I do not own anything of Stephen Kings

That being said this first chapter is heavily influenced by Stephen Kings the dark tower.

Things will remain kinda similar until I get to introduce some of the other characters. Believe me, this thing is going to be freakin epic long, with lots of references to popular anime, video games, and works of fiction. In the mean time, read, review, and offer as many suggestions as you want. Ill go crazy with the suggestions. No flames.

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The Man in Black fled across the desert, and the Guardian followed.

The desert was a deserts' desert, stretching on for what seemed like an eternity. It was white and blinding and waterless, a regular hell on earth, optimizing the recurring thought that rang through the minds of all who lived on this world. The world had moved on, and all the great cities were following it.

The Guardian had been struck by a strange dizziness, making the landscape before him seem unreal, as though he could see through it, but it passed as quickly as it came. And he continued his journey, miles passed stoically, not hurrying, but not loafing. He carried a steel jug at his side, mercifully still heavy with water. Perhaps where he a better monk at the beginning of his life, he could shake the thirst off, strategically, drinking when it was only necessary, but that chapter of his story was at an end. On his back was his sword, a well weighted blade that reached down past his jug, the handle lightly tapping the back of his head. His red kimono, which was heavy, was nevertheless cool in the desert heat, breathing well against the wind. The same could not be said for the weighted clothing underneath; black, thick, hide leggings, and a black tunic.

He saw a great dune to the left of him, and scaled it to gain greater sight of the outlying land. He saw the remains of an abandoned campsite to the west, and climbed down to inspect. Everything seemed to be in place. There was no sign that any living thing had been their, save for the charred remains of devil grass, the only burnable thing in the area, and an unopened bottle of rum. The Guardian uncorked the bottle, and drank gratefully, in deep thought. This was the Man in Blacks camp, he thought, but why would he leave the rum. Gift, perhaps, Or more likely a challenge. For him, it must be a game. He wants me to catch him, but he won't make this easy. He had no interest in the message, if it were a message. The camp remains were just as cold as all the others, but he was gaining ground. He sat down with his bottle prize, and thought back to the dizziness. What had brought it on? The rum brought back old memories of his old friends, lost long ago to a dead city. He still had his sword, his mighty sword, and at least that was enough.

Right?

He put the disturbing question aside, and began to gather devil grass for his own fire. It had been along time since the events that defined his journey into manhood, but the memories stood fresh in his mind, memories of young Braska, a Temple cleric who abandoned his beliefs to persue the tower , and Jecht, the man from another world who seemed to just be along for the ride.

He had already come this far, and now was not the time to allow the past to draw him from his goal. Jecht was gone, Braska was dead, and now only the tower was left. And the only way to the tower was through the an in black. And so the Guardian slept, visions of the future swirling with the memories of the past.

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I know this starts out a little slow, but so did the original book. Just bear with me until some more characters are introduced.