"Naught remains."

Two simple words spoken atop the Archon's Roost. Darkness abounds in the air as the ominous statue of the Lord of Dark stands above the sordid scene before it. A beautiful princess, lying dead with a knife in her chest atop the downed body of a defeated mage. Falling to his knees before the mountain below, was a knight. A handsome, once heroic figure with short spiky blonde hair, donning a simple brown suit of armor with a brown breastplate, brown boots and shoulder pads. By his side was a most noble sword, stained with the blood of its enemies. But in his eyes, the gaze of a valiant knight could not be found.

No. This was a broken man.

"Alone. Utterly alone." The knight fell to his hands next, unable to look at anything but the rocks beneath him. "Cast out. Unloved. Outside the grace of gods."

He could feel his body shaking. But from what, he wondered. Anger? Sorrow? Frustration? Perhaps a combination of the three? Either way, it all paled in comparison to the aching in his heart. What could, after everything that has happened in these two days?

The broken knight did not register the wetness coming down his face, making small drips to the ground.

"The Archon's Roost, they call this shrine of death. Yet nowhere do I spy our Lord of Dark." His hands clutched at the ground, gripping only dirt. "His throne sits empty, wanting for an heir…"

Eyes closed, the knight regains his strength and manages to stand. But even now, he no longer feels that sense of dignity he once expected of himself as a knight of the kingdom. He could only feel a growing sense of indignation as his emotions were clashing against one another. It didn't help that he could only remember the sneers. The accusations. The shifting of blame.

"Did I not do all that was asked?" He asked himself. "Did I not serve and seek my fair and just reward? And for my deeds they damn me. Name me demon."

The darkness in the air could only grow thicker. The growing vitriol within him could only bring him closer to a line that should never be crossed. It almost felt like the statue was towering over him like a shadow over the mountains. All it would ever take was one bit of resignation, and in only a moment's worth of time, this tragedy would reach its horrible, yet not unexpected conclusion.

"...All because of one man."

But in that moment, something changed. The knight turned back to the bodies before him. A pool of blood formed beneath them. His fists clenched as he glared at them… or rather, one in particular. His teeth ground. Darkness gathered around him, but it could not impede him.

Walking towards the corpses, he continued, "One man, friend false, wracked with ruinous envy and poisonous projections. T'was all because of him…!"

He knelt down, and gently he picked up the body of the fair princess. Her long violet hair, tipped with blood, her golden tiara, and her bloodstained gown, even now, painted her as beautiful. But he could see it was marred by the chest wound she inflicted upon herself, the knife its centerpiece, and her lips had blood escaping from them. He laid her on the steps to the cave within the statue before turning back to the other body, glaring at it with hatred in his eyes.

"You, who claimed to love her so, but would feed her lies…" He gripped the body by the throat, his fingers clutching the neck tightly, "You, who single-handedly brought ruin to this land for so little… All this blood is on your hands, vile betrayer!"

He could hear nothing from the fallen mage, his raven hair and robes tarnished red with the blood of his beloved. But even still, the knight felt nothing but hatred for the dead sorcerer. Everything was a result of this man's actions. Absolutely everything. And yet, as much as he wanted to punish him even worse than killing him in self-defense, he knew bringing pain to a deceased person would be an exercise in futility. No satisfaction. But the mere sight of him was still more than he could take.

"May you be damned for thy sins." He told the corpse. "Thou shalt sully the princess no more."

He then walked over to the side of the peak, still clutching the body's neck, and then threw it off the edge. The knight watched as the corpse of his hated enemy fell, sometimes hitting the mountain as it went down, bones audibly breaking with each impact. Eventually, the body fell through the fog, and he could see it no more. The sounds of its bones cracking grew less audible too. He put a hand to his chest, to see if there was any swelling of pride.

There was none. Even now, the satisfaction of watching his enemy fall would not come. Even that was robbed from him.

He could only look back with sorrow towards the fallen princess. He didn't even register the fact it began to rain, starting to wash the blood into the dirt. The knight just walked to the princess and held her in his arms once again, taking out the dagger and throwing it to the side, sitting atop the steps to the cave as the rain began to pour down. He could hear the thunder chant in the sky, but all the knight focused on was her. His beloved. Gently, he wiped the blood from her lips before letting his forehead gently touch hers.

"Oh dearest princess…" he said to her. "Pray, forgive this cowardly mute. Though lies you were fed by a snake most treacherous, 'tis correct I came too late to thine aid. I was blind. Too caught up was I in his deception that I did not see what was clear. And thus, I left you in his clutches. Truly, a poor husband I am. A poor champion. A poor knight."

Holding her body closely, he continued, "There was so much I wanted to tell you. So much I wanted to say. To profess how much I loved you. But I had naught the courage to speak when I should have. And now it is too late. I speak only when thou art beyond my reach. I wish I could make amends to thee, my beloved. I wish I could change everything. I wish I could…"

But wishes were dreams. And dreams were pretend. There was no way he could take back everything that had happened. He was but a mere human. Nothing he could do could ever change that. All he could do now was cradle the body of his beloved in his arms, unwilling to let go. And so, he remained this way as the rain fell down.

