Author's Notes: I am loving writing this story. It's so much fun! Usually I need reviews to keep me going, but this just keeps spewing out of me for some odd reason. Anywho, I hope you have as much fun reading it as I have writing it. On with the show!

Chapter Two

Hunters, Horrors and Historical Happenings

Part I: Banon and the Beast
Part II: Cyan of the New

Part I: Banon and the Beast

"Sir?" a young bronze armored man questioned, assisting an odd, older looking man.

"What is it, Dolf?"

"Are you sure about this? I mean...it's been less than twenty-four hours since the tower was destroyed…"

The old man hesitated, staring at the rubble that lay only thirty, forty yards in front of them. He scratched his chin, getting lost in his lengthy, bushy yellow beard. The hair covered merely all of his face and exploded off the top of his head, rolling down to his midsection. He sighed and let his weight shift from his cane to the man named Dolf.

"Kefka is defeated," he finally answered. "I want to be the first one to see this long dream come true."

Dolf nodded and continued with the old man. "As you wish, Banon."

Banon could not see his dream without the good-hearted Dolf, who had joined Banon many years ago in establishing the Returners, the alliance against the Empire. Banon had longed for world peace for so long that he wasn't sure if he believed that it was actually here. He fought for so long against the evil Empire that housed the maniac who defined Kefka. Banon also assisted some of the legendary heroes before they became legendary, before the 'World of Ruin' term was even coined. Kefka's chaos that brought the newly ruined world had impacted Banon and the Returners severely.

Now, Banon only had Dolf and they were what remained of the Returners. If any other being did survive the treachery, they did not regroup or mention "Returners" ever again. Fortunately, Dolf stayed loyal to his leader and the dreamer which was good since Banon's hip had broken during the world's transition.

Banon was the kind of man who you'd find meditating in the mountains, maybe even smoking some rare kind of weed. He was very unkempt, letting his hair grow in whatever direction it wanted. He wasn't a fighter, he had no skills, but he sure could dream. It was his dreams and persuasion that led to the Returner's creation.

Dolf, on the other hand, was very much a fighter. He was good with swords and was learning some new dual-blade techniques. His greatest memory was when he dueled with King Edgar of Figaro during a particularly dusky sunset in the valley beside the old Returner's hideout. Edgar was now legendary and that made Dolf feel special since he had managed to keep up with the crafty swordsman.

The two stopped next to the rubble and looked across the ruins. The sky was still warped and omitted seemingly orange hues and the air smelt of rotting things but the tower was definitely destroyed. They stared in awe as the first to see the end of a man who constantly tortured everyone for more than one year.

"Never seen wreckage that looks so beautiful, eh sir?" Dolf said happily.

Banon ran his fingers through his hair, continuing to stare at the miles of debris. There were hills of rubble stretching twenty feet high and patches of smoke still rising. Banon was so moved and awestruck that he could not speak. A tear quickly disappeared into his beard. Dolf saw it and smiled to see his master so overjoyed.

They stood and watched the sight as if the famous Maria of Jidoor sprung out of the ground to sing them an operatic song.

Banon let a sigh of relief and turned to his loyal follower and friend. "Help me out there," he gestured towards the midst of the ruins.

"Uh, sir…I-I don't know," he said worriedly.

"What's the matter, dear boy?"

Dolf crumpled his lips and tapped his side. "It's too soon. I-I don't think we should."

Dolf was deadly frightened of Kefka and the power that he had wielded. Even though Kefka was dead and his remains gone along with his immaculate tower, Dolf was too afraid to go near an evil man's grave.

"I see…I will go alone then," Banon replied.

"Sir…why?"

"I want to feel his death. I want to feel the defeated evil suppressed under my feet. I want to crush him."

"But –"

Banon let go of Dolf and kept all his weight on his wooden cane as he walked onto the rubble. Banon limped horribly without another's assistance, but he could manage to go a small distance before he tuckered out.

Banon walked over the remains and couldn't believe he was walking on his and the entire world's enemy's grave. He was so proud and happy he could barely contain himself. He thought about young Locke and how far that man had come. He thought about Edgar who had been a huge help in funding the Returners. He thought about his little ray of hope, Terra, the half-breed. And he thought…they all beat him. They are all legendary!

As he thought to himself, another thought shot through his brain like a bolt of lightening and left him before he even realized what it was. It was like a thousand voices passing through his brain incoherently in less than a millisecond. He rubbed his head and passed it as a mere mind-tremor, something he had been having ever since Kefka took over more than a year ago. He then turned to see Dolf standing worriedly off the 'grave'.

"See now," Banon said. "Come. It is safe. Quite remarkable too."

Dolf twiddled his fingers and thought about what to do. He had no desire to cross death itself. Banon, recognizing this, fake-fumbled slightly, knowing Dolf would instantly respond.

