Chapter 2: Chosen (part 1)

Ramus woke up gagged in chains. He found himself trapped inside an armoured carriage. Without a doubt, he was inside the wagon used for transporting prisoners considered too dangerous to contain in Prontera's dungeon to the much larger penitentiary in neighboring Izlude.

The heavy metal chains that bound his arms and legs rattled as the carriage moved hastily along the bumpy road. He peered outside the small, grilled window at the back of the container and saw a full escort of Palace cavalry guards.

Figuring that there would be no escaping the transport, Ramus stepped back from the window and slumped himself along its metal flooring. There, he tried to recall how he ended up gagged in a prison transport in the first place. Strong emotions started to flood in. He couldn't help but shed more tears from his already damp eyes.

Aina… Arkhan… everyone… I could have saved them all.

Images from his past started to come alive within the four walls of his mobile prison. His memories took him back to the arid sands of Morroc of his yesteryears.

"Let's go back to the evil merchant's mushroom patch again!", said Aina as she stared a the slumped little kid dressed as an apprentice thief.

"I don't wanna. I'm a-scared of those creepy-eyed chonchons, sis."

"Ramus, you cowardly little jellopy! What will your ancestors think of you? Are you from House Parris or not?" replied the agitated Aina.

Ramus looked up to Aina with teary eyes.

"Let him be Aina," said an older looking green-haired Rouge who passed by.

"But Tamara, Arkhan and the others are way past him!" stammered Aina.

"No more buts! The great Ramus 'al Asama  is just a late bloomer. Aren't you Rammusy-wussy?" said Tamara as she turned towards the little kid and made playing faces.

"Don't call me that. It's embarrassing."

The huntress closed in on Ramus, patted his head gently, and walked past him. "Oh? You don't want that name? Tell you what, I'll stop calling you that the moment you give me mushrooms from the old man's farm."

Sis, wait! I don't wanna!  I don't wanna… I don't wanna…

Pathump. Pathump. Pathump.

His heart beat faster and faster.

Pathump!

Ramus' reverie was cut after the carriage he was riding was forced to a violent halt.
"Who's there? I demand that you show yourself!" shouted a person who sounded like the lead of the escorts. Disturbingly loud grunts came from the pecopecos who became extremely restless as they convo stopped in the middle of the highway.

Ramus quickly peered to the small opening once more only to see the eyes of one of the guards staring back at him.

"Stay down or I will get in there and execute you myself, dirty thief!" said the guard. He shut the window and enveloped the prisoner in total darkness.

The thief slowly put his ear on the metal platings of the side of the carriage. Sounds of swords being drawn and commands being barked out by the lead guard leaked into the cell - a sign of the escort gearing itself up for defense. It was clear that there was somebody who was going to attack the transport. But who would even dare attack a full convoy of castle guards for a single prisoner?

Nobody in his house knew that he was even in Prontera. Painfully enough, he knew that the only people who were aware of what he was doing that night lay dead somewhere outside Prontera.

"Stick to the drill. We will take down who ever tries to close in on our bounty", yelled the same deep voice who had been commanding the guards since the convoy had stopped.

What followed was something that a normal person would dare not hear in his lifetime. Helpless screams, lighting-quick sword swings and armor, flesh and bone being torn apart at the same time echoed even inside the cabin. Ramus withdrew from the metal sides of the cell as the battle outside raged on.

After a mere two minutes, think silence enveloped the air.

Ramus braced himself at the far back of the carriage as he expected the worst when the locked doors opened.

Oddly enough, an old merchant appeared before him as the door swung open.

"Ramus 'al Asama," said the old man in a coarse voice, "we've been looking all over for you."

Ramus stood in disbelief at his liberator. The man looked like he was in his early sixties.  White beard grew like nobody's business all over his chin and his left eye was shut with stitches. The crooked posture was not that of a warrior. It was in fact more of an aging hunchback who wouldn't last five minutes of fighting. On his hand was a baton notably of the Albertan merchantry.

"Well? Are you going to stare at me all night or do you any plans on getting off that stinking piece of metal box anytime soon?" said the merchant while staring at the sulking prisoner.

"Why did you have to free me? I might as well be joining my comrades in the Elysian."

The old man gave out a warm smile. "Would that please your comrades?"

Live. You must live.


Ramus nodded and slowly stood out of the carriage. He looked out side and saw a scene as gruesome and lugubrious as hell itself. Blood was splashed everywhere. On trees, in the grass, along the road, and on the walls of the carriage; If there were indeed a need for a literal depiction of "painted red", the scene that night would have described it best.

The chained thief nearly lost his lunch as he saw his former captors, or at least what was left of them, entrails scattered all over the place. Body parts were hanging on the branches on the lower trees by the roadside. Some of the men were literally vertically cut in half with their armor hewn down along with their flesh. Shattered metal was scattered along the road. The faces of the vanquished sported the expressions of hopelessness, of desperation. Not even the pecopecos were spared. The whole place was screaming "death" at anyone who had the stomach to even look. And to think the whole thing happened in just under two minutes.

From the far distance, he saw two figures. One was a green-haired female Kafra wiping a bloodied razor-sharp-looking katana and the other was a man cloaked in black who seemed to Ramus as the largest man in Rune Midgard. The kafra who stood by him barely even reached the waist height of the gargantuan.

"Why did you rescue me, old man?", asked Ramus as he turned towards the merchant.

The merchant arched his back and gave out a hearty laugh. "Hohohoho! Because dead men never get to have their revenge! And besides, Kuroko and Sampaguita hardly get enough action. They need some practice."

The Kafra approached Ramus with her blade still in striking position. Ramus looked away as the Kafra swung her sword at him. The chains of both his arms and legs fell into the ground. Two pieces of perfectly sliced metal - with one swing.

"I know you have many questions Ramus. Everything will be cleared up when you arrive at the tournament grounds," said the Kafra.

"Tournament grounds?" asked Ramus in surprised tone.

With a blink of an eye, the four instantly vanished in the middle of the road to Izlude and reappeared in front of the gates of the great castle of Glastheim.

"Yes, tournament grounds," added the old merchant, "You have now become the final entry to the tournament of Glastheimspiel."