Within the body of Issei Hyoudou, a great beast slumbered, incapable of complete existence yet conscious, awake, alive.
For years, it had gone about this half-life, lived through the boy, shared in his happiness and sadness, experienced humanity. His partner and he were one in the same, albeit different in personality, but closely linked. Such things tended to happen when you lived the life of another.
Then everything changed when the stray devil attacked. The beast was awakened, its sacred gifts given life, and power manifested. The demonic entity that attacked the host and by default himself had erred greatly and would be made to pay.
The beast would admit he liked Issei, a lot actually, he was a sweet child, kind and innocent. Innocence was to be protected, and that was precisely what the beast would do. As the devil finished its feast upon the boy's hand, he prepared to strike, summon forth his sacred gear and lay low the horror that harmed young Issei.
But he could not summon the sacred gear, the Loginus failed to manifest, the beast failed to come forth. Something was stopping them, something had attached itself to the boy and was preventing the true path of things.
The beast could feel its power: dark, chaotic, corruptive, yet refined. It radiated from the being in pure waves of energy that reached out from Issei's soul in an untamed aura of psychic might.
The beast saw the man behind it as memories not his own flooded him. Two young children in a far future played together, one dreaming of his life in the stars, the other as courageous and selfless as they come. They trained together, fought together, two halves of the same whole.
Then there was loss, one of the brothers died, his body mutating and begging for a sweet release which the living tragically granted. Many more deaths followed, comrades in arms falling in the service of an ideal, in the service of a crusade. Some met their end on the battlefield, others suffered silently to an affliction…the Skin Change.
There was a man that rose above all others, a regal being of red, prideful and powerful, a man who towered over all others and promised a future worth having, yet spelled the end of a legion, a fall from grace.
There was betrayal, heresy, death upon death, atrocities committed across the ages which would echo through eternity. A man, the one whom the beast had detected upon his host's soul, sought a cure to the affliction of his fellow…psykers, causing more harm with his great attempt with a rubric of his own crafting.
Souls trapped in armor rose at his call, Prodigal Sons followed him, the path to damnation was paved with the man's undying will to cure. It was that will that brought this…sorcerer here. To the past. To the boy.
Death, destruction, and corruption were all the man brought with him, and they were guaranteed to become interlinked with the fate of the beast's partner, a part of Issei Hyoudou.
I see you Ahzek Ahriman.
===Line Beak===
The soulscape–as Ahriman had entitled the realm of which he currently inhabited–fluctuated about him, the unnatural surrounding white sullying itself with dashes of red amidst its monochromatic depths, all in tune with the movements and occasional whimpers of the boy who slept at his feet.
With a scoff, Ahzek gazed upon the pitiable creature, Issei Hyoudou, who clung to his legs for dear life, dissatisfied with the "host" of his soul.
It was a child that would possess him, the powers he had striven for, the great goals he would continue to seek.
It was a child that he would have to deal with in this "second life" of his, inevitably mold and shape to face the horrors that lurked in this world.
It was a whimpering child that he would have to protect, he would have to impart the inspirations of the Immaterium upon.
But perhaps, not all was as it seemed, not all was so terribly weak. Ahriman knew power, embraced it, detected it, and with his psyker abilities he could feel within the soulscape the potential his young host had.
There was power in him, different than that dispersed by the Warp, raw, burning and abundant. Beyond the compounds of the soulscape, it circulated through the child's body, now activated after the brush with death.
It was untamed and unrelenting, and it was drawing closer to the banished First Captain of the Thousand Sons.
The power was…sentient. It was challenging him, daring to stand against him.
It was in that moment of comprehension, Ahriman's eyes truly opened, second sight coming to him as his precognition activated.
He saw images and flashes, black and white, of what awaited him, what was coming.
There was a creature, scaled and draconic in appearance, gliding as fast as a bullet for him, teeth bared and inflamed.
There was a battle between the abomination and himself, the thing growing more and more powerful, gradually coming to resist his might. It doubled, it boosted.
Wounds were exchanged before the creature was laid low, crumpled and banished from this realm in a fiery mess of destruction and righteous hate.
The consequences were severe. The host was damaged, his body began to fail in the absence of the winged daemon.
The boy died and Ahriman along with him.
The sorcerer could not let such a thing come to pass, his redemption through the child was a certainty and nothing would threaten that.
As sand falls through a sieve, the visions faded and normal sight returned. A battle would be waged, that was inevitable, but death would not be the befitting end of the draconic daemon. No, the thing could serve a purpose, could prove to be useful. Its doubling abilities would make for an interesting addition to the powers the child would carry.
