Reclaim Destiny

-A tribute to the fallen Dragon Slayers and their lord Dilandau-

By SoulStealer

Disclaimer: I don't own Esca.

A/N: Wow. I know this story isn't the best, but I expected at lest a few more reviews… *sighs*Oh well, here's the second chap.

BTW, thanks so much VoilesDragonGurl, Princess Neptune, and Starzie Chick their reviews.

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Chapter Two

"The Escape"

"It's still functional!"

Joy and relief began to rain down on the young Guymelef pilot. He quickly slipped into the cockpit and looked at the mechanisms around him. "Alright, I can go. The manteau still works as well," things were getting better. He smiled to himself.

Raising the Guymelef's fist he punched a wall; it collapsed on some men. Slowly he made his way. Though unbeknown to him, Plactu watched with distaste.

"How pointless..." the monk murmured. "He should just escape."

Though in the Guymelef, Miguel heard the well-known hum of the mechanics that made his 'Melef. The clicks and the feel of metal near him sent adrenaline throughout his body and mind. He felt unstoppable in the metal suit. Neither man nor god, just unstoppable.

Once he had been asked why he piloted a Guymelef. The answer wasn't hard; it was considerable easy in fact. "Other than for the glory of my Lord, I pilot for the thrill," he had said. "The feeling of the metal and mechanics near me, the sight of my opponent raising his sword, and the fear and excitement flooding through my veins. That's why I pilot, for the thrill."

A shadow passed over the Ziabache Guymelef. "What the...?" Miguel cried in astonishment. It was, to his surprise, the Dragon. It's wings spread high and arched as it circled his 'Melef.

Dark thoughts ran through his mind. It was, after all, the dragons fault he had disgraced Master Dilandua's name. He prepared to fire his Crima Claw.

…All the Dragon's fault…

"The pressure's too low!" Miguel watched as the claw missed its target. Damn, he cured silently. The Dragon dropped to the ground and transformed into it's 'Melef form.

"Damn," this time he cursed out loud. His luck was changing quickly. Activating his Stealth Cloak, he prepared to attack the Dragon from behind.

Miguel grinned; he could almost feel the rays of frustration radiating from the other Guymelef.

This was enjoyable.

The Dragon swung its sword through the thin air. It has completely missed the invisible machine. There was no way he could see the Ziabache 'Melef. Miguel felt a shred of relief return as the Dragon's back was to him.

"As I thought," Miguel mused. "You can't see through the Stealth Manteau without that girl, can you?"

But the Dragon had completely stopped. It stood still, like a stone, not one motion escaping it. Miguel frowned in uncertainty. "What's he doing? I don't care. If I destroy it, Master Dilandau will forgive me for being captured."

He raised his arm toward the Dragon. "If I concentrate the liquid metal in one launcher, I can hit it," he told himself.

Miguel focused all his thoughts to the Claw. His mind pictured the liquid metal shooting forth, piercing the other Guymelef's Dragu-Energist.

 "Die!"

As his Claw emerged from his Stealth Cloak and swung toward the Dragon, his arm was severed with a vicious blow from his opponent. Miguel watched in shock as his 'Melef's arm flew to the ground. Next his Stealth Cloak was shattered as the Dragon slashed at it.

Miguel's eyes widened in shock, "H...how...?" The girl wasn't with him, how could he know? He finished his musing fast enough to escape as the Dragon severed his Guymelef in half.

***

A small chuckle escaped into the silent air. It was still here, after all these years. Good…very good…

A shadow detached it's self from the others. Quickly, it picked up a duffle like bag in the end of the storage room and ran. Darting down the halls and through various doorways the figure searched for a familiar passage.

"Damn, why do they all look the same," cursing, it continued. "Three years really have changed this place."

"You there!" a guard stepped in its way. "Halt! What right do you have to be here?"

"Shut…" with on fluid motion the bag in position was swung, colliding with the guard's stomach and manhood. "…UP!"

This wasn't enough for the guard. After stumbling back he drew his katana. The smaller figure in fount of him tensed and prepared to run. The guard had anticipated this and he dashed after the rogue.

"Damn this!" The rogue cursed. Weakness was creeping back into the body and the years in the dungeon hadn't helped the runner either. Slowly energy was draining away and soon fighting wouldn't be possible. This had to end soon…

"Stop!" Behind, the guard yelled.

The calls echoed down the halls. Being faster and in more peril than the guard the first runner took a considerably large lead, though its speed was dwindling by the second. It dashed down the corridor before heading for a sharp turn. The figure quickly turned a corner and disappeared.

"Shit!" the guard proceeded with little caution as he rounded the bend, far to afraid of the rogue's lead. Though he would know in a few hours the lead had not been important because as he had run through the rogue has been waiting. The stole bag the rogue carried was swung and collided with the guard's head, knocking him unconscious.

Shaking it's head the rogue continued to follow the corridor. It didn't lead to escape though; the only way out was a jump out a window…  two stories above the ground into an alley.

The rogue's pale face frowned, "Damn it!"

The sounds of other guards were growing as time passed by. Biting a lip, the rogue climbed onto the windowpane. Steady, it let itself fall from the building. As a guard rounded the corner, he was able to spot a flash of black near the open window.

Nothing more.

"Anything?" His captain asked.

He shook his large head. "Not a thing, just some crow." He walked over and pulled the window closed, completely missing the figure lying sprawled on the ground beneath the window.

"C'mon," The captain growled. "We got bigger fish to fry."

"Who's it this time?"

"Allen Schezar and Van Fanel."

***

"I can't escape with this injury." Miguel wondered aloud. "What should I do?" He glanced down at his bloodied leg. How could he see me? He asked himself. He didn't have that girl with him! How could he?

Miguel suddenly smelt something. The scent of something dying… Nearly gagging he moved away but something caught his neck. Someone—something was trying to kill him…again.

The cold finger wrapped viciously around his neck, reaching for vital points. He pulled madly at the hands and struggled wildly as he felt the fingers reaching their destination. Soon blood wouldn't be flowing to his brain, killing him.

Out of the corner of his eye he caught a flicker of movement. Someone was coming, jogging slowly, almost limping. A chance of hope glinted in the shadows, resting with the interloper.

With a last effort he called, his voice a weak crocking.

"H…elp…me…"

Whatever happened than Miguel wasn't able to see. There was a clunk sound and the grip on his neck was released. As he passed into darkness he knew he couldn't be dying because he felt the cold stone of the street under his cheek. His killer hadn't had long enough…