Patroklos' Nightmare
In the bitterly cold dead of night, a young warrior, who was determined to save the world from an evil race of beings known only as "The Malfested", laid on the grassy, dew-drenched floor.
This particular fighter, although proud and valiant, had a reputation for killing innocent people whom he suspected retained elements of The Malfested, innocent people who have been tainted by the darkness of the Evil Seed.
For this reason, many came to fear this lad. Whenever his name was uttered in their villages, the denizens would lock their doors and pray that he wouldn't approach their home.
A few of the braver villagers would initiate an attempt to combat this lone vigilante. But their efforts went in vain, as he easily slew them in cold blood.
Little did this poor boy that he was being deceived by a much greater evil. The young boy is named Patroklos Alexander.
However, we cannot blame Patroklos for his heinous crimes. He is far too young to comprehend the severity of his situation. As we watched him from the heavens, we observed that his mother was killed by The Malfested.
She was the great Sophitia Alexandria, the holy warrior who had destroyed Soul Edge long ago with an Oriental ninja named Taki.
Unfortunately, Tira, a deranged assassin working under the servitude of Nightmare, the wielder of Soul Edge, abducted one of her kin and raised her to become one of The Malfested.
The girl's name is Pyrrha. The girl is timid and meek, but she retains the great strength of her mother. Is it regrettable that she has become tainted by The Malfested, but it is indeed possible to save her yet.
My name is Raijin. I am the ethereal being that commands the storms that feed the earth. I take it upon myself to aid the just in their quest for truth, tranquility, and knowledge. I see enormous potential embedded within Patroklos, although he is using it unwisely. I wish to inform him, guide him, and awaken him from the deception he has been caught in. For if he continues on the route he has selected, nefarious consequences will surely arise…
The sounds of blades clashed loudly. Sparks flew from the cold, hard steel as the two warriors engaged in battle dueled fiercely.
One of the two warriors was Patroklos, Heir to the Title of the Holy Warrior. The other warrior was a brave knight whom Patroklos had deemed one of the Malfested.
The Sophitia-son leaped up into the air and brought down his blade to perform a devastating vertical attack on his opponent. But the opposing knight raised his sword in front of himself horizontally and shielded himself from the blow.
Patroklos proceeded to kick him in the chest. The knight stumbled backwards and fell down on the floor, accidentally letting loose his grip on his sword's hilt.
The sword landed a small distance from his free hand. The knight attempted an anemic effort to grab it, but a sharp pain suddenly burned his wrist.
The knight cried out in pain and looked up to see Patroklos towering over him with the tip of his sword pointed at his throat and his boot's heel crushing his wrist.
"The Malfested have no place in this world."
The knight grimaced in pain and replied, "You fool! I've done nothing wrong! You're making a terrible mistake! You'll have innocent blood on your hands!"
Patroklos frowned and grimly answered, "Your fabrications will earn you no mercy!"
With those words, The Heir to the Title of the Holy Warrior brought down his sword and sliced off his opponent's head. His blood puddled slowly around his lifeless corpse.
The Greek Holy Warrior gazed at his sword, stained with the blood of an innocent man.
"In the name of my mother," quietly whispered Patroklos to himself, "I will rid the world of The Malfested, every last one of them."
Suddenly, a distant rumble of thunder made the lad turn towards the sky. A group of nefarious-looking clouds loomed overhead, brewing a violent thunderstorm.
A few bolts of lightning lit up chunks of the thunder-heads, and the wind began picking up slightly. A few subtle drops of rain began falling down from the sky, and another rumble of thunder accompanied them.
Like most storms do, the rain, wind, and lightning intensified. Patroklos began running away, covering his head with his shield.
An amplified thunder clap roared overhead, making every building and window rattle violently. Bands of rain battered down on the village, and the lightning flashed more vibrantly.
The young warrior hid underneath a building with a large roof beneath it, although he still was outside. He had didn't think he had ever seen a storm this vigorous, not like this one at least.
As he was observing the storm unleash its destructive fury on the town, a sudden obstreperous roar of thunder and an illumines bolt of lightning struck a distance from where Patroklos stood.
The blinding light was so powerful that Patroklos had to shield his eyes to prevent his irises from burning.
He squinted his eyes to see the silhouette of a towering figure marching powerfully through the fearsome storm.
The figure eventually made his way through the bands of rain and wind and revealed himself. They wore a large dark kimono, decorated with elegant designs of storm clouds and lightning bolts. In the center of it, there was a large lightning bolt designed on it with blue flames behind it.
