Chapter 1:
"Sir, enemy forces have defeated our first battalion stationed outside the capital with ease and are proceeding to break their way through the wall. Reinforcements are rushing now to back up our troops at the gate."
A nervous scout is shaking on his knees as he updates his commanding officer on a battle raging on in their city. The man in charge of him is wearing a set of heavy dark blue armor, with a matching sash hanging from his waist to show his position as a general of the royal army. The General slowly grabs a gigantic shield off of his back and rests it with the bottom point on the ground, shaking the room with a loud thud as he does so. "Do you think me daft?"
The scout flinches as his boss grabs for his weapon and questions him. "N-no sir. Of course not sir. I'm just doing my job."
"I know the state we are in, soldier. Your job is to defend your capital and fight for your country, now grab a sword and fight with your brothers and sisters," The general says swinging his massive shield, knocking back the man.
He picks himself up and holds his side in pain. "B-but I'm not trained for combat. I'll die out there." He squeezes these words through his mouth as he strains to get his breath back.
"And why the gods is that my problem? As a soldier of Aodirn you should be willing to give your life to your land. So once more, arm yourself and get on the battlefield. Or would you rather I put you down here by my shield instead, coward?"
"... No sir, I'll be off to the front lines at once," He turns and walks towards the doors of the large castle they're in and grabs a random spear off the weapon racks lining the halls.
"Good choice," The general says to himself watching the young man limp to his end. He turns around and places his giant shield onto his back again. He begins to march off to a corridor in the rear of the castle and grabs one of the many bottles of ale that are sitting around the room, and gulps it all down.
"General Ferdinand!" The loud clanging of Ferdinand's blue armor caught the attention of a much younger man who was making his way down from the second story of the colossal castle. The young man rushes down the stairs to greet Ferdinand, and join him in walking down the corridor. He was a handsome man with curly blonde hair that complements his emerald eyes and armor. He was in stark contrast with Ferdinand, who was the definition of an old grizzled war veteran. They had nothing in common. One was a pretty boy who fought from afar with a bow on a horse, the other a behemoth of a man with long untamed hair and beard. Though they did share two things; Their remarkable prowess on the battlefield, and the sashes they wear that show their position as generals.
Ferdinand throws aside the now empty ale bottle, and opens a door that leads to the basement. "Alexei," Ferdinand greets plainly.
"I'm glad to see you. I just received some bad news," Alexei says "Apparently the transfer ritual isn't going to be ready for a soul as powerful as the king's for at least another three hours."
"We'll be lucky if we can stall Osibir's siege on the castle for two hours, there's no way we can back them off for another hour on top of that!" Ferdinand yells.
"Yeeeah, there in lies the problem. The king is consulting with the sages as we speak to come up with a solution."
"You're problems are much larger than you think," A powerful voice says behind the two generals.
They both whip around and close the door to the basement to see a man in the standard guard armor and helmet. Alexei sneakily reaches for his lower back where is bow is sheathed, in case he needs to ready an arrow.
Ferdinand tenses. "What do you mean?..." He asks forcefully.
The guard senses their hostility and rests his hand on his sword's hilt. "You all will loose this war and burn for your sins,"
"Heresy!" Alexei yells grabbing an arrow from it's quiver, and locking it back. "State your name and commanding officer!"
"I serve the true rulers of this continent!" The guard yells slashing his sword at Alexei.
Now the real battle was not trying to hold back forces at the wall of the capital, it was raging on within the walls of the king's own castle. Real guards were clashing blades with impostors in an attempt to survive and keep them off the king's trail, so he could escape. For decades the rival kingdoms had feuded. But Osibir had finally had enough and chose to invade and put an end to the king of Aodirn's unprovoked attacks, and treacherous rule over his own people when they received word that the king was going to perform a ritual to make himself an unstoppable warrior with the powers of a god.
Mere feet from the doors to the basement, where the King is, Alexei and Ferdinand are struggling to hold off that single mysterious man in disguise. They take turns blocking his attacks, and trying to hit him with their own.
Alexei repeatedly draws and shoots his bow at the man, aiming for the weak points in the joints of his armor. Meanwhile Ferdinand tries to ram the opponent with his shield. The man is too fast and agile for either of them too land their attacks. He bounds over Ferdinand's giant shield and slashes at him from the back, somersaulting over him. The close quarters aren't fairing well for the archery attempts on their foe. Alexei desperately empties his quiver in shots of three arrows at a time.
The man sees this as an opening and leads Ferdinand to charge at him. As the shield draws closer he slides underneath and stabs at the back of Ferdinand's knee. Alexei shoots a handfuls of arrows towards the legs of Ferdinand to strike the man as he comes out from under him. Instead the man uses the large armor on Ferdinand's back as a launch pad to boost himself off. The old warrior falls to the ground as the intruder jumps off him, causing the sword in his leg to dig in deeper. When he collides with the ground he opens his eyes for a split moment to see Alexei's arrows flying straight towards him. They soar true through the air, stopping only when they pierce Ferdinand, sending his soul to Hell.
While Alexei is frozen in shock from killing his comrade, the man lands behind him and grabs the bow from his hands. He pulls the bow over Alexei's head and loops it around, pulling the bowstring tight around the neck.
"Emperor Damon... Please... forgive..." Alexei struggles to force out a final prayer as he reaches to try and pull the string off his neck. The man reaches and pulls out a small thin dagger from a hilt on Alexei's hip. To insure the death of his target is certain the man pulls the bow closer and swiftly stabs Alexei in the chest, sliding the blade through the ribs, and piercing the heart.
The man in the guard uniform throws the cadaver over towards his deceased partner, and whistles a tune to alert the other soldiers fighting the actual guards that the path to their objective, the knight king of Aodirn, has been found.