Eventually, however, the knight knew he had to give her a proper burial. Somewhere more preferable than this den of evil. Solemnly, he walked through the suddenly quiet caverns of the mount, his departed bride in his arms. He knew monsters and demons still watched him, but they did not matter. If they dared to impede him and try to lay their claws upon her, he would show no mercy.

He eventually left though the maw of the mountain, hearing the sound of his boots in the soggy ground of the land. The Hallowed Wood, this place was called on his map. Hmph. More like the Silent Forest if one asked the knight. What once was full of color, brightened by the sun, was nothing more than a miserable woodland with muddy ground that hardly anyone dared to tread. But he knew these woods. He knew the one place where he knew his princess would not be disturbed, much less used as an excuse by opportunists in the kingdom. Such as that cowardly minister. He should have just–!

The knight shook his head. He shouldn't think like that. He was not worth it. None of them were. Lashing out blindly wouldn't heal anything. Acting on hatred alone would avail him nothing. He was not a monster. Not like… him.

Eventually he came to a part of the forest untouched by man, beast or demon. A humble place where the balm grass bloomed eternally, even after the original buds were plucked. Whether rain or shine, this was as good a sanctuary as could be to the knight. At the very least, it would be the perfect place for his beloved to rest peacefully. Even if she cursed him because of that snake's falsehoods.

Gently placing her down once again, the knight began using his bare hands to dig into the ground. The rain continued falling down as time passed by. By the time night fell, the failed champion was coated in mud and grass, trying to use the rain to wash it off. He then picked up the princess, and as gently as he held her, he placed her in the hole. He knew what he had to do next, but he could not help but gaze at her beauty just one more time.

Burying a body should be the easiest part. Yet as the knight began putting the dirt back in the hole, covering the face of his darling, he could only feel a burden grow heavier on his being. In him alone, she placed her faith… and he failed. There was no other way to describe it. He failed to save his friends, he failed to stop his enemy, and he failed to protect Lucrece when it needed him.

Truly, he considered with loathing, some hero he was.

The grave was eventually filled, and the princess buried, unmarked. It was better this way. No one would disturb or harass the princess ever again. Not even himself. Best she lay with the balm grass growing around her, inheriting her beauty. Daring not to darken her tomb, he left that patch of land to return to the dark mount.

He knew no home in Lucrece or even in the humble village in Fulgaia would take him in. He felt it insulting to his heroes' memory to hide in their own homes, feeling unworthy of being in them. He had no horse to go beyond Lucrece's borders. The Archon's Roost was the only place he had left to go.

He would have gone from the forest to the entrance, but then he felt something knock on the back of his head. He turned around and was surprised to find none other than a child, eyes overflowing with tears as he was throwing rocks. A young boy, with light brown hair, a light blue shirt, green shorts, and blue shoes. The knight felt this child appeared familiar.

"Art thou…?" He muttered, barely catching another rock.

"T'was your friend who killed him!" The child cried as he continued throwing rocks at him. "Your friend killed my father, and you did not stop him!"

It was then the knight remembered. The day of the tourney, when both he and his false friend fought for the hand of the princess. While he fought and won against Armstrong, a bandit who constantly sought vengeance for his loss that day. On that day, the mage fought against a man of similar build. Watt of Nabe… His former friend killed him. Then a child came up to his father's body in tears, crying as the knights took his father away. This was that same child.

The boy appeared to have thrown all of the rocks he had and thus settled for running to the knight and beating on him with his fists. Though the fists did not harm the failed champion, it was not the physical pain that was hurting him right now.

"Why? Why?!" The boy continued hitting his armor, the knight noticing how dirty the boy appeared. "You're a champion, aren't you?! Why didn't you save him?!"

What words could he say that would comfort the poor boy? What kind of sympathy could he show? Any words he'd speak would be useless. Back then, all he focused on was the incoming fight that would decide the winner of the king's contest. The child and his misery he barely noticed until now.

"'Tis not his fault!"

He for certain recognized that voice and looked surprised to see another child approaching. So similar to the boy who lost his father, the precocious child was hardly as filthy or sobbing. Not to mention his hair was a darker shade of brown. He seemed to be angry at the other boy for the accusations he shot.

"The champion is not to blame!" The second boy told the first off. "Don't hurt him for what the mage did!"

"He still did nothing, and father died for it!" The first boy argued back. "All he cared about was winning that stupid tourney!"

"The champion isn't a murderer!"

"He might as well have!"

The failed knight could only watch as the two boys began to yell at each other in the rain. Guilty or not guilty, he still felt a profound shame. Here he was, unable to say anything as mere children bickered over his actions and responsibilities. A boy still grieving over the loss of his father, and a boy who was the only person who still believed in him, regardless of everything that has happened. He should have felt comfort, seeing that the sage was indeed correct in what he said.

So long as one person held belief, he could still fight on. The whole time the knight had figured it would be his beloved princess… but even she lost faith in him. Sure, because of the mage's falsehoods, but even so. A mere child had more faith in him than she had. Was her faith truly so fickle to pale in comparison…?

