I'll be uploading my first novel here chapter by chapter as I edit it again for re-submission to publishers at a higher standard. Enjoy. Review. FYI British spelling.

PROLOGUE

A CITY IS BURNING DOWN

Orange light illuminated the edges of this thunderous night sky, as beneath this celestial turmoil was a scene straight from Hell. The city was burning down. People screamed as they tried to flee, flickering flames surrounding them, engulfing them, granting both agony and death. Bullets sounded clear through the sizzling air as companions to this horror. With every second, the body count continued to rise. Demons were among them, calling the flames!

"E-Everyone...pull back!" a panicked voice shouted, but his words and squadron were swept away by a torrent of fresh flames. The whiteness of the flames showed the sheer heat that it produced, but they were unnatural, swirling and writhing like a living thing. It was hunting, chasing and killing; burning anyone it touched to cinders. Agonised screams defiled the air as the white fire claimed evermore more victims.

Amidst all this, two men casually strolled through the crumbling, ashen wreckage. With a wave of a hand, the white inferno parted, allowing them safe passage down the middle, they were the cause of this hell. Their eyes darted about their surroundings, other senses reaching out, they were searching, hunting, yet hoping their prey would come to them. This genocide was simply a means to draw out this city's master. They had a score to settle with him; Gawain – one of the Knights of the Round Table, more commonly known as the Knights of Magistas. The Magistas were a powerful organization with bases all around the world, deeply trenched in politics, military…and magic.

As for the two men…They were an intimidating sight, their faces hidden in featureless, shield-styled masks and their bodies wrapped in grey cloaks. With a sea of flames parting before them, it was as if two demons had risen from the depths. "Where the hell are they?" the taller of the two demanded, his hair was a dark brown, almost black, and his features hidden beneath a white mask, showing only his eyes, which burned with a golden, inhuman wrath.

"Don't worry," the shorter man assured calmly. He, unlike his colleague was blonde haired, blue eyed, with his features hidden by a black mask of the same style. "They'll come alright, there's no way Gawain and the others could ignore this."

"Yes, you're right, they'll come," the white masked man eventually agreed, his voice dripping with bloodlust. "I can't wait to rip them apart." It was time for their revenge. The torture, the experimentation, the humiliation, at last it would be paid back in full. This city was owned by the Magistas, many of their workers, and all of their police and military were on their payroll, they all expendable to the masked men.

Their senses sharp and focused, the masked men could faintly hear the careful placing of near-silent footsteps, amidst the sea of rubble. They could not feel the menacing presence of the knights, or one like themselves, and yet the sounds were too well hidden to be a civilian. It seemed the city had finally decided to retaliate properly. Beneath his white mask, the man grinned viciously. The two stopped, they would not walk willingly into an ambush. "Shall I take these?" he asked quietly, so they could not hear him, as his unnatural golden eyes glowed ever brighter, like headlights from the openings in his white mask.

The man in the black mask shook his head, his blonde hair messily tumbling about. "No I've got these. I can't have you wasting all your energy now."

Hidden nearby, the gunmen waited for the two, silent as they could be, breaths held until they realised that their targets had stopped, regarding exactly where they were hidden. 'Damn it, they've spotted us!' In unison they leapt up, avoiding the lingering white flames around them. There were dozens of them; each dressed in black military uniforms; rifles or machine guns in hand, hard-eyed professionals.

"Everybody fire!" their squad leader ordered, yet nobody fired, they were somehow frozen in place, they struggled to move - at least a trigger finger would do, but no, nothing.

"What the hell is this?" one of the gunmen yelled in a blind panic.

"T-That guy's a contractor-mage too!" another screamed, eyes darting about, his face pale. The man in the black mask was surrounded by a pale blue aura, his eyes glowing with the same eerie colour.

"Sorry boys, but its suicide for you all," the black masked man said with childish glee, the aura around him flaring at his 'suggestion.' In response, the gunmen's eyes grew dull as the power took effect. Their expressions of anger and terror disappeared, replaced by a calm, emotionless exterior. Unwillingly they turned to face each other, aimed, fired, and collectively collapsed to the ground.