Several minutes go by, and the last of the castle guards have been picked off. The soldiers left all regroup around the basement entrance and prepare to charge on the king. The one leading them is the same man who took down the two generals at the door, only now he was out of the disguise and in his own armor, if you could even classify it as that. He wore a tight pair of pants, with basic sandals, and a beautiful necklace with feathers and beads, yet no shirt. He was an older man, but not quite as old as Ferdinand, likely in his forties. Numerous traditional tribal tattoos covered his torso and arms, and his hair was dark with it intricately braided all the the down to his back. His eyes were a light brown, the same shade as his skin. They gleamed as he peered at the door, ready to face whatever was lurking behind it.
"Chief Ashur, everyone is here, and ready to strike," A random soldier informs their leader.
"We charge at once," He commands.
Ashur holds his hand out in front of him. As he does this the tattoos on his body begin to glow a bright white, lighting up the dim room and blinding the soldiers. The tattoos fade until they give off a faint glow of light, except on his hand, where a small flame has appeared. The flame grows in his hand and becomes a large rod of swirling fire. Ashur close his hand around the flame and it extinguishes into a cloud of smoke, leaving behind a curved blade in his hand.
His tattoos light up again as flames cover his arms and his sword. Ashur points the blade at the door and sends a fireball at it, blowing it off it's hinges. He sprints forward through the door, his blade ready to strike, and his army following him.
They run down a long stair well that opens into a large room, almost as big as the main hall of the castle they're all under. It's dimly lit only by candles in the room, and a small glint of light in the center of the room. As the soldiers eyes adjust to the darkness they see the contents of the room. Covering the ground is a magic circle with three rings, each getting smaller the closer they are to the center, drawn entirely in blood. The space between the middle and outer ring has the dead bodies of four elderly people laid inside it. Between the middle and smaller circle are runes burned into the stone floor.
The smallest, and inner most circle, is elevated on a small stand shaped like a pillar. Inscribed on the top of the stand is a sigil lustering a faint shade of crimson red. Resting atop the stand are two objects. One is a chalice nearly drank dry, and a empty rack for a sword.
"Would one of you be willing to examine the scene?" Ashur asks his men.
"Yes sir, we'll investigate at once," A soldier says stepping forward, several others following them.
"Thank you, and please, take great care," Ashur becomes lost in thought after saying this. He looks closely around the room, taking care to watch closely where he steps. Peering across the room he notices one of the large stones that make up the flooring jutting up slightly out of place.
Ashur treads lightly as he moves toward the out of place rock, suspecting it to be the entrance to an escape rout King Damon may have used. He crouches down to put his hand on the stone, but before he can lift it up one of his soldiers approach him, to inform him of their findings.
"Chief, apon inspection we haven't been able to shine much on the ritual. None of us can translate the runes, nor understand the meaning of the sigil. But we have sent a scout back to the castle with the cup, so that they can test the contents."
Ashur holds out his palm to sense the ground under the stone for the presence of magic, feeling nothing. "And what of the bodies?"
"Completely hallowed out, sir. No magic energy, no soul, no trace of any life force, nothing."
Ashur registers what the soldier says, but doesn't respond. He grabs the edge of the out of place stone and pulls it up revealing a small hole. After lifting up several bordering rocks Ashur unearths the entire hole, and what's inside. He reaches his hand down, and pulls out a severed forearm. Then leg. Then upper arm.
One by one Ashur and his men uncover the pieces of a dismembered woman, with the biggest parts at the bottom. The second to last part is the head of the unfortunate woman. She was a beautiful woman who's face caught the attention of everyone in the room. It becomes stagnant in silence as everyone stairs at the head, until a single soldier speaks up to ask Ashur a question.
"Sir... Isn't that Aodirn's queen?"
"It appears so," He responds. Ashur closes his eyes in concentration, asking himself countless questions. "None of this makes sense... How could that rat have escaped, and where is he now if this isn't an escape route?!"
"We'll look into that right away sir. I'll go take some men to examine the perimeter of the castle," A soldier says leading several other up and out of the castle.
Two other higher ranking soldiers step forward, one gazing back into the hole, the other approaching Ashur.
"So Chief," The one soldier starts. "Why do you think Damon would put down his consort like this?"
"I've no clue," He answers. "But what really confuses me about that is this; If he was going to get rid of his wife, why now? And why would he do it when they were just a couple of months from birthing and heir?"
"Well this makes that question a lot more complicated," The other soldier says im a grim voice pulling out the last body part from the crater, the queen's blood drenched torso.
"What do you mean?" Ashur asks in a grave tone.
"There's a very rough gash across her stomach. The baby's been removed and there's nothing else down the hole but blood..."
Ashur clenches his fists, fighting himself for control of his anger. His tattoos glow a blinding white as his arms burst into flame, and sparks of electricity dance across his skin. "Damn it all!" He roars.
The fire spreads swiftly across his entire body, and his eyes are now the bright glowing shade of white being emitted from his tattoos. Ashur looks over at the soldier who had pulled the body out of the hole with his radiant eyes, and yells at him a question. "Well then tell me," Blood drops from his clenched fists as he growls those words from his gritting teeth. "If it's not in the damn hole, where's the baby now?!"
...
"There's no way I can do this shit! This isn't some game!" A young man says in a fit of rage. The man shakes his head in denial and tries to find a way out of the situation he has put himself in.
A large green hand collides with the teenager's face, causing him to snap to his senses and leaving a prominent palm shaped red mark on his pale face "Get a hold of yourself dammit!" This strong deep voiced command comes from a green behemoth of a man. "Quit being stubborn and listen to me for once in your life, Jordan. I've raised you since you were baby, I know what you can and can't do. That's why I'm being completely honest with you here."
Jordan rubs his aching cheek and looks at the man who raised him. He had some interesting features, not the least being his jade skin and staggering height, standing at at least seven feet tall easily. He also had pointed ears, and his "mark", a blue tribal design going around his left eye and across his nose. All were characteristics present from his birth, signifying the variant of eleven race he is. Jordan was hoping for at least some advice from him. Or an offer to help him against his opponent ahead. Maybe motivational speech? He'd really go for anything at this moment.