He shook his head. He shouldn't think of her that way. None of this was her fault. She was a victim of the mage. Of the wicked sorcerer's serpentine lies… Of his own failures.

To the young boys, he called out, "Enough!"

The boys went silent, surprised by the force evident in his voice. Even he felt it too. He simply tried to tell them to stop, but his voice practically boomed like the great sage's. Clearing his throat, he gently knelt down to the boy in mourning. He wasn't sure if what he had to say would alleviate him, but…

"The mage is dead." The knight told him. "His body, broken by the Archon's Roost. His presence will never darken your heart again. Your father, and mine comrades true, are all avenged."

He could hear the boy sniffing, stifling sobs. He wasn't sure if he gave the boy any comfort, but it appeared the truth did have some sort of calming effect on the young lad. That or he could very well just be silent, only letting the knight talk out of surprise for his outburst. The fallen champion could honestly take one or the other at this point. Not like he could expect anything better.

After a few more sniffs, the first boy then asked, "Is he…? Truly…?"

The knight only nodded. He wanted to dry the poor child's tears, but his gloves were already dirty from the burying and he had no cloth to clean them with. Could he truly not even do this simple thing right?

The lad didn't say much else after that. Wiping his face clean, he turned around and began walking off, his head low. The second boy watched him go by, a pensive look on his own face. He probably wasn't sure whether to still hold it against him for insulting the champion he idolized or sympathizing with his plight. But the lad that remained went up towards his hero, a hopeful expression on his face.

"Sir… please tell me it's not true." He begged. Ah. So that's what it was. "Everyone in the kingdom, even mother and father, have said so many awful things about thee. That you're the Lord of Dark! Please, tell me they're not true!"

The knight could only sigh as he stood up and looked away. "I might not be. But it won't change what they say. How they see me. Nothing can now."

"But surely, if we just told them the truth, then–" the boy seemed desperate to help him. It only made the knight feel more pathetic. For a child to want to help him, someone who should be a noble knight…

"The truth matters not anymore. Not to a flock of people who won't listen." The knight sadly shook his head as he turned his back. "You'd best go back home to thine kin. They would not want thee close to me."

"But you're the champion! That must mean something!"

"I am no champion. Not anymore. Not to anyone."

…Ah, the sound of sniffing again. He made the one person to believe in him cry. Yet another failure on his part. He couldn't even give succor to an innocent child. Just as he couldn't comfort one damaged.

"Then… Then what art thou going to do…?" He asked.

"...I will return to the dark mount." The fallen champion answered. "After that, I shall seal it shut. No demons will plague this land again."

"But… But you will be trapped within!" The child could not believe what he was hearing. "You will never see another human again!"

"It's the only way that will help those who are my fellow." He replied. "If I cannot succeed at being a hero, then I may as well do something of value before mine life ends. Farewell, young lad. I prithee, be a better man than I."

He took a few steps to make his way back to the Archon's Roost. However, it was not even his fourth step when the child called after him.

"I will be a hero!" He declared. "One day, I'll be the strongest hero in Lucrece! And once I get a weapon of my own, I'll go to the roost and set thee free! I believe in you, champion! I always will!"

The knight could not respond. He still stood tall, trying to keep himself looking presentable. However, on his face, tears poured down from his eyes. Was he touched by the boy's faith? Or sad that he felt he could not live up to it? Unable to smile from a heartfelt promise?

Unwilling to have the boy see him cry, he simply nodded and continued walking away. He returned to the maw of the Archon's Roost, walking inside and reentering the hideous caverns. But once he did, he turned towards the entrance and held Brion up. If the sword could very well open the den of evil, then it could very well seal it off. So the maw began to close. The knight closed his eyes.

He swore this would be the last time he saw the light of the outside world.

So it would be for the years to come. The knight remained in the dark mount, slaying demons and fiends who would cross his path. The fallen champion would only grow stronger from the experiences. No matter what the demons tried to kill him with, he always persevered, defeating each and every one. Eventually, as the years became a decade, the monsters in the mountain grew lesser and lesser, until the Archon's Roost's only occupant was apparently the failed hero himself. His only home now was the top of the mountain, the ironically-named 'Virtue's Reward'.

From the top of the mountain, he watched as the kingdom he swore to protect had seen nothing but poor days since losing the royal family and its heroes in a mere two days long ago. Though he isolated himself from the world, he was far from deaf. Far from blind. The people were falling into despair… and so they blamed him for their woes. Their convenient 'Lord of Dark'. Never did they think that perhaps they only had themselves to blame and there was never a real Lord of Dark to begin with.

In that time, the knight had come to realize that perhaps there was never any returned Lord of Dark after all. Just a demon taking a feared name and making fools of all the land, and an opportunistic mage seeking retribution for imagined offenses. Perhaps this was that demon's true design? One masterminded deception followed by humanity's baser instincts and petty desires? Well, not like he'd ever know now.

It was best to let them think what they wanted. Whatever made them feel better about themselves, he supposed. Not like he could make himself feel better. Everything he loved and everyone he cherished was gone. Avenging himself upon Lurcece would bring him no joy; no sense of retribution. And not once had he heard anything of the boy who swore to free him from his prison. Perhaps he had failed too…

Indeed, what was the point of anything outside of just waiting to rot away where his love ended her own life?