Yes, Ahriman thought, his path was set, his will resolute. An alliance was to be made. Fighting at maximum capabilities merely had to be suppressed, his and that of the creature. Doubling could not stand in this…spat they were to have. And mind control could not work, forcing allegiance upon anyone does not create the strongest sense of trust.
Victory would be won through will and strength, for strength only respects strength. The path was clear, and so Ahriman waited to meet his foe.
In a matter of moments, the creature from the vision pulsed forth from outside the soulscape, blasting crimson rays and fire like a burst blood vessel through the walls of white that surrounded the realm.
The daemon, colored red, sped forth directly at the Arch Sorcerer, faster than any bolter round, bridging the gap between the farthest walls of the soulscape and himself in less than a second.
Ahzek was ready; he had faced such beings before, and he had triumphed. Every time.
The two warriors, one an armored, fallen son of blue and the other a scaled, greater daemon of red, clashed in an explosive burst of light that shook the very core of the realm they battled in.
Ahzek's Black Staff, a testament to his successes and origins, met the daemon head first, flaring with psychic might that refused to be toppled by any. The staff's horns and Stone of Hidden Truth burst with a sickened green haze as they grasped onto the daemon's head, the verdant manifestation dissolving upon the creature the moment it came into contact with its scales.
Using the speeding being's momentum to his advantage, Ahriman swung the Black Staff to his side, pivoting his body along with it, spearheading his opponent away in a spiraling mess of power incarnate. It crashed against the chalk ground of the soulscape several times before ultimately coming to a stop in a jumbled heap of draconic rage.
"I have been waiting for you. Speak, what are you?" The Son of Prospero boomed, his powers activating as he rose above the ground on invisible wings of conjured magics and his figure was enveloped in a swirling ring of light blue, "Come now, let us not stand on false ceremony, I have no time for idleness."
Noting the still present child, who began to stir from his slumber, Ahriman summoned the boy behind him with the wave of a single hand.
He paid no heed to the mumbles that fell from his lips.
You have no right to demand anything of me sorcerer! The creature voiced back, having risen from his place upon the floor, now standing tall and proud before his opponent. I am Ddraig, the Welsh Dragon, and you have invaded my host's body with your corrupted soul. It will be my pleasure to remove you from his presence!
Violence was not Ahriman's preferred route, but if some sense needed to be imparted unto the dragon, then so be it. Who was he to deny sensible action?
The two beings of immense power prepared to battle again, the Chaos Space Marine Sorcerer gripping his staff with both hands, channeling energy through it and preparing to meet any attack that came his way. The Welsh Dragon, on the other hand, settled itself into a crouch, ready to spring forth and acquaint the armored being with pain.
The still sleeping form of Issei was quickly banished from the immediate zone of danger by the Arch Sorcerer, coming to rest far away from both beings. As a measure of safety, Ahriman cast a protective shield upon the boy–nothing short of a focused strike from himself would be able to pierce its psychic armor.
"Yield to me."
The dragon smiled in response, chuckling darkly.
This is going to be so much fun; I haven't had a good challenge in many years. You may have saved my partner, but I see you, I see what you truly are, and I cannot let such an abomination corrupt this child.
Thus the battle began.
Ahzek Ahriman did not wait for the creature to strike first, pushing the energy he gathered in his staff towards his enemy in an explosion of pure white warpfire.
The flames drove towards the daemon in a concentrated, lightning quick ball; the dragon, who had sprung forward, dove quickly beneath the attack, skimming along the ground and dodging the other warpfire attacks before rising once more, towering over its opponent.
The creature ignited itself in flames, red and orange blazes raging upon its skin and showering the soulscape in its heat.
With a roar, the dragon let loose a whirlwind of fire upon the Son of Magnus, who did not remain idle, pushing his floating form out of the destructive path. The blaze followed his movements before suddenly stopping.
The sorcerer was gone, he had disappeared into thin air, leaving behind naught but hazy particles of darkened black, which burned the ground they fell upon.
Before Ddraig could react to the sudden change, search and relocate his enemy, Ahriman had struck. Spears of conjured blue energy struck the wings of the great beast from behind, colliding with the scaled hide, failing to penetrate but knocking the Welsh Dragon from the air. In a heap of flame and damaged pride, it crashed into the ground as a meteor from the heavens.
Ddraig stayed collapsed for but a moment before hastily pulling itself from its crater of bloodied ruin, and standing to meet its foe once more.
The Arch Sorcerer had yet to show himself again, but the dragon knew he was there somewhere, waiting to strike.
