DARKSTALKERS: THE NIGHT WARRIORS
Chapter One: The Return of Demitri Maximoff
Fanfiction by Louis the Rogue
(Based on original story by Capcom Inc.)
It is written that Makai is the body of a god, and that all demonkin are the descendants of its' creator, the First Lifeform. It was through the void that this lifeform came into being, and this may explain why its' offspring have been unknowingly driving the Makai back toward a new oblivion for countless millennia.
The first "demon noble" in recorded history was Zeruru Aensland, the forefather of the same Aensland Family that rules Makai to this day. It stands to reason that there may have been a ruler before even the majestic Demon King, but if that is so, the truth of the matter is hidden in darkness for now.
However, the rule of the Aensland Family does not go without contest. It is absolute, not because no one dares to stand against it, but because all who try have tried in vain. The current patriarch, Belial Aensland, is known with good reason as the Strongest Man in Makai. Like his ancestors, he is also known as the Demon King.
If Belial Aensland is the Body of Makai, then the Brain of Makai would be Galnan Voshtal, and the Heart of Makai would be Jedah Dohma. Though there are technically ten noble families of Makai, the three figures mentioned above are elevated to the status of High Noble, and until replaced, their actions alone decide the true fate of Makai.
Their souls fused with evil ambition, it is still no wonder that the various noble families, and consequently their kin below them, struggle valiantly in fruitless wars to "conquer Makai" for eon upon eon, too narrow-minded to see that from a larger scope their goal is not only unlikely, but impossible. If Makai is a living being, it cannot live without a body, brain, or heart: the death of the High Nobles would surely be the death of Makai, and all the creatures within it.
This logic was accepted as fact until the unthinkable happened. Galnan Voshtal, the guardian of every secret ever whispered in the dark world, including that of a hidden "gate" to another world and endless power, died – not by the hand of his successor, but in a simple passing away. No sooner had his personal medics confirmed the time of death than word began to spread, and tensions to rise. Without any one of the necessary thirds needed to make Makai whole, what would become of it?
The lesser nobles did not wait for death quietly, and mutually agreed that a war would be fought amongst them to decide the next High Noble. Belial and Jedah were content to take an observational stance, their powers unchallenged. The War of the Gate was bloody indeed, and it has lasted for the last two hundred years.
High above the crimson sand of the land of Makai, amongst the endless periwinkle stormclouds in the sky above, an angular winged dragon with pitch black eyes and a hide that constantly shifted between the colors of the rainbow, loomed ominously with terrifying speed toward something only he could smell at such a height. The look in the eyes of Xell Kreutz was murderous, and his menacing fangs gritted with a cross between ultimate frustration and rage unbound, "My vengeance is imminent!"
That which the fabled Anarchic Wyrm sought already knew that he was being pursued, and as he waited silently atop the volcano known as Gilala Gila, Gregorio Hartland pondered what his ancestral rival would have to say upon his arrival.
Most prominently known as the Most Handsome Noble in Makai, it would be fair to say Lord Hartland's title was well deserved. He could assume any form he desired, and always chose the most stunning masculine specimen of a given race. Currently, his form was decidedly fair-featured, with ivory skin, straight hair of a raven black hue reaching his middle lower back, and blood red lips atop an angular black armor of a more Florentine design. His amber eyes danced with amusement as he watched a winged figure slowly come into view.
Xell narrowed his reptilian eyes into slits as the volcano came within sight. For only an hour, the Demon Key of Voshtal had been virtually in his talons! As soon as he learned that the Kreutz family had recovered it, he rushed to see it for himself, but already he was too late – it had been filched by a charismatic nobleman. To add insult to intrigue, it was none other than the man at the top of his unwritten blacklist.
A fire rose up out of the volcano in response to the draconic tyrant's arrival, enshrouding him momentarily in a thick black fog until a simple beat of his wings cleared the air between him and his perceived prey. "Give me the key and I will make your death a quick one", Xell hissed with his talons raised, the claws pointed down dramatically as if threatening to rain from the sky proceeding his vicious snout.
A confident smile stained the otherwise subtle face of Gregorio Hartland, "Of course Milord, but before we begin, I have learned something which will enlighten you even when I am dead. Granting me berth to speak would be most profitable, but if you are too impatient to be wise, I understand…"
Kreutz threw his head back in a roar, "How dare you question my wisdom! I am surpassed in battle only by Belial himself you arrogant playboy!"
Hartland closed his eyes, fighting a sudden eagerness to betray his ulterior motive, "Granted, you are a master of technique, but the information I now possess lies outside the realm of battle and is priceless nonetheless. I offer it freely; surely you cannot scoff at such an opportunity?"
Xell's scales rested for now on an emerald green as he slowly lowered out of the sky and perched himself on the volcano above his rival, leering down at the man impatiently, "Speak now or forever hold your tongue."
Hartland clapped his hands together with more amusement than before showing in his eyes, "Splendid! I found it hard to believe that one who calls himself a noble could be beyond the art of -"
"Waste not your charm on me boy", Kreutz glowered as he cut him off.
Hartland turned his back and gestured nonchalantly as he continued, "Like all the artifacts of Voshtal, the Demon Key is treasured not for power, but wisdom. I dare say I have uncovered the item's secret. Befitting a key, it opens a door, but a door most unusual, and that is why I have stopped, here, to end your pursuit. Can you guess the rest?"
Xell Kreutz chuckled menacingly, "So, at last I have the key to Human World, and with it the location of the gate. I must thank you, Hartland, it appears your wit is on par with my own after all. A pity only one of us can guard the secret."
