All eyes turned skyward. Each glowed with a certain amount of will, and resistance, to the forces that besieged them. Nature, indomitable to the last, whipped its tempest around the brazen shapes, yet they were not fazed. Suddenly, lightning scorched the earth around the watchers. Displays of light and energy burst all around them, showering electrical sparks onto their exposed flesh. Then all stopped. The three watchers waited patiently. It would come soon enough. The master, He who commanded all, would receive his wish. The zan could not possibly get all the parts now. The…cloudless?…sky held the trio’s gaze. It would come, soon enough.
Without warning, no hint, indication as to their actions, the watchers flung their arms upward as one. Cloud masses formed from seemingly nonexistent moisture. Three jagged bolts of power, tinged with black, rushed from the sky, faster than anything ever before witnessed on this planet. The lightning struck the watchers hands. Electricity flowed through their bodies and into the ground. It moved through the metal panels the three had been standing on, rushed down into the ground, far below the surface, until it reached the container.
A silvery white light, as no one had ever seen, blindingly flashed in the underground cavern. The light illuminated a large, rocky interior, with heavy machinery peppering every spare inch of the floor. A small canister popped out of the ground. Written around the metal pod were strange markings. The symbols were in English, but they were no words ever heard by human ears. Well, ears that stayed human, anyway.
Mechanical arms, set into motion by the sudden power surge, lifted the pod. As the canister was carried away, a small view port was seen. Inside the canister was a pair of red boots. Blood red, to be exact. The intricate carvings and honed edges set into the metal gear seemed mysterious, in a way. Just looking inside the container, to the very precious item that it contained, gave one an unreasonable feeling of suspicious aura. What was more strange, however, was that at the same time, a golden light seemed to be alongside the aura.
What the strange feelings meant were of no concern to the machinery. The pod was slammed into a small elevator shaft. From there, it was pulled back, then suddenly slung upwards with extreme force. The little pod penetrated the ground with an earsplitting shriek, echoing around the empty cavern. Dirt, rocks, and roots were obliterated in the path of the projectile.
A silver pod ejected out of the ground with extreme force. A small parachute opened, and the canister floated down, into the waiting arms of the watcher. One of them finally broke the silence. Holding a radio to his lips, he spoke.
“It is secured.”
Inside the cavern, far below the earth, a red light turned on.
All faces turned to meet the intruder, aggressive stances already being taken. What was it now that intruded upon them, hoping to kill them? This path that they took was neither easy nor painless. For the first time in days, the adrenaline had disappeared. It was replaced by the fatigue their muscles felt, the hunger of which their stomach told, the pain that their bodies told. The scars, thin bodies, drooping eyelids told the story.
Rykros looked at them. Pitiful fools they were, yet courageous. Agony, pain, frustration, and fear lined the faces of these eight brave souls. A zan, home gone, master dead, and his past newly revealed. A golem, almost too old to fight and with nothing to live for. A dragon, who was constantly told as a baby that he had no talent or potential. A pixie, forced to endure more pain and hardship than any other pixie there was, all for the sake of her friends. A phoenix, outcast by one clan and then taken in by a loving home. But now that was gone, as well. An antlan, the one closest to the truth, but always blinded by his undying devotion to the light. A tiger, scarred forever by his hard-fought, hard-earned survival through the jungles of Promiass. And a hare, fueled by the desire to do something right for once. A band of eight, drawn together by different circumstances. Not one of them knew of their true meaning to exist in this universe, nor of the importance, or gravity, of their quest. It was this reason that they must die. For the master cannot be stopped. The Darkness will thrive on the light.
“Look at this.” He laughed. “Can’t save your master, can’t save your friends, can’t even keep your own hostage. Useless fools.” He spat at their feet and stalked toward them.
Guardianna’s anger was replaced by surprise as the intruder walked out of the shadows. A liquid hand stepped from the shadows, followed by a head, then a body. A jell?
