An LLS production
Okay, for those who've never heard of me, I'm the author of what I've been informed are some of the best crossovers in the YGO fandom with Dresden Files and Justice League.
For people familiar with Man Called True and the Shadow Realm series, as well as Cyber Commander's Shadow Realm: PI, yeah, this is a story similar yet different from it.
Know why?
Read to find out.
Also, to dr-fanmai-lover, your review:
aer-you-thinking-what-iam-thinking-howabout-yugioh-caeroosover-waith-i-daerime-of-jeannie-staering-mai&vivan&ishizu out-of-qstions
If you may translate this into readable text, it would be much appreciated.
Lots of people say that change is the only constant. Loads also add that some things never change.
In our world, things change daily, but the essential structure of society built up over years of civilisation does not ever come crashing down. Sometimes some bright spark gets it into their heads that, perhaps, it need not be this way, the news spread, and before you know it, we are arming ourselves and arguing who is right by way of the sword and guns and whatnot.
And then, there are the ones who see how to overthrow our systems.
But now I ask you; why am I rambling about two rather different ideas.
However, you will please assume that I know what I'm saying and be quiet and read on.
The same thing is that, the story does not change. In any world, any dimension, stories are important. People think that stories are shaped by people. In fact, it's the other way round.
Stories evolve and tell themselves over and over again...
The strongest have survived, and they have grown fat, and they etch grooves deep enough for people to follow. A thousand wolves have eaten grandmother, a thousand princesses have been kissed. Stories do not care who takes part in them. All that matters is that the story gets told, that the story repeats.
Somewhere hidden in the shadows of darkness, deep in the primordial where light and dark are the base and rule of thumb, lies the Shadow Realm. This is the realm where the monsters live.
What Mummy never tells you, is that even monsters have their own monsters to fear too. Monsters have their own gods; the Shadow Realm in particular worships The Sky Dragon God of Osiris, the Giant God Soldier of Obelisk, and the Sun God Dragon Ra. They also have their own demons, be they the Dark Master Zorc, Venominaga the Deity of Poisonous Snakes, the Archfiends of Pandemonium, or the denizens of Dark World. And their fanatics, the Gravekeepers of Necrovalley, the casters of the Gishki, the House of Vampire Lords. And their legends; Demise the King of Armageddon, his consort Ruin the Queen of Oblivion, their son Garlandolf the King of Destruction, and their lone adversary who stood up to the three, Norsewemko the Beautiful Goddess of Salvation. Legends of the Dragon Wars echo, from the First through Second, and even then the Council that rules from the main ciy of the Shadow Realm is composed of legends.
And then, they have their own fairy tales. Their own legends.
However, unlike us humans, oblivious to the magic and the shadows and darkness that we fear, the Monsters of the shadow realm are monsters. And they remember that every monster has its roots in fact. In the Shadow Realm, indeed, the legends told were real once upon a time.
Speak of it enough, and it would become real, for the light and dark combine to form shadows, and shadows themselves are formless to begin with.
Somewhere hidden in Yami, far flung to the west from the Central Shadow Realm and its counterparts, hidden in the dark plains and forests, close to the mountains and canyons of Dragons, somewhere in the deserts and valleys long hidden and whose secrets remain lost in time between the Dark World and Pandemonium, lies a lone citadel. The citadel town was small, and around its white walls floated green jewels, some lit, some not, always present like fireflies. Monsters say that there were any many of the magical jewels floating around as there were the stars in the skies, and the Citadel was the moon around which the stars glittered, a lone jewel in an otherwise dark world. For this was the Magical Citadel of Endymion, and its Master Magician took a very different view upon things than compared to most monsters in the Shadow Realm.
Newcomers come every now and then, and Endymion always blessed them sanctuary, as Breaker the Magical Warrior could probably tell you if he were alive today.
