Zantet Suken walked into the training centre, the artificial light glaring at him from above, masking his face with shadow creating an almost sinister look to his visage. He walked with an indomitable spirit, the rustling in the various shrubs around him not stopping him for a second. Behind him he could hear the somewhat less determined footsteps of Rikriel as he forged a way though the plant life. His senses were amplified by the silence before, the calm before the storm. His concentration level was intense, eyes scanning though the undergrowth, looking for the spawn of the lunar cry. His face twisted with hatred, mouth dry with disdain. The last occurring Lunar cry was eighteen years ago on the day of his birth. He felt dirty and unclean just being born on the same day of that phenomenon of death.
Zantet paused suddenly, sensing something ahead. He drew his sword, quickly, every motion of the blade familiar to him. He waited until Rik came along side.
"Whatever happens, we remain united." he said, voice redolent with a calm authority.
Zantet quickly analysed the local area. To his left, two students were fighting with an eager group of onlookers and two the right was an instructor conducting some sort of practical test. Quistis Trepe if he wasn't mistaken.
"We go further in?" he asked his companion.
Rikriel Rezier, having returned from Fisherman's Horizon, plodded behind Zantet at a wavering pace. The interest in fighting - showing the capabilities of his weapon - had long been lost in the realm of his mind.
However, Rik knew, they were here now, and damn Hyne if he was leaving. Rikriel only remembered being in the Training Center once before, in his first week at Garden. The fact that he had forgotten his weapon and that a fierce Granaldo had made him its target disappointed Rik in his own idiocy. Yet, quite some time ago, in fact - but what seemed like only the previous morning -, flashes of this exotic yet generally artificial environment whirred through his head. It was to do with the stone, Zieg's stone, that was the only explanation. Those thoughts led him, along with Yukari - the doctor's assistant - on a hopeless search, which ended in disaster.
As Rik trudged alongside a now stationary Zantet, he could hear the question part from his mouth. He was indifferent about the matter.
"Yeah, okay." He mumbled, just loud enough to be audible.
Rik was in here now, and he wouldn't leave without something to remember.
Zantet nodded curtly before continuing through the dense undergrowth which opened out into a clearing. Zantet padded forward silently. He felt the magic well within him, like a physical force expanding outwards in the realm of the aether. Gentle shivers ran up his spine, as the magic reinforced his will, running like steel through the recesses of his mind. It was always there, a constant companion, something to rely on.
Rik was now next to him, slightly hesitant. But now was not the time for hesitance. He stopped and turned to face him, staring him right in the eyes. Windows to the soul. For a second his eyes remained fixed on his, trying to determine who Rikriel Rezier was. He could see within all the doubt, a determination to prove himself to others, and deeper a lack of self esteem. Zantet broke away, knowing he was not the only one with problems and a past and moved on, pressing in the clearing.
He began to walk with more purpose, sensing something big approaching from the other side of the clearing. Zantet, resolutely stepped forward, whipping his blade into the guard position, prepared to confront the beast, with magic, will and blade.
Rikriel's hands hung deep inside his pockets, his weapon chinking discreetly as he forced each step. He knew that Zantet was looking at him intently, his gaze unchallenged from the corners of Rik's eyes. He turned slightly away, yet Rikriel's vision remained concreted to the scorched, stinging grass and flaky dirt in front of him.
The Training Center seemed emptier than usual; however, this was Rik's second visit, so his judgement of how the Center is usually was a little warped.
As Zantet carried on with a greater strength than previously shown, and Rikriel slowly looked up to investigate the close surroundings. It was obvious to him that he could not let his emotions betray him, leaving him dead through absence of action - therefore vulnerable to attack. His life was more important than his war.
The long reeds rustled with the unseen presence of a beast. A strange buzzing sound flooded the area with an intense blast. Something rose out of the grass. Something huge.
Insect-like wings pounded against the humidity. A rage filled shriek. Rik's courage struggled free.
At least double the size of the last Granaldo he had seen fall in battle, this monster bared a large, scarlet scar. A battle wound. So, this creature survived its last engagement with but one prize. Veins of greens and reds surrounded the scar, pulsing with the beat of its nefarious heart. Infection.
It slowly rose above the trees, and, with another painful shriek, it spotted them.
Glaring at the pair, the Granaldo gnashed its teeth, taunting them. With a thunderous roar from its wings, the insect bolted at them. Diving with immense speed, it was clear that this particular bug wasn't joking.
The sound of whirring wings filled the air, the buzzing beating heavily against his eardrum. Zantet cringed with discomfort at the sound, but didn't move. A violently crimson scar adorned its abdomen, the infection driving it beyond mad and felt a burning rage against anything that moves. And Zantet and Rik fell snugly into that category.
