A/N: I posted this chapter on 10/8/13 and I got horrid reviews because of a joke I did. I made Galbatorix a woman, but people didn't like that, so I'm just gonna end it the classic way. Eragon VS Galbatorix

Disclaimer: Not mine

"Eragon, duck!" Angela shouted, causing Eragon to duck and cover the back of his head, for he felt the heat of flames come above him and pass over. Eragon stood up when he deemed it safe, and twirled around, inspecting the battlefield. Bodies lie dead everywhere, flames were rampant about the buildings, and Shruikan was still swooping over them every once in a while, not caring if he killed Imperial Soldiers.

He saw Shruikan coming towards him for another pass, and just as a spout of flames was almost upon him; he aimed his hand towards the ground and shouted, "Skolir!" Shield! A clump of cobblestone rose up from the ground and came to rest in the air above Eragon just as Shruikan passed by. Eragon moved the flaming clump of rock and turned it through the air and aiming it at the black dragon.

Pulling his arm back first, he pushed it forward, sending the flaming rock towards the black dragon. Shruikan didn't see it coming, and he got a face full of rock which sent him hurling towards the ground.

Using this to his advantage, he sprinted towards the entrance to the citadel and rammed his shoulder against the locked gate. It flew open, smashing two soldiers who were behind the gate. Eragon jumped up, and slammed his feet onto both of their throats, showing no mercy. Their heads came not so clean off.

As if nothing happened, he continued to tear through the citadel, slaying all who opposed him. Eragon had never been in the citadel before, so he was, suffice to say, lost. Every door he opened there was nothing of much use, aka, Galbatorix. A library, an armory, servant's quarters was what he found; where did Galbatorix keep the Eldunari within this citadel?!

Two men rushed forward, swords raised and yelling war cries.

The first man brought his blade down and Eragon easily blocked it. The first man was in a fighting stance, which let Eragon easily bring his leg up and kick him in the crotch. The man bent over, and while sidestepping the second man's attack, Eragon brought his sword up and slashed the first man's head clean off.

Another sword was swung his way, and Eragon spun and ducked. While spinning, he slashed off the legs of the second man, who fell to the ground crying in pain.

Eragon brought Brisingr to the man's throat. "Tell me where Galbatorix is and I'll ease your passing." Otherwise, he was going to lie there for hours in pain.

"H-he's in the treasury…" The man sputtered.

"Where is that?" Eragon asked, digging his blade into the man's throat ever so slightly.

"In the… in the back of the citadel beh-behind th-the painting of Malcolm Reynolds, Richard Castle, and Nathan Fillion," the man managed to get out before Eragon shoved his sword through the man's throat, much like he did with Islanzadi, may she rest in Hell.

All three of those men were half-breeds from about two thousand years previous, and another oddity, they were triplets, so they looked exactly the same, unless you had enhanced vision like a half-breed or an elf.

Eragon began to run forward, heading west through the citadel, towards the back of it. Several more guards charged at him, all of whom were sliced to bits by Brisingr.

Finally he made it to the painting of the three half-breeds in the westernmost side of the citadel. He jumped up onto the table in front of it and shoved the painting inside, revealing a door with a deadbolt lock on it.

Should he use magic? One would usually think so.

One kick and the door fell down. Eragon was ready for revenge. It had been one hundred years since the death of Brom and both his and Brom's Saphira. It had been one hundred years since the death of thousands of dragons and dragon riders.

One hundred years since Saphira had died in his arms.

One hundred years since he saw Brom impaled on Galbatorix's sword.

One hundred years since King Evandar died in his arms.

This was the end, the end of Galbatorix's iron fist over Alagaesia.

When Eragon entered the treasury with another door to kick down, he saw a man with shoulder length black hair, rough beard, and eyes as black as Shruikan's scales. This was Galbatorix.

One would usually ask, 'what did he say next?' Well that question cannot be asked, for Eragon waited for no single word to be uttered, he waited for nothing but revenge.

He ran forward and brought Brisingr down, intending to split Galbatorix in two, but a white sword blocked his path. Vrangr, or as Vrael referred to it as Islingr was the sword's name.

Eragon pulled Brisingr back and struck again and again, forward, up, down, slash. But there was one strange part of all of this. Galbatorix wasn't attacking; it seemed however, that he could barely defend the attacks that Eragon was throwing at him. Wasn't Galbatorix supposed to be a master swordsman of great skill, and one so skilled with magic that you couldn't even think before you die? This man was pathetic.

Then he saw the eldunari on the shelves glow, and he felt Galbatorix's parries and blocks become stronger, until eventually Galbatorix was on the offense, and Eragon was parrying the blows.

Over a hundred years ago Brom had taught him that if you had the opportunity to use your body parts as a weapon during a sparring match, don't hesitate to kick 'em in the crotch.