"Sir!" he shouted. "I'm coming, hold on."

Dolf darted between the debris and hopped over the cracked rocks, quickly making his way to Banon. When he got to him, the old man straightened, revealing a smirk-ish smile under his ruffled beard.

"Sir?" Dolf questioned, confused.

"See? It's fine," Banon replied.

"Oh sir. That wasn't very nice."

Banon patted Dolf on the side and let out a gentle laugh. "I know, but I've got to teach you to overcome your fears if you're ever going to be a hero that you dream of so dearly."

Dolf laughed and shook his head. "Really sir…must you always be teaching me these lessons?"

The two of them laughed gaily, wiping tears of joy from their eyes.

"There's no monsters," Dolf stated plainly after the laughter subsided.

"What did you say?" Banon asked, slightly confused by the off-handed remark.

"I said 'there's no monsters'. Guess the world is just a safer place, eh?"

Banon thought about the question and wondered about an answer. "Is a little odd. I'd think monsters would swarm over a place like this…many dead things to pick out for food."

Dolf nodded, still smiling as he looked over the area once again.

"Come to think of it," Banon continued, "hasn't been any monsters in a while, even before we got here. But…there's no link between Kefka and monsters. Is there?"

"Don't know sir."

As Banon contemplated the question, Dolf felt an odd sensation pass through his body. He coughed slightly. 'Muscle spasm' he thought to himself, going back to viewing the surroundings. Then it happened again like some ghost was tapping his soul. He coughed a little harder. Then he coughed again…and again…

"Dolf? You alright?"

Dolf raised his hand, motioning that he was fine, but the cough grew until the young soldier felt faint. Dolf knelt down on one knee and kept coughing, trying to get it out of his system.

"Dolf…your face is turning red. Dolf!"

Banon instinctively started to pull out his healing potions and medical herbs, hoping something would help his comrade. Dolf's face was turning blue.

"Dolf, take this."

Banon held out a bluish potion, but Dolf couldn't grab the potion because he was coughing too hard. Banon quickly knelt beside him and shoved the potion down his throat. He kept coughing.

"It's not working."

He kept coughing.

"Why isn't it working?"

Then, suddenly, Dolf burst into flames. His coughing immediately changed to screams and he rolled around, trying to get the flames to subside. The flames burned so hot and his flesh began to melt. Banon couldn't do anything…but watch.

And Dolf died.

Banon lost his grip on his cane and fell. Banon was shocked and confused by the sudden change of events. He quickly turned to grab his cane, but he couldn't reach it. He started to weep.

'Bring me more…'

There was that bolt of lightening that traversed his brain again only it kept bouncing back and forth as thousands of voices spurred in his mind. Banon cried for help, but the voices wouldn't stop.

'Bring me more…'

"Yes…master," Banon replied.

Part II: Cyan of the New

Cyan Caramonde slouched back in his over-cushioned chair like Locke did naturally and laughed at himself for adopting the unbecoming behavior. Cyan could easily and should sit as straight as an iron rod regardless of his weary old bones. He just slouched because it was more human, more contemporary. He was even learning to adapt to the jargon that the young people were speaking commonly. Of course, he would never be able to filter out all the 'Thou's.

Cyan tapped the arm of the chair and rested his head on his other hand, trying not to think about her. So he thought about Locke, of course since he was sitting like the young thief. "Pardon me, Treasure Hunter" he corrected himself out loud, bringing a smile to his rugged catch-mitten like face. Locke Cole was completely different than Cyan Caramonde of Doma. Locke was a free spirit who searched - and stole - various treasures and relics and spout out whatever he felt like. Cyan was a loyal retainer to a single country who thought hard on every word. They were on different sides of the spectrum, yet they had their similarities. They're both legendaries, that's for sure. They both wanted peace and fought for justice. Locke even started acting more proper, taking this straight from Cyan's accustomed attitude. Cyan also enjoyed a few of Locke's traits as well.

"Go on, open it" Locke persuaded, motioning towards a closed treasure box.

"Treacherous" Cyan responded, shaking his head violently. "I dare not steal thy treasure that belongs to another"

"Come on, you don't have to take it…just open the box" Locke continued.

"No."

"Yeah, come on…trust me."

"No."

"Okay, I'll take a peek then."

Cyan folded his arms and raised his head. "Do as thou wish, Sir Cole."

Locke quickly shot down to the treasure and popped the lid just enough so he could see inside. He quickly shut it and ah'd at whatever had been inside.

"Well, what was in it" Cyan asked, his curiosity rising.

"Oh, I'm not telling" Locke smirked, satisfying his own little game.

Cyan attempted to chuckle but only managed a grunt, immediately catching on to the setup. "Oh, do tell."

"You'll just have to look and see."