The buzzing grew to a crescendo as it made its way towards them with a terrifying speed. Zantet lifted his arm in defiance, a word forming on his lips. He felt power surge though his body, his aura blazing with strength. The final syllables fell from his tongue and the energy pent up within the human vessel discharged in a bolt of brilliant blue radiance, the heavy flow electrons scything though the charged air. It met the foul creature head on with an almighty crack, but it did not alter its course.
But Zantet had no time to assess the damage because he had whipped round, blade ready preparing to get the creature in a pincer movement. Hopefully, he thought, Rik can check the damage.
"Don't falter!" He cried to the other student as the creature sped past him.
The pressure was on him. A spark of lightning cracked through the harsh air, before bolting straight into the Granaldo. The attack however failed to make an apparent effect as of yet to the monsters attitude. A newly formed cut had split over the beast's side.
The two words cried from Zantet echoed through his head. Everything was unpredictable, nothing is a guarantee. The promise of not making a mistake would have been, in itself, a mistake. However Rikriel knew that he could try his best, whatever his best may be.
"I'll try." Rik muttered, almost inaudible against the screech of the Granaldo.
The creature rose behind him, and rapidly turned to face the couple once more. This time, it lowered itself until it was just hovering above the struggling burnt grass.
It rushed at the two students for a second time, its claws outstretched. Whatever its feelings, it wanted to end this now.
The Granaldo dashed through the air like a speeding bullet, its maddened eyes knowing no such thing as mercy. Zantet could feel its pain, its primitive anger overwhelming the almost pitiful creature. But Zantet felt little mercy himself. He knew with utter certainty that if the creature still had its sanity it would not hesitate to kill him or Rik if given the chance. It would feel no guilt, even as it gorged on their hearts. And Zantet despised the creature, his face a mask of hatred.
"Fire." he muttered, his voice devoid of emotion.
He raised his arms, sword in hand and allowed the magic to take hold. His palms grew white hot and a river of sparks burning intensely as it formed a wall of flame in front of his body, a fiery light filling the enclosure. Zantet could feel the power flowing from him like a river relentlessly fuelling the spell.
Zantet suspected that this creature like most monsters would have a fear of fire, even the maddened specimen before him. That would mean, he concluded that either the monster would plunge relentlessly on into the furnace and be consumed or Rik would make the next move. I hope his strength will hold up, Zantet thought as he worked on keeping the flame burning.
Another screech flooded the Training Center. A danger presented itself. The dark-haired student unleashed a torrent of flames, and it was a fact that no insect - however large - took a liking to the element. And when the chance to evade such danger emerged, the Granaldo would take it.
The beast whirled around the barrier of flame, its milky wings blurred against the murky green of the surrounding trees. Its dark scarlet eyes inspected a new target. It began its descent.
Rik saw it coming, the creature was after him. He scouted the area. In the heated seconds, Rikriel forgot of his battle partner and - despite the scorching glow - the shield he had constructed. It seemed the only logical way of protection. Rik started a sprint towards Zantet, fixed on getting behind the flames.
The Granaldo was reaching its destination. With an aggressive spin, the beast plummeted its hulking tail into the earth beneath.
The tail smashed into the ground. Rik stopped. His leg was caught, and he fell hard onto the hard dust and dirt. Failure. His mind was clouded with immense pain, yet a burst of rationalisation emerged, and with a staggering movement, Rik plunged the blades on his weapon deep into the beast's tail, pulling it back out again as the Granaldo returned to its post, high in the air - with another tidal shriek.
Rikriel was left isolated, clutching his right leg as blood seeped from an unseen wound. After a few moments, Rik stumbled up weakly, trying to regain his mind for battle.
Zantet looked at Rik with shock as he struggled to stay upright, his face pained with exhaustion. He forced himself to concentrate despite the fear that gnawed at his stomach. The danger was real now, the blood from Rik's leg oozing slowly onto the ground. Rik looked pathetically weak on the surface, but Zantet knew amid the uncertainty in Rik's mind there was still a determination to win, to prove himself.
The flames still burned around his fingertips issuing from his palms. He focused on it fuelling it with a new energy as he saw Rik pitifully trying to stand. It grew brighter and brighter, a new and glorious conflagration forming as Zantet dredged up a spell lodged deep within his memory. Pure undiluted energy blazed through his mind with a vengeance, as the unreal became real and the air around his twisted and blurred.
Fira.
