A/N - Here is the first chapter of The Destiny of the Ancients. I hope you enjoy this as much as the ones that came before it! Yes, it's a sequel, if you missed it. So you'll have to read The Will of the Ancients and The Ascension of the Ancients first for it to make sense. Although, you can jump in if you want, however, there won't be any recapping.

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The Destiny of the Ancients

To Serve Your Masters

Walram Fleischer stepped through the grand doorway, his gaze traversing over the elaborate room. The ceiling towered high in the air. The walls were decorated in intricate carvings of battles and creatures. The marble floor had just been polished, shining under foot. Far in front of him were two thrones interlinked to each other, standing tall and proud.

He traipsed down the long hall, his footsteps echoing hollowly in his ears. He reached the empty seats, falling slowly to his knees before the thrones, bowing his head.

He adjusted his long coat, fiddling with the buttons, blinking a few times. He stared at the illuminati necklace resting on his chest, wondering vaguely why he still wore it. It's not like he needed it any longer. Then he turned his thought process elsewhere. He was thinking on what he'd say.

"My masters," he finally whispered, staring at the marble patterns on the floor. "I'm unsettled by what has happened."

He was a greeted with silence, so he continued.

"You said we'd rule the realms. You said we'd claim Earth. So why is it falling to destruction? I thought my destiny was to lead the men of that realm while holding a leash on your rebellious son!" His voice rose in frustration. "Why are is your necromancy running rampant?! Why is Edward resisting the program every time something from his past happens upon him?! Even after the reconditioning..." He trailed off, listening to the emptiness.

Finally, soft footsteps appeared behind him. "Do not fret, dear Walram." Whispered a feminine voice. "Edward is powerful in spirit, but not unbreakable."

Walram looked up to see a tall skeleton approaching. As it grew closer, muscles, blood and flesh appeared on her. They twined together like a puzzle, fitting perfectly until she stood, her elegant face locked on him. He dropped his gaze again quickly, hoping that he had not angered her with his impatience.

It was Svenna, one of the two Masters. At least one of them had bothered to answer him.

"The cleansing is the first step in gaining the Earth." She resumed. "Humans are not worth saving at this point. They are weak..."

Walram looked up after a few minutes. "I was to rule them." He reminded in a calm voice.

She wore her usual attire with her long black hair falling over the dark fur robes. Around her neck, the fur was puffed up. Her elongated cranium marked her from other Vrilyans and as a Master as did the long, blue-glowing veins twisting up her face, and sky-like irises holding a faint shimmer of unnatural light.

"You will gain your husks, as long as you keep Edward on course." She stated, pursing her lips.

"Husks... I was to have the humans. The people."

"Why does it matter?" The Master asked. "Necromancy is part of direct control. You can't control something that has its own soul."

"Is that why Edward resist? Then why do we try?"

"By all rights, Edward should be a Master at our side. However, he is stubborn. He chose this course, and we'll give it to him." She took a seat, interlocking her fingers. "The program was a prototype, new. We were experiencing ways to control certain subjects without taking their souls first, so that they may retain their identity. Edward must keep his soul if we are to enslave him to the device."

Walram shook his head. "The girl...is she not already enslaved? Why can't we use her? I know it was not the plan...but I've found in my time that sometimes taking the best you can get will save you a lot of trouble."

"The girl cannot be reprogrammed. The amount of trouble we went through to program Edward would be necessary for it to work. And that much would kill her, for she is young and fragile. Then we'd be back to nothing and the cleansing would not happen."

"The program was not a prototype then," whispered Walram as he came to the realization. "At least, not for just anyone. For a Master."

Svenna nodded. "Right now, Edward is the only surviving Master besides Sarth and I. He may be human at this point, but his soul was able to withstand reconditioning. On top of that, he is a superhuman among humans, with the Divinium coursing as thick as his own blood within his veins."

"I believe he has the others with him too. They also have the Divinium in their blood."

"The elites of Vrilya? General Masaki, Mercenary Dempsey, and Lord Belinski?"

"Yes."

"That is good. It will be good to have more recruits when the time comes to raise those of strength...to supremacy."

Two pairs of eyes locked on each other, one pale ice and the other shining blue.

"I know I've expressed this before, but I still wish to become a Master..." Walram's voice was strong, confident as his icy gaze held.

"In time, dear Walram." She whispered, leaning forward. "Patience."

Walram watched her fade from view. The newly form body evaporating like mist.

He didn't understand why they made him wait still. What hadn't he done for them? He was by far their most loyal servant in Vrilya. Actually, anywhere in the four realms, traversing around to do their bidding. He had given his life to them.

