Hello everyone! My name is KingAzxoll9: wiki editor, YouTube character, and fanfiction writer! (Be sure to look up my comedy YouTube series Life of Azxoll, which follows some of the humourous situations of my life!) This is the first fanfiction I have written, so I cannot tell you to expect anything special. **On an IMPORTANT note: this fanfiction is not simply an Alpha & Omega fanfic, but ALSO one from the All Dogs Go to Heaven franchise from the 90's. This is a crossover, and thus to readers unknowing of the other saga, hopefully I have made the characters and ideals from that series easy to understand. I did not have this under "crossovers" because that section of Fanfiction is largely unappreciated and my friend Humphrey Loves Kate (HLK) convinced me to put it up here. This story is the first chapter of a (possible) planned trilogy focused on my fictional OC, Azxoll (pronounced Ah-ZOOK-sul). Continued installments are not guaranteed, however.

In addition, your favourite wolf characters will not show up immediately but keep in mind THAT THEY ARE INDEED HERE. A few chapters in they will come into the picture, trust me. These first few focus on my personal character and other elements at work. In addition, this story contains an archaic language, Drayic, with particular terms in italics. This was one of the precursor languages leading to some of the oldest well-known tongues, like Latin, Greek, and Sanskrit, and I possess a decent amount of interest in these old languages. As such, there may be terms you may not understand, but eventually they all will be explained. Hope you enjoy my first story! Please follow and review!

***NOTE: this is a remake or update of the original Chapter 1.***

Dark Genesis

Unknown Point-of-View

Humanity has long thought that it had been the first. The first to speak. The first to think. The first to struggle. The first to live. This is a lie; man's hubris has fooled it into believing itself at the apex of existence, only to blind itself of the truth in the process.

I remember the time before all of that, before man crawled out of the darkness and first saw the light of conscious thought. It truly wasn't any different from now; the only differences were the players involved. Before man, there were dragons - or, in our tongue - agondrayi.

It didn't end there, either. There were three main conscientious ruling races: the lagarri, the angiisi, and of course the agondrayi. Of all three, the agondrays were the most powerful. Their presence was feared, and any being an agondray wished dead arrived at such. Despite this, the agondrays and the lagarr were often one in the same, seeing as both oftentimes worked together against their common foe the angiis.

Just as with man, these races experienced all of the toils of man: war, death, pestilence, genocide, and countless others. If anything, these occurrences were much more brutal than any human equivalent; the harsh world in which they all lived often left millions dead in the wake of its massive armies and unstoppable plagues. Even the strength of the combined agondrays and lagarr did little to stop this inhuman existence. As a result, the heavens awarded a gift to the ruling classes, legendary guardians to act as the almighty turning point in these wars and struggles.

The lagaareyi.

That word. Now all it brings is a venom to my tongue, thinking of all the destruction they had caused. In ways, these kings - or reyi - fulfilled their roles as protectors. They were regularly agondrays ruling over the lagarr, ensuring the safety of their race's superiority. They had the power to single-handedly cause entire armies - no, entire species - to fall in line behind them. They were the holy paradigm of the invincible lagarr, with the insurmountable agondrays behind them.

Unfortunately, Heaven was not perfect in the creation of these supposedly sacred beasts. They were the same as any mortal.

They could still be hurt.

Twisted.

Corrupted.

Over time, the other races adopted the reyy system, having a powerful individual - a king - with whom to trust their sanctity and victory as a world power. With such influence, these reyi led their races to unforgiving war against one another for dominance. This wasn't the only thing that developed. Language developed. So did some level of society. Their knowledge grew over the millions of years they reigned dominion over the Earth.

Unfortunately, like with all empires, this one too fell. As these races became more and more intelligent, they ironically found their time as the dominant powers coming to an end. Their agondrays, lagarr, angiis, and countless races that had once held such prestige could no longer hold against the rising mammal powers. Therefore, the world's reyi came together and decided to eliminate all signs of their existence. The future ruling classes of the world would have to fend for themselves as the previous races destroyed everything they had worked so hard to build. By the end of their time, nearly all of their evidence had perished and the door to enlightenment had been closed.

