Meta Knight|メタナイト

(Minutes before:)

With a deep breath, I tighten my grip on the hilt of my star sword, Galaxia. The blade is majestic, made of pure gold and an intensely powerful magic through and through. It is almost as long as I am tall, and has three spikes that jut out from each of its two razor-sharp edges. Truly, it is a formidable weapon, one that I have wielded for many, many years. But not only is it a formidable weapon, it is also a formidable foe if it chooses to view you as such. Several souls have come to a less-than-pleasant end because of its wrath. If you attempt to wield it and it does not will you to, you will be ended in a terrible flash of lightning. I should know; I lost a dear friend partly because of it.

Some say that it is a cursed blade, and sometimes I wonder... Would something have gone differently had I chosen not to take up the sword up my weapon? Would there still be more of my kind out there than the handful that now remains? Would my planet still be home to a thriving civilization like it was before? Most importantly, would innocent lives have been spared? I suppose that now it does not matter, now that all of that is over and done with. At least Nightmare is gone, that foul beast, although something whispers to me that even so, not all is right with the Galaxy...

It must be the storm making me nervous. With a sigh, I swing Galaxia through the air around me, and then hold it pointed upwards just in front of my face. It starts to give off a dim glow, just a handy trick it possesses in its arsenal. Oftentimes it will give off the faintest of glows even without being told to; it is just hard to notice if it is not already dark wherever I am at.

At the moment, I am in my training room, which as always is well-lit. All along the walls are various racks of weapons, mostly swords, as that is my weapon of choice. This is where I spend much of my time, training both myself and my various squires, although typically the only ones that are here are the ones I am closest to. Certainly you will meet them later, so I will leave their descriptions for that time.

Now I look at the ruby encrusted in the golden hilt that points up and towards the blade of the sword. In it, I can see a shadow of my reflection. It is my false reflection, yes, my masked reflection, but nevertheless the reflection that has been mine for many, many years now.

Although I try to hide it from most, I am of the same species as Kirby, a Star Warrior. The difference is that Kirby is the foretold Warrior of the Stars, while I am just his mentor. One of the few known survivors of the unspeakably terrible War Against Nightmare, I came to Popstar decades ago to wait for Kirby's arrival. And once he arrived, I mentored him and prepared him for his battle with Nightmare, the battle that saved our whole Galaxy.

As I grow sad at the memories of friends lost and better times, I sheathe my sword, the blade disappearing into the small, brown, cup-like pocket that serves as its sheath. Thoughtfully, I pull my night-blue cloak, a Dimensional Cape, around myself in a bat-like way and close my eyes in deep thought.

Yes, I am a Star Warrior, and therefore am short and puffy like the rest of my species. I am around two feet in height and dark blue in color. In addition to my cloak, I also wear a simple silver-colored-with-yellow-trimming shoulder guard on each shoulder; a pair of purple metal boots on my also-purple feet; and most noticeably of all, a round, metal mask that covers my whole face, with only a v-shaped eyepiece that I can see through.

The only part of my visage that is still visible is my eyes, and they are camouflaged so that their true color is never seen. They usually appear to be golden-yellow, but whenever I feel anything deeply enough, the color changes to some other shade or hue of various sorts to match that emotion. However, this hardly ever happens these days. I am proud to say that I have nearly completely attained a warrior's emotionless demeanor, although I still occasionally have my slip-ups and allow myself to feel something too deeply.

It matters not; with time I will truly become entirely stoic and emotionless. I must admit that it is something I look forward to. There are memories that cause me to feel too deeply that I would simply love to be able to eventually cast aside.

Victory is my destiny. It always has been, and it always will be. I simply must continue striving for it and nothing else as long as I draw breath.

As I stand here and think, suddenly I feel two presences drawing closer to where I stand. One is Kirby's; I recognize it instantly. The other feels somewhat familiar, but in a very distant and vague way. Preparing to be intruded on, I allow my cloak to flare out behind me and draw my sword again, allowing myself a tiny smirk at the lightning that is conjured as the blade phases back into existence. This should be entertaining, although Kirby certainly has picked a less-than-optimal time to bother me. Honestly, though, there is hardly ever an optimal time to bother me.

In the next instant, Kirby bursts into the room, mouth full of... something. Probably the other presence I feel, although why they are in Kirby's mouth, I probably don't want to know. "Why do you dare to disturb my training?" I huff, pointing my sword at the child. "Do you seek a duel?"

He shakes his head and spits something out, which starts sputtering in a highly-offended manner. "Why did you try to eat me, you bozo?!" It appears to be a Waddle Dee, although how a Waddle Dee is able to talk is beyond me. From her voice, I can stipulate that she is a she.

Her eyes grow huge the second she sees me. "Yikes!" she yelps and inhales a sword off of a nearby weapons rack as quickly as she can. As if being able to speak is not strange enough, she can also inhale? Surely there must be some logical explanation for all of this...

But the strangeness only continues and intensifies as she copies the abilities of the sword and becomes Sword Waddle Dee, a light pink elf-style hat appearing on her head, the white pompom on the end falling over into her eyes.

As I allow myself a confused chuckle at her ineptitude, she suddenly flips the pompom out of her face and points the simple silver sword with a pink hilt that has appeared in her hand right at me in one fluid motion. "You're not turning me into sushi, at least not without a fair fight!" she declares, determined, but her fear-filled eyes betray her.

I cannot help myself; I feel a deep sense of curiosity that is probably strong enough to make my eyes ripple with a medium green stream of color. In a murmur, I wonder aloud, "How in Dreamland are you able to talk?" Then, as my eyes most likely fade to a light lemonade-pink of mild amusement, I chuckle quietly. This Waddle Dee certainly has some nerve, coming into my training room and challenging me to a duel. The only thing I truly cannot understand is why Kirby has brought her here. Taking a deep breath, I prepare myself for what is sure to be a very short battle. "Never mind your speaking. If it is a fight that you want, little one, a fight is precisely what you are going to get."

She gulps, obviously terrified, as I stalk toward her. Then, she closes her eyes as she hears my sword whoosh through the air, probably thinking that these are her final moments...