Shaddad Cthonique laughed as his son rushed at him. “I guess that fall has scattered your wits, Mansemat--well, what little you had.” He raised one of the massive swords he now held. “Do you honestly imagine that even with the Sword of Night you stand a chance against--?” Shaddad’s enlarged face blinked in surprise as Mansemat ducked under his strike, then rolled away as the blade struck the ground. The Dark Lord gave a scornful snort. “Ahh, yes. Your old Sword Dance nonsense. Yet another example of your foolishness. All you are doing is prolonging the inevitable. Your chivalrous masters, with all their precious writings--folly! Folly from the top to the bottom!” He glared angrily, trying to find his son. “They would never have stood a chance against me! Just as you won’t! Courage--honor--justice--these are nothing but lies, boy. Victory goes ever to the most ruthless, the most powerful. And I have always made sure that that was me!”
Mansemat pressed himself against the wall, waiting for his chance. “Don’t imagine the Sword will save you,” continued his father. “All you are doing is bringing it to me! It is not for a poltroon like you! It is for a man like me!” Shaddad laughed again, though to Mansemat’s ears it sounded very close to a sob. “A man who knows power! How to get it--how to use it! A man who lets nothing stop him! Nothing, boy! Your sister lies dead at my hand, Mansemat! Do you imagine I will spare you? I am not made that way! I have forsaken pity! Mercy! All soft things! I am hard! Hard as steel! Because only steel survives! Softness--softness dies! It always dies!”
Mansemat took a deep breath, and then ran at Shaddad again. The Dark Lord turned and smiled, slashing at his son with an oversized blade. Mansemat again swiftly dodged, only to face a second blow from Shaddad’s other sword. “Too slow!” shouted Shaddad triumphantly, as the blade dove closer to his son’s form. Mansemat stood for a moment, and then raised Murgleys to parry the blow.
To the Dark Lord’s surprise, his gigantic blade shattered as if it were glass. Shaddad blinked, then attacked with his second blade, only for Mansemat to shatter that one as well. “Impossible!” he muttered, as Mansemat leapt up to his head.
He severed it in one blow, and then landed on the ground. Mansemat raised Murgleys to his face, regarding it in wonder, and then looked at the titanic form that his father had transformed into, which was already falling apart.
Which is why he was able to avoid Lord Shaddad’s attack as the Dark Lord leapt out of the crumbling heap with his blade drawn. “Did I not tell you I am a man who lets NOTHING STOP HIM?!” shrieked Shaddad.
Mansemat frowned. “You are running out of tricks, father,” he said quietly. “You killed my sister. Face justice!”
“There is no justice!” yelled Shaddad. Mansemat realized his father was weeping “There is just I! I am all that matters! Me!” He blinked. “I have done so much--sacrificed so much--and I will not let myself be beaten by a weak little boy!” He lowered his sword, and then raised his left hand. “Let’s see if you and your precious justice can handle this!” He chopped his hand forward, sending a wave of raw arcane power at his son.