Fragment Three:
A black, endless void surrounded him. He was inside his mind now.
Below him he could hear chattering. He looked down and saw himself and two Knights belonging to the Keepers of the Gate in a golden throne room.
"Summon the blade," Thundered one of them. "Damn the Spirit," added the other.
Their silver plate armor was covered by the purity seals of many wars and was only over the most essential parts on top of their bodysuit.
He looked upon himself and he looked almost exactly the same as he did. Of course his pilot's jacket was less dirty and the collar had much fewer feathers than now. As well his beard was only starting to grow at that time but his defining feature, the purple scarf, remained the same.
His younger self held out his right arm, made of flesh not metal, and chanted. Within a few moments a small, turquoise, ethereal blade was in his left. It was nothing much but it was the best he could do.
"Bring forward the Demon," shouted the taller of the two. Behind them a woman was chained to an artificial tree. Her eyes begged and her mouth moved but no sound came out.
The initiate walked forward, blade in both hands, until he was face to face with the woman. "I am sorry for what has been done to you but it will all be over soon," he whispered in an attempt to calm her down.
He immediately turned around and dissipated the blade. He raised his right arm and began chanting once again. This was no holy language however, it was blasphemy. The two Knights began holding onto their chests and moaning in pain. The initiate smirked and pulled his arm closer to his center. That was his mistake as the two knights' spirits collided with one another and detonated.
Gone was his arm and the woman he had tried to save.