"Your odds here aren't good. At all. I probably won't be surprised at all if you fail here, no matter how humiliating the loss. In fact if anyone ever hears of this fight and how you lost, I will most likely have to deny the fact I ever had anything to do with your life to prevent my existence from being a laughing stock just because I knew you."
"But?..." Jordan asks looking for more.
"But we have no other choice. You need to do this. Even if you don't stand a chance now, nobody else ever would," He says back.
"Whelp shit, glad to know I'm loved," Jordan says sarcastically turning his attention back to the problem at hand.
"Yep, with all my heart," The tall man says jokingly putting his hands together in the shape of a heart.
"You're a real shitty dad, y'know that, Lesser?"
"Never claimed to be a good one," Lesser says pulling his hands away each other in the motion of a breaking heart.
Jordan shakes his head once more to brace himself. He slicks his black sweaty hair back out of his face, his foe reflecting in his eyes as he wastes his time. They await Jordan's first move before advancing. Before he lunges into battle Jordan switches through his weapons, trying to think of the best strategy he can, finally deciding on his trusty sword.
Finally he moves slowly towards his final and most overwhelming challenge in his journey. Once the moment is right Jordan strikes, swinging his sword relentlessly at his enemy. The opponent isn't even phased at the onslaught of attacks, shrugging them off and readying his attack. They grab a hammer off their back and raises it before bringing down swiftly where Jordan is standing.
He runs to the side, narrowly avoiding the attack, but getting knocked off balance from the shockwave in the process. Jordan struggles to move so he can dodge the next strike, but can't manage to and gets knocked back by a hammer swing. He runs in closer, hoping to get behind his opponent and strike from there, using his speed to get the edge.
Sweat runs off Jordan's face as he charges with all the will he has. He swings his blade as he swerves around his foe, only to be blocked by a rock wall they summon to defend their rear. Jordan bounces off the wall unable to react. While Jordan is ricocheted off the stone barrier his enemy raises their hammer and sends it crashing down once more, landing atop their target this time.
A thick vile silence hovers for several seconds after Jordan's loss, until deep bellowing laughter can be heard followed by chilling words of pure anguish.
"And they were never heard from again..."
GAME OVER
"Fuck this stupid ass piece of shit game!" Jordan yells toward a television he had spent the last several hours a few inches from, trying to beat the final boss of a videogame. "That is waaay too hard of a final boss! How is anyone even supposed to beat that?!"
Lesser groans as he lifts himself up off the hard ground he'd been sitting on. He reaches over to a windowsill next to him and grabs an almost empty can of beer he was enjoying alongside Jordan's suffering. Finishing the last couple sips of the alcohol he crushes the can and throws it behind him where it lands next to the two's mountain of boxes they never unpack, since they move around so much.
"Beats me, man. You can keep playing if you want, just try to keep it down."
"You goin to bed already? It's only 9:30," Jordan asks Lesser as he walks towards his room, taking off his shirt and throwing it into a pile in the corner, not caring enough to shut the door behind him.
"Yeah, I got a new job that starts early tomorrow. It's a really good job, pays a lot too. So it's important I get my rest and I'm not a zombie on my first day," Lesser answers as he ties his straw colored hair back into a pony tail, and takes a couple sleeping pills.
"Wow, new job right off the bat? No interview or nothing?"
"That's what I said, but I'm not complaining. We need the money, and getting such a high paying job right after I got fired from the last one is lucky to say the least."
Jordan moves over to their game system and switches games to something less infuriating, boots it up and beings playing. "So what kind of job is it? Sounds pretty cool if there's no interview and guaranteed high payroll." He continues to asks questions while paying attention to the game.
Lesser lays on his "bed", which was in reality a couple towels on the ground and attempts to get comfortable enough to sleep. "Teaching."
A chime is heard from the television as Jordan freezes from shock and dies in the game. "You... Teaching?... Like kids? Don't you need a license to do that?"
"Teenagers actually, not sure if that makes it better or worse though. And I guess not."
"What kind of class do they have that requires a giant green elf man to teach a group of angsty teens?" Jordan blurts out laughing.
"Fighting," Lesser answers sitting up. Jordan quickly stops laughing and focuses. He'd never known a better fighter than Lesser, he taught Jordan everything he knew. If there was one thing not to joke around with Lesser about, it was battle.
"Are you familiar with the advanced battle program the academies have?" Lesser turns the tables by becoming the one asking questions.
"Um, no. You taught me only what you thought would be important for me to know, and somehow that managed to slip through the cracks."
"Basically, every year on tomorrow's date kids sign up to try out for a spot in this program. It's really tough to get in, so only the strongest are the ones who actually make the cut. There's a big tournament and everything for it right here in the capital city, where they hold the competitions to see who makes it, and is placed in a team with some other kids and a skilled teacher. Apparently this is the first year where anyone who was born in Aodirn before it was taken down and it's land added to Osibir 16 years ago will be eligible for the program. So they hired me having heard of my skills and wanting someone who was born and raised in Aodirn as well."
"And you're gonna be leading one of these super strong teams, except with Aodirnian kids? But isn't that kinda messed up to hire you just so they can group you all together?" Jordan asks with mixed emotions.
"Yeah, it's racist. But what are you gonna do about it, people are still scared from the war. Can't help that," Lesser trails off into silence, then looks at his foster son. "Look kid, I didn't just take the job for us so we can have more money. I want you to compete in that tournament tomorrow."
"Um, excuse me? You alright man? I figured I'd be the one with the fried brain right now," Jordan jokes, trying to shrug off what Lesser just said.
Jordan looks back at Lesser from the game and sees his dark eyes locked onto his, as if he was trying to bore a hole into Jordan's skull. Lesser was as laid back as people got, rarely ever getting serious about anything other than fighting.
"Not kidding. I think you'll get in with ease. And when you do they'll likely put you under my teaching."
