Hello everyone! This is my first story here at FanFiction; I understand that I won't be perfect, so please bear with me as I try to improve. All comments and criticisms are very much welcome as they will help me improve.

Disclaimer: I don't own Ragnarok Online, period.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Unwilling Heroes

Prologue

A waning crescent moon slowly rose as night descended on the land, blanketing everything in a dim, silvery light. People closed their shops and hurried back home before the darkness blinded them completely and caused them to lose their way in the inadequate lighting. Everyone everywhere was retiring to their homes.

Only one person wasn't.

A priest ran through the forests with inhuman speed, one hand clutched tightly on a mace, the other around a small leather pouch. Cries erupted behind him as his pursuers crashed through the growth. The priest turned and smiled to himself, for it was his own blessing that allowed him to see in the near-darkness. If it wasn't for that, he would have been caught long before. He glanced down at the pouch he was holding, reassuring himself that it was still there. Looking up again he renewed the spells he cast on himself, and rushed forward.

Soon enough, the cries began fading away as the priest ran, outstripping his would-be captors. Still, he didn't let up, and continued running into the night, going deeper and deeper into the forests. Finally, he began to slow down once he made sure he had left his pursuers far behind. He stooped, breathing heavily as he felt the last vestiges of his spells disappear. He knelt down next to a small stream, and dunked his head in the cold water to clear his mind. Shaking his head, he sat down, nestled within the gnarled roots of an old tree.

He brought up the pouch and studied it carefully. Ever since he was an acolyte in the church the head priest had entrusted it to him, saying that on no account should it go into the hands of anyone else but his own. He asked the head priest what it contained, but he simply said that it was too early for him to know. Even now, after ten long years had passed, he still didn't know what it contained. All he knew was that he had to protect it, no matter what the cost.

Suddenly, he heard the faintest of footfalls from behind him. He silently tied the pouch to his belt; if it was an enemy, he would need both his hands free to face him. He slowly rose to his feet, pressing his back to the trunk, trying to hide himself as much as possible. Hopefully the darkness would conceal him well enough for him to avoid a fight.

He had no such luck.

"I know you're hiding here somewhere."

A hint of amusement touched his pursuer's cold voice. "It's no use trying to, you know. Might as well just give me that pouch you're holding and accept your death."

The priest heard the light footsteps coming closer and closer. He gripped his mace tightly, his mouth forming the first words of a spell. A knife suddenly sprouted from the side, catching him by surprise. Reflexively he leapt to the side and brought up his mace, just in time to block the blade that came at him. He widened his eyes in shock as he saw what was attached to the blade.

It was an Assassin Cross.

Silver-white hair framed his cold face, masked with a black cloth. Red eyes leered above it. He was lightly built, with lean muscles rippling over his slim body like a snake's. He was a killer who was used to doing so, his blades gleaming with a permanent reddish hue, as if he never bothered to wash them after a particularly nasty job. Killing, for him, was an art, something he savored, especially when he saw the terror and helplessness on his victims' faces before he finished them off.

The assassin's eyes narrowed. This new prey was different. His faced was marked with a defiance he rarely saw. He always thought priests were doddery old men who spent their time praying until they died. This one however, was young, very young, and at the height of his youth. The assassin smirked; he would enjoy killing him.

The priest spun away, bringing up his hand. He knew how powerful assassins were, and that he wouldn't stand a chance. He had to even the playing field somehow. He clasped his hands in prayer.

"KYRIE ELEISON!"

A silver wave of energy washed around his body, briefly coating it in a shimmering sphere. But he wasn't done yet. A few more words increased his bodily strength and coordination, followed by a prayer for a gift of speed. He closed his left hand and chanted one last prayer under his breath, clenching it into a fist, his other hand gripping on his mace.

The assassin watched him carefully as he did all this, studying his opponent. The priest bravely returned his gaze. Not one of them moved as they gauged each other's abilities. Seconds of silence drew out as the two stood completely still, as if they were statues if not for their measured breathing.

Suddenly, somewhere beside them, an owl hooted.