He did so. Galbatorix swung Vrangr towards him horizontally, and Eragon stepped back a step, then quickly jumped forward, catching the king unawares, for he was probably taught that in a swordfight you use swords, not body parts. Eragon stomped on Galbatorix's left foot, then brought his right fist up and slammed it into Galbatorix's chin.

The mad king cried out in pain and stumbled backwards. Eragon took advantage of such and sliced Brisingr through the air, aiming to decapitate Galbatorix, but by sheer luck, Galbatorix managed to bring up his blade and weakly defend the strike.

"Garjzla!" Galbatorix shouted, and a bright light filled the room.

Eragon gasped and covered his eyes, shielding from the light that had no source. The sound of stone cracking and then breaking was brought to Eragon's ears at 768 miles per hour. Finally, the light began to recede just enough for Eragon to open his eyes to see Galbatorix jumped out of the treasury and out of the citadel. Not wanting to lose his chance at revenge, he ran forward and blindly jumped out of the citadel after Galbatorix. He was in the air.

He examined his surroundings as quickly as possible. He was in the air, falling, off a cliff. Apparently the treasury was hidden at the back of the citadel, just next to the broad expanse of ocean.

Then he saw a particular massive black dragon flying by, and Shruikan snatched Galbatorix out of the air. Luck ran out for Eragon, for Shruikan did not grab Eragon. So he settled for the next best option. When the black dragon's tail was just in reach Eragon grabbed a hold of it, hanging on as tight as he could.

Thankfully dragons relied deeply upon their tails to fly, so if Shruikan tried to shake Eragon off, he would most likely crash and deeply hurt himself and Galbatorix.

He clung onto the black tail, and soon enough wrapped his legs around it. Quickly and trying not to scale his legs and arms he began to pull himself along the tail, getting closer and closer to the main part of the dragon.

Eragon pulled him up and gripped onto one of the spikes that covered Shruikan's back. Soon enough, he had managed to bring himself off of the tail and onto the main body of the dragon. He slowly stood up, keeping his balance. He used to stand up on Saphira all the time, albeit with much failure, but this time, there was no room for failure.

Then an idea struck him. It was perfect! Okay, scratch that, it was anything but perfect. Eragon leaned back and sliced through Shruikan's tail with Brisingr, cutting it clean off. The dragon roared in pain and began to lose control of his flying, and eventually began to fall.

Sadly, they were at least fifteen thousand feet in the air, causing their fall to be disastrous, but Eragon was willing to risk his life, he didn't want to, but he was willing to risk his life to kill the mad king.

The two half-breeds and one dragon fell quickly through the sky, and when Shruikan would hit the ground, he would die, wards or not. Eragon gripped onto the spike in front of him as hard as he could, and then all resounding crash echoed throughout the city. Eragon was pulled forward at the momentum of the stop, and his left shoulder went through the spike, causing Eragon to gasp in pain.

Dammit, pull it together!

Shruikan lay motionless on the ground, and Eragon pushed himself off of the spike and fell to the ground below. They were in the massive courtyard outside the citadel, where Angela was sitting on a crate just eating an apple.

"Well it's about time!" Angela shouted and threw away the apple, drawing her huthvir. Eragon managed to pull himself up off the ground and whisper the words of healing to heal his shoulder.

Eventually, his shoulder was moderately healed, seeing as he didn't have enough time to completely heal it.

Eragon slowly walked over to Galbatorix who was slowly getting up, his right arm bent at a strange angle. It was definitely broken.

Eragon clumsily swung Brisingr upwards, cutting off his left arm, which sent him crying in pain. Galbatorix was going to suffer. He swung his sword again and cut off his right arm. Then he performed a downward slash, cutting Galbatorix straight across his torso.

Galbatorix let out a roar, yes roar, of pain, and it sounded exactly like Shruikan. Eragon let his revenge take over and performed one attack that would save Alagaesia for years to come.

He thrust his sword forward and stabbed Galbatorix in the heart. Just to cause more pain, he twisted his sword, causing a wail of pain to come out of Galbatorix's lips. Blood came pouring out of his lips, and Galbatorix fell to the ground, dead. The mad king was dead, dead at last.

His war was over.

A/N: And that my friend is the end of Half-Breed. No, I am not doing a sequel, but I may post a new fic out soon, maybe maybe not. I want to thank all of my reviewers, I couldn't have gotten here without you and I love you all so much. Okay, gay moment over.

I want to specifically thank Middleearthmidget for being my best FF friend and helping me out an uncountable amount of times on Half-Breed. I couldn't have even started Half-Breed without him actually. He has literally helped me out so much I can't even explain, but be sure to read his story The Hidden God!

I also want to thank Elemental Dragon Slayer for also helping me a tremendous amount, and giving me ideas when I had none. Be sure to read Switching Lanes.

And don't worry guys and gals, there's an epilogue.