The great wall of flames rushed forward, up into the air colliding with the creature now racked with pain, torrents of sparks, light and fire cocooning it while the magic lasted. Zantet rushed forward, regardless of the new fatigue that blossomed as the magic exited his body forming as flame. Tiredness gripped his muscles and every tendon cried for mercy. He brandished his blade at the creature, the raging fire slowly, but surely diminishing. He took up his position in front of Rik, a strange righteous anger spurring him on. He dropped a glowing violet bottle, a Potion, at Rik's feet before turning defiantly to his enemy.
"You will be purged!" he shouted, his sword held out before him, ready.
'Your move…' he thought, desperate to avoid the pain.
His mind had to step back just for a second. Zantet suppressed the urge to check if Rik was okay. Was it his own compassion? he wondered. Did caring make you strong or did it spread your concentrations too thin?
Before he could think further time seemed to restart again, and though the undergrowth came a tearing sound. His gaze never left those monstrous eyes, but it wasn't the monster that was moving. It was waiting, calculating for the right moment. It was then that he saw it. His blades, now no longer flaming and melded together burst from the tangle of the forest, the power of the limit exhausted. They glided seamlessly through the air before he caught them one in each hand. The ground shook; it was the monster's turn. It crashed from the trees, snarling, its jaws flashing, and each tooth eager for sound of tearing flesh. Zantet backed away, swords in a defence stance.
"Rik!" he shouted, fear gnawing at his stomach. But Zantet for all his qualities had missed the darkness plunging from the skies towards his friend.
It was coming straight for him. The Granaldo kept a gaze on its weakest prey. The dive of the monster rippled the air around it, tearing through the atmosphere with an unstoppable aim. To be the hunter.
The moment was now. A flurry of unrefined thoughts swirled through Rikriel's head. His vision was blurred, yet this was unable to disguise the creature shooting down for him. Rikriel was vulnerable. He was now the perfect prey. Rik's head throbbed with sharp stabs of pain, and his entire body stung with the raw acid from the Grats. It hurt to move.
It was nothing more than the human instinct for survival which sculpted Rikriel's next action. Barely even seeing the target, Rik slowly raised his arm, clasping both ends of his nunchakus in a weak grip.
The Granaldo leant backwards, stretching its legs towards its victim. It was going to take him. Rik was its prize. The creature bared its teeth in an almost smiling snarl. There was no chance for defeat now. It was about to claim a victim, and its victory.
Shallow breaths pounded Rikriel's head, and two thin legs came into his view, on his left side. Rik's arm crashed downward. There was no sound, no clatter of the metal against the ground. The weapon's blades dug deep into the top of the beast's thigh, and - as the Granaldo tried to stop - scraped through its skin up to its scarred chest.
The monsters spiralled upwards, and screeched once more. However, this sound was riddled with pain, and there was a soft gurgle at the end of the scream, as its blood escaped from its mouth and down its body. The nunchaku blades were stuck fast inside its chest. The creature flailed its wings, and the buzzing sound diminished to silence.
It fell through the air, defeated.
There was a strong clatter of metal, and everything was peaceful for a moment. It was replaced by darkness, as everything went black.
The T-Rexaur ploughed towards the pair, a bestial and monstrous bulldozer intent on gorging on their hearts and souls. Milky white saliva dripped in globules from its open jaws, its eyes burned black into his mind.
Zantet backed away, his features stiff with fear, though his eyes glistened with defiance. He would survive this, he thought. You are Zantet Gabriel Suken and you will survive this!
No, said the eyes of his adversary, I will live and you will die, and I will feed on your already forgotten carcass. But it's not the dying that you worry about is it? taunted the eyes. It's what you'll become, a memory, just that and nothing more, a remnant of what you once were, never being to tell anyone what you really thought and who you really are. Zantet blanched, his face even paler than it was. He knew it was all an illusion of the mind, but it was right, and he hated himself for that.
He roared defiantly launching himself at the creature, turning as he jumped, the blades slicing two clean and powerful swipes in the creature's abdomen and jaw. For a second they were eye level as Zantet sliced into its flesh before he was thrust away, the creature's talons thrusting his across the compound. Red, a red redder than the reddest ruby seeped from beneath his armour, staining his shirt, spasms of pure agony working though his frame like fire. His breathing was laboured and ragged, but he was still standing, barely. He faced the creature and then a horrible realization hit like a tsunami. Rikriel lay on the dusty ground between him and the T-Rexaur, the blood of the Granaldo oozing across the earth forming a pool by Rik's head like a scarlet pillow. The dinosaur was running towards Zantet, but each step was closer, dangerously closer to Rikriel. He could see it in slow motion in his mind, the darkness of unconsciousness torn by the un ignorable white of undiluted pain searing though him, Rik's eyes opening one final time as the claws raked across him . And it would be Rik who would become a mere memory.