Cyan bellowed an unexpected laugh at the predictable statement. 'Fine,' he thought to himself, 'I'll play his little game.'

"Very well, Sir Cole. I shall take a peek at thine treasure."

So Cyan knelt down beside the box, keeping his eyes on Locke's, laughing at the stupidity of the situation. He'd just take a look and then shut the box. So he opened it and searched for something, anything. What he found was surprising and brought a grin to his face.

"Nothing." He remembered the silly-ness of it and Locke's good laugh afterwards. However, Cyan didn't have any more troubles opening boxes and looking into things. It started to become fun when he actually did find things.

Cyan sank back in the royal chair a little further and peered down the grand meeting hall. The clichéd red carpet rolled directly up the center of the room towards the grand chair that he sat on. Beside the carpet were several chairs and alters like a church, placed for meetings of several different occasions. Bordered along the walls were statues of Doma's great past, most of them damaged from the Empire's infiltration years ago before the World of Ruin. Above, large tapestries, also red, hung from the high walls that would house many echoes. Above the grand door that led from the apex to the grand hall were two large windows plated in gold with both inside and outside balconies. This is where Cyan spent most of his time, in his royal chair, running both the Freedom Riders and the country of New Doma.

New Doma is what Cyan deemed it two years after the Day of Sovereignty. He couldn't call it Doma by itself because that nation had been defeated, its bloodline gone. New Doma was his creation that followed Doma's traditions and everything else Doman, but it carried a slightly different name. However, Cyan's first project was the Freedom Riders, which ultimately led to him recreating Doma. The huge success and popularity of the Freedom Riders convinced Cyan that he was a worthy leader and he felt that he owed Doma some retribution for letting it down. Thus, New Doma was built on a land north of the ruins of old Doma, past the rushing river and the small desert that the Empire had strategically camped on for their war years ago.

The Freedom Riders were an amazing group of people. It was an international organization that housed the best warriors and best chocobo riders, even though the two didn't always coincide. They provided charities and protection along with mail deliveries and other small jobs. The main concept was to maintain peace, no matter what it takes. Cyan wanted to keep it simple and direct, so he made the motto simple: Peace!

That's what Cyan wanted…peace. Maybe for his late wife and child, maybe for the many varying nations or maybe just for himself. He was a particularly distraught man and after the defeat of Kefka, Cyan had a hard time finding his place in life. He was fifty years of age when the tower came down and he was ready to die and rejoin with his family, but an honorable retainer like himself couldn't just slit his own throat nor have someone execute him. He was stuck on the rotting planet.

After the celebrations that followed Kefka's defeat, Cyan found himself wandering aimlessly. He declined an offer from Edgar to take place on his high council. Cyan was not a Figarian. But he did follow Edgar's brother Sabin for a while into the mountains to meditate with him. Sabin, although mostly quiet, was the company Cyan needed at that time. They were good friends and had a long past. Sabin was there when the Empire attacked Cyan's country and the martial artist helped Cyan fight the blood thirsty enemy.

Cyan eventually let Sabin be and so he went to meditate on his own, closer to his once prospering nation. It felt like stings pulling at his heart every step he took near his land, but he recognized the fate of his country and continued forward, head held high. Cyan meditated in the mountains north of Baren Falls - which didn't exist anymore - and drifted in and out of conscience. Sometimes he'd wake up partially covered in patches of dust rolling off the mountainside which reminded him how long he had been drifted. It wasn't long until his hair turned grey and he grew a sage's beard that swooped down to his chest. He was getting weak and was probably going to die relatively soon. Fortunately, a stranger came by just in time.

The autumn leaves rustled amongst the sparse forest alongside the old mountain. 'Sabin would adore this spot I have found,' Cyan thought to himself, sitting by a bush of raspberries. 'I have the peace of nature's animals, rustling leaves and a view of the purple sea under the orange sky.'

Cyan's eyelids shut as he fell into a coma-like state, his face wrinkling up like a sun-dried grape. A slow running river of drool came out the side of his mouth and got lost in the white hair coming out of his cheek. He remained sitting in Indian-style.

Then there was a rustle that was not of leaves, but of grass and twigs. Immediately Cyan awoke and readied his sword, but remained still and droopy as if he were still a thousand miles away. He listened for more sound, but nothing came. Someone was with him…near him…'How did thou get so close without rustling a single twig until thy got so close?' Cyan thought. 'Such a fool's mistake…unless you were trying to snag those twigs next to me.'

And like lightening strikes, Cyan leapt from his position and parried two thrown shrunkiens aimed directly for him. Cyan immediately got into a fighter position and waited for his culprit's next move. His enemy seemed to be invisible…it must be a ninja.

Fortunately, black contrasts easily with the light of midday and Cyan caught sight of the black cloaked attacker. Once the enemy was spotted, he came straight for Cyan, pulling out two ninja's swords. Cyan was old, fifty-one now, and he didn't quite move the same, but the surprise invitation to battle was intriguing and he figured it would waste some time away.