And still, he must wait.

I. The Game

The bare hand brushed through the dark, unruly hair. Bloodstained were both, the long fingers crusted with drying gore, the dirty locks caked with it. Neither had been given over to cleanliness in awhile and the thick hair was far beyond saving at this point.

Edward stared into the goopy puddle of brown water, watching his still, unkempt reflection in the stagnant liquid. He was squatting down, with grass and weeds sticking up around him. Their blades framed his gaunt face in the mirrored surface.

His thoughts wandered as he sat completely still, like a statue in the shallow mud. He'd been wondering when the dead would stop coming, but they wouldn't. Wave after wave, they kept coming. There were occasional pauses. Moments like this when there was nothing. A silent emptiness.

However, this pause was strange because it'd been long. Hours maybe. It'd been too long since a single undead had barreled through the swamp. And it made him wonder just what was happening.

It nearly killed him. He longed for their hollow screams to fill his ears, if only to drown out the voices in his mind. His loneliness was only missed when he was alone. They muttered, even now.

We are always here.

We will always be here.

He was entranced at the matted hair that was his own. Finally, it began to bug him until the mosquitos buzzing around his ears seemed like a minor thing. He grabbed his Bowie and held it up in the dim light of the midday clouds. He grabbed his hair almost fiercely with one hand and began to cut it with the blade carefully. The dark locks fell into the puddle, distorting his reflection. But he kept at his task until there was no hair left.

With a glance around, he located his hat nearby, laying in the weeds. Somehow it had escaped falling into the water and becoming saturated. He seized it and placed it firmly on his head.

"Ah, gut." He whispered.

He stared at his hands, his long fingers bloodied. He stood and stretched. Stepping through the shallow pools, he climbed onto the boardwalk leading back into the main hut. The large hut stood tall as he entered, it's wooden surfaces shining in the watery light.

He entered a side room, looking around. A long shelf adorned the wall, carrying multiple items. A nice pair of elbow-length, ebony-colored gloves lay on it. He grabbed them, feeling their smooth texture. He nodded appreciatively before placing them back on the shelf.

He quickly yanked off his military jacket along with his grenade belt and weapons, setting them aside for a minute on a crate. He stood there a moment, amused by his tie hanging on the sweat, gore, and blood-stained white dress shirt. He then undid his belt, tucking his shirt into his pants again. After adjusting his clothing to his desire he put on his coat again, buttoning it. It was sweltering with it on, but he refused to have it any other way. He adjusted his bars, his colors, the Swastika armband. Then he slid the gloves on, letting them reside inside his sleeves.

He grabbed his weapons, the MP40 and Wunderwaffe DG2 and left the room.

"Now I look...dangerous, Ja?" He asked the empty room, not expecting an answer. He adjusted his visor, listening the crescendo of voices increasing in him mind. Always there.

Just then, the lonely yelling of a dead body rang out over the swamp. It was time to kill more undead!

He walked outside, hefting his MP40. The steel barrel glinted nicely in the thin light of the muggy air. He eyed the mud and water around him, taking in the swampy arena where the fight with the dead would take place. He caught sight of faint movement.

A zombie clawed through the mud, it's browned hands pushing soil away as it's rotting head appeared. Two luminous eyes glared upward at the doctor who grinned back. A pull of the trigger spattered the dead man's head across the ground.

"Poof! Your head is gone!"

Bloodlust filled his eyes as Edward saw another undead limping from down the boardwalk. It's body was clotted with mud and maggots. It's intestines threatened to spill from his midsection. It was missing part of its arm and it's uniform was barely hanging together.

It was walking too slowly from Richtofen. He sprinted forward and in one deft movement, stabbed it's face with a slick squishing noise. The blood streamed from its head as it collapsed backward with a thud, it's eyes loosing their unnatural light.

"Ah, zhis is much better zhan my Hitler Youth knife!" Edward laughed, thinking of the former Fuhrer's club for the children of Germany. Of course he'd never been in it, but the Nazi armband on his arm told him he was a Nazi. He had a military dagger, not a child's toy.

In fact, he was uncertain just who he was. All he knew was that he loved killing. He loved his enemy's screams of pain as they fell before his power. Nothing was better than that sensation.

He turned away from the unmoving body and reentered the main hut. Something new caught his attention as he rounded a corner. A large, strange box with question marks was shoved up against the wall. Above it in chalk was a child's drawing of a house or maybe one of the huts. The words: LOOK UP TO SEE THE LIGHT were also written there, with an arrow pointing the roof of the drawn hut.