“95%. Complete birth will be done by tomorrow. Expected results are…”
The computer’s voice droned on, but the man ignored it. He had long since learned to block out unnecessary information. Once, perhaps, he would have stayed, and listened. But he had already memorized this particular subject’s vital information. He took to heart the knowledge of what he was doing. The perfect monster, one guided by the light. With this monster, he would be able to wipe all evils from the earth…
The man stared at the subject, inside it’s glass container. It was almost undetectable in the clear water. A vague outline of a perfect machine was visible. Honed edges and glistening armor glinted off florescent light. The man stood, and stared at the subject. He contemplated his thoughts.
Shapes flashed through the trees, flitting about, as gnats do in the night.
If only these were gnats.
Oh, how he wished they were.
It had been the flames that had warned the citizens of Meese. The citizens of the small trading town were quickly sheltered inside their homes. Hunters, and any kind of able-bodied fighting man that could be found, were assembled. They waited at the front gates. Their leader, a large, burly hunter named Gassock, wore a sword on his back, and spoke in stentorian tones. His voice boomed across the town’s fortifications.
“Men, tonight, we will hold this town, to the death. We will fight whoever comes to threaten, and we will win. Fight to the death, gentlemen!”
He threw off his hood, and all the warriors gathered raised their weapons in a solemn solute.
Suddenly, the sounds of carnage coming grew louder. Outlines of fighting monsters grew visible in the light of the watch fires.
He felt it now. The dents in his body reminded him of it. The pain he felt was excruciating. But he couldn’t stop. Not now. This was the most dangerous enemy he had ever faced, and he knew that the team couldn’t win without him. But would he really do it?
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The hunters raised their bolt guns and crossbows and prepared to fire. Eight badly maimed monsters. They could take them.
Then they saw that they were fleeing.
Now, when a normal man, completely sane, sees eight wild monsters running, at first look, to attack a small town, he thinks, “oh man, we better kill them before it gets out of hand.” Now, when you take that same, normal, sane man, and show him eight wild monsters, fleeing for their lives toward a small, armed town, he thinks, “RABIES!” Now then, if you took that same man, one more time, and showed him eight wild monsters fleeing from one monster, he obviously thinks, “?”
As such, the group of hunters were very confused. Their confusion however, along with the myriad of questions that accompanied it, was quickly dispelled when they saw the one chasing monster, a jell, split into 20 or 30 different copies of himself.
Now the completely normal man from before is thinking, “Ohhhhhhhh…” while also, alternately, thinking, “!@#@*******!”
Guardianna thought. Go into the town, seek help? Or avoid the town. All the while, he kept on running.
It took the hail of machine gun bullets at his legs to help him decide.
The steely zan ran straight past the town fortifications. He couldn’t let anymore people become involved in his personal struggles, be it man or monster. He was tired of letting people fight his battles for him. He was supposed to be the perfect machine. Maybe it was time to show that.
A hand jerked him backwards as he sprinted. He spun around, only to see Pressure looking at him.
“We must help! Hurry!”
Looking back, Guardianna saw the jell and his clones tearing throw the town’s meager defenses. Inferno, Amazon, Blaze, Shadow, and Calibur were already rushing toward the town entrance, but then the zan had another question.
“Where is Caduceus?”
Pressure did not even need to answer the question. Golden arrows of light seemingly streamed from nowhere, piercing the cloned jells all the way to their heart.
Suddenly, the zan was filled with wrath for himself. What was he doing here, just standing aside and letting people die? His inability to act had probably cost several lives!
Guardianna bounded forth with Pressure at his side. The two twirled like a whirlwind into the fight. A sudden cannon burst shot from one of the jells. Guardianna decapitated the jell and slammed home his other shoulder blade into the creature’s heart. Only then did he notice the unearthly silence. Looking around, he saw that things were not good. The humans were all slaughtered. The town was beginning to catch on fire. All his comrades, except for pressure, were unconscious. And they were surrounded by jells.
Tears filled the normally stoic zan’s eyes. It was all his fault. Another waste of human lives. For what! For a personal quest by a wild monster? Anger filled his heart. The bloodlust had come over him.
Rykros and his cones all took a collective step back. This specimen was strange indeed. First it had not even entered the battle, and now it glowed blood red? Some things did not make sense. He would ask the master later. But first he had to finish these fools.
