Fire Emblem- The Rise of the Demon King
The following is a fanfic that I decided to write one day when struck with a brilliant idea. Write about the original heroes, S Weapons and Sacred Stones!
Well, it was my friend Yang Xuan who started the idea of writing an FE fic.
Anyway, enjoy. Several chapters to this story. It's original, to be sure, and there is a lot to be explored, a lot of fresh design space compared to fics about the events of FE: SS.
Oh yeah. I don't Fire Emblem. Or their characters. Don't sue me, but please read and review. Thanks.
Prologue
Grado sliced his way through the darkness expertly with his Silver Sword, never stopping, never taking a breath. Who knew what the jungle would bring, with it's arid smells and ferocious baels, he thought.
The attacks on his homeland, Reinharch, had grown worse ever since one of his lieutenants had actually managed to slay a gorgon, adjutant to the Dread One, otherwise known as the Demon King. Revenge had been swift.
The Demon King had controlled the border area of the continent for a long time, and none dared to challenge his dark might. In return, he never seemed to declare open hostility on any of the human race.
Then three years ago, everything had changed. He could still remember the first revenant he had fought…
They were traveling west of Auracia, located at the western edge of the continent. His teacher, companion, and leader of his mercenary group, Carcino, had been sleeping in the tent at the moment the alarm was raised. Grado had been wide awake. He never liked to be caught off guard, and his body seemed to cope, no matter how much pressure he put on it.
His first action was to run into Carcino's tent.
'Carcino!" he yelled, brandishing his Steel Blade menacingly.
'What is it-' Carcino stood up just in time, for Grado had lost control of the blade. If he had still been sleeping, Carcino might have lost an arm, or worse.
'Watch it, youngster!' Carcino snapped as Grado felt his face grow red hot with shame. 'You may be a full fledged mercenary, but that does not mean you can effectively control your weapons!'
'Sorry.' Grado mumbled.
'Well, never mind that now, never mind…' Carcino's eyes seemed to wander around the tent mindlessly until they resettled on Grado. 'So, what's the matter, young Grado?' he asked, a quiet, parched edge to his voice, a symbol of age and experience.
Grado gulped down some of his saliva before answering. 'Well, we're camping near the coast, so…'
'Yes?' Carcino pressed impatiently, anxious to get to the bottom of the matter. His nose wrinkled at the fermented smell of the tent walls. He had better get someone to help clean that soon.
'Some things came out of the coast a while ago.' Grado finished. Carcino wrinkled his eyebrows and stared at Grado impatiently.
'They, they are too big for animals, but, they aren't… human.'
Carcino stood up, his eyes wide open now. He seized Grado by the shoulders. 'What did these things look like?'
'I only heard about it from O'Neil,' Grado admitted, 'but they, they seem to be dead people. Walking.'
'Revenants.' Carcino seemed to be unable to breathe.
'Servants of the Dread One? I thought they were just myths?' Grado was confused.
'No, no, no. They are real, all right.' Carcino fished about for his magic tome impatiently. 'They have been rumors going around my sage community, you know. Word gets around that there have been some strange happenings recently, and the cause seems to be from Darkling Woods.'
'The realm of the Dread One.' Grado shifted, whirling around. Revenants. Perhaps even those men on horses. And skeletons. And those huge spiders. Baels, they were called. Maybe even, he shuddered to think of it, zombie dragons. If all the myths were true, then those of the Draco-Zombies might well be fact also.
Suddenly, Carcino was at his side, dressed properly and with an Elfire tome at the ready. 'I can hear sounds of battle,' he murmured. Grado nodded dumbly as he followed Carcino out of the tent.
There. Grado bent down as he caught sight of the large structure. A temple at the edge of Darkling Woods. How strange that a weapon that could be used to combat the Demon King would be found so near his realm of power. The clearing was full of vines, but the path to the temple seemed clear. Once inside, the path to the weapon might not be so easy. It was abandoned, ruined, but it was once part of an ancient culture that would have done anything to protect one of their treasures. He would have to be cautious. Very cautious.
Suddenly, something sprang from above, slicing downwards. A lance. Grado drew his Battle Axe and swung the heavy weapon effortlessly at the thing. A gargoyle. The lance scored a hit along the right side of his shoulder. He fell back and grabbed for a vulnerary in his satchel. He lunged forward and impaled the red menace, breaking the lance with incredible force. The gargoyle had no time to escape and let out a blood curling shriek as the axe severed it's flesh and exposed bone and sinew. Grado felt a sense of euphoria as he leapt up and threw the axe in the air, then caught it and brought it to bear.
The thing shrieked again as red liquid spurted out of it's wounds, and it shuddered several times before going still.
Grado stood rooted to the spot, reveling in the death of one of the hated monsters. He gingerly applied the vulnerary to his wound, rubbing it into the flesh. It was painful, but it would speed up the healing. He felt the handle of the Battle Axe, worn smooth with countless kills. He felt the layer of rust growing. He would have to replace it soon. Hopefully with that weapon.
He picked up his Battle Axe and set it at his hip once more, glancing at the corpse of the gargoyle. At least that thing had been alive. The revenants no longer truly lived. He still remembered the time he had first fought one.
Carcino was gripping the book, tightly, drawing on it's strength, the power of fire. Fire surged everywhere, missing Grado but striking home at the head of each revenant, causing it to explode. However, the loss of a head meant nothing. As long as they could still move, the revenants fought. Each human was more than a match for one of the gruesome revenants, but the revenants felt no pain and felt no fear. It was not a fair match.