"Oorah meatsack!" Came Dempsey's voice from another room. A zombie howled and then gurgled, presumably on its own blood.

How Richtofen loathed that rough voice and degrading mannerism. He shrugged to himself, not wanting to think on it at that point, and leaned over the box, inspecting it. It was wooden, about four feet in length, and had nothing interesting about it except for the two, glowing question marks on it's lid. It had a latch and he tried to flip it.

It wouldn't budge.

More points.

You need more.

He needed more...points?

He scratched his forehead in bewilderment.

Just then, Nikolai walked into the room, fresh bloodstains on his uniform. He burped, shaking a bottle. It's contents sloshed. Then his eyes widened as he saw the mysterious box.

"Chyort, what did you bring in here, you fascist bastard?" He demanded.

Edward grinned and shrugged. "I didn't bring it, hehe. Ja, I believe it vas zhat dark vone! Or maybe die Illuminati."

Nikolai walked over and inspected it. Then he reached out, unlatched the lid and flipped it open. The glow from inside fell over them and in it's light were several weapons cycling through one another. While they cycled, a small, simple musical tune played.

"Fascinating," Edward whispered, leaning forward. "How did you do zhat, Nikolai?"

"I. Flipped. Lid," explained the Russian slowly, as if he were talking to a child. "Didn't you see? Oh, and there was something about points..."

The weapons in the box quit cycling in the light, settling on one in particular.

"Ah! A flamezhrower! Vunderbar! I love zhe smell of burning flesh!" Richtofen reached forward to grab it, but his gloved hands went right through the weapon as if it were smoke. His brow furrowed in confusion.

The Soviet reached forward and seized the weapon while glaring at the German fiercely. Instantly, a fuel tank appeared on his back. "Fuck, this is heavy. Like my fifth wife." He said, stumbling a bit before becoming accustomed to it.

Richtofen laughed. "Zhe box vould not allow me to claim your prize! Very interesting! It appears ve are in some kind of game!"

The voices began speaking to him in their distorted voices.

The game is hers.

The dark one.

You must play to win.

There is only one way to win.

"Do you hear zhem talking to me?" Richtofen asked the Russian who just stared back at him.

"Ugh, this is giving me headache. I'm going to go fry some hellpigs!" Nikolai left the room slowly, hefting his new weapon.

Suddenly music and drums sounded, a lonely note rang through the room.

"The hell's going on?" Dempsey growled as he stomped into the room from outside. His eyes widened upon seeing the box. "Woah."

Richtofen growled randomly, "I hate you Dempsey, you do not enjoy zhe pain!" He stomped away in an almost childish manner, feeling the American's hate-filled glare on his back as he walked outside towards the communications hut.

It occurred to him as a few zombies clambered out of the ground nearby. A game. Of course it was a game. Someone had turned all of the undead into some sort of game. As if an apocalypse was not a big deal. The dark one. Whatever that was.

The doctor grinned as he killed more undead with his MP40. "YOU ALL DIE!" He declared as heads popped easily.

Again, the drums and music sounded, followed by the same note.

He walked along the boardwalk, listening to the sounds of more zombies coming to be killed by his dangerous and wonderful weapons.

"Zhis is a fun game, indeed!" He muttered, twisting towards two zombies approaching him on the right. He finished the task with a few bursts of bullets.

That's when he noticed Takeo trotting slowly outside from the hut, two or three zombies were on his tail. As he watched, the Samurai turned and killed them with quick short blasts from his Arisaka rifle. "You! Will! Die!" He declared, lowering his weapon. He turned towards the German and tilted his head. "Greetings, Doctor."

"Hi Takeo," Richtofen muttered quietly.

He tried to remember something about the Jap. Then the remembrance of the Samurai nearly killing him back at the asylum came over him. He crossed his arms, annoyed. He felt a tug of other memories trying to bother him, but he shrugged them away.

He was pulled from his thoughts as the warrior walked down the creaking planks towards the communications room. Then he was splashing through the shallow water where the boards had been destroyed. Edward raked his gaze over the trees and the mist that had settled in around the place. He heard a yell from somewhere in the distance, probably Tank or Nikolai fighting the dead.

The drums and music sounded with the following note.

Not long after, zombies trickled in from areas nearby and some climbed from the ground. They staggered slowly up onto the walkway while Edward took his shots, beheading them. He glanced at Takeo, fighting further away.