Humanity soon reopened this door and did more with its existence than all of the previous races had combined, quickly surpassing all of the developments they made over their millions of years of living within a few thousand.

And yet, somehow, Heaven did not forget the first of the reyi. Another one was born in the time of man, long after the lagarr they had protected became nothing more than the devolved creatures that they had forced themselves to become.

The thing I find odd about the lagaareyi is their connection to one another. A new one would show up once every few million years, being given a scar that designated them as the 'almighty' guardians they were. This scar bestowed each lagaareyy with all of the memories of the ones before them; in fact, it was the same soul that would travel from body to body, living new lives as the years passed. In reality, the lagaareyy was only one being, protecting and leading his race in incarnation after incarnation, being born into new eras with new people as each one ended and began anew.

He is many, and they are one.

I would know. I am the abomination they call lagaareyy. Lagaareyy Azxoll, the seventeenth of my 'noble' lineage.

I remember a time when I didn't go by that name; I used to be a humble kid that went by my birth name, Zach.

Since I could walk on two feet, I never felt like I belonged here, with anyone. I was different, and I knew that. That was only further verified when I was crowned with the scar, and all of the memories of my past lives came flooding into my mind. At first, I was excited about it. I told everyone I knew of my miraculous gift, that I had millions of years of knowledge and memory in my head. That I was once someone worth something to the world.

The problem with humanity is that believing something without further physical evidence is difficult. My ancestor reyi had ensured that with the loss of everything we once held dear. Our existence had been erased from time, and I was the only link from then to now, so I renamed myself Azxoll to show my pride in being the only one to represent an entire era. I was only met with more strife than I first had.

I had to be proud of who I was.

The beatings only came more frequently. Everywhere I went I was ridiculed. My past was preposterous, they'd say. I could not go anywhere without problems, not that I didn't have any issues beforehand. My school, my town, even my own house were places my heart would dread everytime I wound up there. Bullies would beat me up in the hallways, random eyes would glare at me through the streets, and my father would abuse me in his room. Any friendships dissolved into nonexistence, and my family's acceptance died the day I took my new name. Nowhere was safe for a lagaareyy. This was no longer a world for a lagaareyy. I wasn't wanted by anyone on Earth, but I assured myself that Heaven - that God - would surely want his beloved guardian to be taken care of. I just had to wait.

I kept this mindset into adulthood. I may not have been loved by anyone alive, but I was sure God still loved me, and all of the suffering I had endured thus far was temporary, that one day He would show me some sliver of hope. Things only became more difficult.

I made attempts at a normal life: a job, a house, a car. Because of who I was, I never could hold a job long, not even the McDonald's or the Texas Roadhouses. If I couldn't maintain a solid form of income, I couldn't have a house or a car. At one point I had pondered a career in medicine, but as I could not even perform the simple human tasks...one knows how it goes. I was unable to build myself a home, a place where I could hide from the world that had so fervently shown me its scorn. I simply got used to living in the cold streets of my hometown, Pittsburgh; "It's not like I am welcome anywhere else," I'd think to myself.

I had to be proud of who I was.

I also had never experienced it. That feeling that only comes in the presence of them. When their touch alone could remove one's pain and sorrow, when their voice could calm the torrents raging in one's mind. When one felt no more at home than when they were around, when there was no-one else in this world that would understand one more than they could. That feeling that only comes when there's a true sense of oneness between two beings.

Love.

Not the familial love one should be expected to have from one's family or friends. Not the spiritual love one should feel in the presence of God. No, the love that can only be felt when one truly finds their soulmate. I had never experienced it. I couldn't, not with who I was. And yet...

I had to be proud of who I was.