…And yet, he never rotted. In the years that passed, he did not age. Even now, when he should have shriveled up from the lack of good food and water, become nothing but a walking corpse, life still coursed within his veins. He still remained the young man he was back in his glory days. Still able to fight with a sword. Still able to move and fight like a knight.

"How could this be…?" He had to wonder. "How can I still exist in this youthful state after all these years of solitude…?"

"Have you finally noticed it?"

He stood up, readying his blade in hand, looking for the voice that addressed him.

"Who's there?!" He demanded. "Show yourself now, or reveal thyself as a coward lurking in the shadows dark!"

"A pitiful coward I am not." the voice replied. "I come before you, bearing answers to questions you possess."

He heard the sounds of paws walking as a figure appeared from the air. A large, black, saber-toothed feline with a gray underbelly, sharp claws, and blackened eyes with red pupils. Its presence seemed to emit terror in the hearts of lesser men. But the knight, even as low as he had become, stood firm, undaunted by this peculiar beast. He would not fall prey to another demon seeking to end him.

"Then what art thou?" The failed hero asked. "A fiend seeking retribution for his fallen ilk?"

"What I am is a prophet." the otherworldly feline answered. "A foreteller of cowards' ends. A prophet of death. Nothing more, nothing less, for a servant to the Lord of Dark."

Again with that cursed title. Must have been a remnant of the last one to inherit it, hearing old news of his return. The knight had to restrain from clicking his tongue. Even the demons just wouldn't let it go, would they?

"No Lord of Dark exists now, monster." He replied. "Nothing but a statue made in tribute to a long forgotten husk remains."

"Incorrect. The Lord of Dark has indeed returned." the so-called 'Death Prophet' rebutted. "He stands here, immortality regained, but unaware of his station."

The knight raised a twitching brow upon that immediate denial.

"What dost thou imply…?" he asked, grip tightening on Brion's hilt.

"Is it not peculiar to you that you remain in your prime as the seat of betrayers decays over the age's passing?" The feline circled the knight, the latter sidestepping to keep his focus on the sentient beast. "That starvation hardly comes to you; when eating or drinking cross your mind not once in all you recollect?"

The fallen hero was silent. Just what was this monster trying to imply to him? That he truly was the Lord of Dark, even though that was just the accusation of a scared populace? This had to be a joke. Was he going delirious now? How much time did he actually spend here?

The saber-toothed monster seemed to notice his skepticism and turned around, telling him, "Come. There is much for you to accept."

…Something told the knight he just couldn't refuse. With a reluctant breath, he followed after the 'Death Prophet' back into the Archon's Roost.

"Accept what?" The knight asked, just wanting to get it over with as they went through the cavernous halls.

"Your role in destiny's course."

"...art thou saying this is the path which fate itself has provided for mine life…?"

They came out into the room where they destroyed the false Lord of Dark. A higher demon masquerading as something bigger than itself. The place where his hero died… and the friend false forced them to leave his body there. A hero who died with faith in humanity regained, only to have been proven absolutely right about people in the end. What cruel irony.

"All things in life have a role to play in time's constant shifts." The monster in feline's clothing explained as he walked ahead of him. "To run away from it is the highest form of cowardice. A crime against the natural order of things. It is my duty as the Death Prophet to keep watch for these aberrants and punish them accordingly for their hubris."

"Doubtful that a servant to the Lord of Dark has any right to talk of duty and order." The fallen hero commented.

"Contrary to what was told, the previous Lord of Dark knew that an order was to be maintained." The Death Prophet retorted. "For every time of prosperity, there must be a threat waiting to end it. The kidnapping of the late Queen was that threat. For every threat, there must be a countermeasure. That countermeasure was the former hero, Hasshe."

The knight's fists clenched. Did this fiend have the fall to claim that the previous hero, the great Hasshe, was just some kind of tool in this perversion of order the previous Lord of Dark spouted? The kidnapping of the queen, a mere means to an end?

Come to think of it, what kind of fiend was the previous Lord of Dark to think of other people as mere tools?

"Their clash was intended to be one of many. A cycle meant to safeguard balance, pure." The fiend continued as they then left the room. "But Hasshe proved too powerful and slew my former master. As a result, the balance was shattered, and prosperity left the humans lax and impotent, rejecting their hero despite their praise of the concept. All seemed lost… but then, after many years, a prime candidate had finally come."

The knight recognized this hall. The stairway with the seven statues. No matter how many times he came past this room, their significance he still could not understand. Were they prior Lords of Dark? Greater minions he had yet to see? At the time, they didn't matter all that much. But now…

"Everything was so conveniently put into place for his ascension." The Death Prophet continued. "A tournament to achieve glory, the princess offered as a hero's reward. From there, it just fell into place nice and neatly. An echo of the past, a bid to reenact the necessary cycle. It was perfectly crafted. It was almost worrisome when it appeared the cycle was to fall once more… but human nature has proven quite predictable."

The failed champion froze upon hearing that. His eyes widened and his pupils dilated. Was this going where he thought it was going? Was this whole thing true? This tragedy of his… all orchestrated and improvised?