On his head was a large, black conical sedge hat with a large lightning-bolt design on it.
Over his eyes was a black blind fold, with a Chinese symbol depicting the word, "Lightning" in the center of it.
On his hands were gloves that were cut off at the fingers-tips, also designed with elegant storm clouds and lightning bolts pattern.
His hair was dark, long, and thick with light-blue streaks in it. His skin was as pale as snow.
He wore a long, black cape with that storm cloud and lightning-bolt pattern, along with a large lightning-bolt design on it.
And he wore dark traveller's boots with that same lightning-bolt/storm cloud design.
Raijin, the deity that controlled storms and hurricanes, stood before Patroklos. The storm god's cape flowed in the powerful wind as he stood there with his fists clenched.
Patroklos stood there, baffled at who this mysterious stranger was who suddenly seemed to have come out of nowhere.
Nevertheless, the warrior assumed that this was no ordinary human being. This wandered did not appear to be a common villager, and if anything, he appeared more like an eccentric vigilante.
He drew out his sword and called out, "Are you one of the Malfested?"
The silent stranger did not respond. Patroklos arched his eyebrow, and pointed the tip of his sword at him. "Answer me! Unless you wish to taste the cold, hard steel of my blade!"
The stranger merely raised his head slightly, exhibiting no signs of fear, no emotion, no anything. Instead, electricity began coursing through his body, circulating around his person like snakes.
The Greek Holy Warrior's eyes widened, and he immediately prepared for an attack. With a roar, he charged towards the stranger with his sword raised, ready to slay this demon with power over the elements.
Just as Patroklos swung his sword, a violent gust of wind threw him balance, causing him to stumble over. When he stood back up, the stranger had suddenly vanished into thin air.
He looked to his left and to his right, but the man with the sedge hat was nowhere in sight. Could he have just imagined him? But he seemed so real. Did the storm cause him to see some kind of illusion?
When Patroklos lowered his sword and shield, another harsh gust of wind made him stumble over again. The Heir to the Holy Sword began looked to his left and to his right again, and then he turned around.
There stood the man with the dark kimono.
Patroklos gasped and grasped the hilt of his sword tightly. No, for sure this man wasn't a mirage. A sudden surge of fear formed inside of him. Something told him that this wasn't an ordinary human being at all.
Hiding a cracking voice, Patroklos cried out, "Who are you?"
The stranger put his arms in front of him, displaying electricity flowing out of his finger-tips, hands, and wrists.
"I am Raijin, the god of storms." The moment he said that, a thunder roared and lightning zig-zagged across the stormy sky.
Patroklos couldn't believe what he was hearing. Was this man insane? Was he truly a deity of the heavens?
Unconvinced by this man's words, the young warrior unsheathed his sword once again and declared, "Malicious liar! You're one of the Malfested! There's no place in this word for the likes of you!"
He charged at Raijin once again, with his sword out in front of him. Right before Patroklos inserted his blade through Raijin's torso, the storm god seemed to convert into water and sink into a puddle.
The Holy Vigilante couldn't believe his eyes. He gazed down at the puddle, but all he could see was his own shocked reflection.
Then, a moment later, Raijin resurfaced out of another puddle, his body transforming into a solid figure once again.
Patroklos just stood there, at a loss for words. There was no denying it. This stranger was indeed a deity of great power.
"What…what do you want with me?" Interrogated Patroklos, somewhat afraid of this new adversary.
"I've watched you from the heavens, Patroklos." Answered Raijin, "and I am aware of your plight. Your sister is in grave danger."
Patroklos entire body jumped when he heard the storm deity mention Pyrrha. Immediately, Patroklos drew out his sword once again.
"What do you know of my sister?" he demanded, pointing his sword at Raijin.
"The girl with the ring blade you search for. She is one who works for the Malfested."
Patroklos remained silent, awaiting to hear more from the bringer of storms.
"You are being deceived, Patroklos. Your superior, Graf Dumas, is a body possessed by the demonic blade, Soul Edge. It is merely utilizing you, young warrior, as a puppet to harness energy for it to become unstoppable. The innocent people you slay are its reward. It consumes the souls of the dead. When it does this, it gains more power. The very people you claim to be against are the ones you are serving."
He couldn't believe his ears. This was insanity. Graf Dumas was actually a puppet for Soul Edge? No, it couldn't be.