Then came the day that would change my life forever. When I heard of an opportunity to further embrace the only thing I had left, I don't believe I really had a choice otherwise. Scientists needed a willing volunteer for their experiment, but I was so desperate that I paid them every cent I had left, just to make sure it turned out the way I needed it to. Everything I had, just so that I could I be like I was. I won't lie when I say the whole thing had hurt more than any of the beatings, abuse, or harsh language directed my way; I had wanted to die while all of my cells were rearranged, my DNA altered. When I limped out of that device, however, looking into a mirror, I had felt more happiness than I had in many years. Finally I was agondray again; it's a pity that I wasn't born that way, and that I needed to rely on modern science to make me into something I had been meant to be.

The beast I had them make me into was unlike any of the species that had once roamed the Earth; this was an entirely new variant I had remembered scribbling in my sketchbooks since fifth grade. I had long wanted to be agondray again, and this time I wanted to be one of my very own design, the Azxolian. Perfect in strength, power, agility, and intellect. Now I had finally accomplished my dream of shedding off my false human visage to take on one that truly conveyed the soul that lied within. This also meant that I had taken the final step forward embracing my past, and now I could not go back.

I had to be proud of who I was. And I was the lagaareyy, then, now, and forever.

Unfortunately, my happiness was not shared by everyone else. I may have become the being I was supposed to be, but as I have previously mentioned, the lagaareyy no longer belonged in this world. I was then further alienated from the world in which I lived, something I hadn't thought possible. Sure, all of the beatings stopped, seeing as no thug would want to mess with a ten-foot dragon. At the same time, though, I got dirty looks and fearful glances everywhere I went. People wouldn't walk on the same side of the street as me; I had become - for all intents and purposes - a monster.

I knew that outside I appeared as thus, but I did not feel like one on the inside. I felt hurt.

I had waited long enough. I finally decided God had given up on me; I was truly alone in this era, God leaving me to feel only the emotional and spiritual emptiness that these merciless humans could cause.

Eventually I could take it no longer. The world I had been living in had yielded me no kindness, and so I decided to leave Pittsburgh in pursuit of somewhere better. Maybe there would be a place where I could be accepted, where not everyone showed me their abhorrence and detestation.

The day I left was the day I never cared to look back. Up until then, I had occasionally kept in contact with my family and some previous peers from previous jobs - albeit with little reciprocation - and at that point I was prepared to sever all of my remaining ties. My parents never came. Perhaps they could not stand to see their child leaving or perhaps they did not care enough to see it. Either way, my brother Nic - or, as I once called him before he too turned against me, Zwaksnoll - was the only one who dared show himself at my departure. Our final moments were anything but emotional; if anything, it were as if the two of us had only reached an indifferent standstill. I remember his monotonous look as I peered back at him one more time, silently advising me that what I was doing was wrong, as he had advised me a million times before about anything and everything pertaining to the lagaareyy. No goodbyes were given, and the hatred he hid within himself refused to surface.

I never did look back.

Instead, I decided to head west and explore the rest of the United States. I didn't know any languages other than English and the Drayic used during my time, so this left out several opportunities in other countries. I tried to learn Spanish at one point, but it deviated so much from its Drayic predecessor that I could never comprehend the slurred tongue. I only knew English because it was the language I had learned since I could first enunciate words. Therefore, I would have had to make do with my home country for the time being.

I must say that the time I spent travelling was when I was most tranquil; I could soar through the skies and not have to worry about the troubles that lay far below. The ability to literally rise above my problems was exhilarating on the open road, and even the calm walks through the forests, fields, and deserts were bliss. As I entered the cities, however, they yielded no better results than that of my place of origin. The same disdain and disgust was shown to me, and I would move on a few days after remaining in a particular location.

After the first several cities and towns, I truly began to contemplate the possibility of living in the wild; it was where I was happiest. However, despite the grandeur the natural world held to the archaic lagaareyy, a major portion of my soul was left empty. I longed for companionship more than anything; this was the reason I had originally began my journey. I knew more than anyone that I could not find true rapport in the devolved remnants of the races I once knew to hold consciousness. They were all just beasts in comparison to the beings that their ancestors used to be. Once again, I found this one of the lagaareyi's faults; it was I and the other leaders that caused all of the races to devolve into animals, all to protect a secret that ultimately wasn't believable anyway.