"In the end, the candidate for the next Lord of Dark came not beckoned by our need, but by human selfishness. Ego driven." The feline stopped before the exit. "When the opportunity for self-satisfaction came, he took it wholeheartedly and set on his path of petty revenge. From there, the kingdom began its planned fall without any input from us."

"Just speak plainly, demon!" The knight finally had enough of these vague insinuations. "If thou art trying to insist the mage was the Lord of Dark, then you're too late! He's already dead by mine own hand!"

"And what Lord of Dark would tolerate an usurper?"

There it was. The very idea that the knight was hoping he wasn't hearing. That damnable accusation again. This time from a demon! Was fate truly being so cruel with her jokes now?

"Nay, 'tis untrue!" He shook his head. "The Lord of Dark I am not, nor shall I ever be!"

"Then why do you not age? Why does death refuse to come to you?" The Death Prophet asked. "The accusations of the mortals may have been made from fear, but their fears made it a reality, as have you. The usurper is dead; the only one who remains to take the throne of the Lord of Dark, king of all demons… is you."

The knight took a step back, unable to believe what he had just heard. It was one thing to hear the horrid accusations and slander from people when it began. But for this to come from a demon of all things. To be told he WAS the Lord of Dark, straight from one of the minions following the archon vile… He could not believe it. All he wanted to do was save his love… not become the villain everyone believed him to be!

"You have seen it personally." The Death Prophet stared at him dead in the eyes. "The sins of man. Their ravenous gluttony. Insatiable lust and greed. Venomous wrath. All-consuming sloth. Unbridled envy. Ruinous pride which served yet again as catalyst for mankind's own faults. A race of cowards running from their fates ordained. They claim to desire good and peace, but what has that made them? Nothing but slaves to their selfish wants, living in futility in misspent sin."

"The Demon King. The Lord of Dark is necessary to keep their overindulgence in check. Teach them manners, restraint, respect as it were." The beast continued, the knight shaking in his boots. "As that very Lord of Dark, it is your role to do so. The humans have yet to be punished for what they have done. The crimes they have committed against you. It is within your infinite power to see all of Lucrece razed to the ground."

The fallen champion dared to look at his hands. Shaking uncontrollably, they had ended up dropping his blade and he never even noticed. He could barely see the taint of darkness emanating from his very fingers. The more the damnable beast spoke of his being the fiend most foul, the more difficult it became to disprove it. And since he could not disprove it, he could only feel the despair growing within his own breast.

"I… I cannot… nor shall I!" Still he didn't desire to accept it. "The Lord of Dark, I do not desire to be! Aye, the sland'rous lies hurt, but I don't want to prove them valid!"

"No? Then look to the statues seven." He stared at the ominous figures as the feline spoke, "Hist'ry bent to victor's whims, they stood disgraced, dubbed the villains of their times. So close to achieving their goals, eyes unclouded, they stand through time as those who exemplify the truth of the world. The way of the Demon King. Pure hate. Such is the purity of… ODIO…"

'A winner's justice' went unspoken, but the knight could just hear a voice in the back of his mind shout it, pained and clear. Stripped of voice and claim, they, the apparent 'losers', would stand as statues, wouldn't they? But what was there to hear when they all looked so vile, standing as if proud to be what they were? Why wouldn't such obvious monsters be stricken from the page of history? All these fiends that apparently came before him…

"And what dost all this have to do with me?" The knight asked. "If this is the game, why should I play along?"

"For that is your destiny." the sabretoothed feline stated. "No other recourse is open to you. Heroism, out of reach. Love, robbed. Comradery, a lie. Sentiment, a pointless gesture. Loyalty, ill-paid. Justice, a fallacy. Hatred is the only truth. Your only path. Across time and space, the Lord of Dark stands above, the ruler of all evil. Hatred incarnate."

So this was always ordained, then? He was to become the Lord of Dark, and Lucrece was doomed? No matter his attempts, he'd always be the villain? He trapped himself in the Archon's Roost to keep Lucrece safe from demons, not to lead them against it! What was the point in anything he had done then?

His love? His friendship? Was that all pointless too in the face of destiny's course?

"...Nay."

The Death Prophet let out an inquisitive sound. What did the knight say?

"I refuse thee, demon." The champion was finding strength renewed. "This so-called fate, I reject obstinately!"

"Do you even know what you are saying?" the beast asked. "Do you think you can defy what you are to become?"

"I most certainly can try!" The fallen hero declared. "If I could not become the hero Lucrece deserved in this time, then I shall go back and try again!"

With that, the knight began concentrating hard, trying to reach deep into this magic he now had to have possessed. If the so-called Death Prophet was so determined to convince him he was the Lord of Dark, then he could potentially use this power to his own advantage! Who said he had to use it just to be some villain? Certainly not himself! And indeed, the knight could feel the power coursing through him.

"What are you doing?" The beast stepped towards him. "Destiny cannot be overturned!"