"You lie!" snarled Patroklos. "I would never serve the Malfested! They are the evil that must be purged from the world!"
"Watch your words," continued Raijin. "Your sister, the only family you now have, has become one of the Malfested."
"…What?" uttered Patroklos, his eyes widened. "N-No…you're lying. You're…you're lying! You're lying!"
Infuriated by Raijin's words, the Holy Greek Warrior charged at the storm deity once again, only this time, a lightning bolt came down from the sky and struck Raijin, making him vanish.
Panting heavily, Patroklos screamed, "Come out and face me, coward! I will show you the meaning of justice!"
For a few moments, nothing responded but the sound of rain and distant thunder. When suddenly, out of the shadows, a demonic figure with dark skin, black hair, and glowing red eyes stood in front of Patroklos.
It growled menacingly, and it clutched a sword and shield that had a design just like Patroklos' weapons. In fact, it even emulated Patroklos' appearance.
The young warrior stared at this villainous doppelganger, when another one sprang out as well, and then another, and another still.
A soon, a whole group of them surrounded Patroklos, snarling and foaming at the mouth. They lunged at Patroklos, and he began to fight them.
He stabbed one of them in the stomach, and he managed to cut off another one's head. However, the dark "Patroklos' group" got the upper hand. One of them sliced him on the back, while another one slashed at his stomach.
Soon, a barrage of punches, kicks, and stabs befell the Greek Holy Warrior. He collapsed onto the floor, bloody and beaten. The group of shadow warriors approached him, eager to slice him apart and eat his insides, when all of a sudden, a bolt of lightning appeared behind the demon group.
Raijin stood behind them in a sort of fighting stance, with electricity slithering all around his body. The deranged warriors turned to him and began running, having a desire for bloodlust.
The storm deity raised his hands in front of him, and electricity began coursing throughout his body again. He stuck out his hands and lightning shot forth from them, electrocuting them all to death.
The Holy Greek Warrior opened his eyes and witnessed Raijin standing there among the defeated atrocities.
The storm god stopped in front of Patroklos. Looking down at him, he said, "You have great power, Patroklos. But you are acting no differently than the devils that lay before you, the ones who slew your mother and abducted Pyrrha. Your sister has become one of them. If you prolong your dark deeds, then so shall you!"
Becoming somewhat immobilized due to the wounds he had received from the attack, he forcefully reached for his sword.
"I am nothing like them! And neither is Pyrrha! I am justice!" He wobbly got to his feet, clutching his blood-stained sword and shield. "I've had it with your misleading anecdotes! You're one of the Malfested! And like all the Malfested…!"
Once again, Patroklos charged at him. "You must perish!"
With a roar, Patroklos raised his blade and swung it fiercely at Raijin.
When suddenly…he woke up.
The young warrior sat up from the grass, drenched in sweat and shaking. He had no wounds, no injuries, no nothing. There was no storm or anything of the sort.
He carefully inspected the area, searching for that mysterious man with the blind-fold, cape, and sedge hat. He was nowhere to be found.
"It was all…just a dream?" Patroklos gazed at his hand for a moment, and he thought: But how? It was so real.
He slowly stood up and stared at the sky in solemn contemplation. Who was that mysterious figure in his dreams? Could he have seen or met them before? No, it couldn't be. Patroklos was working for a worthy cause, fighting for the good of mankind. Or was he? Was he fighting because he wanted to rid the world of the Malfested? Or was it for a petty revenge?
As he stood there in contemplation, a sudden screaming was heard in the distance. He saw invaders attacking a nearby town in the distance.
"The Malfested are at it again! They must be stopped!" He sprinted as fast he could to the town, preparing to battle anyone who stood in his way.
However, as he ran, Raijin observed from a distance as well. The storm deity shook his head slowly and uttered to himself, "Be prepared, Patroklos. You will not be pleased with what has been done to your older sister."
A gentle breeze blew and Raijin disappeared along with it.
As the invaders slew a knight guarding the town, the flag he was clutching flew out of his hands and Patroklos caught it.
"Hand over that flag!" hollered one of the invading troops. Patroklos turned to him and replied, "This is the flag of the emperor that bestowed favors to the graf."
He shoved the flag's hilt onto the floor.
"So, you serve Graf Dumas!" declared the soldier, pointing at him with his sword. Patroklos unsheathed his sword and responded with, "And you must be the Malfested that are destroying this town!"
Patroklos prepared himself and announced, "I am the holy warrior! Know my might!..."