If there was one place that Ike didn't feel like he deserved ever seeing again, it was his father's grave. It hadn't changed, which was a small comfort and a relief to see. It was still in the same exact place, his Urvan axe still in the ground, not a fleck of rust on the blade, a wreath of flowers around it gave Ike the feeling that Mist visited it regularly. He felt a pang of guilt at that, he hadn't visited since he left...and here he was, a man half the size of his father.
"It's been a while," Ike said, taking Gurugant off his back and resting it in front of him. "This is what I ended up with, father...it's funny, isn't it?" he murmured. "Funny how I've ended up ruining everything I've tried to do, everything you tried to teach me," he murmured. "And I know I don't deserve asking this, father...but I need your help," he asked quietly. Even as the sword seemed to glimmer, he could feel the malice and amusement rolling off the blade in waves. But he wouldn't listen to it. Not even when he heard Ashnard's cackling laughter.
He moved closer, fingers curling around the pommel of Urvan. His hands had been tainted with so much blood, but so had his fathers...the blood of his mother was something he had never forgiven himself for, and Ike could relate all the more to that feeling. It was time to stop acting like he couldn't do anything, it was time to start over...time to be rid of the past and look to the future. He pulled the axe off the ground and held it in his hands. It was warm to the touch, although Ike didn't know why.
"No more darkness," Ike said in determination. No more repressed anger, no more wondering what he could have done. It was now what he was going to do. He turned to face the blade of King Ashnard, a tool for slaughter...no more. Ike grit his teeth and swung the axe as hard as he could, the blade connected solidly with the cursed sword, there was a spark of light and the blade cracked and shattered on Ike's follow through.
He exhaled heavily, giving the axe a careful spin of the handle. No more brooding, no more moping. He had made this mess, and he would fix it the best he could, and for everything else...he would always work towards improving.
"I hope when I give this back, I've earned the right to be your son again," he murmured, shouldering Urvan. "...Thank you." Somewhere, in the wind...he could see his father, but a blink and the thought was gone from his mind. He turned back towards the ruined village, his heart lifted and his shoulders loose. No matter what, he would try and he would succeed.