"Thou said it thyself, didst thee not?" the rising hero replied, feeling more power coursing through him as he concentrated on what he desired most. "Mine power is now infinite! Then with this power forbidden, I shall cross time and stand once more. For all of Lucrece, rewrite mine tale. Just so! With magic potent, singular, and with determination grand!"

He held his arms out above him, feeling great magic starting to shift through his body and into his fingertips, ready to cast a mighty spell. Just like… that mage, but without the rod. He would do it, and he would succeed! His heart was pure! He would surely persevere!

"I'll take up arms, go against my fate!" He called out, life and light beginning to return in his eyes after so long. "I am Lucrece's champion, its hero true… and I will win!"

"Fool! You cannot escape your destiny!" the beast tried to pounce towards him. "You have no choice but to become O…!"

But then everything was consumed in a great, white flash. The fallen champion could feel himself floating, and his eyes took in everything around him. He could see everything. A desert of bones, a sea of stars, a city of steel and stone, a town of wood and dust, high mountains in the clouds, a land below illuminated by the rising sun, even an entire world to see. He could even see a castle, shining brilliantly amongst a land of green. He could see it. He could see…

Home.

The knight reached out towards it, hoping to return. To the day it all happened. The day everything was not yet lost. The day when he had a chance, and the future was still bright. He hoped to grasp it in his hands…

But then, the light once again overtook him, and he closed his eyes. His face, after so long, filled with hope.

—-

The knight began to stir, feeling hard rock against his cheek and a gentle breeze brushing his hair. Once he stood on his boots and dusted himself around, he looked around, expecting to be back in beautiful Lucrece… only to look on in confusion. What he expected should be vast green and forests with a path paved was instead some vast brownish canyon. Or perhaps it was a light yellow? Hard to tell with how the sun shone brightly in the clear sky. The only few patches of green he could see were the spots of grass that would grow in the dusty, cracked ground.

This… was not Lucrece.

"Where is this place…?" The fallen champion asked. "Did the spell fail? I see nothing familiar…"

The knight hummed in ponderance. It wasn't likely he was anywhere near Lucrece, and just walking back would no doubt take too long. Not to mention his map would be useless if he was outside its drawn borders. Perhaps he would have to try the spell again. Maybe then he would have better luck.

But before he could do that, the very ground shook beneath his feet! Trying to keep himself stable, the champion looked around for whatever could have made such a thing happen to the earth. And it was then he saw a most peculiar sight. A boy and… some kind of animal he hadn't seen before were being chased by giant, hairy creatures with the longest noses and curved bone-like appendages he had ever seen!

"What in the gods' names…?" The knight watched this scene with utter perplexion evident on his face.

The boy had a long wild mane of green hair, along with a stone headpiece worn like a headband. He had big, bushy black eyebrows, and relatively large brown eyes. He wore some kind of primitive outfit, a leopard's pelt worn as a tunic with one shoulder strap, leaving one side of his chest exposed, tightened with a black string belt. He also wore stone anklets on his legs.

The animal with the boy was covered with dark tan fur and wore a striped loincloth. He had big lips and fangs poking out from his lower lip. He had a rather thick brow with three lines. His rear end was also exposed, much to the knight's chagrin.

However, he felt the ground shake more, and saw, coming from behind the large group of creatures, an even larger version of the bizarre beasts with fur coated in gold! Its nose seemed to reach out and blow, making a sound akin to a mighty horn! It joined its fellows in chasing the pair, and - from its admittedly sleepy expression and the subtle way its eyes narrowed - it did not intend on letting them live.

Already he landed in the midst of trouble… the knight had to do something!

"I may be lost, but I shall be twice-damned if I let innocents die on my watch again!" He swore. And with that, he began running after them. "Fear not! I'm coming to rescue thee!"

The champion ran as fast as he could, following the sounds of the stomps. Eventually, he found himself getting close to a large canyon wall, and there were the beasts surrounding the pair! The two of them were facing off against that golden one, no doubt the pack leader, but they were not faring well and were exhausted and bruised. The golden beast stomped towards them, its sleepy eyes glaring down at the child and raised its trunk, ready to lash out at him! The knight ran faster, drew Brion, and then leapt into the air to strike the creature down!

But just then, the golden creature seemed to step to the side, managing to barely avoid getting stabbed! That didn't matter to the knight, however, as he then quickly turned towards the creature and held his sword out before it, covering the surprised pair behind him. The other creatures seemed to trumpet in shock and confusion, not expecting this themselves. The swordsman had a light smirk on his face. First time he truly made an entrance to save someone. It felt rather good.

He then turned towards the pair and told them urgently, "Quickly! Run as fast as you can! I shall take care of this foul beast!"

But in response, the boy and the -questionably - friendly creature tilted their heads in confusion. Did they not understand him? Oh dear, was he in a country where English was not the primary language?

He had no time to think about that, though, as the golden beast let out a loud trumpet, ready for a fight. With no time to lose, the champion pointed at them, then to a direction away from the coming battle. Eyes following his finger, the boy and his friend appeared to at least understand that and nodded at him before rushing off, managing to avoid getting stomped or lashed at by the other beasts as they went by. Of course, the others ended up giving chase, but with how the two were running ahead, the head start would surely benefit them. No longer having to worry about their safety, the knight turned back to the leader and readied Brion once more.

