Fatalis Incursium.

"Infectus Essum, right? You look different than I remember! Did you lose weight? Do something with your hair?" "Legion" attempts to joke. When I do not respond, his voice soon grows level. "So you want a rematch, is that it? Do you really think you can win this time? I'm immortal!"

"No you're not," I reply, "Balance undid the curse for me, and I didn't even have to ask. No, you're very able to die, 'Legion'. I'll make that fact painfully clear to you soon enough."

"I'm mortal. So what? Let me show you something." "Legion" opens his shirt enough to show the diamond to me. "See this? This is a symbol of my complete command of the Objects. All 2538 of them are under my sway. I was chosen over you to command Them, remember? Of course, you do. And speaking of curses, how about yours? I know all about the one She placed on you. The one that makes you abhorrent to the Objects. They all want to kill you. I want to kill you. The Objects are the most powerful things on this plane of existence, and I am its most powerful being. How do you propose to win? With that thing in the white cloth that you're holding?"

"Yes, actually."

"Wow me, Essum. The anticipation is killing me." Legion waves his hand, and a pure white sword, beautifully crafted, yet somehow stained with an unthinkable evil, flies into his grasp.

"The White King's Sword. How poetically just."

"Why's that?"

"That's your favorite Object, isn't it? I hear you crippled Doom with it."

"So what?"

"You can sense it, can't you? The White King's Sword is special. Unique. No other Object is like it."

"Your point?"

I pause for a few seconds before continuing. I want to savor the moment. "Do you know how the White King's Sword came to be an Object?"

"I couldn't care less."

"Oh, I think you will. You see, the White King's Sword isn't an 'original' Object."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"When the original Object 45 was created, it was... disproportionate to the others. Its power dwarfed that of all the other Objects combined. The sheer dark energy of the Object scared Them, so when this never-to-be Object came in contact with a suitably powerful item, a small portion of the original Object's power was transferred to it. The original was banished and forgotten, its location lost to time. The item that became Object 45 is still among the most powerful Objects of them all. It's the White King's Sword that you hold in your hand. So -"

"Enough of this!" "Legion" shouts. He draws the White King's Sword from its scabbard. "I thought you came here for revenge, not to give me a history lesson!"

"Legion!" I shout back. I pull the gold tassel from my Secret, and the wrapping falls to the ground. I register shock on "Legion's" face. "The White King's Sword longs to avenge the murder of the White King. So if the White King was defeated, whose sword must have been more powerful? That of the White King, or that -" I hold up in front of me a pure black sword, beautifully crafted yet somehow stained with an unthinkable evil, "- of the Black King?"

"Legion's" eyes widen as I slowly draw the Black King's Sword from its scabbard. For the first time in centuries, I smirk - I have been waiting for ages to see the look on "Legion's" face as I show him my ace in the hole. It is worth the wait. "Do you understand now, 'Legion'? You're without Yochanan's curse. I have the most powerful 'Object' ever created. That's how the stakes really are. And besides, you're not so tough anyway. I hear you fought Balance and he left nearly unscathed -"

"Shut up."

"Come to think of it, I noticed that there seemed to be less darkness in you. Did Balance -" I adopt a shocked expression, and pause for a moment, "- defeat you? How could that be? The great Holder of Legion, bested by a teenager -"

"Shut up!" roars "Legion". He charges straight at me, blinded by rage. He runs as fast as he can at me, channeling all of his strength into the blow. He knows I won't be quick enough to dodge.

That's why I don't.

I meet him head-on, our two swords clashing with a massive clang. A powerful wind blows outward as the air is forced out from the spot at which our swords met. "Legion" and I remain there, swords locked against each other. Black and white electricity dances along the blades. "Legion" funnels more and more power into his arms in the hopes of overpowering me. We both know he won't be able to. I can feel the Black King's Sword giving me strength, an unholy dark energy coursing through me. "Legion", sensing this, breaks the lock and attacks again. Clang. I shunt, forcing "Legion's" sword wide, and it throws him off guard. I take advantage of the opportunity and make a thrust at "Legion's" face. He barely dodges, and I score a deep gash in his cheekbone. "Legion" jumps back in surprise, feeling the deep laceration in his cheek.

"Bastard."

"You haven't seen anything yet."