SOMETIME IN THE 10th CENTURY…
A tender blaze lit up the night. A wooden stake upheld the flame and impaled the dirt floor beneath. Ashes of what was once a man tied against the stake flew with the howling wind. The trees, tall and once filled with leaves, were now consumed in crackling fire that disintegrated them slowly. The surrounding village homes, too, were caught in the wildfire. This small community, once the home of heroes, was being reduced to cinders in the night.
And, just who was the cruel figure at the epicenter of the blaze? He who stood in front of the stake, staring longingly at the ashen corpse suspended against it? He who, once he had seen the corpse, lit a second flame to seek vengeance against those who had lit the first? He who had eradicated the village and its residents? A man they called ‘hero.’ A man dressed in steel armor, a great helm, a yellow tabard, and a silver spear at his side. A man who was conflicted between guilt, grievance, and satisfaction.
He was not the only hero. Long ago, he and some others were sent on a quest to defeat a terrible witch who terrorized the land and kidnapped the kingdom’s princess. After hard-fought battles and immense effort, only he and a friend remained. They had slain the witch and rescued the princess, and they came back home to be celebrated as heroes together.
After some time, a secret of his friend’s came out. It wasn’t something so grave as murder or conspiracy, but to those who were close-minded, it was tantamount to such. The village gathered a crowd of people to attempt to execute him for his ‘treason against nature’. The hero, shocked at the news, went over to his friend’s home to see how he was. The hero was sure his friend would not be slain.
It wasn’t that the villagers had gotten the better of them. It was that the man had just… accepted it. When the hero heard him say goodbye, he tried to plea– but to no avail. So, violently, he tried to beat his friend back to his senses but ended up being knocked out himself. And when he woke up, he found his dear friend reduced to ash.
One phrase still echoed in his mind. He had begged his fallen, “You’re all I have left– what do I do if you’re gone?” to which, the man had coldly replied, “You’ll figure it out. After all, you’ve always been the strongest.” What did he mean by that? “The strongest”? The two couldn’t be closer in strength, and the hero had been knocked unconscious by him. It was ridiculous, preposterous. And yet, they were the fallen’s last words, so he had to take them as they were. And even if he figured out what those words meant, he still needed to know why his friend had been so eager to die.
He hears a few bloodcurdling screeches in the background. He was surprised some villagers were still alive– the fire had been going on for some time now. A part of him enjoyed it. That part of him believed they deserved it, for being so weak yet daring to command the strong. That the screams he heard, the people he’d spent so much of his life protecting, were nothing more than apes. And that cruel fragment of him was beginning to suppress rationality.
The tarnished eidolon gazes at the burning corpse of the fallen. Perhaps, among ember and ash, the hero could find the answers he wanted.
----------------------------------------
MODERN-DAY
Crk…
Flynn’s heart sank at the sound of metal grazing concrete. He got out of the car, which he had parallel-parked. He looks at the front of the car to see exactly what he’d feared: a scratch on its bumper. He puts his palm on his face, disappointed in himself. He knew he was about to get an earful from his uncle when he got home. He’d only allowed Flynn to use it on the condition that it remains in pristine condition.
“He’s gonna kill me…”
Eventually, though, he concluded that standing there would not make the car un-scratch itself. He let out a disheartened sigh before pressing a button on his keys to lock the door and walking away with his hands in his pockets.
It was a hot summer day in St. George, Utah. It was the summer break before senior year, and he was about to spend it like he always did- going to the boxing gym and making admittedly crappy music in the band he and his friends made. He’d just come back from the gym, and after a nice hot shower, was going to meet his bandmates at the boba tea place they always went to. He was wearing a dark gray graphic tee along with a lighter pair of sweatpants, complete with a pair of yellow and black sneakers. His hairstyle were freeform locs, the front of his hair being dyed a cream color and the rest of it being its natural black. His hands made their way toward the handle of the cafe’s door. The store’s bell rang cheerfully as one of its most loyal customers walked in.
A familiar figure caught his eyes– one with dyed, white messy hair, pale skin, a black long-sleeve shirt, gray baggy jeans, and orange eyes you couldn’t miss. Ordering at the front of the cafe gazing up at the menu was Marlow, the band’s bassist and probably Flynn’s best friend. The two met two years ago in freshman-year English class, and Flynn found out that they had a lot in common with him. Their shared interest in combat sports and Gorillaz had them hanging out after class, and eventually, when a few others overheard them, they’d formed a little friend group. And from there, the small, local alt-rock band they’d named ‘Parasite Paradise’ was born. They weren’t very active, but Flynn didn’t care about that. At least they were having fun, right?