"I am a master of the Immaterium, a wielder of the Warp." he spoke, finally materializing a short distance from his now battle ready foe, "I have learned and trained and fought for thousands upon thousands of years. It would take more than your best to defeat me, overgrown lizard."
Ddraig chuckled slightly.
Well, I'm just getting warmed up, you arrogant dick.
"And yet you have already lost the use of your greatest advantage, I believe you call it doubling."
How did you…
"Precognition is a gift, and the avoidance of extremities is necessary to our mutual goals. "
Goals? Why would I work with an abomination like you?
"To protect the boy. You have your reasons for such, as I have my own. Why not work together for his benefit?"
I have seen you, know what you have done. You'll manipulate him, use him for your goals. You will bring chaos and the practices of your former master reigning down upon him.
"I am a slave to no-one. I forge my own path, not that of a Warp manifestation. My path has led me here, and redemption is what I seek. The child will bring that about."
There was a beat of silence. Perhaps progress had been made?
"What say you, will you join me in protecting and training him?
How about you go fuck yourself smurf-boy.
The battle resumed as the dragon pounced, leaping towards the last of the Thousand Sons, arcing through the air, faster than before, faster than any astartes, tearing through time and striking true against its target.
In an explosion of crimson flames, Ahriman was knocked from his feet, cast to the floor with the fiendish daemon who grappled its claws onto his armor. It tore and fired upon the downed sorcerer, anything to break the metal plating that protected the man within, slowly but surely sinking through the layers of metallic protection.
Sensing the deterioration of his armor, the Banished First Captain acted immediately, bathing himself in explosive warpfire and channeling his arcane arts through both of his fists, which gripped the chest of the Welsh Dragon. In a blast of purple light, the creature was sent flying from his downed body, spiraling through the air once more.
The dragon was given no reprieve as he descended through the air for Ahriman was once more on him, materializing above him, Black Staff in hand again and prepared to lay low the foul beast as he had done so many a-time with the daemons of the Immaterium.
The staff glowed in resilient blues and greens, coursing about it in streams of refined power, tightening in the helical path they forged, drawing closer to the eye-shaped Stone of Hidden Truth.
To an outsider, this power up would seem to have taken milliseconds to perform, but to the interlocked combatants, its length was extended, occurring for what seemed an eternity.
Bringing his staff down, Ahriman joined the dragon in his descent to the ground of the soulscape, the bladed tip of his weapon of choice inching closer and closer to the dragon's shoulder, intent on striking an immobilizing blow.
Ddraig pushed back against its attacker, gripping the sharpened staff with both of its hands in an attempt to keep its demise at bay, yet it was not working. The blade drew ever closer to…
The two beings crashed upon the soulscape in a blinding explosion of flame, light, and raw energy, shaking the very foundations of the realm they fought in.
And it was thus that young Issei Hyoudou, host of the Welsh Dragon Ddraig and the Arch Sorcerer Ahzek Ahriman, began to awaken, a raging headache, quite possibly an aneurysm, flooding his senses and brain.
He screamed.
===Line Break===
The thing that Issei had seen at home haunted him, stalking him in the darkness of his dreams. He could hear its laughter, clawing at the back of his mind, running through him like a blade down his spine.
The voice whispered to him, gloated his failure and inevitable death over him, promising a never ending hell of Biblical proportions for the sin of existing.
He tried to run in the darkness, anywhere to escape what hunted him.
The voice followed.
Issei could swear he could feel her claws skimming over the skin of his back, gently prodding their way through his shirt and tracing red ribbons upon his skin.
It was sickening, the feeling he felt; he would vomit if he could, curl up into a ball and shield himself from whatever it was he had encountered, but that was impossible.
It was still here. It still followed him in the depths of his dreams.
"Mineminemineminemineminemine." It called to him over and over again slowly phasing into existence, now worse than before.
Its pale skin was now terribly misshapen to its face, a crumbling, rotting mask that broke apart upon its left eye, revealing nothing but a twisted red blob staring at him. The skin was a mask, shaking with each neck spasm the creature performed.
But she was far away, that was the only reprieve that young Issei was given. The thing was a long ways away, yet for some reason, he knew she would get closer to him as time passed.
The boy, now sitting on the ground and crying to himself, shivered at that thought.
What would happen when it reached him?
He needed an escape; he needed something now or…
Issei suddenly screamed as he felt pain blossom in his skull, as if his brain had detonated thousands of minute explosions at once, each one following the other in a cascade.