Grado stood at Carcino's side, bracing him, preparing for an attack for one of the revenants. None dared approach him. He would be a a challenge, to be overwhelmed by sheer numbers later on, they had decided. Or at least their master decided for them.
Then O' Neil went down. Grado stood stock still with rage as blood spurted out from under a mound of the revenants. The stench of rotting flesh now mixed with fresh blood, tainting the pure beach with undeserved atrocity. O'Neil had been a little slow, but he was reliable, and a good person. He had been Grado's friend. Grado roared and charged, uncaring, ignoring Carcino's warnings.
He had seen death. But it had never been so close. Now he came to it, trying to sever it's roots.
Another Revenant blocked his way. He roared and jumped up, mustering all the strength he could bear, slicing downwards, then somersaulting back. Nothing happened. It had taken no damage.
Grado stared at the revenant, disbelieving. It was no ordinary zombie. This one was taller and broader, and more greenish. It smelled even worse than the revenants. Probably it had lived very long ago. Grado shuddered to think about the human soul that had once occupied it.
It reared up and shuffled forward slowly. There was no escaping it. He would have to stand and fight. He lunged and thrust his sword forward. It managed to bite into the flesh of the zombie. Grado cheered silently. Then he was flung aside by a heavy handed blow dealt by it. He tried to come to his feet, but the thing hovered over him, keeping a grip on his arm. He was finished. He could smell the dead stench of the thing, nauseating him, causing him to vomit. One day he would smell like that. He might even fight alongside O' Neil for the glory of the Dread One. Grado shuddered. His time had come.
Then a miracle happened. Wind roared out of nowhere, slicing into the thing with incredible force, severing it into several small slices of dead matter. Grado pressed against the sandy ground as pieces of undead rained about him and the deadly wind current passed overhead.
After a while he stood up to see Carcino standing in front of him, holding a brand new tome.
'What is that?'
Carcino glanced at the tome briefly before answering his question. 'It is called Excalibur.'
Excalibur.
Grado stared at it wonderingly. 'Where did you get it?'
'A story for another time, Grado. Another time.'
Grado nodded. Carcino had lived long, and some parts of his past still had it's mysteries. He would learn about Excalibur at any rate, that much he knew.
'You saved my life.' He bent low, thanking the old man.
Carcino smiled. 'No need for that now.'
'I will pay you back the debt someday,' Grado insisted. Carcino smiled again.
'I'm sure you will.' He replied, and there was no hint of sarcasm.
All around the revenant lay vanquished, shredded by Excalibur. The survivors started to cluster around Carcino, confused and hurt. Carcino warded them off and assigned them duties. Soon everyone was busy packing. It would not have been wise to stay longer than necessary.
'Come,' Carcino beckoned to Grado. 'It is time to go.'
Grado turned to follow him, but stopped short as he saw a hint of gold glinting from O' Neil's clothes. He bent down and stared at the ruined mess of a friend, plucking the thing from his neck. It was a Hero Crest, a rare object that granted great powers and skills to those who were ready. O' Neil must have wanted to use it one day. Now he would never get to.
'Sleep well, my friend.' Grado whispered as he slipped the talisman into his pocket. A memory of the event that had happened here.
Then he turned and walked away.
He had paid back the debt to Carcino though, Grado mused. It had been another incident, another tragedy. Past best served buried and forgotten.
Grado turned to leave and came face to face with a bael, just in time to duck a lethal swipe of clawed talons. He rolled and came to his feet, clutching his abdomen. The talon had scored on the underside of his abdomen, and the pain was searing.
He turned to face the bael. It was huge. Probably an elder one. It was red all over, and not just because of blood. That thing was skilled, to have managed to creep so close to him without making a sound. Grado jumped up and came down, swinging the Battle Axe with ferocious intensity.
It broke in midair.
The handle just separated from the haft. The absurdity of it made Grado pause for a second, and he almost paid dearly for that hesitation, narrowly avoiding a deadly thrust of claws. Grado rolled to a side and drew his Silver Sword.
It would end in one blow.
Grado gathered up every once of strength he had and threw the sword up, rushing toward the bael as it spun in midair. The bael seemed puzzled at his foolishness, but readied it's talons anyway. Grado jumped up, and with one flourish, caught the sword in midair, and sliced cleanly through the bael's body with all the strength he had mustered. A critical blow.
The bael collapsed and died, blood running into the mossy ground in rivulets, staining it crimson.
Grado gasped for breath as he sheathed his sword. He should have gotten a new axe ages ago, he thought wryly. Even Carcino had told him that he was thrifty. Well, it was a good trait, but not for battle, where weapons could break halfway.
Pain ripped through Grado in quick flashes. He stumbled to his knees, staining them with the blood of the cursed bael. It's talons had been poison.
Graod fumbled desperately through his rucksack for an anti-venom, but there were only healing potions and an elixir. An elixir, rarest of healing potions, but no anti-venom. Grado uncapped the elixir and drank it. It would buy him time, anyway.
He struggled to stand up, and collapsed to the ground. Maybe a rest would be good after all, Grado thought. He had been trekking through the jungle for three days nonstop. He deserved a rest.
So, sleepy… Grado yawned as darkness startled to settle in.
Before he lost consciousness, Grado thought he caught sight of an angel.