Jordan gulps. "Gonna have to pass. Never been one for school, or stuck up asshole kids. And I especially don't want to mix those two together with you as the chef."
Lesser lays back down on his miserable bed and faces away from Jordan. "Tournament starts at noon tomorrow. I already signed you up, so be there by ten or eleven, and don't stay up too late. They provide equal equipment for all combatants, so don't bother bringing your own weapons or armor."
Jordan sighs knowing he won't be able to talk Lesser out of this, so he closes the open bedroom door and heads back to his games for a while until he heads to his own room to sleep.
A couple of hours go by as Jordan sinks his face into the television some more. Somewhere into the third hour though his eyelids begin to get heavy. Then he begins to doze off while playing. Eventually he gets so tired he falls asleep on the ground in front of the game.
Darkness is all Jordan can see as he sleeps. Stuck in a dreamless slumber without so much as an image, which was quite out of the ordinary for him. Some nights he would fear closing his eyes because of the wicked nightmares he'd endure. A plain night's rest is something he rarely enjoyed, and always welcomed.
Hours of much needed sleep comes to pass for the young man, but that doesn't last much longer when the end of the night draws near. A sudden high pitched cackling pierces Jordan's ears, causing him to launch open his eyes and jolt up.
Jordan's stands primed with his eyes focused to attack anyone who might've broken into his home. When he does he's greeted with pitch black, rather than the bright sun he expected from the early morning. A field of darkness spreads for a distance that is indistinguishable to Jordan, who is more worried about seeing his hands or feet than is environment.
He hones his ears to try and track the voice of whomever woke him up. He stands for a few seconds without any results, then suddenly he can hear far away yelling. Jordan readies to run at the person thinking it might be the same one who was laughing. He makes it just a few feet before stopping, hearing a second voice. He tries to walk stealthily towards the voices, attempting to make out their words.
The language was foreign to him, but he didn't need to know what they were saying to realise the two people weren't happy with each other. He gives up on the voices, and continues stepping until he can see a faint yellow glow, reveling the silhouettes of the two people, one of which seemed to be the source of the light.
As Jordan's feet reach the ground from his final steps he can see the person with the yellow light put their finger on the other's lips and shushing them. Jordan's heart drops as he watches this. The two people remain silent for a moment before the illuminated one takes their finger off the other's lips and lets out that familiar high pitched crazed laughter for a minute until it's reduced to a sinister chuckle.
With a loud cracking the two people turn their necks suddenly towards Jordan and stare at him though the darkness. They both raise a hand in unison and gather their magic at their palms into a large ball, never taking their eyes off their target. The person who was being lit by the other person throws their magic directly at the ground, exploding into a dense smoke that burns Jordan's eyes and lungs with only a second of exposure. As Jordan coughs the smoke out of his lungs and rubs his eyes he can sense the other magic rushing towards him. He lunges forward and rolls, nearly dodging the attack with it crashing into the ground behind him and blowing away the smoke.
As the smoke dissipates and Jordan's eyes get adjusted, he searches for the yellow gleam again. Out of the corner of his eyes he sees the silhouettes again, focusing on them, and turning to face them.
"Behind you," Jordan quietly hears one of the people say as the charges towards them.
"Huh?" He asks turning his head to see behind himself, just in time to see several shards of glowing glass fly from where the magic landed and pierce through his back, causing him to stop in his tracks and crash into the ground.
Jordan now lay face first on the ground, blood running down his side and pooling under his stomach. His face wincing trying to cope with the unbelievable pain of the glass digging into his back as he breathes. Through his clamped eyelids he can see the yellow light appear suddenly by his side brighter.
Through the loud hard beating of his heart Jordan can hear the evil chuckle of the person before they clear their throat to speak to him. "Ah Jordan, it is truly a tremendous pleasure to finally speak to you in person... Kind of," They struggle to constrain another laugh. "How I wish we could simply sit and chat the remainder of the night away together. Oh, but we don't have time for that now do we? No no no, not this time sadly. Perhaps next time we meet? I would enjoy that so. I do hope we can arrange that sometime and that you'd be entertained by that as much as I would. But alas this encounter has a purpose, which is to make sure you don't die too early on us," They burst out another loud laugh.
It's obvious from their voice to tell that they are a man. They speak with a deep suave voice that echoes in the ears, which goes against their same screeching laughter. The strange glowing man wraps up another laughing fit and grabs Jordan's hair, pulling his limp aching body up to look at his face.
"Aww, did we go too rough on you for your first time? I'm so sorry, but it pains me to say that it was necessary. We couldn't have you forgetting what happens, you see?" They smile blissfully at Jordan's grimacing face. They stare and purse their lips in confusion towards the twisted face of the boy he's torturing, leading him to more ominous chuckling. "Can't have you dying too early on us, remember?" The man grunts pulling his leg back then kicking, plunging his foot directly in Jordan's diaphragm full force.
Jordan wails in anguish as he tumbles through the black plain he's trapped in until he lands twenty feet from the man who kicked him. He impacts the ground on his back with a loud thud, and sliding several more feet, sending the glass even deeper into his flesh, ripping and tearing it further. His eyes flare open along with his mouth as he coughs even more blood across his body. All remaining voice leaves Jordan's body as he lay on the ground, along with all hope and confidence, with the wish of an end to all of this sudden suffering to end filling the void in his heart.
In an instant the glowing man reappears, this time sitting atop Jordan's chest, hastening the movement of the fragments of glass inside of him. Through the tears of pain rushing out of his eyes Jordan tries to get as best a look around as he can with the minimal light. Only the man resting on him was there, the one who made all the smoke nowhere to be found. The man's features are still indistinguishable, even with the yellow light behind imitating behind him. But Jordan can see a few things to identify the the person toying with him, he has pale skin, and lengthy dark hair, as well as several ring shaped piercings in his ears reflecting what little there is. The only other things not hidden by the darkness are two thin objects hovering behind him.