As he lay gripping his head and shaking it furiously in an effort to quell the torture inflicted upon himself, he failed to notice that the darkness around him was fading, that white light and two zooming lights fo red and blue were slowly forming before him.
Then there was another flash of pain, worse than the first, followed by another of his screams.
Something was so terribly wrong with everything. What was happening to him? Was he going insane? Was he being punished?
Issei desperately hoped that this was all a nightmare, that he would wake up soon, and find his parents alive and well and holding him close, assuring him that nothing was wrong.
He screamed a third time, knowing that his hopes were futile and his life lay in shambles. Emotions flooded him–anger, fear, desperation, sadness–manifesting in his soul and…changing him.
His body continued to shake, spasming out of control.
Crimson light appeared in his clenched fists.
His tears went into overdrive, no longer of pure water, now mixed with blood.
A deep purple wave spiraled about his head, glowing in his eye sockets behind his clenched eyelids.
He continued to scream, yell, anything as his voice grew in ability and sound.
Azure helical rings encompassed his whole body, radiating from him like planets in the solar system.
Issei was out of control, beyond comprehension and any rational thought, lost to his overwhelming, amplified emotions.
He was broken.
===Line break===
Ddraig the Welsh Dragon was no stranger to battle–he had fought in countless, won even more. He was a master of the clash of forces, the unleash of power and might, and the triumph of victory.
With such experience under his proverbial belt, the dragon greatly prided himself on being amongst the strongest of his race to ever grace the world. He had worked to be elite, fought, and bled his way to the top over the years.
Though there were some losses among his time, be it his own failings or the occasional incompetent host, they were few and far between, and even then, he put up one hell of a fight.
His current predicament however–being up-chucked and smashed into the ground by a psychotic, genuinely evil sorcerer from a galaxy far, far away–was not in any way a good fight.
For lack of a better term, he was getting his ass handed to him, and he knew he could not hope to keep up with the…thing (he refused to accept it was still human after seeing into its soul) that wielded powers even he did not know of. In the opening moments, during his initial charge, it had managed to suppress one of his greatest abilities, doubling, with the mere usage of some green haze, which still had yet to leave him.
But he could not give up; no, he would protect the young boy with everything he had, till his last breath. Ddraig would be damned before he saw the innocent child corrupted by the thing that invaded his host's soul.
And it was with that resolve that he once more pulled himself off the ground, bit back the pain that enveloped his senses, and stood again to face the horned, smurf sorcerer.
Then he heard the screaming, an ear shattering shriek which echoes through the white realm. Forgetting his blue, psycho enemy, Ddraig was at young Issei's side in a matter of seconds, not sure of what to do as the child writhed upon the ground in an awakened state.
What did you do to him? He growled viciously to his opponent who floated over to them, silently and unphased.
The armored being took no note of his question, instead placing his hand over the boy's head, whispering something to himself before nodding.
"He is awakening his psychic powers, a gift from our souls being joined. The process can be quite painful, it varies from psyker to psyker.
Ddraig accepted that answer, begrudgingly admitting his nerves were ever so slightly calmed.
He will be fine, then.
"If he can manifest the Warp energies connected to himself."
If not?
"He will die. The strain will be too much, and his body will become something far worse than the daemon I fought... But fear not, I am a part of the very foundation of his being now. My powers, my strength, my endurance are all at his disposal. He will live."
Although he absolutely loathed this Ahriman creature's permanent (for now) residence within Issei, the Welsh Dragon could do nothing but accept the provided answer and assurance, focusing more on his anxiousness to see this screaming fit come to an end over his abhorrence for the situation. Accepting he could do nothing to assuage the suffering child, he dropped to the floor, seizing upon the brief reprieve from the ass kicking he had taken.
He still glowered at the armored sorcerer who had likewise seated himself on the opposite side of the screaming Issei, however.
Deciding to not spend his entire time wherever he was brooding over the thing across from him, Ddraig took it upon himself to place a single reassuring hand upon the child's shoulder.
It was then that he noticed the colors flickering about the body of his partner. First, crimson coalescing in his hands in swirling vortexes of unrefined savagery. Secondly came the purple and azure light, a glowing hurricane that roved about behind his eyelids and atop his head and simple helical wisps that curled about his whole body.
"So it begins," the sorcerer intoned, nodding once more, satisfied with what played out before him. Ddraig did not particularly like the thing's reaction with what was happening; the energy about Issei felt unnatural and seemed to augur terrible things to come with each flare it produced.
The screaming intensified, crescendoed with each spasmic turn and push the boy's body performed.
