Surprise, my faithful reader! Bet you were expecting the sequel to my story, eh? Well, this is in fact the prequel! Now, don't get me wrong; I am still working on the sequel. I was actually working on this a few months ago and found it again while searching through some documents. And hey, after reading through it again, my gut told me "why not post it? They should like it." Anyways, I hope that my gut wasn't lying to me again; it has a habit of doing that after a bad meal. But in all seriousness, I hope this can tide you over until I've prepared the Master Corp for viewing! Enjoy!

Remembrance

Seven years before 'The Hunter's Oath"…

-Crez-

"Zeal, I'm telling you, this can't go on!"

"I get what you're saying, but is that really the best idea? Come on, York, we shouldn't do something so… extreme."

York and Zeal sat in the branches of one of the many trees on the outskirts of the mountain village. It was a small town, only a few single story buildings. Each one was made of the same material; a dark wood of incredible strength. The largest building was a long hall, maybe twice the size of the others. Engraved in the wood above the entrance was a ferocious dragon with two large horns; the 'god' of the village.

"If this is what you consider extreme, I'd love to see you think of something more 'normal'," York said, gazing at the village.

"I just don't think destroying the village will solve the problem," Zeal replied. His golden eyes were starkly contrasted by the black robes he wore. York wore a similar outfit, except it was white. Both had several pieces of leather armor overlaying the robes, offering a weak, flexible layer of protection.

"Well, we have to do something. Zeal, the things we do here… it just isn't right."

Zeal sighed, pulling back the hood of his robes; he had long hair the same shade of gold as his eyes. "Trust me, I think the same thing. In either case, we've got to keep this between us. Can't let anyone else know what we're up to, right?"

"Yeah, alright. No one else would even consider helping us, anyways. Let's get back; the guards will get suspicious if we're out too long."

York and Zeal quickly pulled their hoods back up before jumping to the ground. They landed lightly, considering the height; one of the techniques they had developed over the years spent in Crez was how to soften the impact from a fall. York didn't even fully understand it; not many in the village did, either. They quickly ran off towards the gate of the village, swiftly yet silently.

"It's about time you two got back," the guard said as they approached. "Did you gather what we needed?"

"Yeah, right here," Zeal said, pulling a small pouch from the bag slung across his back. He tossed it to the guard, who instinctively caught the object before looking at its contents.

"Good, now get back in the village. York, you have been called to the longhouse by our master. I would highly recommend you don't ignore the summons." York and Zeal looked apprehensively at each other for a moment after they walked past the guard.

"There's no way he could know… right?" Zeal shook his head.

"I don't know, but don't say anything about it if he asks."

"Got it." York and Zeal parted ways, York heading to the larger building while Zeal entered his small house. York stopped for a moment outside, gazing at the large dragon head carved above the doors. It seemed almost lifelike; the detail put into it was incredible. York quickly averted his gaze and entered the building, the dark wooden doors creaking as they opened.

York entered the dimly lit room, stepping forward a few feet. The doors quickly shut behind him, but he wasn't surprised; they were made to do that. He walked towards the opposite end of the room, where a man sat on a throne. He wore spiked black armor, the helm resting on his leg. His face was completely obscured by the shadows that flickered about him. "So, you've come at last, York." His voice boomed through the room with a demonic echo.

"Yeah, what do you want?" York responded. Although it was impossible to tell, York could practically see the man's brow furrowing at the remark.

"I see you still have a hard time grasping the meaning of 'respect', boy. I have called you here because of the remarks of your trainer."

"Remarks?"

"Yes, he wishes to know why you insist on dyeing your cloak white; as do I."

"Because it feels right," York bluntly answered.

"And what do you mean by 'right'?" The man had stood from his throne, placing his helm back on his head. He walked down the steps leading to the throne, his footsteps echoing loudly. He stopped when he was a few feet in front of York. He was immensely tall, towering above York. York didn't flinch.

"I mean that it suits me better than black," he said.

"So, this is simply a matter of taste? And your choice of weapon? What of that?"