The war cry simultaneously awoke Guardianna and the countless legions of jells. Pressure had only moments to watch his friend rip into the clones before he was attacked. Perhaps now was the time.
Guardianna was on fire. These fools had been the catalyst, the start of it all. In his eyes, they were the master hand behind all of this. His shoulder blades slung forward, killing two jells. He retracted them and delivered a devastating uppercut to another jell. He knew he couldn’t keep this up forever. But he wanted to hit something. Badly.
Sparks flashed before him as the jells morphed into monols. His clawed hands scraped off them like nails on a chalkboard. He didn’t notice.
The zan seemed to sprout wins as he flew into the air. His diving spin penetrated through three of the jells, instantly killing them. His left shoulder blade flew through the air, light as a feather, embedding itself into the monol on his left. His right shoulder blade drove through the air to his left, capturing another monol/jell. Using the two dead monols as leverage, he lifted himself into the air, spread eagled, and delivered a devastating kick to the threatening monol behind him, cracking it in half and knocking down several others in the process, much like dominoes. His fists flew forward at super human speed, leaving large holes in the monol in front of him. Flipping back on his feet, he lifted the two monols still embedded on his shoulder blades and used them as giant stone fists, knocking monols into the throng around him. Tired of the enormous weight on his shoulders, he threw the bodies forward into the crowd, killing a few of them.
A strange sensation overcame him. Against his better sense, oblivious to the enemies advancing on him, he thrust his right fist into the ground. He was surprised when this sign of mental instability produced a small metal pod. He extracted it from the dirt. It was a silvery white, but he didn’t notice. All he saw was the red sword inside. It was of the finest craftsmanship. And he needed it. Now.
Using his shoulder blades, he pried the top of the canister open and retrieved the sword. He dropped the canister and ran the sword through the nearest monol. In his haste, he never noticed the writing that ran along the outside of the container.
He now worked for a private lab. In the safe confines of the small laboratory, he slowly took control. After becoming the head of the company, he had fired everyone. He didn’t need them.
His thoughts wandered to his subject. It would be his ultimate creation. It would stop the corruption that reigned in the government. He would kill those *******. Oh, how he would get his revenge. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Guardianna was impressed by the sword. It fit him like a glove. Then, he remembered what he had gotten out of Garrett.
“A red sword, the Durandal.”
Could this be it?
His thoughts were interrupted when three monols body tackled him. He flew through the air and skidded to the ground, coming to rest at Pressure’s foot.
“Hey, man.”
He looked at Pressure for a response, only to gasp in horror. The blood red color of his body began to darken when he saw Pressure.
Jagged gashes ran down the golem’s side. Bullet holes riddled the great monster’s body, and there was a large hole in the center of his stomach.
Guardianna crawled over to the golem’s head, oblivious of the advancing jells. Leaning close to the golem’s head, he realized that pressure was speaking.
“R--u-nn. Take t---he o-ther-s. I….w-il----l cove--rr y-y-ou.”
The zan looked in his friends eyes. They were serious.
“I’ll do it. Goodbye old friend. Thank you.”
With that, the zan used Triattack to zoom by the jells. He had gathered his friends, bound them all to himself with rope, and was gone by the time they realized it. Of course, by the time they realized it, they were already dead.
“G--g-ood l-u--••••.”
The golem activated his built in self destruct sequence.
The man kneeled before the altar, praying for the souls of his wife and child.
A voice spoke.
Would you like revenge.
Startled, he looked around.
“Who are you!?”
I am a god.
“What do you want?”
I will give you revenge.
He thought for a moment.
“What is the price?”
There is none. I will give you power. I will let you have revenge.
“In that case, I accept!”
His room went dark as a leering, evil, cackling face appeared from no where.
THEN ACCEPT THE POWER!
Dark lightning bolts streamed from the creature’s mouth into the scientist’s body. The man screamed in pain and terror as the evil consumed him from the inside out. When the process was finally done, the man stood up. He was now cloaked in a black hood. A small, blood red eagle hung on a pendant around his neck.
You are no longer a man. You are no longer Alexander Smith the fourth. Alexander the lowly. You are now a demigod. You are my servant. And I will reward you, Shaliec.