The twisted man peers down at Jordan while a single greasy long strand of hair falls to his face. They reach down and place their right on the boy's chest, causing him to wince instinctively. They pick up their hand leaving only the index and middle finger in contact with the crimson stained torso and begin walking them up the chest, over the next, across the face, all the way up to Jordan's forehead.
The man's eyes start to light up a bright yellow menacingly, the same as the glowing behind him. As his eyes begin to luster even more pain comes to Jordan as a sharp stabbing pain aches where the man's fingers are on his head.
Jordan's own eyes let out even more profuse tears to cascade off his face, accompanied by the melodic lamenting of his suffering. The man sighs in sadness watching Jordan cry in agony. He leans down toward his face, stopping just before the lips. He opens his mouth, letting out his long thin tongue and begins licking up Jordan's blood, continuing up to his eyes, doing the same for the tears. He trails his tongue across several more times then brings his mouth to Jordan's ears and whispers into them with his intense sultry voice. "No more crying, Jordan, your pain tortures me as well, but I just can't bear to see your weeping. Hold out but for a few more seconds, the worst is almost over for the time being. I'll insure everything is alright."
The man finally removes his fingers after just a few more seconds, as he promised. The pain fades quickly from Jordan's forehead, subsiding to a pulsing headache. The weight on his chest is alleviated as well once the man takes himself off his body, standing up and facing away.
With his tears wept away by the tongue of the person toying with him Jordan can now focus in and make out the objects floated behind the man's back. The two mystery objects emitting the dim ominous golden light are jagged and stiff, yet seem to be moving.
Jordan moves his eyes down to his chest, imagining the glass inside his body, putting together that it's likely the same thing that makes up those gleaming things.
The man looks over his shoulder, snickering once more. "Admiring my wings? They are quite beautiful, aren't they? Took me such a long time to craft them just right from my magic stably. Hopefully you'll get yours soon as well now that we've had our first connection. Every angel gets their wings at some point after all," He caresses his shimmering wings.
"Which reminds me..." He holds out a hand causing a glass bottle to spontaneously appear. "Can't have you causing anyone to die yet either."
Raising his other hand toward the sky every shard of his glowing glass wings whip and whirl around it, turning his sleeve into shreds, and ripping apart his arm, covering it in gruesome gashes leaking thick silvery blood. Lowering the arm once more he catches some of the blood rapidly flowing off in the small glass vial.
He plugs the bottle with a cap which also spawns in his hand, and bends down to place it in Jordan's pocket.
"And with that I sadly must go. But I must be strong, we will encounter one another soon enough. Now wake, otherwise you'll be late for your competition. Good luck my darling... My sweet sweet Hibiki"
With a blinding flash from the blinding wings Jordan lurches forwards, banging his head into the windowsill, eyes flooded by the light of the sun instead.
"Fuck!" Jordan yells grabbing his head.
He checks his head for a bruise or cut, not feeling anything, and standing up back in his living room. The words and actions of that winged man still burn in Jordan's mind. Not wanting to risk anything happening to him, like in the dream, he inspects the home. Every room in the small house cautiously looked into.
Once everything has been checked and deemed safe Jordan takes a more comfortable stance, ending his search in the kitchen. Jordan looks down to the table in the kitchen, where a plate of breakfast was prepared by Lesser for him, along with a note.
"Scarf this shit down, and get your ass out there. See ya at the arena, better win!"
"Thanks man, really fills with me with joy," Jordan says sarcastically sitting down to eat his meal before heading out toward the city coliseum.
The sun is hot, beading down upon the capital city, making for the perfect wearer to hold the outdoor entrance competition. It doesn't take Jordan too long to arrive at the arena, especially the herds of people flooding there to watch. Nearly the entire country watches this event, and it's the aspiration of many children to participate when they come of age.
As Jordan walks through the doors and grabs what's needs to compete he can hear the voice of the commentator over the speakers, welcoming and directing the people where to go.
He walks towards the changing room and puts on the generic clothes all combatants must wear. Its a simple outfit, with only a pair of black pants with a matching shirt, a pair of sneakers, and a jacket with the insignia of the local combat school. After he's equipped adequately, Jordan walks down a hallway into his predetermined waiting room for his group, being group B, and lays down in the first empty seat he can find amongst the 100 people in the room. Matches didn't begin for another 45 minutes, and while others were warming up, assessing the other competitors to make a plan, or just talking, getting some shut eye was Jordan's target.
"Hey, um, sorry, but I was sitting there..." A girl speaks up amongst the chatter of the waiting room.
Jordan opens his eye slightly to see the girl talking to him. Standing in front of him is a short and pretty Asian woman. Her skin is tanned, and she has dark brown hair. Jordan shuts his eye again, shrugging her off and acts like he didn't hear her.
"Ugh, look, can't you just go sleep somewhere else?" She persists in an annoyed tone.
"Can't you just find another place to sit?" Jordan rebuttals, raising an eyebrow with his eyes still closed.
"No actually, I'm supposed to be waiting for someone here, smartass."
"Couldn't you just wait for them somewhere else?" Jordan asks finally opening his eyes, and sitting up straight.
"No." The girl puts her hands on her hips and tilts her head getting increasingly frustrated. "Because, I need to meet them here, and you don't need to plant your lazy ass here to sleep."
The girl stands and stares and waits for Jordan to get up as he leans back to defend his spot.
"Whatever, take the seat. I hope you over sleep and miss your match," The girl turns around and behind to walk away. As she does this Jordan begins to shut his eyes, but notices a gleam just before they close. He focuses to see that on her waist are several dagger sheathes, all very ornate and expertly crafted.
"Hey, wait!" Jordan calls out to the girl.
She stops and looks over her shoulder. "What now?" She angrily asks.
Jordan pauses before speaking. "I was told you weren't allowed to bring outside equipment, so what's up with those beauties on your belt?"