I am a Comrade Swordsman of Landstar, number CSL A-1F. I was taken in by Endymion when he chanced me lying at the citadel gates, dying of injuries and thirst from crossing the Fiend-infested plains. For thirty years the Master Magician sheltered me within his citadel of learning, despite my Warrior Type isolating me from the Spellcaster majority of the citizens. Despite that I had almost nothing to contribute to the Citadel defences, despite that I was more or less dead weight, Endymion gave me a home.
Warriors and Spellcasters might not like each other much, but as far as Monsters go, I think the Divine Magician Deity should be up for sainthood.
Of course, nothing remains forever, especially not a peaceful home when it is in the middle of a Fiend war zone. The Citadel's Spell Counters dwindles day by day as the Fiends of both Dark World and Pandemonium tested them daily, and even the efforts of Magical Exemplars were hardly enough to keep up all alive.
A lot of things changed that day.
So, you think you have what it takes to be a monster, then? The brochure read out in large, font-size indeterminate letters.
I stared incomprehensibly at it for a few moments before my sense of humour took hold and my eyes rolled to the back of my head.
"Incredible," I stated to my sort-of landlord and boss and maybe guardian as I tore my eyes away from the claptrap in my hand. Er, I more or less looked up at him, me being the incredibly short Comrade Swordsman of Landstar that I was and Endymion being the incredibly tall Master Magician he was. Being about two cubits* tall sucked arse when your boss was about six cubits and some spare change, especially when your boss was standing.
Don't ask me how Endymion, the Master Magician managed that height; I'm pretty sure the height of a Spellcaster was directly proportional to their magical ability. Why else would every Dark Magician in the Central Shadow Realm be so damn ridiculously tall? Case in point; Raelvion. The Spellcaster Representative of the Council was six and a half cubits, or in Realm Prime units, two metres and lots of spare change.
"What is?" My sort-of boss mused, buried under piles of papers detailing the running of the Royal Magical Library. I cannot get him; the man owns a whole bloody citadel and he turns it into an, and I quote, 'place of learning'. Yeah, contributing to the Shadow Realm and its education policy is all well and good, but it sure didn't feed us much. I still think that the very fact that Endymion was a Level Seven, and a certified Master Magician at that, was the sole reason we have not starved yet. That, and the fact that Endymion was by Council appointment overseer of the Citadel, and that he was rather rich anyway.
"This–" I waved it at him. "Rubbish. This is the stuff mama Fiends feed their babies with when they want their kids to grow up and become the next Terrorking or Brron."
Endymion peered at the paper, actually stooping to do so as I held it up. There was a reason why most, no, all of those living in the Magical Citadel would throw themselves before any threat to Endymion. The man would rather bring himself down to our level rather than let us bring it to his level. "I am quite sure that the brochure from Beginner's Hall is meant for younger Monsters looking to venture into combat-oriented skills, not quite into… your situation, Alfwin."
"Gee, thanks," I snorted. To any other stronger Monster, they probably wouldn't take lip from a low-level like me, as evidenced by that ten low-levels are killed every hour in the Shadow Realm. Endymion regards me as a 'quaint personality' and takes it in stride.
That, or he probably thinks I'm his private Saggi the Dark Clown to entertain him. Hard to tell with the mask he always wears.
Whatever it is, Endymion was a nice guy, if overworked and sometimes having his hands tied because of his position. "I'll just lump it over to the Library and be done with it," I sighed to my boss.
"I need you to run an errand when you're done!" Endymion added as I left.
"Yes, yes," When did you not? I almost added as I left Endymion's office and headed towards the Royal Magical Library.
The Library was, more or less, one of a kind. If you wanted the eighth edition of Spell Economics by the Spellcaster Representative Dark Magician Raelvion, better known as The Art of Not Wasting Magical Power, we have it. However, if you wanted the Magical Formula ninth edition, sorry, you have to go to the Central Shadow Realm.
Granted, our library was hardly as extensive as the Central Shadow Realm, the main centre of power, better known as the Black Hole to all outside it. Still, our Royal Magical Library was second to none save the Black Hole's Library Arcanum. So there.
