The bright, yellow tinted rays of light poured in through the decayed glass window. Small flakes of dust and lint swayed about under the source of light, which revealed a peculiar scene from within the building it seeped into. Faint markings and symbols littered the floor as far as the small light could reach, as if they formed some sort of pattern.

The markings appeared almost ominous, in a sense. A single glance at the demonic-like murals that rested beside the strange markings, along with the eerie aura these symbols possessed, would make anyone that saw them guess their origins to be unquestionably malicious. No help was the almost pitch black shadows that coated everything the light couldn't touch; this cold, dead room unknown to the world practically screamed evil.

A small childish hand reached out to the demonic mural and rubbed his hand across the dust covered marking silently. The roaming dust that covered the air around him invaded his nostrils without mercy. That small nose of his let out a monstrous sneeze in response, he dared not recklessly sniff again in fear that more dust would find its way to him. Sure enough that he was safe from the small flakes that surrounded the room, he turned his attention back to the demonic mural.

This quiet boy, with jet black hair that almost mended with the shadows around him, and menacingly yellow eyes, removed his hand from the demonic mural. A bright, flower like symbol appeared on the head of the demonic marking, though four of them were greyed out with only one revealing a bright blue light. It was faint, as if it could die out at any moment, the symbol flickered lowly with a sense of exhaustion and weakness. The boy, however, was beaming with energy.

Lifting himself up, the yellow eyed boy dusted his tattered clothes off and walked back into the shadows, away from the single ray of light that many others would run to as their only saving grace in such an ominous room. Yes, to many, light represents a hope and security that the shadows couldn't hope to provide, the young boy could garner such a sense from the warmth that single ray provided. For him, however, who was raised with the shadows, they were his home, his solstice.

The yellow eyed boy found a thick broken beam with dragon markings running across it in a spiral and sat beneath it. His eyes had returned right back to the demonic mural now a few dozen feet away from him, unwavering, unmoving. No noise could be heard, not the occasional sounds of crumbling earth or the chirping of birds, even the winds that traveled more vigorously at such an altitude were surprisingly quiet. That silence remained for minutes, and those minutes slowly became hours. The young boy hadn't moved an inch, not even when the moon replaced the sun outside and the small ray of light that poured into the room was replaced by a snow white hue. It wasn't like he could climb up and look out the window regardless, what did the time of day matter to him?

As the yellow eyed bow sat patiently beside the broken dragon-lined beam, his thoughts traced back to long, long ago; how long exactly even he didn't know.

This exact same room, filled with decayed structures and withered markings, was once a sacred room where every corner practically glistened in the morning sun. A tall figure with a white fur black robe and black-gold armor carried the waking boy to the large room in a hurry. He could still recall the ear-piercing sounds of gunfire and clanging of swords, the deep red sky filled with smoke and flames that reached even the top of the large castle. The tall figure placed him at the center of the demonic murals and cut his finger, letting the blood fall onto the largest mural that sat beside the glass-stained window. The ocean of concern and resolution that coated his father's face as he stared at the young boy was still ingrained in his mind. He rushed back up the flight of stairs… and destroyed them, before disappearing behind the large silver door now covered in vegetation.

The young boy shuddered with anger, with desperation and anxiousness. The desire to aid his father in this unseen battle was undying, but he was no fool. He knew his father had placed him here because he would be little more than a burden. More than that, the long standing silence that pervaded the now crumbling castle, the countless, literally countless days and night that had passed since then… he knew that his wish had long since passed.

That desire to help was replaced-- or for a better word overshadowed-- by the desire to escape. This room was little more than a cage he couldn't remove himself from. One that tormented him almost constantly. Those days, those endless, painful days, were finally coming to an end.

Shiing

The faint light of the last flower petal began to glow brighter under the moonlight. The demonic mural that the flower sat atop seemed to respond to its glow and revealed a sharp red glow of its own. Like an undead rising from its grave, a red tinted armored being rose from the large mural with a majestic blade in tow. The armored being was small compared to the visage of his tall father, but the oppressive aura it released was no weaker. The chest plate, shoulder pads and even knee pads all appeared tightly fitted, as if the being's armor was little more than a form of clothing. The royal markings that appeared on its helmet were clues enough, but the flower-like symbol alone was a clear indicator of who this was.

It was a king, or in better words the lingering will of one.

At moon's call, the spirit of the royal marking would manifest to the naked eye. According to his father, the same rule applied to all spirits, but their methods differed from the royal ritual. Normally he would try to talk to the armored king, though many attempts would end in failure. Not now, however, not when he was so close to freedom it practically slapped him silly.