"Oh, well you aren't. Not unless you filled out all the right forms to allow it before hand that is. It was a lot of work, but I did it for every last one of my blades,'" The girl explains before starting to wall off again.
"I see, well they seem very nice from the outside," Jordan says standing up. "Take the seat."
"Huh?"
It'd probably be best if I didn't make any unnecessary enemies before this dumb competition starts, so take the seat."
"Uh, thanks?" She says, taking her spot back to wait for her friend.
"Don't mention it, and good luck," Jordan says walking away, and waving behind him to the girl.
As Jordan walks away from the interaction with the girl to find another spot to rest, eventually settling to just lean against the wall, the last few remaining competitors trickle in for group B. With everyone accounted for the tournament coordinators waste no time getting things started. It only took about fifteen minutes before all of the television screens in the arena and waiting rooms turned on, and the speakers began blaring.
"Hello, and welcome everyone, to this year's Osibir battle institutions entrance tournament!"
The tournament audience screams and wails in excitement, breathing life into the entire giant stadium, filling in for the silence of the nervous competitors behind the scenes.
"Now, let's not waste time, and see what the group order is this year!"
More excitement comes asfour cards appear on the screen, each with a letter, and begin shuffling themselves. The arena falls silent as the cards stop moving and are laid face down on the virtual table.
The man over the speaker begins to talk again, in a much more suspenseful tone. "And the results are..."
The four cards flip over all at once to reveal the order of the groups.
B
D
C
A
"Of course," Jordan grumbles to himself, rolling his eyes.
"Okay group B, time to suit up!" The announcer says eagerly. "While they're getting ready allow me to explain the rules to anybody who us unfamiliar with how this rolls. This is a bracket style tournament, where the winners of each one on one match go on to fight one another. One important thing to keep in mind however is this, there is no elimination, the losers simply fight fellow losers, for a fair chance at acceptance in case they simply were randomly placed against someone who's magic counters theirs, or something else similar happens. Each player is judged not only by their place on the bracket, but also by their skill, as observed by our amazing line of judges. Allow me to introduce them now!" On the screens appear three men in tow judging booth, as well as one empty seat places above them.
The first person zoomed in on is a dark skinned, middle age man with short and curly black hair. He wore a dark purple robe, and matching pants. "First we have the amazing Chief Kato of Ather'Oppa! Son of the former Chief Ashur, the man whom led the main charge on castle Aodirn sixteen years ago, he inherited much of the strength, skill, and magical abilities his father possessed. One of the strongest fighters in the world, and the son and student of a living legend, Kato is truly a force to be reckoned with. Which makes the fact that his son is one of the competitors this year just that much more terrifying!"
He laughs gleefully and leans forward to speak into his microphone. "Thank you thank you, it's amazing to be here judging again this year. And here's some advice for all of you aspiring warriors, you'd be wise not to doubt my son," He laughs again and his deep voice echoes amongst the arena.
"Up next we have the headmaster of the academy and founder himself, Headmaster Ebony! Another person with a role in the war sixteen years ago, Ebony was a general in the royal army before deciding that he had gotten a bit too old for the front lines. But don't let that fool you, he could wipe the floor with most youngsters. And putting the strategy forming, magic using, and battling experience he gained from the military, he went on to found the first training academy."
Ebony was a big olive skinned man, standing over six feet, and had a very muscular build, especially for a man in their sixties. His mustache and hair were a shiny silver from all his years, and tied back out of his face. He spoke out in a stern yet sincere voice.
"Yes, I am excited to see what this batch of the next generation has to offer. Fight well, and do what you have to in order to win. Good luck to you youngsters."
"Well said, Headmaster! And finally, last but not least, his younger brother, Cardinal Ivory of the magical church! Both a man of faith, and a researcher into the various magics, Ivory is a highly intelligent man who is going to be critical of your use of magic, kids!"
The final man on the screen, Ivory, wore a traditional white religious cloak that almost appeared to meld with his pale skin, as well as a hat which covered his hair.
"Indeed I am, though by no means am I unfair. Just do your best and you'll be fine in my eyes."
Ivory was a much smaller man than his brother, and much younger, at least by twenty years. He is slightly taller, but has almost none of the muscle Ebony has. Ivory exuded positivity and spoke with a smile, another contrast he had to his brother.
"Those are our judges, ladies and gentlemen!" The announcer yells over the speaker as the screens focus on him and another man in a both above the arena. "And of course providing the play by plays, and color commentary is yours truly, the hilarious and handsome as always, Jamil. I'm also joined in this endeavor by the slightly less hilarious and handsome Zion. The two of us are the top students of the school's second year attendees."
"Hey," The other young man announcing flashes a big smile and gives a thumbs up towards the camera. "That's me."
Jamil, the other young man, grabs his microphone and begins yelling into it once again."And with that, all of the introductions are out of the way, so I hope all of you are ready in group B, because the first match is being randomly generated now and it could be any one of you!"
The screens go back to the scene of a deck of virtual a deck of cards on a table, begining to shuffle all of the names of the competitors in group B. Nearly every person in the country had their eyes locked on a screen as the very first match of the tournament was being determined. The atmosphere at the coliseum was still, yet full of energy, like a crowd watching a bomb to see if it will be a delayed explosion, or simply a dud. The air seemed especially thick in the waiting room Jordan was in. Sweat beading off of the faces of every person in there. Even Jordan, who had announced the fact that he couldn't care less, was still focused on the television, eager to see who would be called down first to the arena, and praying it wouldn't be himself.
The cards stop shuffling, and two are pulled from the top of the deck, then placed on the table face down. The remaining cards in the deck fade away in the background to focus on the two cards. With a flash the two cards are flipped over to reveal the pictures and names of the first two combatants in the entrance tournament.
Jeremy
VS
Jordan
Jordan picks himself off the wall and walks down the hallway, to the entrance of his side of the arena. His head hung, and his steps echoing through the quiet waiting room. The eyes of every kid in group B glued on him.
