Prologue: The Seed of Evil planted
"H… help me…" He said quietly, struggling to pull himself free.
"There is nobody left to help you old man. There is no escape, and there is no chance for your survival. Surrender to me, or die in obscurity."
"Go to hell demon." He said, voice a faint whisper as apposed to its normal, deep timbre.
"You just don't understand." The Dark God replied. "This is hell."
"You… you're not real!" The Guardsman shouted, leveling his sword high above his head.
"Oh, I assure you, I'm quite real." The heavily armored demon responded, his helmet obscuring his facial features.
"You're a myth!" The man replied, darting ahead. He drove the point of his sword forward, attempting to skewer his enemy. The armored man merely sidestepped, sweeping his sword around as hard as he could. The blade caught the Althenian Guard in the chest, killing him before he could finish his thrust.
The man in black armor turned his attention back to the burning City of Larpa, long ebony cloak flaring out behind his massive frame. He stared at the city with burning red eyes, before turning his gaze to the remaining members of the cities Guard, and the ex-priest who stood with them. He was in a pair of casual trousers and a plain white tunic, a brown and green headband holding his dirty brown hair off of his furrowed brow. The man swung his mace with surprising accuracy, knocking down the armored man's minions with ease. This was expected. He was, after all, one of the one's who helped to destroy Zophar. The armored man strode forward, sheathing his massive obsidian sword on his left side. As soon as he was in range, the cloaked man raised his right hand, and uttered several words of power.
As the last word slipped off of his lips, black tendrils appeared in the air in front of him, moving with lightning speed into the cities defenders. It shot from one man to the next in a second, killing most and paralyzing those that had survived. As expected, the priest turned playboy lived. He lay on his back, struggling to come to a sitting position. The dark armored man was above him in a few quick strides, planting one massive foot onto the ex-priests chest.
"I suppose introductions are in order, hmm?" The warrior in black inquired.
"Nice foot, can you get it off of me?" Ronfar asked, breathing heavily. The spell had a very profound effect on him. The demon ignored him, continuing his monologue.
"I am the Magic Emperor reborn. My power is that of the ages, and this world is mine." He said, laughing deeply. The Magic Emperor's voice was a deep baritone, rumbling through his helmet.
"You're planning to take over the world in that outfit? I think I gave some kids candy last year who were wearing the same thing."
"You were defeated today by but a fraction of my power. This world and all of its inhabitants are doomed. Make your jokes if you wish, though you will find no solace in death from your defiant humor. You die like all of the rest."
"I will joke, thanks." Ronfar said. The Emperor laughed again, pressing his foot down harder.
"One of the heroes dies today, with plenty more to come. Once I find the prophesied princess in the secluded city of Saith, our rule will be complete!" He exclaimed, that dark laugh once again sounding throughout the now destroyed port town.
The Magic Emperor raised his hand, preparing a spell to finish off the ex-priest. He began rattling off the words needed, only to be distracted from within.
My soul is my own. I'll defy you to the end of time.
The unspoken words rang throughout the Emperor's mind, drawing his focus away. The spell disappated harmlessly. Frustrated but not showing it, the black clad demon took his foot off of the man, and began to walk away. He glanced back one last time, to bark out a final order.
"Kill him."
Shrieking with grim anticipation, his monsters happily obliged.
A/N
Author's Note: Prologue to a story I created a good while ago. I decided this would be a good idea to get the story moving faster in the beginning. Opinions?