Gregorio turned on a heel, the fire reflecting in his eyes as if to make them glow, "Hasty, Milord; think you that I brought the key all this way with no intent save to give it to you? As the door between realms is not firmly defined, the usage of the key is a matter more complex than inserting it into a knob, but in my infinite pursuit of The Key, I have unearthed this secret as well. Observe!"
In three blinks of an eye, the key was revealed, aimed, and thrown past the peripheral vision of Lord Kreutz, its' intricate golden design flashing with a pure white light as it reached the very top of the volcano and fell in.
The dragon raced above the volcano and stared open-mouthed down a sharp crevice as soon as he had time to react, "What have you done!" The antagonist did not answer; there was no need. This became apparent as the world around trembled violently, Gilala Gila itself threatening to rip apart as a blinding glow began to emit through the cracks.
Leaping from the volcano in a reflexive bound, Hartland watched from the top of a nearby mountain with curiosity as his rival looked on from above in horror at the scene unfolding. As the great black mountain began to melt away, the remnants began to spin around each other both horizontally and vertically around a globe-like blot so black it hurt the eyes to look into it. The thing, which must have been the gate, seemed to grow more and more, swallowing the debris as fast as it could be drawn from the outside.
"Now", Hartland smiled up at Kreutz, "Let the crescendo begin!"
Castle Zeltzereich. It's very name inspired terror in those wise enough to learn the lore of the Romanian countryside before passing through. It was a name synonymous with darkness, corruption, and death.
Indeed, the castle itself was an imposing sight to behold. Perched high atop a precariously steep plateau, the blackstone castle was more of a fortress tower with its' spear-like towerheads and high, square, impenetrable design. As if compelled to do so, a small flock of bats consistently flew about overhead.
To the unlucky villagers in the valley below, these fell creatures were ominous warnings to those foolish enough to venture inside. Of course, anyone that foolish listens not to warnings, and no one entering the castle had ever returned.
More imposing than the tomb that surrounded him, and far more terrifying than anything the villagers' superstitious imaginations could have conjured up, was the master of this castle. He was a fiend in the truest sense of the word, and this was only the tip of the iceberg concerning this Prince of Darkness.
Somewhere in the cloudy sky above, a red light appeared, parting through the clouds as if the sun that had not appeared within miles of this land for one hundred years was suddenly rising and swallowing up the gray.
Filtering through the crenulated battlements of the castle, the light cast a soft red glow over the room of the topmost tower, starkly contrasting everything in a mesh of lake red and pitch black. As the total darkness was disturbed around the solitary figure sitting on his spike-headed throne, an aura of fire rose up about his person and reflected in his empty eyes.
The figure was a tall, well-chiseled man of lean build with short brown hair that flared upward like a rising flame, and fair skin. He garbed himself in the attire of a nobleman; blue dress pants tucked into knee-high golden boots below a red dress shirt with a white neckerchief, over which hung a blue tailed jacket with gold cuffs from which hung a long silky cape of the blackest hue.
Though banished to a comparatively pitiful existence, he was the undisputed lord of all he surveyed. Demitri Maximoff rose from his throne, his aura yet about him as he strode to one of the small windows and peered outward, a distant smile coming over his face, "How long has it been, Belial? One hundred years…"
He was younger then, with everything to prove. Undoubtedly the strongest of the seven lesser nobles of Makai, he had gained respect even from the extremist Kreutz family after rivaling Baraba Kreutz, the Wolf Lord, in battle. But respect was not enough for the ambitious Maximoff; he would settle for no less than the title of High Noble, and accordingly challenged Belial Aensland for his title.
The battle would take place far above the mainland, in a circular airborne arena crafted of darkice, a substance tenfold harder than diamonds. There would be no spectators, as the ground was but a flat, smooth plane crafted for such occasions.
Belial had been calm in demeanor; nearly impassive as Demitri had remembered it, choosing to assume the form of a statuesque, hairless man with lavender skin and piercing red eyes garbed only in red breeches tucked into black boots and held up by an Arabic black sash.
The Demon King had taken a single look at the vampire standing so straight and laughed, goading Demitri into a rage as he dashed forward in a horizontal dash from his heel and brought his cape up in a pair of demonic black wings, spinning in mid-air like a missile drill; the technique was known as the Demon Cradle, a devastating move that he typically reserved for infidels unfortunate enough to arouse his anger.
Belial closed his eyes, his body beginning to glow from within with a violet light that was steadily increasing in brightness. By the time Demitri's misguided attack had reached him from across the ring, it was too late; the now potent field of dark force around Aensland exploded on contact with Demitri, sending the arrogant Lord Maximoff careening from the arena, unconscious, and tumbling to the ground below.
Demitri closed his eyes and turned away, the shadows swallowing up half his face, the other half highlighted by the red light, "Your power is undisputed by all, but for all your strength you lack judgment. Letting me have time to recover was a mistake you will not live to regret. I vow that, in time, even you Belial will beg for death on your knees before me."
His eyes opened as he looked back into the light resolutely, a bright crimson glow emitting from somewhere deep within, "But not yet. First, I must prove myself here. This 'Human World'… it is a chain I must shrug off before I am ready to ascend beyond and conquer the Makai. I see now that my goal is lofty, and certain prerequisites must be met in order to achieve it."
Raising a tensed hand to the sky, he summoned a flurry of golden, glowing bats forth through the window, their squeaking echoing into the distance as the flew off into the sky beyond. His eyes narrowed as he bared his fangs in a vicious smile, "Go now; deliver my message. Come out, those who would call themselves the Dark Ones. Come and fight. I will prove to you all that I am the Lord of the Night."