Just like magic, for magic it was, of a sort, the contract between a human and Heaven or Hell. In exchange for great physical, mental, and magical power, one bound their fates to the inhuman. Representatives of the forces of good and evil…At least that had been the case in the ancient histories of humanity, with many of these 'contractor-mages' being viewed as demi-gods, heroes, villains, legends, some even spawning religions through their deeds. Now however, the humans sought power for their own ends, and the angels and demons began viewing contracts as a game of sorts, who had the strongest, who killed the most from the other side, as such they were left to their own devices, with tremendous power. Magistas was one such organization that gathered these extraordinary people, as were Grey Faction, the destroyers of this city.

"Talk about disturbing," the white masked man noted as he watched the soldiers tumble to the ground, heads splattering - blood spurting, killed by their own hand, but not by their own choice. This was the black masked man's power, he could read and control other people's minds; gained from a Cherubim's contract. As for his partner, he could create flames of extreme temperatures with the ability to only harm what he wished to kill. A power gained from one of Seraphim. It was with this that they'd laid bloody waste to this city.

"And turning someone into ash is better?" the other retorted with a smirk. Stepping over the corpses, they continued on their way. They would reach the 'government' building in less than ten minutes, the knights ruled from there.

The two paused in mid step as a deep, dark aura pressed down on them; it was the killing intent of a powerful warrior. "It seems that they've decided to greet us after all."

"Sure seems that way," the white masked man agreed, eager for his revenge to begin. A mere hundred yards away, atop a broken smouldering building was a man dressed in black armour, his face hidden by a helmet and visor.

"Ghost, you fool…" Gawain whispered, recognising the white flames. In the blinking of an eye, he stood before them, tall and lethal.

'Gawain!'

'He's finally here!'

Gawain stood at over six foot in height; his body was encased entirely in a black synthetic material with streamline black armour over it. The armour was shaped to fit his body, showing his compact, muscular form. Hanging from his belt on one side was medieval style broadsword, while on the other side was a strange looking silver gun with a green vial attached to the barrel.

"So the lead actor finally emerges," the black masked man commented, smiling wryly.

"Gawain, where are the other two?" the white masked man demanded, referring to the other knights assigned here alongside Gawain. Under his visor, Gawain frowned, recognising the man's voice as well.

"So it really is you; White Ghost...Andrew, to think that you'd survived." His voice was deep and melodious; but his words lacked any real emotion. The man in the white mask sighed. Unclipping the clasps of the mask, he removed it, revealing a young man, perhaps nineteen or twenty years old; his features were handsome in a sharp hawk-like way, though some would find him intimidating.

"Yeah, I did," Andrew replied, eyes glowing brighter. "I'm here to settle my score with the Magistas, and I'm starting with you."

"Don't be stupid," Gawain stated with distain. "You should have been content that you were simply able to escape with your life, but here you are, bringing war and destruction. Do you and your masked friend believe you can overcome us?"

"Yes," Andrew declared, his body bursting into flame, he looked like a white phantom. "The two of us alone are enough to destroy everything!"

"So arrogant," noted Gawain. "Have you deluded him with words of revenge?" Gawain asked, addressing the man in the black mask, who snorted in amusement, unclipping his mask as well. He was older than Andrew by five years or so, his face was tanned and he wore a large toothy grin that contrasted with his gaze, which was bitterly cold.

"I did nothing of the sort, we just happen to want the same thing; for your organisation to disappear from this world," the blond man stated calmly, throwing his mask to the ground. "I doubt if you remember me, so I'll re-introduce myself. I'm Alex Anderson, leader of Grey Faction, a group we have made for the express purpose of destroying Magistas."

"I see," muttered Gawain, drawing the sword. "Then there's no reason to talk. I will correct the Elders, and Siegfried's mistake."

"Fine by us, I'd like to kill you before the others arrive," Alex admitted, reaching inside his grey cloak, pulling out a high calibre pistol. 'I won't lose this time!' For a brief moment they were still, silent; their muscles tense, senses sharp, weapons at the ready, their powerful auras sizzling the air around them.

