The Damned and Enlightened

A varied fanfiction by Darklion793

Episode 1

It was a cold, dark night. The deep violet sky was clear, but not one star was seen glowing along its face. Even the moon hid itself from the people, just as the people hid from it. The streets were practically dead. A homeless person or two may have been walking along the dusty roads, other than that everyone stayed inside at this time of night. They knew something was coming.

In an old bar near the east side of the small town, drunken men sang slurred music and harassed the waitresses who worked late that evening. They had become so intoxicated the floor had become slick with booze and wastes. Everyone was having a fun time except for one man near the back corner sipping down a large mug of Irish ale. He was in all black: black bomber vest that cut off at the shoulders, black biker gloves with a wolf-like design on his right hand and a lion-like design on his left. He had shrouded himself under a hood to keep to himself. The noisy bunch made him extremely irritable. Not a good day for them for him to be buzzed.

Suddenly he heard a loud scream. One of the drunkards had grabbed a hold of the waitresses skirt trying to make a forceful move in front of his buddies. He laughed snidely as she continued to struggle to get free. "Guess what I'mma gonna do to you, ya sexy tramp?" he blubbered in her ear. She was terrified. The man didn't want to get himself involved in other affairs, but this was going to far. He was already here for something and he didn't want to be bothered dealing with drunkards and helpless waitresses. But something had to be done or this was going to be a loud night.

He got up from his chair and walked toward the booze and vomit smelling group. The drunkard was getting upset at this moment.

"DIDJA HEAR WHAT I SAID, BITCH," he demanded as he rose his hand to backhand her, "I fuckin asked ya a question!"

Just as his hand began to swing, the drunkard felt an excruciating pain plummet into his beer gut. Trying to focus his eyes at what had happened; he noticed a black figure in front of him with his arm outstretched into his belly. Suddenly he coughed blood and wastes as he crumpled to the ground.

"You don't mess with a lady like her who's helpin you waste your lives away like this," the shrouded man said, "if you guys know what's good for you I'd suggest you leave."

The drunk's buddies looked at him trying to get him up. He wasn't getting up anytime soon.

"WHO THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU ARE ATTACKIN' OUR BOSS LIKE THAT," one of the drunk buddies bellowed, "YA LITTE SHRIMP-SHIT?!"

"LET'S GET THIS LITTLE PUNK!" they shouted as they charged the shrouded man.

"Bad idea," he smirked.

They all charged at him at once, but each of them was slow. One took a wide left swing toward his head, so he ducked and quickly belted him in the jaw, sending him flying to the next three chairs ahead. Another went to tackle him but ended up slamming his face into the wooden floor as he flipped over the drunk's shoulders and stomping both feet into his spine. There were four men left. Each was getting a bit nervous at how this guy could take out two of their strongest.

One quickly pulled out a short sword from his waist and rushed the shrouded man. His back was turned, so the drunk laughed in victory when he imagined his blade piercing through his heart. He shouted as he thrusted his entire weight into his blade. His shocked face was immediate when the man had vanished into thin air. He looked all around, unable to find his victim.

"Psst, hey," said a familiar voice, "I'm up here."

The drunk looked up as he saw a black boot slam into his face. He was out cold. The shrouded man hopped off of his face and landed on the seat of a chair. He then flipped around, moving like a professional acrobat, finished with sitting on the chair backwards and lighting up a cigarette in front of the other three men. He took a long drag, removed the hood from his head, and smiled as he exhaled through his teeth.

"You lowlifes can't be done yet," he mocked. "I just started having fun!"

He noticed the men were actually scared when one asked him, "W-w-who the h-hell are y-y-y-you?" He was trembling violently.

The man took another long drag of his cigarette, and exhaled as he said, "Ken. Ken Raionhāto." (Lionheart)

They may have been drunk, but they knew exactly who he was. Their blood ran cold and they ran out of the bar, terrified. Ken watched as they sprinted out the door.

"Well," he said, a little disappointed, "they weren't much fun at all."

Ken walked over to the woman the still downed drunk had harassed. He held out his hand to help her up. She thanked him and took his hand. The moment he took her hand, he swung her around and slammed her into the shelves of booze.

"What," she said quietly, "what are you doing?"

"I know what you are," Ken said bitterly.

Suddenly her skin went complete black until her entire being was shrouded in darkness. It looked up with yellow beady eyes with blood red pupils. It growled as, where its mouth was supposed to be, tore open to create one. Its teeth protruded out, blood red and sharp as knives. Its body was jagged and dark. It had small hands that grew knife-like claws. Its head was completely round with the exception of a scythe shaped horn coming out from the back of its head. A deep purple light formed on its chest, transforming it into an upside-down arrow roughly representing a heart. It then shrieked at Ken, creating billows of dark gas filling the room.

Ken smiled, finally able to enjoy a decent challenge. "You are exactly what I'm looking for," he said, "let's see if you can put up a better fight than those drunks."

He put his right hand in a claw-like position as if he was going to grab the monster's face. Just then a mix of black and white streaks formed in his palm. He gave out a short shout as the light in his hand elongated itself and took the form of a large sword. The light finally dissipated, revealing a claymore made with black and white metal on the blade. The hilt was designed with a angelic-wing hand guard that went down to the pommel, meeting with the demonic wing parallel to the angel wing. Where the wings met was a jewel. Black and white light wandered aimlessly inside. The blade was five feet long and a foot wide. The main white metal was covered in black metal X's along the blade.

Ken twirled the sword effortlessly. He finally thrusted the blade into the ground and said with a final drag of his cigarette, grinning from ear to ear, "Alright. Let's play!"

End of Episode 1