Without warning, I felt the large hands of yet another oppressor dig into my shoulders and drag me out of the world of the Metallic Gods.
I had been discovered.
Of course, I kicked and screamed as I was dragged back to the fortress, but I wasn't all that upset really. I just wanted to give them a hard time, because in all honesty, I enjoyed it.
I was given a sedative and thrown back into my dark chamber. I stumbled, trying to hold my body up, struggling to fight the toxins. But I managed to stay awake for a few moments, listening to the horrific screams of children down the halls past my chamber. They screamed for their loved ones, families, mothers and fathers. I knew exactly what was happening to them, and I laughed the whole time until the chemicals in my blood forced my body to go limp. That night, I slept with a smile on my face. Their screams had become a strange breed of comfort to me.
The cloaked men saw less and less of me, narrowing the experiments to once every few days, instead of the daily routine. Rather than spending the nights with tubing and syringes, I spent them with my sword. Monitored of course, I was set out into the forests of Gaea to practice in any way possible. I clumsily swung at every noise and shadow, failing to slay any nocturnal creature that crossed my path. Over time I adapted the concept of agility, and quickly learned that a shadow can be a powerful ally, if respected.
Many nights passed, and I was well aware that my skills were sharpening. The soldiers who guarded the fortress had also taken notice. They would speak highly of my strength, but would denounce my "lack of control."
One night, I was ripped from my chamber and thrown into a pitch-black room with my sword and a steal breastplate, engraved with a strange symbol. Trapped, I slipped into the breastplate and gripped my sword tightly; unafraid of what lingered in the corners. The blinding dark was to test my alertness and sensitivity to the enemy's presence. I knew this much to be true. But the breed of enemy was what had puzzled me. After all, before that point, I had only killed and wounded small animals.
With my eyes closed, I walked slowly to the middle of the room where I remained perfectly still. All of my focus was concentrated on the perfect silence. For a few moments, I remained quiet to the point of hearing my blood pulsating through my veins.
In one quick instant, my ears sensed exactly what I needed to hear.
The unsteady breath of the enemy.
I dove my sword in the direction of the sound, but the attack was met with another sword, the enemy was human. There were pathetic attempts to slice my arms with the opposing sword, but the enemy was clearly inexperienced. I laughed as I cut the air and felt the armor weaken. I was going to win.
The enemy managed to knock me to the ground, but I instantly rose back to my feet and struck heavily with the back of my sword. I heard the body fall to the ground. One severe blow to the head did the job. I crept silently behind the twitching creature.
Standing above the shadowed body, I smiled just before plunging my sword into the enemy's torso. I savored every final cough and sputter from the aching body. I was victorious.
A door opened slowly, leaking light into the room. The armored man entered, with a torch in one hand, and a large bottle of oil in the other. I squinted my eyes as the light radiating from the flame revealed the body of my enemy. My eyes widened as I studied the body in a state of shock. He wore a breastplate, like mine, which bore the same symbol, engraved in the steal. I'd lost my sense of time long ago, but I knew the enemy was no soldier. He couldn't have been older than I was. His bare arms were covered in the same bruises and scars that mine were. I knew those scars all too well. They were the same markings that covered my body. The cloaked men were to blame.
The armored man stood beside me glaring down at the corpse. He opened the bottle and poured the liquid onto the still body.
"Destroy it."
Without question, I grasped the torch and stared deep into the blaze, lost in its call of absolution.
Slowly, I lowered the torch and pressed it to the corpse, watching in amazement as the flame crawled over his skin and devoured the body. I later told myself that they only wanted the strongest to survive; that was why they forced us into battle in such a brutal manner. That had to be the reason.
The warmth of the fires glow touched my face with an unfamiliar gentleness as it charred the body it blanketed. The flames power made my unblinking eyes tear and grow red, though I took no notice of it. I inhaled deeply and slowly closed my eyes, letting the black smoke roll down my throat to fill my lungs. The smell of the burning flesh rejuvenated my empty and long since broken spirit. I exhaled slowly and opened my eyes once again, trapped in the glare of the dancing flames.
I formed words in my mind, but struggled to force them from my lips.
"What…"
I shuddered at the sound of my own voice.
"What am I?"
The flame's tears rolled down my cheeks, absorbing the warmth.
"You are the blood of Zaibach, and today you have proven your potential worthy to be the iron fist we will use to restore Gaea."
He turned his head away from the flame and fixed his fierce eyes upon mine.
"You are Dilandau Albatou."
I reached my hand out to the flame, spreading my fingers, tempted to touch it.
"My name is Dilandau…"
The flames rose and grew all the more beautiful.