Jaga turned another of the labyrinthine corridors of the Grand Lair.   Lion-O was still behind him, relentless, moving like a juggernaut twisting  through the complex maze of stone and circuit lines that were laid all underneath the structure.  It was a dreadful thought, but the lord seemed to  be able to follow him without actually seeing him.  He had come so far.
        But not far enough to do this, thought Jaga, making the most of his immaterial status and running straight through the corridor walls to double back.  He was buying time.  He could feel his power coming, his beautiful Sword of Omens, crafted with his Third Eye and forged in the fires of his soul.  It was a part of him, and he would need to be complete to face the red haired and youthful monster he had created.
        He would also need a body.  Spirits could laugh at a material weapon, but they were utterly vulnerable to any blade with a bit of spirit to it.  And Lion-O had crafted just such a weapon.  Lion-O had poured a part of his soul into that metal, and it hungered with the same lusts for power and revenge that the boy did.  It craved to bite into his undead, ghostly body as badly as Lion-O.  A cruel mirrored mockery of his own blade.
        But he had Jagad.  He had been training that youth since he was just a boy for a day just such as this, when he would once again need to wear a coil of flesh into battle.  He could settle in to others, but it was distracting, maintaining control with two spirits inside a single body.  It also tended to burn the body out.  It would age quickly, and finally collapse.  But in this case it was the distraction he wouldn't be able to handle.  He would need his full concentration to face the lion, that much was evident.  There would be room for only one spirit.
        Jaga's spectre burst into Jagad's room.  The muscular youth looked up, concern washing across his face as he saw the look in his mentor's eyes.  He hefted his heavy sword and looked to the door.  "Master, what's wrong?"
        "No time to explain, my son," said Jaga quickly.  "You must trust me.  Slit your throat.  Do it for me."
        Jaga's eyes would have wettened with pride if a spectres were capable of the feat, as the grim young man nodded, and without a moments hesitation ran the edge of his blade deep across his own neck, gurgling in wordless pain as blood gushed to the floor and the life slipped out of his eyes.  Jaga admired the conviction that had taken so much.  "Good soldier," he whispered.
        He ran a ghostly hand across the bloody wound to heal it, and then lay down in the body.  He closed his eyes, and when he opened them, he looked out through the eyes of his new body.  He sat up slowly, flexing his arms and fingers.  He was strong, fast, light.  Extraordinary.
        There was a sharp sound and the doors to the room exploded inward.  Lion-O was almost atop him before he had a chance to regain his feet.  Lion-O yelled and slashed with his blade.  Jaga threw himself backwards, and raised his forearms up to ward off any energy.  And good thing, Lion-O's strike had fallen several feet short, but still Jaga's arms were bleeding from a deep cut across both, along the path that Lion-O had slashed.
        Jaga focused his power into a yell, and the walls shook and exploded outward.  Lion-O didn't flinch or falter as the sharps bits of stone glanced off him.  Jaga was running through his newly created escape route, and Lion-O was charging after him.  Both men's legs strained as they sprinted.  Lion-O pounded closer and closer, "You are mine," he growled.
        Jaga plunged through a last door back into the main chamber, where all the others still waited.  The cuts on his arms had healed up, and he didn't even regard the fools that stood and gaped, unable to completely follow the deadly struggle between he and Lion-O.  It didn't matter.  He'd made it.  "No Lion-O, it is you who are about to fall," he exclaimed triumphantly, stretching his hand up to the heavens.
        There was a rumbling roar that seemed to shake the very ground of the palace.  Jaguars and Thundercats and others assembled there cried out and sought to keep their balance.  Lion-O stopped his pursuit and brought his own blade up defensively.  He could feel it too.
        The Sword of Omens blew through the domed ceiling and settled in Jaga's palm, its red eye flaring.  The hilt curled up and out protectively, and the blade lengthened in Jaga's grasp.  Lion-O could see the power of both entities growing as they touched each other.  "Thunder...Thunder...Thunder....Thundercats, Ho!" cried Jaga, swinging the sword across his body.
        A crimson cone of energy emerged from The Eye, a roaring cats head billowing out to envelope, crush, and destroy all enemies.  And inspire all friends.  Eyes glowed all across the chamber, Thundercats and Jaguars alike feeling power coursing through them.  Jaga was invincible, they had to help him to destroy his enemies...