As they finally decided what they wanted to order and told the barista, Flynn came up behind them and nudged them on the shoulder, hearing what they’d ordered. “Trying something new for a change?” he asked teasingly, his voice rich and deep.
“Only because June won’t stop asking me to try it.” Their voice was as flat as paper but as smooth as it too. Whenever they’d go out, Marlow would always order the same thing they’d gotten if they’d been there before. Flynn and the rest of the band were the only people who could get them to try new things, and even then, it took excruciating effort to do so.
“Speaking of which, is she on her way?”
“Nah. She’s getting her guitar restrung.”
Flynn sighed disappointedly. “And Ken’s still in New York at his grandma’s…”
“Yup. Just us two again.”
Flynn turned to the barista and ordered the same thing that Marlow had: a brown sugar boba tea they’d added to the menu a few weeks ago. He looked back at them to see a slight grin on their face before they said “Dude, get your own thing!”
“What? It sounds good. Besides, someone’s gotta tell June it’s not as bad as you think it is.”
Marlow laughed. “Don’t you remember what happened last time you tried June’s recommendations?” The two walked towards a set of barstools nearby and sat themselves down.
The last recommendation was a cake that she’d given to the other bandmates at school. She had supposedly gotten the recipe from her aunt. It was as dry as a Popeyes biscuit. Flynn and Marlow both knew that it was her who made it and that she hadn’t used a recipe and just put everything into the same bowl and forced it into the oven, but they didn’t say that to her face.
“It wasn’t that bad.”
“You just like having something to chew on!”
“I–... yeah, fair enough.”
They kept on going, talking about what had happened that day. The look on June’s face when Ken immediately said he needed water when he put it in his mouth.
After only a few minutes, the anticipation was over. It was time for them to try June’s new recommendation. As they walked up to the counter, Flynn held an excited smile on his face, while Marlow’s eyes looked off to the side, not even wanting to look at the drink. They sat back down, and, without another word, began to sip from it. And it was silent for a few minutes before Marlow looked off to the side and reluctantly said, “This sucks.” with only a quarter of the drink left in the cup.
“...Be real right now.”
“I only drank this much because I needed to verify it sucked that bad. Multiple times.” They rest their face against their hand, propped up by their elbow.
If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.
“Sure, sure. You sure you just can’t accept June had a good idea?” He teased, taking a sip.
“Oh, I’m 100% sure.” they said, contradicting themselves by taking another sip as well.
An hour of conversation passed. They talked about what interested them– new songs that Flynn had written, when and where their next gig would be, and their predictions for the upcoming UFC event. Their conversations almost always ended up like this, but Flynn never got bored of them, and it didn’t seem like Marlow did either. Eventually, Marlow gets a call mid-way through their debate over who’d win between two former champions. They don’t say much, only a few mumbled uh-huhs and yeahs.
“Who was that?” Flynn asked, smiling while rubbing the hairs on his stubble.
“Work. Gotta go, sorry.” They began to get up.
“Aw, man.” He sighed. He considered making a witty comment about them just leaving because they couldn’t win the argument, but he wasn’t in the mood. “Bye, then! Have fun.”
“Thanks. See-ya.” They put their hands into their pocket and began to get into their car.
Flynn watched as they got in and drove off. He’s grateful he gets to talk to them. Marlow, along with the rest of the band were really the only people he could relate to. Everyone else always seemed too occupied with parties and cheap beer. He couldn’t imagine life without them.
He goes up to the trash can inside the store and tosses his finished drink inside. He goes back onto the stool he sat on, and extends his leg to rest it on the stool that was diagonal to him. He intended to stay here a bit longer to try and avoid the lecture his uncle was gonna give him when he told him he got the car scratched. It’s then that he feels something on the chair rub against his leg. He takes his leg off and gets up. It was a phone…
“Oh, crap!” He yells. That was Marlow’s phone!
He grabs the phone and rushes out of the cafe. He looks left and right, trying to see if Marlow was coming back. There was no trace of their car in sight. He would have to give it back to them, but he had no idea where they’d gone! The only clue he had was the direction their car had gone. Frantically, he got into his uncle’s car and drove off.
----------------------------------------
“Where is that idiot!? They’re ten minutes late already!”
A frustrated voice echoed across the dusty temple. Sitting on an old, stone handrail as if she owned the place was a girl with a phone in her hands. She was Asian with tan skin and gold-rimmed glasses. Her hair was curly, light brown, and tied into space buns with bangs. She wore black pants coupled with a matching keyhole shirt and a red varsity jacket, despite the fact she’d never done any sports in her life let alone get on any varsity team.