The armored king lifted its sword and rested it in front of its face, as knights once did in tradition. The yellow eyed boy slowly opened his eyes and rose from the ground, his calm gaze revealed a battle intent underneath that shouldn't have been possible for one his age. The shadows around him began to act strangely, as if they were swayed by something. The almost abyssal blackness that covered a majority of the room swiftly fell back, revealing the other lifeless murals of different beings with different petals atop their figures. The originally black room became a dark blue under the faint spouts of moonlight that now appeared from the slightly cracked roof. That blackness that shrouded the royal chamber in a deep shadow all made its way back to the young boy's own shadow. They condensed and formed large black spikes that moved around like a vicious snake ready to pounce at its prey.

"RAHH!!" The young boy let out a heavy roar as the large spikes shot towards the armored king like a bullet. Without moving or even twisting its body, the king managed to block each and every attack the young boy sent his way. Deafening sounds of clanging metal boomed throughout the large room, so much so that the already weak roof began to fold under the pressure. Despite the clear lack of effort the armored king seemed to put into deflecting his attacks, the young boy never grew flustered or impatient. In fact, his attacks remained constant and controlled; none of his strikes were as destructive as he could possibly make them, but neither were they weak by any margin.

By no means was this the first time the young boy had fought with a king's will, truthfully he was quite experienced with it now. He knew well the ocean-wide gap in experience between he and the kings, will or not. Basic combat was not something his father had managed to tutor him in before the incident, everything he had made so far was the result of his own experiments, which is why he found no surprise in the fact that even though they never attacked at first, he couldn't so much as dream to get a clean hit in.

What he had learned, however, was that everything had its limits, even spirits. Their seemingly tireless energy reserves could be exhausted, which is why the young boy devoted himself to painstakingly chipping away at them every night. For as long as he could muster, the young boy mercilessly ate away at their defenses with his attacks until they folded under the pressure, and now, he would do the same to this armored king.

Every step he took, an added layer of pressure would be placed on the king. Its terrifying speed of deflecting those attacks never slowed, but the stress put on its blade was apparent. Small cracks and scars began to appear and grow with every strike. Just as the armored king's blocks never slowed, the young boy's attacks only grew more ruthless. He patiently attacked, patiently watched, and patiently advanced, until…

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Swish!

Two glowing, crimson red dots appeared where the spirit's eyes would normally be. The armored king's posture trashed that of a dignified individual and became more ravenous, more bloodthirsty. Its royal blade formed a thick layer of miasma that made the young boy shudder, not to mention its beast like claws that took shape in its armor.

Just like the kings before it, the young man's constant attacks seemed to trigger their demonic mark: the five-pointed flower that represented the royal family, the Lucine family.

The demonic king swayed into a mad dash that produced a visible burst of wind to appear behind it. The shocked young man formed a set of spider-like legs from the shadows and leapt away, barely avoiding the terrifying full-power strike that minced the thick dragon-lined beam to dust. The sharp shadow legs stuck themselves into the wall adjacent to the rampaging king and pushed back. The young boy launched himself towards the demonic king at breakneck speeds, with two of the six sharp shadow legs pointing forward. The ravenous king lifted its sword and swung it almost half-heartedly, yet the shockwave it caused stopped the young boy's advance entirely and sent him flying backwards in the span of a second. The legs dug deep into the wall behind him, but broke entirely under the pressure. Even with the amount the legs slowed him down, his crash into the wall caused a crater and several cracks to form.

"Str… Strong!" The young boy's shocked words couldn't contain the well of blood that flowed from his mouth like a river. Many times had he been beaten within an inch of his life by the wills, but never had he been so easily harmed by one. This king compared to the previous ones was like a dragon compared to a lion!

The young boy spit out the excess blood, took a deep breath and summoned a pitch black bow and arrow into his arms, though the armored king's sheer power was frankly terrifying, it wasn't completely out of his expectations. He wasted no time pulling the string back and launching a well placed arrow into the demonic king's shoulder. The next was placed in the left side of its chainmail near its stomach, yet the will had no plans of removing either arrow. The demonic king let out a bone-chilling screech and almost stopped the boy dead in his tracks before launching another large shockwave in his direction. Luckily at their current distance he could avoid the brunt of the attack, but the aftereffects still managed to graze his arm.

The young boy refused to let such a dull pain affect him and gritted his teeth. The arrows he launched became faster and dug deeper into the armored king, though their accuracy couldn't be considered good. Self taught or not, his lack of experience with the bow was a troublesome fact. Every shot he missed meant spending time to avoid another shockwave from an increasingly angry spirit, and those small cuts on his arms became more pronounced and gruesome. The young boy was by no means a combat veteran or battle genius, he was a child, a young one at that. The urge to cry was unbelievably strong, but the thought of death kept him from even considering it.

