Grandfather was known to spin incredible tales and
exaggerate greatly. I cannot confirm anything, for I was very young and very gullible when I first
heard it. The sword was also lost during the Cataclysm, a mere trinket amongst relics. Besides, I
am no dragonslayer; I am just a son of peasants,” he shrugged and took a sip.

“Hmm, yeah, you’re fine the way you are.”

They lapsed into a comfortable silence, simply enjoying each other’s presence and the tea. Small
bits of idle talk would pass between the two, particularly regarding the parts of the story that
Keroko had missed. Quietly, Keroko leaned into him, her head coming to rest upon the knight’s
shoulder. Her words became murmurs as sleep pulled her away. Noland soon followed suit, his
head resting upon Keroko’s as he breathed in her scent.

They would be found later, sleeping this way, peacefully.

Spoiler for Notes:

I blame Shadow of the Colossus for this. Also, the following omake may or may not be part of the story.

Spoiler for Omake? Maybe?:

Kaon Jin sipped from a mug of tea as she looked over an endless pile of papers, grimacing as
the cool temperature of the tea. To call this overtime would be to make a severe understatement,
one in which you may be clobbered by a flying mug for. It was such a lonely and boring night too,
with everyone else out on dates or doing their own thing, leaving this poor lass with nothing to
look forward to. Ahh well, such was life, and a single lonely night filled with work was nothing to
complain or pout about, not when you’ve lived as long as her.

Still, parts of her were getting restless, while other parts complained.

Maybe a break was called for…

Now that she thought about it, Frankie hadn’t been cleaned in a while. For that matter, neither
did that sword. At the same time, she was rather reluctant to draw out that sword; it always gave
her a spooky feeling. At times, she regretted picking up that sword, a memory of ancient Belka,
but she could not bring herself to throw it away. There was something… just strange about it,
and despite all her knowledge she could not figure out what it was. You’d think that someone
would’ve written about a sword whose blade was like ink and a core as red as blood. The
pommel and guard lacked any outstanding designs – had it not been for its color and bizarre aura,
this would’ve been a plain sword.

What the hell was it? Kaon didn’t know. She still held on to it, if anything, as a memento.

Approved.

One more stone that builds the house that is Keroland, which will spawn her, the shy berserker daughter of two parents.... And the omake hints at Noland being the descendant of that knight, eh?

...so the Black Dragon is Neltharion? <.<