“Damn, Kenzie, who shat in your cereal this morning?” another voice asked. This was actually fairly normal behavior for Kenzie, he just liked teasing her.
The owner of the voice was a tall, broad man with dark brown hair and a goatee, leaning against a stone wall. One of his eyes was hazel, and the other one was covered up with bandages. He wore a black compression shirt with loose beige cargo pants and a gold chain necklace around his neck. His gray, cybernetic arm held a sledgehammer with a pattern strung across its wooden handle. There was an optimistic smile on his face.
“I wanna leave this stupid place already!” She ignored his remark, looking off to the side with her violet eyes. “The food in this town sucks, the coffee in this town sucks, and it’s way too hot here!”
“You can survive a few more hours.” He leaned his hammer next to him and crossed his arms. “This thing isn’t that even dangerous.”
“Oh, shut up Pedro! A few days ago you were talking about how whatever’s in that box was some dragon-summoning warlord who slaughtered kingdoms. Make up your mind!”
“Yeah, but like, the ritual is just a precaution. As long as his descendant isn’t near, he doesn’t get out, period, remember?”
“Oh, and whatever smartass made this place decided to place it RIGHT where his descendant lives! And if this ritual isn’t important then why are we here?! Sage could do this on her own!” She pointed to the girl in the corner.
“H-huh?!” Her co-worker looked up. She was a blonde woman with her hair tied in a ponytail in a navy blue hoodie and blue shorts. Her eyes were covered by a bone-white blindfold-like visor that went across her entire head. “W-why me!? It’s Marlow who’s stationed here!” she frantically responded.
“Oh, don’t give me that crap–” Kenzie was cut off by a familiar sound.
Steps from the temple’s stairs began to echo across. They all turned their head up to see their co-worker finally coming in. In Marlow’s hand was a silver, metal spear. There was a neutral expression on their face.
Kenzie laughed. “Took you long enough, asshole.”
“Yeah, yeah. Let’s get this over with.” they responded.
Despite her cruel words to them, she knew they could take it. The two were practically best friends at this point. They’d met in class with a shared interest in alternative rock and had managed to get into the same unit. They knew she didn’t mean it when she said things like that, and vice versa.
Pedro got off the wall and cracked his knuckles. They all gathered around the middle of the catacomb, in which there was a floating, rotating stone cube. It was made up of multiple smaller cubes that moved in their own, unique orientations. Pedro was the first to come near it. He brought his arms out, his cybernetic one whirring as he did so. He opened his palms outwards, and white, ethereal lines of energy began to gush from them and towards the cube. It wraps around the cube, the energy lines shifting around its parts like a snake. And Marlow was about to join in, too– until Sage began to speak.
“M-Marlow- were you followed?” she asked nervously.
“I… don’t think so. Why?”
“I just sensed a… really high amount of willpower get through the barrier.”
Marlow’s eyes widen.
----------------------------------------
It was dusk, and the sun was about to fall. But this didn’t at all stop Flynn from continuing forward, trying to get the phone to Marlow. He eventually found their car… on the outskirts of the town, in the desert, parked alone. He parked, got out, and immediately looked into their car. But it wasn’t what was within the car that surprised him. Instead, in the reflection of the window, he saw a monolithic stone pyramid almost the size of a mansion. He turned around in disbelief, but there was only sand and cacti in his eyes. He turned back to the car window, seeing the pyramid there once again. On his fourth turn, he managed to catch onto a distortion in the air, like a heatwave in the distance. He approached the distortion, slowly, not sure of what would happen if he got too close. He grabs the crumpled receipt from his drink hours ago and tosses it towards the vacancy in front of him. It disappears halfway through, but he hears it rustling after. Reluctantly, he puts his hand in. A weak, repellant force like when you press two magnets together came across his body, but he was easily capable of overcoming it. He walked through the distortion, and as he did, the pyramid came into view, towering over him.
“What the hell?...” he whispered to himself. This was the kind of stuff you only saw in superhero movies.
He walks into the pyramid’s entrance. He felt the air chill as he did. His surroundings were an overgrowth of plant life. A garden of roses and vines. The roof above was adorned in white marble and gold. A waterfall was in all four corners of the pyramid, filling the air with the sound of a rushing stream. Flynn’s eyes widened in amazement… But he couldn’t help but think, what was Marlow doing here?
At the end of the walkway he stood upon were stone stairs. With nowhere else to go, he continued. And the more he walked down the many levels of the pyramid, the more its appearance declined. The plants became less and less like those of a garden and more like weeds on the dirt floor. The marble walls turned to granite suddenly mid-way through. Eventually, it got so dark, that he had to pull out his phone’s flashlight just to see a few feet in front of him. Eventually, he ended up slipping on a step because he couldn’t see ahead of him, and he ended up tumbling downwards for a brief moment until he hit gravel.