The priest's eyes flicked to the side for just one moment, but that was all. The assassin rushed forward. His eyes widened as two blades slammed into his shoulders. A high pure note clanged through the air as his shield momentarily appeared, circles of golden light overlapping each other where the blades struck. His eyes were wide with horror as they gave, shattering into sparkles of energy and fading. He cried out as his attacker continued, the blades slicing into his skin. He sank to the ground, mace forgotten, as the assassin stepped back just in front of him. He gritted his teeth, biting back the pain and jumping back just in time to avoid the blade aimed at his head. Turning with blazing eyes, he raised his hand.

"LUX SACRA!"

A ball of pure light flashed in his hand, and was sent flying towards the assassin. He leapt nimbly to the side, neatly avoiding it, but what happened next caught him completely off guard.

The ball exploded into a shower of blazing orbs, illuminating the entire forest. The assassin howled in pain as a number of them slammed against his body. Distracted, he did not notice the priest dashing into the woods

The priest ran as fast as he could, his arms hanging limply from his sides, incapacitated by the assassin. He had healed himself as best as he could, but even after closing the wounds his arms were still paralyzed.

This assassin is much more powerful than I expected. He pierced my Kyrie with one blow! He must have poisoned his blades, he thought as he rushed through the growth. Behind him, he heard a roar of pain and anger as the light died down. He quickened his pace.

The assassin dashed forward, just within sight of his prey. His body stung with pain, but he ignored it, focusing on his target. He marveled at the speed the priest was going. Although he knew that the priest had magically enhanced himself, he knew that he was still much faster than any normal person was. In spite of himself, he smiled. This was the most fun he had had in a while.

The priest continued forward and suddenly let out a cry of disbelief. He skidded to a stop, just before a huge ravine. He quickly looked over the edge and saw, far below, a raging river. He turned and faced the assassin, who had slowed to an almost leisurely pace, a smile playing at his lips, a smile of victory. Nevertheless, he defiantly glared at him, not one bit of fear showing on his face.

"Now you have no way of escaping me anymore. You might as well accept your fate." said the assassin.

The priest looked at him squarely in the eye. "Actually, I do have one last card to play"

"And what might that be?"

The priest closed his eyes, a grim smile on his lips, and stepped over the edge.

"No!" Cried the assassin, but it was far too late. The priest fell, locking his eyes with the assassin's.

"TRANS LOCUS!"

He disappeared in a flash of light.

The assassin let out a roar of anger and threw his blades at the nearest thing he could find. That unlucky object was a rock, and it was sliced clean through before the blades embedded themselves halfway into a tree trunk just behind it. Cursing, the assassin retrieved his weapons and sheathed them. He knew teleportation was a highly random spell, and that his prey could not have gotten far. He knew his poison will weaken him a lot, slow him down, and make it easier for him to find.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Far away from where the assassin and the priest had met, a young boy was in the river, taking an early morning bath. He laughed merrily as fish grazed his legs, tickling him. He sang lightly as he submerged himself into the water, then came up again, shaking his golden hair and spraying the water with drops. Refreshed, he got up and tied a towel around his slim waist.

He took another towel and started to dry himself when he saw something different on the opposite bank, trapped against the flow of the river and a root that jutted out slightly. Dropping his towel in horror, he realized that that something was a person!

He quickly dove into the water, swimming to the other bank. He took a quick, careful look at him. He seemed in pretty good shape for a person who just got washed down a river, if that was what happened. Making sure that he had a firm grip on him, the boy swam back and dragged him up from the water. He deposited him just beside his things. He died himself off and put on his clothes. There was no point in hanging around naked when there was someone else here now.

The boy turned the person he rescued over and examined him carefully. He wore the garments of a priest, but he looked so different from the ones he had seen. He was apparently very young, and had long golden hair framing a handsome face. He was broad shouldered and well built, but lightly so. He looked more a warrior than a man of the cloth. His gaze swept down towards the many pockets hidden throughout his robe.

He rummaged through them and found a small Bible, a rosary and a pair of gloves. He had numerous small clips on his belt, apparently to hold various things which were now either lost or taken from him, except for a small leather pouch. He wore a small earring on his left ear and had a strange pendant hanging from a silver chain around his neck.

The boy shook his head in confusion. He decided it would be better to fathom this mysterious person's past if he were awake. Now, all he could do was clean him up, and hope that he would wake…

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Phew, I'm finally done with the prologue! --;; Please reply, I wait for your comments and criticisms!