"An axe can be much more versatile than a dagger. I can do more with it than can a butter knife."

"Yet you still refuse live combat training."

"Because I don't feel like seeing my allies killed by my own hand. Any other 'remarks'?" The man in dark armor seemed to exude anger; the shadows seemed to lengthen, and the air suddenly grew heavy.

"You still have much to learn," he growled. "You had better learn to watch your tongue, as well. I only refrained from striking you down because you have some skill. Now, begone!" York turned and left the dark room, the doors creaking open as he walked through them.

He didn't look back.

"Did he say anything?"

"No, I don't think he knows. He's suspicious of me, but for different reasons."

"Well, we just need to lay low for a bit longer then."

"Zeal, we've been waiting long enough. We need to do this soon."

"And I understand that. But if we act at the wrong time, we'll both end up dead, and that wouldn't solve anything. York, trust me, we'll put a stop to this, alright?"

York had entered Zeal's small room and told him of what transpired at the long house. Zeal had seemed at least concerned, but it was hard to tell with him sometimes; he had a hard face to read. "We have to act before next week. The Rite of Passage isn't going to happen, got it? You've seen what becomes of those who participate." Zeal nodded in acceptance of the statement; this was something they had to ensure.

"Yeah, I got it. Alright, try to get some sleep, York. Last thing we need is one of us to get killed because he was too tired."

"Yeah, I hear you. Remember; not a word." York clapped Zeal's shoulder before departing the house. It was late; clouds had covered the moon, and only a few torches were lit, casting only a small amount of light on the dark village.

York entered his house, quickly shutting the door behind him. He turned, coming face to face with a man in black robes. "Hello, York."

"Gyr? What the hell are you doing in my house?" The man, Gyr, grinned madly.

"I've come to stop your little 'plan'." York felt fear for one of the few times in his life.

"…What do you mean?"

"Don't play dumb, you traitor. I know all about your little scheme with Zeal. Be glad I didn't tell his lordship; he'd have you publicly executed. I'll do it nice and quiet, instead." Gyr quickly drew a dagger and stabbed at York! York grabbed his wrist after sidestepping, and in one fluid motion disarmed him and broke Gyr's wrist! The assassin howled in pain, grasping his wrist as his weapon was buried into the door behind York. "Damn you… Don't think I didn't come alone!"

Several other cloaked figures appeared from the corners; five total, all wielding daggers. York kicked Gyr back and drew his axe; a steel blade with a hollowed core to reduce weight. He blocked the first strike of one of his attackers, pushing the man back. Two others followed up, and York parried one's dagger. Grasping the first man by the wrist, he redirected him into the other, stabbing his comrade through the heart! York quickly hacked deep into his back, killing him instantly.

Crap… this room's too small! York thought, dodging another lunge. He quickly turned and crashed through his front door, out into the darkness of the night. A few torches were lit outside his door, allowing him to see his assailants as they pursued him. Pulling the dagger out of the remains of his door, he reengaged the hooded figures. The first slashed at him with his knife; York quickly blocked the strike before countering with a knee shattering kick! As the man fell down, York crushed his neck under his foot, ending the assassin's life.

Two more attacked then, one trying to grab York from behind. York anticipated this, and threw the man over his shoulder in retaliation. The other assailant stabbed at him, but York caught the knife in the hollow of his axe! He sliced through the man's left leg with his acquired knife, forcing him to fall to one knee and drop the dagger. York buried the axe into his chest, quickly wrenching it free and stabbing the other one in the neck with the dagger.

The last assailant attacked with a sword; it was a simple, yet deadly blade made of quality iron. He slashed at York, who tried to block with the short dagger. The sword broke the brittle knife easily, forcing York to jump back to avoid another swing. He flung the remains of the knife at the man, who deflected the attack and charged at York again. York backed up again but found himself up against the front wall of his house!