"Make it stop! Make it stop! Make it stop! Please!" the child's voice cried out in uneven, unnatural tones, rising to the highest of pitches before dropping to the lowest sounds one could produce.
Ddraig may not have been an extraordinary expert on all things magic, but he knew trouble when he saw it, knew danger when it entered his presence, and currently, every single warning bell he had ever had inside his head was going off.
He was afraid for Issei, and his fear only increased when the boy's body began to levitate, when the energies around and within it began to shield him in a cocoon of prismatic light.
He had to act, had to intervene to help his partner and save him from whatever was afflicting him, sorcerer's words be damned. No amount of power was worth the crushing pain Issei was being subjected to, he was only a child, dammit. This type of…fuckery was not supposed to be happening to him when he was so vulnerable, so young, and so innocent.
"Do not interfere," the sorcerer spoke, having risen from his seat and resumed his floating state. Ddraig could not help but notice it moving away from the tormented host.
What are you doing? The Welsh Dragon question, likewise mirroring the thing's movements at a more cautious pace.
"Avoiding the inevitable explosion. His powers have been dormant for so long and having been activated and used for the first time, the excess of stored energies are being released."
Before the dragon could question further, for the third time that day, an explosion of realm altering proportions shattered whatever peace had come to rest in the former battlefield. Light shot forth from the boy's form, quickly engulfing Ddraig and filtering past him in a harmless wave of tumult.
Everything else did not meet such a kind fate, all other sources of light vanished in the wake of this path of destruction, leaving behind nothing but blackened, scorched earth.
In the newly created darkness, Issei Hyoudou's form floated above them, fully awake now and his eyes radiating celestial white. Blood dripped from his sockets in a steady stream.
Though he seemed to have entered a divine state, Ddraig could see that the child was still a child. His composure was one of unmitigated fear, shaking and hunched upon himself. His arms were wrapped around his shoulders and legs curled to his stomach. Indeed, he was an odd sight to behold, but perhaps that was what assuaged the dragon's fears of corruption and impending insanity.
"I'm scared" were the child's only words in the aftermath of whatever just happened, void of emotion and any tone.
I know.
"Am I a monster now?"
No and you never will be, not while I am around. You are still you, Issei.
"Will you be my friend? I don't want to be alone."
Emotion and inflection began to return to his voice–fear, self-doubt, hope.
Ddraig smiled.
Of course. Forever if you would have me, partner.
===Line Break===
The Arch Sorcerer watched as this "heartwarming" scene played out before him, as the dragon connected himself to the boy, acknowledged him, and reassured him of a brighter tomorrow.
When the child was safely unconscious and fading from the soulscape, he chose to appear to his former opponent.
"He has found himself again, has he not? Found some salvation and hope through you?"
What would you know of hope?
"Much and more. It can be the cruelest weapon and the strongest motivator. I have experienced both sides of this two faced coin."
The Welsh Dragon snorted at his comment.
"You know what I am to ask."
Yes.
"Will you?"
Yes, I will help you train the boy. Someone needs to keep him from following your path to hell.
"It would appear so."
Just know that if you attempt…anything on him, I don't care what it costs, I will kill you.
"I figured as much."
Allowing himself a rare chuckle, something he had not done in a very, very long time, Ahzek Ahriman smiled as the future before him seemed ever so slightly brighter, and all the more attainable with this intriguing creature as a tentative ally.
"So, tell me, Welsh Dragon, what do I need to know about this world?"
And that is a wrap! We did it, chapter 2, holy Jesus this was so epic to write and god damn am I proud of it. My first real fight scene/scenes came here in the clash between Ddraig and Ahriman, which was super fun to write.
Now, I know some will question/complain on how Ahriman kicked the Welsh Dragon's ass so easily. Why did that happen?
It is quite simple, Ahriman is fucking overpowered as shit in Warhammer canon. If you don't know the lore of Warhammer surrounding Ahriman, just look into his wiki. Man is just over the top OP, and he ain't even the strongest (I shudder to imagine what would happen if Magnus the Red fought Ddraig).
I feel I was actually nice to Ddraig, giving him a somewhat chance of battle and not having Ahriman just smite his sorry ass off the face of the planet. Ahriman is a tactical sumbitch, and the second most powerful psyker/sorcerer in Warhammer 40K. Ddraig just would not be capable of handling all of the abilities this Son of Prospero can dish out.
This mini rant aside, the next chapter should be interesting, training time boys, and some devil hunting. Also, the first love interest will show up–take a wild guess who?
Anywho, thanks for reading, I hope you liked it, make sure to favorite, follow, and review. I shall see you in the next chapter.