"Thou will no further abuse the innocent, foul beast." He warned it. "Continue, and be slain!"

The monster simply trumpeted in response and stomped towards him with a charge. At this, the knight rolled out of the way and slashed its hide… and was surprised to find he only barely laid a scratch upon it. Quickly he held up Brion to defend against one of the coming bone-like protrusions and felt himself skidding back. Clearly this beast was strong; he probably expected that going in from it being the leader. However, he would not fall against the might of a beast, no matter how powerful it was! He still had a mission!

All the while, just a bit away from the battle, and having managed to escape the stampede of beasts, the boy and his animal friend popped out of their hiding spot, behind a massive boulder, and stuck their heads out to watch the mysterious stranger fighting against the golden beast. They looked on, intrigued and interested to see what was going to happen next. Especially the boy, amazed by the man's odd pelts and body rocks, not to mention that sharp stick he had. Such a thing was something he had never seen before. Never in all his years.

The champion continued his clash with the beast, attempting to deal a crushing blow with the power of a hammer with his blade. But to his surprise, the golden beast somehow stepped back just out of reach and let it hit the ground, causing it to crack. He could see this beast was by no means as slow as his large appearance belied. This was no ordinary creature, by all means. Close-range attacks would no doubt do no good. But perhaps at a longer range…

Just then, he spied something red building in the golden beast's nostrils, and then rolled away again to avoid a stream of fire coming from them!

"Gods be damned!" The knight exclaimed. "This beast knows magic?!"

He continued running to avoid being burned to a crisp. Of all the times to not have a shield, he cursed to himself. But perhaps he could easily do away with these flames with his sword. So he put that to the test, rearing his sword back and then swinging it, sending a spinning blade of air through the fire to hit the monster's nose. The fires were split, and the animal retracted its nose in pain, actually bellowing as the attack hit! With a glare, the beast made ready to take another fast sidestep to avoid another attack from the knight.

However, now the knight was expecting it to use its unnatural speed.

"Not this time, creature!" He then spun around with his sword, sending wind slashes everywhere around him. "Thousand Cuts!"

Sure enough, not even the large beast's agility could help it avoid so many slashes all at once, and it got cut on many parts of its body. One of its bony horns actually got cut at the tips! This stunned the pair watching the battle. No matter what they did, not even they could manage to pierce the creature's hide or its tusks! Who was this strange man?

Anyhow, the beast had soon gotten angry. In fact, so angry that it started glowing red, and all around it, the ground seemed to suddenly burst into flame and magma, coating the ground around it! But the best appeared unharmed. In fact, the heat seemed to help it heal. There was no doubt about it to the would-be hero. This was no beast. This HAD to be a demon to wield such power!

"I may not know how old thou may be, devil," the knight told it, "but thy tricks will not avail thee this day!"

The monster let out another jet of flames at the champion, and this time he had ducked under it as he charged the beast head on. With a flourish, he slashed at the golden foe, actually hitting it with such an impact that it ended up turning its behind towards him. This gave the knight the opportunity to hit it again with a valourous slash, slashing downwards and then upwards before jumping back to avoid being burned by the magma. He could see the magma beginning to recede, as whatever spell the creature was able to cast was starting to lose its power.

And that only seemed to make it even more furious than ever before, and its rage hit so high a peak that the entire ground they were standing on burst into hot flame and magma! The champion barely managed to hold his arms up so that he didn't get too hurt from being near the brunt of it. However, he could now feel the heat affecting his stance the longer he stood in one place. As he found out, he had to keep moving in order to avoid getting gradually hurt, but this prevented him from attacking and left the creature to start healing.

Worse, he had no way to properly circumvent this, and the monster was not planning on giving him the chance to do it. He had no choice then. It was now all-or-nothing, and both of them knew it. The angered beast charged towards the knight, having put him in a spot where he couldn't possibly avoid its final attack. However, the champion readied his blade, holding the hilt with all his might, and then jumped into the air, avoiding its horns and coming back down with Brion's blade coming down fast!

"Heavenly Strike!" He shouted out…

And the sword actually hit its mark. In the slight chance that the beast could have moved out of the way were it in a more rational state of mind, the blade pierced the head of the golden beast swift and sure. It let out another trumpet, trying to fling the champion off as the pain was becoming too much. But it was no use. The knight's strength kept the sword in place, and the beast's movements and resistance began to slow. Soon, even its vision began to dim, and its capability for thought faded just the same.

The golden beast fell to the ground with a hefty slam. Dead and slain. The knight pulled his sword out of the beast's head and held it above himself, raising it towards the sky and watching it shine in the sun's light. He had done it. He had slain a mighty beast and rescued people in need. Once again, he felt like he was truly a hero.

But then a clinking noise seemed to grab his attention. He looked to the beast's stomach, and just laying before it were two small items. One was revealed to be a large fang, though he could have also believed it to be a part of the beast's sharp bone protrusions having broken off in the fight. A great trophy for anyone who might think it as such. But he had to admit he had never expected to see such a delicate item like a glass bottle of all things.

