DARKSTALKERS: VAMPIRE HUNTER

Chapter Four: Descending God of War

Fanfiction by Louis the Rogue

(Based on original story by Capcom Inc.)

However deafening the screams of a dying world may be to those who live on it, from space, it is quiet. That much can be said with certainty. Looking at the Earth below, in its' infinite beauty, the burning of the entire planet is but a brief interlude of lights to those who look on from above.

As he reached the edge of our atmosphere, the star had given Himself a name. The God of War would be known as Pyron to man and darkstalker alike. It was His will that had summoned the Phobos to destroy all of civilization, humbling the creatures of the Earth for the arrival of its' conquerer. His machinations had destroyed countless worlds before this, and His destiny would be to destroy countless more.

To Him, a world was only worth as much as its' ability to satisfy His curiosity. He was not simply a harbinger of destruction; that was the duty of the Phobos. Now that He had all the power in universe, His aim was to collect all knowledge, and thus, be truly invincible. To Earth, He had come, and His study would be the art of war.

In the Holy Lands, tanks skidded to a stop and soldiers unanimously ceased fire as the blinding light that had illuminated the night sky above as brightly as if it were day coalesced into a luminous entity in the rough shape of a humanoid.

The being before them was decidedly statuesque, His golden body the epitome of an Olympian god. Atop His head, a pair of upward-angled horns sat in place, and His eyes glowed within a rough face like two tiny red suns.

Uncrossing His arms from His chest as He hovered several hundred miles in the sky above, Pyron began to descend again, one foot after the other, as if he were treading down a flight of stairs.

Below, trained soldiers who would have gladly given their lives for a cause began to scream out, their bodies torn asunder by the power of the entity above as if they had been trapped in a nuclear explosion. There would be no remains; not of the warriors, their weapons, or the very land they had fought over. It all was vaporized nigh-instantaneously into a blackened pit.

Just ahead, the Holy City of Jerusalem, for which they had fought so hard, waited. No sooner than the armies below had been dissolved, Pyron ceased His walk and leapt forward in a pounce with a deafening roar, His body flaring like a comet. As he touched down, in the middle of the great city, a sonic boom could be heard all the way to Athens, the image of an unfathomably large mushroom cloud signaling that the Holy City had surrendered, in death, to the power of a foreign God.

The cloud could be seen from Athens, but the light of the supernovaic power could easily be seen in Romania. Within his favored tower in Zeltzereich, Lord Demitri Maximoff grew increasingly agitated.

"How unexpected, Milord, that a power of this magnitude should arrive on Earth adjacent to your conquering of the Demon World", the elderly vampire that was his loyal servant noted as he moved to lower the ebony drapes over the blinding light outside.

"Indeed", Demitri muttered with a growl, "And yet…" He rose from his throne, striding over to his most trusted assistant and placing a firm hand on his shoulder to thoroughly captivate his attention while they locked eyes. Demitri's was a menacing, fanged glare, "I have an idea most excellent. Why should I, the Lord of the Night, hide here in my castle like a fledgling spawn? No, that will not do; I shall rise to meet this challenge, conquer it with flying colors, and ascend to take my place in Makai all the stronger!"

The faithful old servant closed his eyes as Demitri retreated from him to exit the dark room, making a respectful bow, "Best of luck, Milord."

As Donovan rushed through the temple gate, Anita spoke from behind him, her tone as flat and emotionless as her expression, "To where from here?"

"The city of Athens", Donovan returned as he rushed down the mountainside.

"And when there?", Anita pressed.

Donovan stared ahead grimly as he spoke, "To fight the God of War."

"You speak in riddles and follow silly dreams", Anita fired, "If you go to Athens, you will die."

Donovan stopped abruptly, letting his arm drop, the sword in his hand crashing to the ground with a dissonant clang, "If I do not go to Athens, we will all die."

Anita moved beside him, her unfeeling little eyes looking up to him, "There are many warriors in this world. Why martyr yourself for those who hate and fear you?"

"I am no warrior", Donovan spat, his tone breaking, "I am a cursed man with a cursed destiny; that destiny is to destroy The Dark, and my quest begins with this One." Without another word, he hefted his sword and began walking forward toward the horizon.

Anita waited for a moment before following after, "He is a fool. He is a fool and he will die…"

As Pyron strode through the desert at a dramatic gait, He contemplated the ease with which Israel, the holy seat of Western religion, had fallen before Him. "To think, these mortals, who would fight to the death in defense of their 'truth', have offered me thus no challenge whatsoever."

Just then, an object landed with a clang at His feet. There lay the disembodied head of a Phobos, the wires hanging from its' neck barely sparking now.

Looking up, Pyron noted His challenger; a tall thing, swathed in linen and decorated with gold. Anakaris stood stiff, unwavering like a mountain, "Al-Qahira has seen the wrath of Mars before. Your destruction goes no further, sayeth the Sun!"

Pyron, who had stood there arms crossed in thought moments before, relaxed His stance, his featureless face stretching into an abstract grin of flames as His head titled sideways, "Well then, I have a challenger. Let us make this duel an amusing one!"

His body enshrouded in a white flame, Anakaris stood poised, making an upward palm gesture with his outstretched hand and chanting a cryptic phrase in his native tongue. Sparks of sunlight seemed to flare in the eyes of the stalwart mummy pharaoh as a field of emerald green energy shimmered around his opponent.

As the mystic green light began to tighten into coils around Him, Pyron stood motionless, His expression faded to a disaffected scowl without a mouth, "Is this all?"

"No!", Anakaris quirked a sudden, confident smile, "Feel the wrath of God, you fool!" With that, a stream of white sand spewed forth from the immortal king's mouth as he heaved forward with a roar.

As the sand fell over His ensnared form, Pyron could feel the grains of dust trying to burrow their way in. To Him, it was as the itch of sandpaper. He stood firm, a shock wave arcing off Him with the sound of a large bell and shattering the energy field around Himself.

As the radiant juggernaut sprang forward, hands open and palms raised, Anakaris clenched his fists, tightened his stance, and prepared to defend. However, before Pyron had cleared half the ground between them, His body vanished in a flash of ultraviolet light, appearing at an up angle, elbow pointed downward, and crashing into His opponent in a powerful slam that sent the linen-wrapped warrior skidding hard across the sands.

Anakaris, now on his face, spun round into a sit only to be stopped by the sight of a fiery palm, glowing with thecrimson flare of destruction, directly in front of his face.

Behind that was Pyron, who stood hunched over His fallen challenger. "Is this all?", He repeated.

Speechless, Anakaris cringed.

"I see", Pyron said flatly, steam escaping His hand as He gripped a screaming Anakaris by the face and caught him on fire. As the mummy king writhed in agony, his entire form burning wildly, Pyron stood straight and looked to the sunset, "I am thus disappointed once again. Can there be none to challenge Me on this planet called Earth? And yet… there was another power near. Yes, a stronger one. I will go and find that power now."