A stream of opalescent feathers streamed across Zantet's vision and across the battlefield, as the float spell fell from his lips, each pinion gleaming as if taken from the highest seraph. It formed a cocoon of light around Rik lifting him off the ground, out of the blood. For a brief moment Zantet wondered what it was like to be like to surrounded by the heavenly light, feathers cascading through the air, but it was a short lived thought. Zantet threw Rik out of the way, atheric sparks trailing behind him and then the
Monster closed on Zantet, faster and faster, until he could do nothing but raise his hands, and perform his most powerful spell yet.
Consciousness fluttered back to Rik's mind, if only for a few moments. This was his body fighting to stay in control, but his vision remained blurred and his brain was buzzing with confusion. A sharp pain had him engulfed.
He searched the area in front of him. He wanted a sign to see the whereabouts of Zantet, and his condition. Rik dragged himself a few yards, before slumping once again. He grunted in pain, but his gaze was still fixed in his search.
There was a sudden flash of icy blue light. Rikriel quickly hid his head in his arms squeezing his eyes shut, yet the crystalline blue had been stamped onto his vision.
There was what seemed to be an almighty roar emanating from Rikriel's left, and the thunderous sound of pounding feet followed soon after. Then silence.
Rikriel looked up once more, his eyes squinting as the last of the colour drained from his sight, returning it back to its previous state.
That flash was connected to Zantet somehow, was it a spell? Rik turned his bloodied face around his field of vision, scanning once more to find Zantet. A huddled body ended Rikriel's search. Zantet Suken was lying on the ground, as Rik had been. A few questions spewed into Rik's head, the flash, the roar, and now the body of Zantet. This confusion turned to panic. Was he dead? Did that flash do this to him?
In a struggle of searing hot pain, Rikriel Rezier stumbled onto his feet, without so much of a blink before he started a run towards his fallen battle partner. The agony was impossible to take, and Rik fell onto his hands regularly, only to pull himself back up. As he reached Zantet, he collapsed to his knees.
This was all his fault, he knew it for certain. If he hadn't shown Zantet his weapon, and then taken him here, if he hadn't have been knocked out then none of this would have happened. He would have been able to end this battle. Crouching over Zantet's still body, Rik clasped his hands around his shoulders, and began to use the last of his strength to shake his fallen comrade.
'Wake up Zantet... Wake up....'
Rik was in anguish. Zantet was dead, it was his fault. He was a murderer.
"Wake....wake up damn it!" Rikriel demanded, shaking Zantet vigorously and with tears forming over his already watering eyes.
"Damn it Zantet. Just wake up!" He commanded again, blubbering now so that tears began trickling down his face.
Before the darkness enveloped him again, the last thing Rik remembered was the lifeless body of Zantet, being shaken around limply under his grip, and the guilt he felt for causing this all to happen.
Galaxies, galaxies of ice and glass. Vivid azure and blue, icicles and cobalt flame and the winter locked wasteland. That was all he could remember.
In the darkness he could see a star. A star of frost and gleaming white that burned his consciousness with its cold. It grew, and grew, all afire in crystalline flame and dripping with glistening strands.
He could hear bells, tolling strangely real and unreal, half dream, half reality. Terrible chimes, ice and insistent ringing bells as beautiful as psalms, all powerful and moving. A mantra of ice and to the Ara of Blizzard.
And...it all shattered, flooding all with sapphire and shards of glass, shimmering, burning through his mind filling him with the beauty of the spell, lost in its call.
Voice trickled to him, distant and the crying of what sounded like a child. Zantet responded, swimming up through nothing, though the void, from the ice and the cold, and the bells of never-ending winter.....
Zantet Gabriel Suken woke with frost covering his fingers and crystal shards strewn across the clearing, Rik next to him his face tear stained, though the tears had long turned to ice, unconscious, again. He stood up, grimacing as he did so. There was shard of ice protruding from his leg, biting the flesh with cold and pain. The monster had gone, its eyes lost in cold, and white, but not dead.
His entire body was numb, a little tell tale black on some of his fingers. Interesting, he thought as if he were a spectator. He was mortally cold, but it didn't bother him, where had been, was...colder so cold, impossibly so. Where Hydrogen was a metal and no normal fire could light. There was just the darkness...and the white.
He stood there a little longer, ice impaled and frost bitten, before turning to Rik. This should have been easier. He refused to believe that he after all that training he was that weak. Not Zantet Suken. Though that spell had been his most potent yet, it had almost consumed him. Pain was beginning to seep through his body, gnawing as the numbness faded. He gestured at Rik, feathers flurrying across his body as he levitated up, and heading toward the infirmary Zantet silently following.
Are others my weakness? Zantet thought, beaten.