Quite unlike the recipients he used to see, mostly due to the fact his times had evolved into not needing such a fragile vessel for ale or other liquids or items. Not to mention something covering the top. Empty, too. He figured it was some kind of wine bottle for an eccentric noble, but with how small it was, were any drink in it, there wouldn't be enough for even the most sober of drunkards to be satiated. To top it all off there was some kind of word plastered on some kind of paper around it.

"'Co… la…'" he read the word slowly. "What the devil is this 'cola'?"

…Well, who was he to complain about spoils? If this was a trophy much like the fang, he might as well accept it. With a shrug, he placed both the fang and the mysterious object in with the rest of his remaining items (how fortunate he was that he still had them after all he went through). Now, he just had to figure out where he was… and how to get back home. There had to be someone capable of speech who lived here, right?

Then the knight heard a couple grunts and was surprised to see the two from before approaching him. The lad looked amazed, while the creature that was with him… well, he wasn't sure what kind of look the creature was giving him. Just some straightforward stare with a plain…ish frown. With there being no sign of the other creatures following them, the knight assumed that they were safe for the moment. Then a thought came to him.

This boy was human and he had an animal companion. He couldn't just be living out in this deserted land all by himself. He had to be part of a village or even a clan. Maybe if he got the boy to bring him to where he lived, he could find clues as to where he was!

The knight knelt down to the boy's level and said, "I am relieved to see you unharmed, my boy. Now, couldst thou tell me where thy home is? I am lost and I have no idea where mine is…"

When he went to ask that, he only then realized to himself how true that statement was in more than just the intended purpose. But even then, his question didn't seem to translate like he wanted. The pair just stared at him, confused. He sighed. Why did he end up landing where English was not spoken? He didn't even know what kind of language they'd speak!

He saw the child shaking his head and then apparently speaking in all manner of grunts and sounds, as if he was describing something. The knight raised a brow, watching the boy's actions. At one point, pretending to walk on all fours and using his hand to make a trumpeting sound. Then jumping a step and turning around, apparently using a bone of all things like a club… or perhaps a sword?

At that, the champion finally got it. He was expressing his excitement over the battle he had witnessed. The boy might not be able to speak in plain words, but it appeared that he could express himself with actions. After all, actions spoke louder than words. Or they should, but they get misinterpreted… Oh dear. This was uncomfortably familiar.

The knight knew he should probably fix this issue before the boy suffered something like he did. But first, he needed to find some kind of civilization. He politely raised his hand, signaling for the boy and animal to listen. He then pointed at himself before looking around and shrugging. At this, they seemed to understand and nod.

Seeing this, the champion continued signing. He pointed at himself again, then he put his head over his hands, making sleeping motions and sounds with his hands. After that, he shrugged once more. The boy and the animal seemed to comprehend what the knight was trying to tell them, then they looked at each other and nodded. They then moved past the knight and he watched them head towards the dead monster.

The boy grunted at him, pointing at him too, and then directed his sight towards the beast. He made a motion that he appeared to be dragging something. Perhaps he wanted the knight to drag the creature he just slew behind him? Come to think of it, all that fur and meat probably would be a good bounty for any civilization, but at the same time, he wasn't sure about eating demon meat. Though perhaps animals were different here?

Then he got it. Perhaps the boy was telling him to bring the beast with him while they lead him to their home! Yes, that had to be it! It could take a bit of work to actually communicate through body language, but it should be manageable. Although, he should also make sure the child learned how to speak in order to avoid a tragedy.

But then, as he began taking the beast along by one of its horns, fortunate that his armor also lent to his strength to make moving it easier, he heard the boy actually say something.

"Pogo."

"Hm?" He blinked at the boy, surprised to hear him speak.

"Pogo!" the boy echoed.

Okay, perhaps it was more of a grunt than any actual word. Or maybe it was a different language? Although with how he appeared to be gesturing toward himself… ah, perhaps Pogo was the lad's name? Pretty simple, all things considered.

With a smile, the knight then gestured to himself.

"Oersted."

—-

Ah, nothing like starting out the new year with a new story idea, right folks?

Yeah, having played Live A Live's HD-2D remake after it was released, I can definitely say that we missed out on getting the original back in the day. But at the very least, after all these years, we got a fantastic remake to compensate. Mostly faithful (certain liberties with the script notwithstanding) and updated by the same people behind games like Octopath Traveler, Triangle Strategy, and even the upcoming Dragon Quest III remake, it is a wonderful game from start to finish, with some updates that make it a lot easier to work with than the original. Seriously, you're missing out on something great if you haven't played it yet.

Also, as you might have guessed, there's pretty much spoilers right out the gate. Apologies in advance, but it reads 'spoilers' in the description, so I think we're all good here, right? Right.

Thanks again to The Swordslinger for beta'ing this story and for The Lord of Pages for helping influence the Mammoth King fight. Figured we'd also get that optional boss nipped in the bud once we got this story started. I mean, who doesn't remember having to reload several times and doing that boss fight JUST for the chance to get the cola bottle to drop? We sure do. Oh BOY do we ever.

Anyway, see you all next time as we start Oersted's journey through Prehistory. And have a Happy New Year!