I was not a welcome sight in the Library. The genius loci overseer gave me the evil eye as I meekly handed him the paperwork and left, nearly tripping over the Goblin Calligrapher as I hurriedly left. The Spirit of the Books permanent deputy librarian also gave me the evil eye as well as I left.
What? It's not my fault that the last infestation of Kuribohs in the library needed me to deal with them, right? And if I accidentally set part of the library on fire, well, that wasn't my fault.
I had just cleared the doors when a fist came down and bopped me painfully on the noggin.
"Hi, Elf," the Disenchanter D H-36B (suitably called HiBi) grinned as I glared up at her, staff twirling about in hand. "What's up?"
"Stow it, HiBi," I scowled up at her. Yeah, almost every Spellcaster was taller than me. HiBi, however, was about three and a half cubits, one-seven-o flat in Prime units, and taller than most in the Magical Citadel. "What was the head-hit for?"
"Well, who missed out on last night?" HiBi scowled at me.
"Well, Yugao mentioned something unmentionable and I decided that whatever it was really wasn't worth exploring when she's drunk flat," I scowled back. Our mutual friend the Maiden of the Macabre MM D-17, better known as Yugao the Evening Beauty, was a scary flirt. She thinks I haven't figured it out yet, but living in the same house as the only oiran (she insists, I play along in the interests of certain parts of the anatomy) in town tends to make people grow up fast. Seeing Defender run out more-or-less shoddily dressed from the house tends to put things into perspective.
"Oh, you," HiBi sighed, twirling her staff about. "Anyway, it's three. Wanna go to the south tower?"
"The Crusader of Endymion would throw us out, you know," I scowled back.
"No chance," HiBi sang. "I just saw Halvard walk into the office."
I paused. "I thought he was seeing that Apprentice Magician?"
Halvard was the deputy captain of the Citadel Security, or our version of the police department, which was headed by Defender the Magical Knight. Granted, none of us would math up to the Central Shadow Realm Police Department (CSRPD), being made up of mainly Level Fours and below, but the officers made up for the lack of power with their effects. Considering that most of the citadel's citizenry used Spell Counters one way or another, they were a force to reckon with within the Citadel. Defender could save us from dying if we were attacked, and the higher-level officers consisting mostly of Crusaders of Endymion could defend the Citadel with power equal to the Dark Magician, if they could. The thing is, Crusaders of Endymion were Gemini monsters. That meant that they were essentially normal Monsters, albeit powerful normal Monsters for a Level Four, until they got their hands on a Double Summon spell cube and became the effect monster capable of providing Spell Counters for the Citadel in exchange for a power boost that made them equal to the Dark Magicians in power.
Even without the awesome powers of the Monster guardians, the Citadel kept a backlog of spell and trap cubes. Most of the laws imposed by the Central Shadow Realm more or less went unnoticed here, but order survived. It was a battle for survival in the Black Hole for lower-level monsters, but in the Citadel, lower-level Spellcasters could find less cramped quarters and reliable protection, which pretty much earned Endymion the wrath of the Council. The bureaucrats at the top probably did not like what a Level Seven Spellcaster had done better than them; granted, the Citadel was under martial law, but it never felt like it.
When you were living in a war-zone between Dark World and Pandemonium, the Citadel's walls went a long way to keep you safe both physically and emotionally.
But I'm digressing. Halvard was the deputy of Defender, who had already been exposed to a spell cube, and most of the town regarded Halvard with caution. Halvard was jokingly referred as 'Endymion's guard dog' and it was an open secret that Halvard was devoted to Endymion. Really, truly, throw themselves in front of an avalanche or the Blue Eyes White Dragon devoted. Sexual orientation was hardly an issue in the Shadow Realm when inter-species relationships abounded, but a relationship between a Level Four and a Level Seven was almost unheard of, even for pariahs like Endymion. The class disparity was apparent even in the Citadel, even when the upper-middle class Level Fours and Fives, like HiBi, socialised with the lower-level Monsters, like me and the Apprentice Magicians and plenty more. It was doomed to failure, everyone knew, and Halvard didn't care.