Thinking quickly, he grabbed one of the torches and pulled it free. He parried the lunge of his opponents sword before striking him with the torch! The man's dark robes were set ablaze, and he screamed in terror as the flames began to burn his flesh. He struggled for a while before falling to the ground, dead. A few of the lights in some of the nearby houses flickered on at the commotion.

Dammit… we've gotta act now! York thought, gazing at the torch he held. He held the flames to the dry wood of his house, setting the building ablaze almost instantly. He likewise began to set the other buildings on fire, throwing the torch at the longhouse last of all. The fire struck above the large dragon head, quickly beginning to eat away at the dark wood. York looked back and saw the house next to Zeal's suddenly light on fire!

"SHIT! ZEAL!" York quickly ran towards his friend's house, the fire beginning to spread closer and closer to the small building. He burst through the front door, as the roof began to burn. "Zeal! Zeal, come on! We gotta go! Now!" Zeal sleepily sat up, blinking a few times; he hadn't heard the noises from earlier.

"…Wha…? York, what are you…?"

Suddenly, one of the rafters from the ceiling broke off, the flaming debris falling down onto the cot Zeal lay in! He screamed in pain as the burning wood landed on him, burning his flesh. "NO!" York quickly ran to help his friend, trying to lift the rafter off of Zeal while being careful to avoid the flames. It was no use, though; the piece was just too heavy for him to move.

"Fuck! Zeal, I can't… I can't lift it!"

"Wh… why, York? Why didn't you… say you were…?"

"Zeal, I couldn't! There wasn't any time! Come on, you gotta push! We need to get this thing off of you!"

"You… you burned the village? You burned MY house?"

"No! That's not- agh!" York was suddenly forced to stumble back as more blazing pieces of wood fell from above! He gazed helplessly at Zeal, who was further trapped under the wreckage; there was no way to get him out.

"… I'm sorry, Zeal…"

York quickly ran out of the building as more of it came crashing down, burying his friend in the burning remains of his home. "YORK!" A powerful voice boomed from the longhouse, and the black armored man stepped out of the blazing structure, unfazed by the intense heat. The flames seemed to part around him, reflecting off his armor as though the fire itself was fearful of his presence. "YOU WILL PAY FOR THIS!" He rushed at York, wielding a large blade with some sort of ancient writing engraved on it. York quickly dove to the side as the blade crashed into the ground where he had been standing, rolling to a stop before running towards the longhouse in an attempt to get away.

He was cut off as the black armored figure appeared before him, swinging the massive blade at him! York tried to block the attack, managing to barely redirect the heavy blade with his axe, but he fell back, dropping his weapon next to him. "I SHOULD HAVE KNOWN YOU WOULD TRY SOMETHING LIKE THIS!" the man boomed, lifting his sword above his head. "THAT WAS A MISTAKE I WILL NEVER MAKE AGAIN!"

Before he could strike, though, the large dragon carving broke off from the wall behind him! He barely had enough time to turn as the massive head crushed him beneath it! It didn't kill him, though; the black armored man cursed loudly as he lay trapped underneath the heavy object. York quickly backed away from the blazing carving before turning and running off into the night, the dark figure's violent threats and curses echoing behind him as the village burned to the ground.

York didn't look back.

The black armored man stood among the smoldering wreckage that was once Zeal's home. The few surviving servants he had in the village cleared some of the debris away, revealing the burned body of Zeal.

He was still alive.

"Zeal, you see now what your so called 'comrade' has done. York is the one who did this to you, and he is the one who abandoned you. Left you to die. Can you not see now what we are trying to accomplish by reviving our god? With the power of the black dragon, you could become more powerful than any other. You could destroy York as easily as he did this village. As he did to you." The black armored man extended his right hand over Zeal's head, and a slight shimmer appeared between his gauntleted hand and Zeal.

Zeal stared blankly at him, his charred face not showing any kind of emotions. Slowly, his eyes began to darken; their once brilliant golden color faded to a glowing crimson, the color of blood.

"…Yes…" Zeal's voice was raspy, but full of hatred. "With that kind of power…

…I can have my vengeance."