He had insisted on doing it himself, once he learned. If he had to, he would have pulled rank in order to get complete obedience to his order but it hadn't come down to that. They, his subcommanders, had known each for a long time, forever it seemed at times, and they understood that he had to do this himself. It was the only way he could continue to keep the right, the right to call himself a father.
For crying out loud, he was forty-seven years old. There once was a time when he'd be in easy retirement right now, lying in some lawn chair on a sandy beach with a cocktail in his hand scoping out scantily dressed young ladies half his age. He'd probably be bored out of his skull as well but that was something he'd never find out, never know. Because war had become his life, was his life.
Or so he thought.
With more effort than he remembered using in the past, Kliff Undersn jerked the large blade of his sword out of the dead Gear. There were more bodies behind him, a growing path in the direction he forged. Killing Gears was almost the only thing he's ever done his entire life. The image of that man who saved him from a Gear when he was six has always burned in his mind, pushing him to join the Order. He had always thought his savior must have been part of it, after all, members of the Order were known for their ability to destroy the Gears. But he never saw that man, not in the current company or in any of the older records. But life goes on, even as the burning image of his savior continued to inspire him.
The "Sacred Order of Holy Knights" was founded by the United Nations in 2074, shortly after a Gear calling itself Justice suddenly appeared with an army of Gears at his command. The island nation of Japan was razed to the ground, the only Japanese who continue to live in protected settlements today were those who had settled in lands other than their mother country before it was destroyed. This convinced the UN in a rare show of unanimity to form a military company to combat these advanced threats.
Individual nations of the world still had their armies and defenses but the Order was allowed to operate anywhere, anytime against the Gears. But when nightmares become reality, just the knowledge of some kind of defense could not instill some kind of hope in the despairing population. Hence, by the world government's orders and blessing, the media over-hyped the 'divine' nature of the Order.
The funny thing was, over sixty years down the road from that, the Order still held the faith and hope of the people of the world despite the increasing atrocities committed by Justice and his Gear armies. They countered each other, the Gears and the Order. What one side did, the other side would retaliate in some manner. The Order had grown into an ordered and structured martial body with cells all over the world reporting back to their main compound in Geneva.
And here, the founder and sole commander of it all was tramping through the back roads of America in some region once called the Mid-West simply because of some photographs that had come across his desk. Well, they weren't just any photographs since not just anything caught by a surveillance satellite was immediately stamped classified and sent by secured courier to the Master Templar of the Sacred Order.
It was a good thing he had a friend working over there. Counting her, there were only three other people in the world who knew what exactly those images showed. Kliff wouldn't have it any other way, this was a strictly personal matter, a personal demon so to speak, that he had to take care of.
Funny, he hadn't thought that there would be this many Gears out here in the middle of the proverbial nowhere even given the slight lead he was following. Not that he'd ever openly admit it but just getting this far was quite the workout. Too much time behind the desk recently. Kliff made a mental note to put exercise time into his busy schedule once he got back. It wouldn't look good for the leader of the world's largest, globally approved military unit against the Gears to be huffing and puffing his way across the battlefield. That was no way to win or even keep the respect of all of those young whippersnappers that the Order was always deluged with.
Those bright-eyed youngsters always filled with burning enthusiasm and ambition to make a difference in the world. Oh some of them were truly well meaning, ridding the world of the menace that had claimed it for the past six decades. Others were hoping to make a name for themselves, becoming a decorated war hero by ending the war. Lots of people had those dreams but the older, wiser members of the Order knew better.
The Order may be one of the best forces against the Gears but they were only human. Humans who could get tired, could grow old, could become sick of all of the blood and carnage around them. Those who wised up and hardened themselves against the insanity of war were the ones who survived more or less. Not everyone however was made to be a soldier, a legalized mass murderer.
What was that saying again?
"Wars, conflict, it's all business. One murder makes a villain. Millions, a hero. Numbers sanctify," the old man chuckled to himself with more than a touch of bitter irony. He couldn't remember who said it or from where he heard it but it fit this entire madness like a glove.
"Yes, yes, that's it. But you must be on the winning side must you not? To be called a hero."
The latest Gear to appear before him came with a voice that Kliff Undersn knew well, too well, even though he hadn't heard it in over ten years, at least in any sane tone. He straightened up, knowing that he was already a bit shorter than in his prime, but still sturdy and fit. There was more gray in his hair now, be it from age or worry, he wasn't sure. His tan-colored Order uniform was splattered with dirt, oil, blood, and other filth of battle but he stood in it as proudly as if it was a crisp tabard bearing his lord's crest in centuries long past.
And the Gear, the mocking vision of his adopted son Testament, stood before him, not a day older than the last time Kliff saw him, broken, unresponsive, in that military hospital in Florence, Italy.
"You look the same."
Not the most memorable phrase to start off a battle but it wasn't meant to be. As Kliff had decided before, this was a private matter.
"Do I? I look as I always have. Father." That smile. The innocence that used to be there was gone. Testament let his hand run along the ragged edge of the deep gash Kliff had left in the fallen Gear. "Ow." A trickle of blood ran down his hand.
There was interest, amusement in those eyes as they watched the blood flow. Kliff had never seen a Gear who looked so...human before. The fact that it looked, acted, and spoke almost exactly like his lost son only made it that much more monstrous. Was this his son, turned into a Gear? As much as he wanted to hope that this was only a mockery, that his son who had disappeared from that hospital in Italy was still out there somewhere, alive and well, in his gut, Kliff Undersn knew better. This was his son, Gear though he may be now.
"How did this happen?" His voice was rough, almost croaking. Kliff felt all of his years and more laying heavily on his shoulders.
"What's wrong Father? Why the sad face?" The blood which had not ceased to flow came alive, shaping itself into a solid scythe. "I'm stronger now. Strong enough to take down a Gear." He mock-bowed to his father. "Or a Knight."
Kliff's grip on his blade tightened. He was a Knight, the Master Templar of the Sacred Order. It was his duty to destroy the Gears.
"It...doesn't have to be this way."
"Oh but it does, Master Templar Kliff Undersn." Testament's eyes glowed unnaturally red, his long black hair flowing along the waves of power emanating from his body. Unnaturally fast for a human, but not so for a Gear, he flew into the air, swinging his scythe for the downward blow. "It does."
Somewhere in the emptiness of the plains, a man older than his years knelt next to a pyre, burning away the remains of the Gears he had killed here. Never a religious man, Kliff could only think of one thing to say.
"May God forgive me..."
Author's Notes:
I set this in 2140 based on the rough estimate of years Kliff mentions before his battle with Testament in Guilty Gear. Since Kliff was about 6 in 2099, he should be about 47 now and pushing along in his years. I originally saw him as founding the Sacred Order several decades after the 'war' started but the timeline in "Guilty Gear X Drafting Artworks" placed the Order's founding at the beginning of the war so I just discarded that idea. Still doesn't mean I can't make him the commander by at least 2140. ^_^
I made up that rank/title Master Templar. The only rankings I could find were all in Japanese. The following comes from the "Slash Encyclopedia". Kliff and later Ky were Dancho, essentially Commander of the Order, who were served by the seven Shugoshin (Guardian Diety) who each headed a battalion. Each battalion was made up of five platoons led by the Shugo Tenshi (Guardian Angel). The five platoon units are Butsuri Kogeki (physical attack), Houjutsu (magic), Ryaku (capture), Hou Shien (magic support), Kyuugo (relief/rescue).
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