Even worse, Endymion was completely oblivious. The local soap opera starts every Wednesday of the week, when Defender makes his deputy carry the paperwork to Endymion's office. Watching the normally stoic Crusader of Endymion standing flustered outside the oak door with piles of paperwork in hand would be funny if we didn't all know it would end in failure.
Even Monsters feel despair and pain in the Shadow Realm.
Three hours later, Endymion and Halvard were dead, I was standing outside the walls of the Citadel while Defender held down the fort with HiBi and Yugao, walking away from my home of thirty-odd years on a quest on a road of legend to seek a figure spoken of in fairy tales. How did that happen? Here's how:
After I reported back to Endymion's office and received my errand, rolling my eyes at Halvard standing like an Outstanding Dog Marron waiting for attention from its master, I went to the bakery and collected Endymion's order of blueberry pie from the Bistro Butcher there. Despite the Spellcaster majority, there was still a lot of minorities of Monsters milling about, Warriors and Fiends and Beasts too. The local Mystical Beast Cerberus was a Spellcaster, despite its bestial looks, and gave me a wave as I passed with Endymion's order.
The Citadel was neat, not compared to the Fairy quarters of course, but definitely clean enough. Safety was enforced by the Security and Endymion enough for us to live here. Even so, those living in the Citadel had to learn to fight one way or another. That was the way of life here; you exchanged the cramped space in the Central Shadow Realm to live in a war-zone. Lots of us would not survive to see our fiftieth year. Definitely better odds than dying at the time of existence in the Black Hole.
I had just taken the first step out of the bakery when an explosion sounded. Out of instinct, I had immediately turned towards the source of the sound when my heart froze, and the next thing I knew, I was running, the blueberry pies forgotten. The fire at the main tower burned up to the skies, eerie with the Spell Counters of the Citadel surrounding it.
The main tower Endymion was located was burning, and it wasn't my fault.
Being short also meant being light, and the flight response was heavy in all low-level Monsters as I made my way in the tower in double-quick time, up the miles of stairs, through the labyrinth of corridors, bursting through the oak doors cut from a Tree of Enlightenment to see the dreaded sight.
Yugao was wrapping up a gaping wound in Endymion's chest, the taint of shadows sharp and apparent even against Endymion's night-coloured robes. By him lay the corpse of Halvard, recognisable only by the sash he always wore in Endymion's dark purple and the six orange Spell Counters glowing on his fist. HiBi was assisting Yugao, as Defender and a Magical Exemplar, the medics of the Citadel, kept breaking Counters to save Endymion and measuring out Poison of the Old Man respectively. The normally neat office was a mess, papers strewn everywhere and some singed.
"Boss?" My voice certainly did not crack. I had too much dignity for that.
A groan as the masked face turned towards me. I had never seen Endymion without his mask. Apparently all Endymion the Master Magicians were born with it throughout their lives. "Alfwin," he groaned.
"Don't talk," the Magical Exemplar warned. "It's too deep for you to be out of danger yet."
"No..." the Divine Magician Deity groaned. "Snow hit me with the dark magics. It is too late for me already."
Snow. The Magician of Reign-Beaux of the Dark World.
"Alfwin..." the Master Magician groaned. "Halvard... he is dead then? Defender, how are the defences? Are the citizenry safe?"
"Master Endymion, please stop," HiBi croaked, bandages stilling.
"I will die, as we all will one day," Endymion groaned despite the pain that must happen from such a wound. "As long as the Citadel stands, I cannot die. But while I am gone, I worry. All of us... our home... under attack... We need... miracle..."
"How?" Defender broke in. "The Council has alienated us. Pandemonium would see us destroyed than help. Dark World would never help us. And the Central Shadow Realm is too far for a messenger to call for help in time."