"Time to die, Gawain!" Andrew roared, charging forward, a swirling orb of fire forming from his palm. Alex weaved behind Andrew, firing bullets, which Gawain deflected with the tip of his blade.

"Is that it?" Gawain asked, slashing at Andrew with dozens of fast stabs, which Andrew narrowly avoided, before blasting the knight at close range with his conjured flames. The explosion caused sent them both sprawling. However the knight's armour was designed to withstand magic and aura, and he recovered quickly. As Andrew pushed himself up, Gawain stood waiting for him, sword raised. He swung down with a helm splitting attack, trying to split Andrew's skull in two.

'Shit!'

Alex, discarding his gun, leaped between the two, if he pushed Andrew to safety, then he would have been the one cut down, so reaching his arms out, hands glowing blue. CLANG! Alex caught the blade with his bare hands, hardening them to the point of enduring the impact, while also making his aura vibrate to connect the smooth, near friction-less blade to make catching the blade possible.

"Incredible..." Gawain spat out, sensing what Alex had done with his aura to stop his sword, a level of aura control that few could manage.

"Andrew - now!" Alex yelled, holding the sword tight while grounding himself, as Gawain tried to pull himself away. Andrew jumped up into the air, creating a humongous fireball that blotted out the sky for a moment; he then condensed all those flames into a tiny incandescent orb, less than a centimetre wide, with the air appearing distorted around it.

"Take this!" Andrew shouted, driving it into Gawain's chest plate. Everything around them was obliterated in a torrent of flames as it exploded back into its original size and much further. Andrew had jokingly named the move; 'big bang' and it certainly lived up to the concept, something tiny and impossibly dense expanding with tremendous force and speed. Andrew excluded Alex from his flames effects, but the rest of the city vanished, buildings and people alike scattering into ash.

From the furthest edges of that inferno blasted out a smouldering shape, it was Gawain. 'What an incredible attack!' he thought, tumbling along the seared ground, unable to stop himself due to the momentum, while the buildings that could have stopped him were now gone. Eventually Gawain came to a skidding stop, and he lay there for a long time, his body hurting too much to even move. The armour which he wore had been made by the greatest minds in the worlds of magic and technology, and yet it couldn't fully protect Gawain from this. Eventually the realisation that they would be searching for him finally stirred him to move. He slowly forced himself to endure the horrendous aches and broken bones, shakily Gawain standing. Gawain then realised that most of his armour was had crumbled away, leaving only half his helmet, cracked gauntlets and vambrace, and his sword long gone. 'I can't believe he destroyed my anti-contractor armour...'

The flames that had destroyed the city fortunately hadn't reached as far as he had been flung, or he would be dead. He was about to flee when the flames vanished all at once, leaving a thick carpet of ash for many miles. Gawain cursed under his breath, he had been incapacitated for too long to escape. Andrew casually strolled towards him, completely confident and when he drew close, Andrew spoke. "I don't know what's tougher, you or your armour," he noted, creating another fireball.

"You've gotten stronger..." Gawain said softly, while mentally preparing himself for almost certain death at Andrew's hands. "But not enough to win against the Elders or Si-!" his words were cut off as three gunshots rapidly sounded. "G-Gah!" blood spewed from his mouth, Gawain staggered, turning to the source, to see Alex standing behind him, a smoking gun in hand. "You!"

"The plan worked after all," Alex smirked, aiming at Gawain's now exposed face. Gawain reached for his own pistol, but it had been destroyed. BANG! The knight collapsed to the ground, dead, denied a warrior's death.

"One down," Andrew laughed, biting back tears of delight as he hurried over to join Alex, he paused briefly to kick Gawain, before saying, "but I get to kill the other two here."

"Fine by me," Alex conceded, holstering his gun. "Gawain's the only one I had a personal grudge against anyways, although…" he paused to regard the miles of ashen nothingness. "You might have already gotten them with that attack."

"We'll need to check then," Andrew shrugged, though secretly pleased at the possibility, because it would mean less risk for them. As Magistas could potentially muster millions of forces against them, and no matter how strong they were, this would be neither a quick or easy campaign. "Let's go, Alex."

"I'm right behind you."

CHAPTER END

FIVE YEARS LATER...