Twelve pitch black arrows stuck out in random spots on the armored king's body, and its anger had reached new heights. The young boy had reshaped the bow into a small longsword that he held tightly in those shaking, bloody hands of his. The sheer battle intent that the two released was enough to make a normal person suffocate and kill small animals on the spot, which only seemed to multiply the worse their injuries got. The demonic king rushed the young boy in an attempt to catch him off guard like before, yet the youth hadn't moved an inch in response. The young boy's eyes shrunk three sizes as he watched the armored king close in on him, he watched patiently, even as his body began to sweat profusely under the instinct that certain death was approaching. When the king's will was a mere foot away from his body, its claws mere inches away from his chest, the youth's roar covered the entire chamber.

"Seal!"

The black arrows that stuck out of the armored king began to converge one by one and for a sort of net that trapped the king in place. Its lack of emotion alongside its sheer power meant such a bind wouldn't hold it for long, but the young boy never planned to stall for time. He used the longsword in hand to carve a large gash into the king's body. The will stepped back to regain its bearings, but the young boy refused to give it space to recover.

"Seal!"

This time he swung down with enough force to cut it's right arm out of place, though the plated armor softened the blow quite a bit.

"Seal!"

By now the young boy's eyes turned bloodshot. The "Starlight" or the energy Magus use to manipulate their power, as his father called it, had long since been used up, yet he still forced the shadows to trap the will.

"Seal!"

Blood flowed freely from his eyes and mouth, though neither stopped him from slashing at the armored king again with what little strength he had left.

"SEAL!!"

The young boy rose his blade up like a drunkard raising a bottle of rum. The weak, shaky hands that held the blade tightened up and swung down, planting the longsword deep into the armored king's helmet. The youth slumped down as the defeated will fell backwards like a corpse, his dull eyes stared directly in front of him, though his vision had gone blurry long ago. The weak, bloody young boy could only hope he had killed the will with his final strike as his conscious faded, and he fell to the ground with not the slightest hint of resistance.

Silence overtook the ruined chamber as the battle came to an end, with both parties out for the count. That eerily still silence was interrupted by the faint sound of crushing. That sound remained and lingered for minutes, until the black longsword lodged into the armored king's head was broken and dispersed into the air. The king's will lifted itself up as if the many gashes and arrow wounds it suffered never even existed. Its head turned to the unconscious boy as it walked towards him. It leaned downward as its claw-like hands reached for the boy ever so slowly, and before long, those claws touched the top of his head and stopped.

A faint red light enveloped the young boy and began to heal his wounds. Those large cuts and wounds that were sure to end his life were mended and became light scars in mere moments. Even the bloodshot look in his eyes all but cleared underneath his eyelids. The armored king removed his hand from the sleeping boy and took a few steps back. Faint colored lights in the shape of droplets began to surface around the armored king, from them formed the visages of four star-like lights. The armored king gripped its blade and lunged it downward, piercing the floor beneath. This kingly being, tens if not hundreds of times more powerful than the young boy, bowed to him as if he were its superior. Though the lights couldn't visibly bow, their movements relayed that it too was their intention.

"O King, young Augustus Calytrix Lucine. We loathe to press you with such a fate, but the stars have chosen you and you alone."

The armored king and the star-like lights beside it began to vanish, just as quickly as they had appeared.

"Live well, O King, until the stars deem you ready to accept your fate."

…

"H… hmm?"

The disgruntled sound of a waking August shook the birds around his previously motionless body to disperse. The boy rose his head slowly upwards, but pulled back with thrice that speed after feeling the burning sensation of light hit his eyelids. His yellow eyes shot open and came face to face with the deep green ground below him, swaying peacefully in the wind. That feeling, that soft sensation… The familiar green hue and the smell of fresh wind wiped any sense of daze he felt waking out far away like a splash of cold water. His gaze that narrowed under the sun's intense glare danced around from corner to corner as if he were vigorously shaking his head. Those blurred memories of the vast land outside of the castle came rushing back like whiplash.

August's feelings were in horrible disarray. On one end he felt an overwhelming sense of freedom and elation that had burst from the deep anxiousness that plagued him in the castle. On the other end… seeing the castle from the outside, whether or not he expected the outcome, was something he regretted wholly.

Shambles. That was the best way to describe the once imperious structure that was once his home. The grey walls that once held detailed markings from end to end had decayed to an unrecognizable extent. The many open bridges that connected the different facilities of the castle were all destroyed, their remains scattered across the floor beneath them. Even the very symbol of the Lucine family: the statue of the minor goddess Janus, had seen better days with the many chips and cracks along its body.

The inclination to check Jericho City, the capital of the Kingdom of Janus, came over August. The cruel truth was that August had no clue on what to do with his newfound freedom. The sheer beauty of the outside world wasn't enough to cover up the crushing sense of confusion he felt, but it did give him hope. Hope that whatever happened that day didn't spell the end for the Kingdom of Janus.

A flash of determination raced across the young boy's yellow eyes. His gaze landed on the beaten statue of the goddess Janus, before turning away from the remains of his home… and not looking back.