"Fresh meat!" He yelled at the top of his lungs as more undead fell to his sporadic bursts. "Schweinhunde! DIE!"

"Double points!" The demonic voice announced.

Edward laughed, "I don't need to get paid for zhis pleasure!". He was getting more of those point things for less now! He stabbed at the zombies, while dodging the swings from their decayed hands.

"I AM A GOD!" he declared at the top of his lungs.

Twenty points, Twenty points, Twenty again and then finally two-hundred and sixty points for each. He wasn't sure just how he knew that, but somehow he did. He figured it was part of the game

THE BLOOD!

THE GLORIOUS DEATH!

MORE!

MORE PAIN THIS TIME!

"Yes, yes, Masters...One more dies in your service!" He giggled as another zombie fell with his knife in its skull. Blood drenched him wonderfully. The last one of the wave fell and the music sounded again.

It seems there are rounds. There are more and they are stronger each round, I noticed, Richtofen thought to himself. So now it's round five.

Then a very heavy mist descended on the swamp. Cold and unforgiving, it held something deadly within. Edward hurried down the planks towards the communications room, soon splashing through warm water. He heard the sound of lightning striking nearby. Richtofen made it into the communications hut, he noticed a strange machine, but had not time to investigate it. He turned around to face the mist and what it held, and without a word, Takeo joined him at the door.

"Zhe vorlds, zhey break in two." Richtofen stated in wonder. Takeo shot him a strange look.

Two hell-hounds tore out of the mist, howling hungrily. Both of the men unleashed a volley of bullets on them until they dropped. Another one behind those two was on fire and it exploded when it died, showering blood and fur in wide arcs.

"Ve should be training zhem, not killing zhem!" Richtofen exclaimed.

One more lightning strike announced a new hound's presence. It tore from the fog. Unfortunately, Takeo's Arisaka clicked on empty.

"I need AMMUNITION!" He snarled.

Richtofen annihilated the beast's face before it could reach its prey. It fell dead in the swampy water, the body spilling fresh blood. Floating above it's corpse was a strange container floating in green light.

Takeo claimed it easily and without hesitation. "Max Ammo."

"The Emperor has given us a bounty of ammo!" He exclaimed joyfully.

Richtofen walked towards the machine now. It was red and white and had Jugger-nog written on the front. He inspected it curiously.

"The spirits made it appear when I entered this place." Takeo whispered behind him.

Edward touched the machine. The Juggernog machine played its jingle calmly in the room.

"~Big and strong...~"

It required 2,500 points to drink. He had enough, so he pressed the button. A bottle was dispensed from it. They heard it bounced down in the machine. Richtofen bent and grabbed the bottle in his hands.

"~Reach for Juggernog tonight!~"

"What is it?" The Samurai wondered.

"An enhanced drink developed by ou... I mean... It's a perk!" Edward responded. He drank it down and large, quick gulps. "JA, JA! I NEED A JUGGERNOG TONIGHT!" He threw the glass down, listening to the satisfying shatter of glass.

Takeo shrugged and did the same.

Edward went to investigate the communications equipment in the side room that was dark with only gray light pouring in through the hole in the ceiling to illuminate it. The half-boarded widows revealed more swamp further out and long-branched trees with trailing leaves and vines.

He poured over the radios and electronics tucked into the shadows, but all of them buzzed uselessly as he messed with the wires and antennas. He received nothing but more static and useless noise. He knew they were cut off from all communication.

From the doorway nearby, the Samurai watched him silently.

Richtofen decided he didn't like it, so he entered the other room. The walls glistened in moisture and it was darker. The radios here were also useless. Nearby, a lantern on a crate leaned against the wall and a light dangling from the ceiling was to his immediate right, casting much of the room in shadow. On the table it hung over was a telephone that seemed to still work because it was beeping loudly as it hung off its hook, having fallen to the floor.

Eagerly, Richtofen rushed forward and yanked it up into the air and into his hands. His fingers went to work as he dialed 1-1-5, an emergency communication that should link him up with Griffon station immediately.

It range once.

Someone picked up.

"I...know...where you're sleepingggg..." Whispered a breathy voice on the other line. It clicked off and the phone died.

Edward frowned at it, a little peeved. He dropped the useless phone.

They truly were in the dark one's game.

The first notes of an eerie song began to play.

End of chapter 1

I hope you liked how I incorporated the game functions into the story! :D I was excited by how well the game stuffs(Especially Richtofen's quotes) fit into my story. I hadn't heard them for awhile and looked them up and was like, "YES!"

Anyways, I'd like to hear what you thought! :D