"The Magical Citadel..." Endymion coughed as his chest wound bled. "Jewels... many... stars in the skies... Starlight Road..."
I started, as did the others. "But Boss, that's a fairy tale!"
"Endymion's voice was weak as he uttered his last words. "Once upon a time..."
Once upon a time, even we were stories.
Endymion the Master Magician shattered into shards of shadows, already disappeared and far gone, and we did not even have time to arrange his funeral. Another Crusader of Endymion barrelled into the office as Halvard shattered. "Captain Defender, the east gate's under–" He stopped at the sight.
"Very well," Defender barked. "Exemplar Eevee, please come with me. Alfwin, you'll please equip yourself with a Mage Power. Even a weakling like yourself couldn't go wrong with the spell cubes we'll be setting off. Crusader, go and sound the reserve army. We'll announce Endymion's death after this."
"Wait," my voice quavered. "Endymion told us, to find Starlight Road. Wherever that is."
"It's a fairy tale, Elf," HiBi looked forlorn as she stood. "It doesn't exist."
"Endymion thought it did," I protested. "Please. Let me go find it. Even if I'm gone, the Citadel's defences won't suffer. If I succeed, you won't lose a thing and we can save the citadel. If I don't... well, we don't lose much either, right? Defender please, this may be our only chance."
The Magical Knight hesitated, unreadable like Breaker was said to be right before Zaborg had him executed. "But... Fine. You'll have to go alone, though. I can't afford any more personnel loss."
Defender would do anything to protect our home. Like I knew I would.
The thing about being a ward of Endymion was that you really don't get paid much. Even though Endymion was nice and all, living in a war zone essentially meant that money was prioritised for security and defence. So, in my thirty-plus years of living in the Citadel, I had precious little cubes to take with me on a journey out to find the Starlight Road of the tales.
Starlight Road. They say that, if you walk into the mountains of the north, where the Dragon Mountain reigned and the Blue Eyes White Dragons flew free, you could find a shimmering road leading the way to the heavens. Not the Sanctuary where Shinato and the Fairy Lords were said to live, but the actual heavens of space amongst the stars and the moon and the Gods themselves. If you were desperate enough, if you were willing enough, if you were pure enough, at the end of the road you would find a dragon which glowed with the same luminescence of the stars that would give you what you needed. Not a want, but a need. It was a tale thought untrue, like the messengers of the Gods, the Black Luster Soldier – Envoy of the Beginning and the Chaos Emperor Dragon – Envoy of the End.
Once upon a time. That was a reminder. In the Shadow Realm, once upon a time everything thought of was real. That was what Endymion was reminding us.
Once upon a time, the Starlight Road was something that existed. The question remains; does it still exist, or has it been buried in the sands of time?
I was broken out of a daydream by two figures waving at me. HiBi and her red hair were hard to miss even at night. Even harder to miss was the gaudy headdress of Yugao and her sharp scythe. Her robes glittered with the Spell Counters gotten, presumably from the slaughtering of enemies while defending the east gate. Both of them were carrying travelling packs.
My eyes widened more than any Comrade Swordsman of Landstar should. "You're..."
"We're not about to let you set off for alone, you know," HiBi grinned at me. "Besides, how is a Level Three supposed to survive going through alone? Of course we're going together."
"The Citadel is safe for now," Yugao smiled down at me, her voice low and musical and sweet like poison. "We should set out fast, and it would be easier with help."
"You..." I hardly knew what to say.
And that was how I ended up with two Spellcasters, walking away from my home of thirty-odd years on a quest on a road of legend to seek a figure spoken of in fairy tales. Life in the Shadow Realm is never peaceful. Go figure.
*According to Google, 1 cubit =45.72 cm. I'm guessing that this is the average cubit and just put it up.
My first time doing a fantasy story, and I try for this... Yay...
Please read and review!