"And there we have it! Jeremy and Jordan, get your butts down there!" Jamil yells through his microphone.
Excitement roars from every person in the arena, causing the very earth to shake from the announcing of the first fight. Jordan stands in a concrete hallway, experiencing the energy first hand, the shouts echoing past him, the lights shining down the cold dark corridor as he waits for his que to emerge and fight. Some of the best fighters and mages in the world were competing in this tournament along side him, and Jordan had no clue what to do about it, all he could do was stand in the walkway wait, and wonder. Wonder what kind of magic he would be going up against. Wonder what strategies he would have to implement in order to win. Wonder just how strong this Jeremy guy he was about to be facing is.
Once the applause and hollering resides to a controllable level Zion speaks over the speaker to introduce the two fighters. "Now, it is time for us to get this ball rolling. Everyone please make some noise for Jordan!"
The audience picks up once again and lights begin to flare in the coliseum. The doors fly open in front of Jordan and he takes his first steps out. He walks along a long stone path leading to a large raised platform where the battles would take place. Looking through the crowd Jordan tries to find where Lesser would be watching him from, finally finding a large shaded platform high above the arena opposite to the judges.
Dozens of teachers were seated, eagerly waiting to observe the children they would be training. Lesser was easy to find though, amongst all of the different kinds of people who taught, he was the only one of his kind there. Not an uncommon occurrence for him, being one of the last of his kind, it was extremely rare to find another Elf of his kin. Lesser was standing against the guard rail, looking down at his student taking his first steps in a new adventure. And though Jordan's training by Lesser had lasted for as long as he could remember, he'd never taken on another person in a situation like this before.
"I almost feel bad for this kid," A tall white man with long black hair walks up beside Lesser, and leans on the tail along with him. The man brings out a box of cigarettes from a pocket inside of the expensive looking suit that he is wearing, takes one and begins to smoke it. He takes a puff and holds out the box of cigarettes and lighter to Lesser, offering one to him.
"What do you meant you feel sorry for him?" Lesser asks in a disgusted tone, pushing the man's offer away.
"Peace Elf, just let them introduce the kids. Then we'll talk about how Jay is gonna win." The man takes another puff if his cigarette, and peers down to the battlegrounds waiting for the other child to walk out.
Jordan takes the final steps up to the battling stage and stands as one of the announcers introduce him.
"Seemingly coming from nowhere Jordan is entering the tournament to hopefully get accepted into a training academy after only receiving personal training and education his entire life. Because of this there are no records of his fighting capabilities or what magic he uses. It's anybodies guess how this fight is going to go, but it's sure to be a good one, Especially given who he's going up against!"
On his signal Jordan's opponent, Jeremy, walks from his side of the arena to the platform. He has a tone physique with dark shoulder length hair and black glasses, but he wasn't wearing the black uniform they had every other person wear for the fights. He wore a white dress shirt and tie, with dress pants and shoes. His clothing gave off a cocky atmosphere which was furthered by his walk. He took long confident strides as he walked to the battle platform, waving to the crowd and rolling up his sleeves as he did so.
"Yeah, this is definitely going to be interesting to watch," The other announcer starts. "Jeremy is the heir to one of the wealthiest and most powerful families on the continent, and as such, been in some of the highest battle institutions in the country as well up to this point. He is absolutely no stranger to competitions of this sort at all either, often taking first place in local tournaments. So give it up for him one more time before we get this show on the road, Jeremy everyone!"
Above the two children the suited man continues his conversation with Lesser as the people in the stands go wild. "You see, Jay is my kid, and I've hired the best warriors money can buy to teach my kid," He finishes the last breath of his cigarette before throwing it down into the crowd without a care and turning to face Lesser. "So there's no way my boy can lose. Y'know?"
Lesser scoffs at Jay's father, looking down at the two kids, with confidence in his own. "Eh, I don't know. Personally my money's on Jordan."
"Interesting choice of words," Jeremy's wealthy father reaches back into his suit pocket, pulling two shot sized flasks. "You must be a teacher since you're up on this terrace, which means you're kind of a big deal too right? Honestly I just paid for an amazing seat like this. And see, I'm not too sure about this Jordan kid myself. I mean, he looks edgy as all hell, but that doesn't say much for power. So how bout we make a friendly wager?" He hands one of the flasks to Lesser.
"I don't have much money though. Don't really care much about making a ton of it either obviously, since you see me here teaching."
"Well then how about land? I have much more than just bills in my possession you know."
Lesser looks at the alcohol, then taps his flask on Jeremy's father's, and taking the shot. "What the hell, cheers."
At that moment Jeremy reaches the platform and takes a bow before the bout for the audience.
"Hey, Jeremy, right?" Jordan yells to his opponent across the way.
"Jay is fine," He response rising from the bow and fixing his tie.
"Aight, well good luck, Jay,"
Jay looks across the platform to Jordan with a confused face. "Why are you wishing me luck?" He asks.
"I mean, that's the respectful thing to do before a match like this, right?" Jordan questions back.
"I guess so," Jay answers. "But you're gonna need that more than me. No offense, but I'm just naturally way above the rest of you. Matter of fact, I bet my life savings I could probably finish this round in under a quarter of the allotted time," He laughs in an arrogant tone that he speaks in also.
Jordan puts his hands in his jacket pockets and takes a relaxed pose. "Kay, I'll take that bet on. Time allowed is thirty minutes, either of us win in under seven and a half and we gotta give up our life savings. Deal?"
Jay quits his laughter and looks over once again with that same curious expression. "Excuse me?"
"That's what you said right? You bet you can beat me in a quarter of the time."
Jay pauses, peering out of the corner of his eye to see his father above in the risers nod subtly. "You're funny, kid. Alright, deal's on."
The crowd goes crazy at this, causing one of the second year announcers, Jamil, to comment. "Wow, I don't think there's ever been two competitors who have made a bet before a battle in the tournament! This is gonna be awesome, start the clock! And make sure you mark that seven and a half minute mark too!"