Despite all of the horrid experiences I had with humans, I still had the smallest amount of trust that at least one of them - out there somewhere - to treat me as more than a demon.

The years passed as I traveled to every corner of the States, desperately searching for somewhere that even remotely treated me as equal, somewhere the lagaareyy could be tolerated. I grew older and older as memories of my family and past friends slowly diminished, and were replaced only by the nightmares of past lives coming to torment me. As time progressed and the number of places slowly dwindled, hope too was fading. I feared that my search would all be for nothing, that I had spent these years of my life to find nothing better than the life I had left behind.

I kept myself going through the sheer will of a lagaareyy. Thus I would find myself saying, "I am lagaareyy. I have a purpose." Sometimes, however, this maxim was detrimental, as I would sometimes be caught on the word 'purpose' and further wonder what purpose I truly held anymore. Thoughts like this would leave me empty and void of any emotion but sadness for a a number of hours before I could recompose myself. As long as I thought not too hard about the motto, it would help me carry on.

It had just crossed the thirteenth year, and I was in the last of the continental states, California. Hollywood had been surprisingly harsh and unforgiving to a creature that may very well have had a decent role in future films, but nonetheless was not any better than the hundreds I had already passed. I finally made it to the last of my major stops in this land.

San Francisco.

By now, I was tired of my vagrant lifestyle and desperately prayed for kindness, even in the absolute lowest of places. I had held myself together for so long; I'd taken so much abuse and nonsense over my seventeenth life that I could feel the will I had relied upon for so many years ready to fracture, for me to give up on humanity entirely and do something that I may regret in both this life and the next.

By a miracle - one I had by now assumed was not because of God and his ignorance to his oldest and most-dedicated harbinger - the city did not contain the same level of animosity I held beheld in all others prior. As I came to understand, a similar procedure to the one I underwent had occurred in this very location a few years ago, the individual another human that had the boldness to be voluntarily transformed into some animal. Obviously it was not an agondray - or any extinct or fictional species, for that matter - and he had already moved on from the city. I found this quite a depressing aspect, for I almost believed that I may have found companionship in this man.

Nevertheless, those residents of San Francisco still showed me no signs of affection, but only conveyed a more limited version of loathing. Many of them would sneer or glare at me, but at least I was never heckled or threatened, and many had either the gall or indifference to walk on the same side of the street as me. The homeless individuals usually conveyed the same manner of treatment, albeit some were almost simply indifferent to my presence altogether, several strides ahead of the abhorrence I was accustomed to. In a way, San Francisco provided me not with a home, but a place where almost an unsteady understanding existed. Ultimately I convinced myself that this was the best location to live, and that there were no better places. It was best to cut my losses and settle for it.

Despite the fragile forbearance I held with the city for nearly two years after, I still found no-one to love or care for. I still felt alone. Most of the time I spent in either the outskirts of the city or in the sewers, where any possible derelicts would often ignore or part from me. I even saw my brother once more for a brief moment about a year in, only to find myself unable to speak to him.

My mind had remained at that tipping point for two years, barely sustained by the softened pain I would feel. In reality, I was just as ready to eliminate my remaining humanity at any moment, and it was only through the little will I had left that kept me in check. I was corruptible, just as some of the lagaareyi before me had been. All I needed was a little push. My heart was darkened by now, and it was that heart that was twisted into something so much worse.

This is where I begin my story.

So readers, what do you think of my first fanfiction chapter (even though it is a two-years-later remake)? The real story hasn't begun yet, but this provides the backstory to Azxoll and how he is for the action actually about to begin. Hope you liked it nonetheless. Please follow and favourite to keep up with what happens to Azxoll next!

KingAzxoll9 signing off