So the two clashed weapons. Cyan, holding only one more-sturdy less maneuverable sword, could only defend himself against the various blows of the two swords the ninja held. Cyan had a sword technique that he had used since he was just a young Doman trainee and it was very quick. It made his sword look like hundreds of swords and it moved so fast the naked eye couldn't catch every frame. It had to be used to counter the ninja's agility.

"Hyah" Cyan shouted, as his entire body warped for a split second and his sword exploded forward, slapping the ninja on his side with the flat side of the blade. The ninja rolled back and kicked the approaching tree to stop him from hitting it.

"I hate that move."

"Thou always have, Shadow" Cyan said with a smile, sticking his sword into the ground.

Cyan wanted to laugh and cackle at the same time because his vocal cords hadn't been used in quite a while. Shadow wore a mask, so Cyan couldn't tell if he was smiling, laughing or even paying attention.

"What brings thee here" Cyan wondered.

Shadow, the man of many words - although none were ever heard - walked over to the raspberry bush and sat down, not even a slight breath coming from him. Cyan followed knowing it'd take a while for him to answer since he had lost the friendly duel.

After a long delay in which Cyan nearly zoned out into meditation, Shadow finally spoke. "The Hunters are rising."

"What have they done this time" asked Cyan.

"Burned a family to ashes just outside of Kefka's tower."

"What"

Shadow got up and placed a hand on Cyan's shoulder. Somehow the ninja's eyes found a way to see through the thick mask and centered on Cyan's. "Be careful."

And Shadow darted off into the woods…like he always did. Man of many words.

"Hunters" Cyan exclaimed, recalling their short chat like it had just happened.

They were the reason Cyan brought himself back into society, back into life. Cyan's blood boiled as he thought about their villainous organization of wrong-doers and power hungry savages. No one saw them coming either as they should've expected something to surface after the world had been saved. When evil rules the world, heroes come to save it and vice versa.

The Hunters came up with the notion that anybody who could kill a legendary would be legendary, top of the chain, the new worldly power and such. It hadn't even been a month until the organization arose from the shadows. The Hunters made a ranking system stating that some legendaries' heads were worth more than others. Relm Arrowny was on the bottom of the chain since they figured she'd be easy to kill. King Edgar Figaro was at the top, tied with Shadow. Edgar because he was a king and getting to him would be very difficult and Shadow because he was impossible to find. Cyan was lower on the chain since he was getting old and would soon be 'unable to defend himself' they'd say.

They were crazy. They'd gut your stomach while you slept or knife your back during a date, anyway they could claim themselves as the one who killed such and such. Of course the two main targets were Relm and Edgar. Killing Relm would not get you high on the chain, but would establish you amongst the Hunter faction and she was supposed to be easy to kill. Edgar's head would be the priciest but would be a difficult challenge obtaining.

Cyan's stomach turned knots as he thought about it. He couldn't believe it when he found out that the group had murdered a family, burned them to death just to get the legendaries to come to them. It was an odd tactic, but it did stir the higher-ups and investigations had to be done. Cyan couldn't believe that they'd sacrifice a new peace so quickly just for power. He had to do something to make this world…better.

And the rest is history as they say. Cyan called for the best warriors (and trustworthy) to come forth and started a new counter organization, the Freedom Riders. They first built a towering wall around the ruins of Kefka's tower, where the family had been burned and then they began their Peace! talks worldwide. Once Cyan emerged from the mountains and created the peace organization, Domans started popping up and saluting him. Naturally, Cyan had to rebuild Doma with the surviving population coming out from hiding.

Cyan got out his chair and walked up to the balcony to look outside across the brand new nation of New Doma. He stepped outside and let out a long sigh. '23,' he thought. There were twenty-three people living at the new Doman civilization, two were newborns that boosted the population only a year ago. His nation was smaller than Thamasa. Still, it was his country and Doma would continue and this brought a smile to his face.

There nation was just a village at this point, a few huts here and there and some open markets ran by two or three people. Cyan knew all the people well and they would wave to him as he leaned on the railings of the balcony. He would wave back.

He was even falling in love with one of them. They would have great talks beside the gyshal sprouts, chatting about pastimes and the weather and the nation and friends and on and on. Cyan loved it so much, making another lovely lady laugh and enjoy his company. The village people quickly picked up on their flirting and rumors began. But there was a little problem…every time she'd touch his hand or start talking about furthering their relationship, Cyan would become instantly reclusive. It was like he didn't even realize he had been flirting with her. He felt like he was committing some immortal sin against his late wife and son who had died almost ten years ago.

Cyan's smile dropped and he shook his head, turning to go back inside. 'I cannot think about her.'