Around the arena all of the screens change to a timer with thirty minutes and start counting down with a blaring airhorn noise to signal for the fight to begin.
Jay makes the first move, summoning a rope of fire and hurling it at Jordan. It wraps around his ankles, and sends him flying towards Jay as he pulls him, ready to hit him with another flame attack prepared in his hand.
As he's pulled and flying through the air Jordan twirls his body, planting his feet on the ground, stopping his movement right before his opponent, and grabs his arm.
Jay attempts to counter by blasting the fire into Jordan's face, but ends up working against him. The blast of the flame boosts Jordan's attack, shifting his weight down and throwing Jay over his shoulder, causing him to land on his back. As Jay gasps from having the wind knocked out of him Jordan plants his foot on his downed foe, and with his arm still in his grip, twists it with a loud pop from the now out of place shoulder.
Jeremy yells in pain, heating up his body to where Jordan has to let go. Using a maneuver like the one Jordan had against him, Jay uses a burst of fire from his good arm to whip around off the ground, and nail a kick right into Jordan's side, knocking him back.
As Jordan regains his footing again Jay traces a simple magic circle on the ground in fire. The small magical rune zips along the floor to underneath Jordan, exploding into a scorching pillar once it reaches him, launching him skyward. Jay leaps into the air wincing in pain as he does, and drops a fiery kick on Jordan's back, pounding him back down to the hard ground, still aflame from the circle.
Jay grabs Jordan by the shirt and in agonizing pain raises him off the ground, with the same flame attack ready that he attempted to use earlier. Placing the flaming hand on Jordan's face, Jeremy increases the power of his fire. The blaze getting increasingly hot until its a bright blinding blue is held on Jordan's face as Jay waits for his prey to submit.
With only two minutes until the bet time is out Jordan is still standing, enduring the infernal assault. "Ready to give up?" Jay asks arrogantly and proud of his power. He removes his hand in hopes of revealing the singed face of his humiliated opponent, only to show a scene much more embarrassing to himself.
Jordan is still, hovering in the grip of his foe, taking the relentless barrage of fire directly to his face. All while at the same time accidentally sleeping through every second of it from his lack of restful sleep the night before.
"Are you seriously snoring while I'm unleashing my straight magic to your head?!" Jay yells angrily, waking Jordan up.
He yawns and stretches his arms, still being held up. "Sorry man, you wouldn't believe the dream I had last night."
Jordan grabs the hand lifting him and pries it away, crushing it in his fist. Jay kneels in pain, heating up his body again, but to no avail this time. Jordan's grip stays locked tight on his hand, driving further down into the ground until the point that the stone platform cracks from the pressure.
"And if you were letting out all of your pure power just now, you really would've just been better off not making that bet," Jordan ends the fight with a rising kick to Jay's jaw, lifting him up, before headbutting him back through the air and off the platform.
The crowd is ludicrous. Applause and cheers can be heard from far and wide coming from the coliseum as the first battle of the entrance tournament concludes.
"That was spectacular! Do we have confetti?! We better have some confetti! Launch some damn confetti for the man, because he is the first winner of the tournament, and he put on a great show!" Zion the announcer yells in the bustling arena without the need of a microphone, and at his request Jordan is rained upon by colorful confetti. "What to you think of this Jamil?"
The other announcer grabs his microphone and places a hand on his chin in thought. "Hmm, I see. Well to start with the most obvious thing, Jordan one the magic without a single use of magic from what I could tell. Which is even more impressive when you look at the clock and realise he did this all in about seven minutes, which is enough for him to win that pre-game bet."
"Yeah, that's true. And what's really impressing to me was his ability to take those powerful fire hits without even needing to be awake, but also being able to turn around and break a bone like a twig," The other commentator ads. "It's going to be great to see him advance and fight other winners, and I'm excited to see what else he has in store, and to see how the judges ranked him. But for now, give them both a great sendoff while they wait for the next round."
With that the audience blares once again with glee while Jordan retreats back to his hallway to the waiting room, and Jay is carried to the clerics at the tournament for healing.
All of the people in the stands are so loud that they even cover up the furious bellowing yells of anger coming from Jay's father, who has gone off on a fire spewing tantrum after watching his beloved child be defeated. "How?! How was Jeremy taken down so easily!?" He shouts, turning to lesser with even more fire radiating off of his body. "And how did you know that kid would beat him?!"
Lesser looks at Jay's father and flashes a giant smile while holding up the contract to his new land. "Well Jordan's my kid, and I've trained him personally all his life. So there's no way he could lose. He's been trained by the best warrior that even money can't buy," He says mockingly.
Eventually security has to escort Jeremy's ballistic father from the coliseum before causing harm to anyone, causing Lesser to gain even more enjoyment from the situation.
"Hey kid, ya did good out there!" Lesser turns around and yells down at Jordan giving a thumbs up. Faintly making out Lesser's deep voice amongst the crowd Jordan responds by raising up a peace sign before getting lost from sight down the hallway to waiting room.
The arena fades into obscurity behind Jordan, only making out the shouting of the names of the next two people who were randomized, being Nicole and Matt. Not caring enough to watch how the battle unfolds Jordan retreats back to Group B's waiting room, welcomed by a mix of admiration and applause which he didn't care about, and awkward silence and dirty looks, which he cared equally little about. Yet the thing to stick out in his mind most was to find the seat he fought over earlier empty. The thought of if the girl met up with her friend yet lingers in Jordan's mind before deciding to take the seat for his own again, and drifting off to sleep once more, desperately wanting some rest.
Despite the noise around him Jordan does finally manage to block out the world around him, and fade into his dreams, the coliseum becoming nothing more than an empty quiet place for him to hopefully pass out.
Until the depths of his dreams are pierced by laughter, as if it was a dagger being driven into his skull. "That was sensational, darling. I couldn't have asked for more, my sweet Hibiki..."