He groaned. He felt one of his knees scrape against ancient rock, bleeding– but it didn’t stop him from getting up. He holds up the phone’s flashlight to see an inscription on the stone wall in front of him, scratched in all capital letters:
“LOS DE SANGRE MALDITA, REGRESEN AHORA”
His mom’s side was Mexican. And since he lived with his uncle, who preferred Flynn speak Spanish to him, he didn’t exactly have a choice in learning the language. With a lump in his throat, he translated the words mentally:
“THOSE OF ACCURSED BLOOD, TURN BACK NOW.”
He hears the sound of stone shattering.
----------------------------------------
“...Marly, are you kidding me!? Making sure that guy doesn’t come here is the ONE REASON you’re here!” Kenzie couldn’t believe what she was hearing. First, she was upset over this task being meaningless- and now, the stakes were higher than ever.
Marlow took a deep breath in. “Shut up, Kenzie. It’ll be fine. I’ll just… call him, and tell him to turn back.” They began to reach into their pockets.
There were only a handful of times when Kenzie wanted to yell at Marlow for being stupid. This was one of them. “Oh, yeah, sure. That’ll totally work. A non-thaumaturgist sees a giant pyramid in the middle of fucking NOWHERE and he’s just gonna leave it alone!?”
“Guys?” Sage says.
After a few seconds of frantically searching through their jeans, Marlow mumbles, “Crap.”
“YOU LEFT YOUR PHONE!?” Kenzie screams.
“Guys-” Pedro urges.
“It’s going to be fine. I’ll… go up… and tell him to go away myself…” Marlow reassures nobody.
“Dude, what the fuck!? Do you realize how much trouble we’re gonna get in if-”
“It’s gonna be fine!” they repeat.
“GUYS! THE CUBE!-” Pedro yells. Marlow and Kenzie look back at the giant, twisting artifact- which begins to glow a malevolent orange. Not wanting to waste a second more than she already has, Kenzie’s arm is immediately enveloped by a pink, white, and black bulky cybernetic gauntlet. She holds out her palm, and as the gauntlet begins to whir, a vortex of magenta light flies out of it.
It’s too late for that, though.
Whatever was in the cube was either too small to see, too fast to see, or both. With a shockwave, the orange light blasts across the temple. The cube and its pieces fall to the floor, purposeless now. The thing within the cube smashes through the roof of the pyramid’s basement as if it were made of cardboard. A sudden shrill scream among falling stones can be heard– one that abruptly stops lifelessly.
She should’ve just kept her mouth shut. A chill runs down her spine. She manifests her Resolve completely- the Warsuit of the Amethyst Star. A suit of armor originating from and powered by her soul. She saw the visor of the helmet overtake her vision, seeing familiar holographs in the corner of her eyes analyzing the situation. From the outside, it was mostly white with light pink accents and gray internals. The visor was a glossy gray and took up most of the facial area of the armor’s helmet. Purple flames blast from the back of her armor, propelling her into the air.
In the corner of her eye, she sees Pedro tear off the bandages on his face. And almost immediately following that, he yells, “GET OUT OF THE WAY!-”
“I invoke thee, essence of Tianlong.”
A deep, grave voice rings out across the temple from above. Her eyes look down to see a glowing white ‘star’ the size of a basketball floating in front of her teammates. The heads-up display of the Warsuit screams at her, ‘EXPLOSION IMMINENT!’ She crosses her arms together and braces for impact-
BOOM
A wave of force blasts into Kenzie, and she finds herself flying against a wall and back into the ground. She coughs, getting up sloppily. The temple was in flames. She couldn’t see any of her friends, but the heads-up display told her none of them had died.
“Do they not teach manners in this age?”
That same deep and grave voice spoke, now directly in front of her. She turned her head upwards. A behemoth blocked her view, clad in gray, ruined medieval armor with sharp edges and spikes all across it, towering over her like how a kraken would a cod. Its arms were unnaturally long for its size. A pair of maroon, webbed wings, each the size of a camper van stretched out behind it. A tail the length of an anaconda and the width of a tree trunk extended from its backside. Its neck was, too, maroon and scaly, and unnaturally long. It led up to a head covered with a cold, metal mask, sculpted into a human face with a cruelly neutral face and empty black eye sockets. Atop its head was a crown adorned with rust and flames. Its hands held a spear of fire taller than her entire body.
“Grovel at my feet, woman.”
All hail the Horned Emperor.