        Lion-O braced himself solidly and cleaved the circular projection in half.  Red energies exploded out around him, and he skidded backwards, smoking slightly, but remaining on his feet.  All those in the room shook their heads, feeling the euphoria of the previous moments fade.  A thin line of blood dripped from Jaga's forehead, and his eyes glowed with a rage that defied spoken words.
        Lion-O brought his blade back up, the muscles between his broad shoulders tensing as he returned the silent sentiment.  This was it.  The two mortal foes hurled themselves at each other, and time seemed to stop as their cries of anger rang out with the sound of the clash of metal.
        At the side, Tygra just gazed at them as they met.  It brought memories of the clash between the spirits of Jaga and Grune, except then the heavens had been aflame, now it was the earth.  But there was no doubt that this, like then, was a clash of giants.
        He couldn't even count the number of ringing reports of one blade glancing off the other.  It happened so many times a second it was more like a single solid sound then the familiar sound of close combat.  He would have been dead in seconds.  He doubted even Cheetara could follow every thrust and parry.
        Both men would rock and stagger from unseen blows as their blades danced around each other, sparks and energy cascading away from them each time they met.  Tygra could only guess on how levels the real battle was being waged.  He imagined telekenitic stabs to pinch of the other man's throat, or stop his heart, or attempts to jab into his subconscious.  All of it happening at once in a whirlwind of layered mortal combat.  He shivered at the thought of ever having to face monsters like this again.
        Jaga had been fighting defensively, cautiously.  He was grinning to himself as he began to anticipate Lion-O's attacks.  His opponent was fast and ferocious, and stronger even than this body, but he was always on a frenzied attack, and his defenses had a flaw.  There it was, his right shoulder.  Jaga saw his opportunity and after staving off a multipronged attack he countered, thursting past Lion-O's parry and burying the shaft of the Sword of Omens deep into Lion-O's upper chest with a howl of triumph.
        That turned into a scream of frustration and pain.  Lion-O had been leaving himself open hoping for exactly this attack.  He clenched his muscles as the sword struck, ignoring the pain.  Jaga had pulled to remove his weapon quickly, but it remained lodged firmly in place, held tight by Lion-O himself.  And that one defenseless moment where he had nothing to block with was all Lion-O needed.  His own blade flashed up to lop Jaga's arm off just below the shoulder.
        Jaga gurlged in pain, falling back to avoid a second slash.  "Come to my hand," he cried, and the sword obeyed, ripping itself from Lion-O's chest in a gush of blood that sent him down to his knees.  Jaga lurched forward with the Sword of Omens in his off hand, to finish Lion-O while he was down.
        Lion-O's foot windmilled up to knock the arm aside, neatly knocking the slashing blade off its course for his head.  Lion-O launched himself back to his feet and swung himself around, blocking the returning Sword of Omens, and spinning all the way around with the force of his block to catch Jaga in the face with his elbow as he turned.  Jaga's nose exploded with a crunch at the impact and he staggered back.
        The total focus Lion-O thrust his blade into the socket where the Eye of Thundera was set into the Sword of Omens, and with a quick circular movement he sliced it out.  Jaga howled and clutched his forhead as pain stabbed through him.  With one last roar Lion-O swung his weapon, cleaving Jaga's broken body down the middle, as ruptured organs and blood spilled to
the floor.
        The spectre arose from the corpse, with an empty, bleeding socket for a third eye above his eyes, which burned red like the Eye of Thundera now.  His voice trembled.  "Lion-O, don't!  You don't know what you are doing!  For a thousand years I have lived, guiding our people, protecting them, carrying them to their destiny!" the ghost begged.  "What will you all do without me to look after you?!"
        "It's time for us to find out," said Lion-O with a tinge of sadness in his voice, as he beheaded the spirit, watching the last of the vapors that had comprised Jaga's soul dissipate with a faraway scream.
        Only then did Lion-O fall to his knees.  It was over.

        It is told that Lion-O took a bride from among the Jaguars to seal his alliance, and that many years later he embraced a concubine as well.  His children were strong of body, mind, and talented in the Jaguars ways as well.  He taught them the ways of power, and made sure his oldest advisor, a quiet Tiger, taught them when to use that power.  His empire expanded, taking in the kingdoms of Third Earth, and the Mutants, and reaching out to conquer other worlds and civilazations.  And on each of these worlds a Black Pyramid was erected, silent monuments to the price of power.  By the time of his death he had forged an empire that spanned the known galaxy and a dynasty that would span a hundred generations.  He had burned his name into the stars, and ever after the Thunderans would say that each time a star flickers, it is remembering Lion-O, the greatest of their Lords.