The Beginning of All

There once was a time long before any traces of humanity. A place of which only creatures of different planes existed. Though all these planes, different dimensions in creation, were tied together by a single world, a single race, a beautiful world filled with the elements of Arcana called Nizvean. In this world existed powerful, god-like beings (though the concepts of gods were nonexistent at this time) called Royals, these Royals divided into families. There were not many families, perhaps a couple dozen, yet they were the sense of order in these planes of existence. And the most powerful was a family, superior to any Royal except one, called the Jade's.

The Jade's were a large family in comparison to the others, most housing three or four members. Yet they held five powerful members of their gathering. Originally there were two in the family, a beautiful couple who fell in love the moment they laid eyes on the other, Elizabeth and Alex. The pair showed great capabilities in the forces of Arcana, powerful mages who were superior to many, though they would never admit it. As time passed they had their first child, a lovely boy by the name Drakus. He was immensely powerful, showing signs of magic as early as a toddler, unheard of in many families. He grew, but it was soon obvious the unfeeling nature of Drakus. He did not care of others, only showing insight for his own self, his survival his only care. Along came their second born child, another young boy who they named Aluist. This boy also shared his brothers obvious capabilities in magic, growing steadily and easily, showing love and care for any person he met. He was essentially Drakus' opposite, caring of everyone except himself. These two followed the appearance of their parents, Aluist inheriting his mother's warm chocolate eyes and her brown hair, and Drakus followed his father, pitch black hair with sharp, intelligent green eyes. This is the reason there was initial concern over their third and final son. He was born of snow white hair, and golden eyes, so different from his parents, it was hard to believe he was theirs. They named him Christofin, the name meaning 'Beauty', as their son was the most beautiful thing they have ever saw.

The Jade brothers grew together, harnessing their Arcana to perform great magical tasks. Even at his second year of life, he was as powerful in magic as Drakus. This would continue their powers all evolving as they aged. They all performed different types of Arcana. Drakus able to conjure storms and powerful strikes of lightning and deafening thunder, Aluist soon took to reaping souls and showing them where they belong, as all things must die. Christofin took the most powerful, dangerous form of Arcana, summoning. He summoned powerful beasts to do his bidding, at the age of one summoning an imp to play with. As the time of Christofin's fifth year of birth, where his aging would slow unless he willed otherwise, he believed himself to summon the most powerful creature he could, the mighty Helephant. There has been no success in ever summoning a Helephant, let alone controlling it, yet Christofin knew he could do it. He did it in secret, for he knew his parents would be upset and try to stop him if he would try, so he would do it and show it to them when he was finished. He spent hours preparing the summoning, knowing it must be perfect, and he was ready at the beginning of dusk. He slowly pronounced each word of summon, and slowly the Helephant took form in it's mighty circle. He finished the last word and the Helephant formed, a powerful elephant made of pure fire, and unknown to Christofin, a demon king. He refused to be put under control, and he resisted Christofin's efforts to control the beast, and the monster soon took over, and he approached the young boy, and heaved him across the yard into a tree with a single push, and Christofin's last sight before losing consciousness was that of the Helephant turning from him to the house.

As Christofin awoke later, dazed, confused and in pain, he slowly sat up. He then turned his focus to his house, the place he spent his whole life at, and it was gone. Nothing remained but charred wood, overturned bookshelves and other small items that survived. He called for his mother, then his father as tears flooded his eyes. He ran to his house, and searched for any sign of life, finding nothing. It slowly dawned on Christofin what had happened, and as he looked around he saw a small tender hand sticking from under a bookcase. And on this hand sat a single ring, the same ring his mother wore on her finger. He screamed, and ran over trying uselessly to remove the bookcase, and he collapsed, crying and screaming his mothers name. Eventually the Insight, the organization in charge of the Royals, appeared at his home, only to see the weeping child. They knew at once what happened, that Christofin had killed his family. They sentenced him to eternity in their prison, what would eventually become Hell, as that is the punishment for murder committed on another Royal. You see, a Royal can only be killed one way, by use of Arcana on another Royal. Christofin was too numb to react, and the last thing he saw was the ring in his hand, and then he fell, fell for ages until he reached the gates. The Helephant was not stopped in Nizvean, until there was one man left. The Helephant slaughtered all the Royals except this young man, who stopped this powerful animal. It was at that moment, he knew what he would do. The man who defeated the Helephant was the one who is more powerful than the Jades. His name is unknown, but many called him God. And since he was the last Royal, no person to restrict his Arcane abilities, he set out to create a race of free thought.

The Hellion Tournament

BZZZZ! The sound awoke Christo from his sleep, and he sat up and stretched. He hated that noise, it was the sound that has woken him up for so long, the sound chosen to wake up the inmates of Ragnarok, the prison holding every criminal. Christo didn't necessarily know why he hated that noise, maybe because it reminded him where he was. Stuck in a prison against his will for a crime he didn't even intend to commit. His heart ached suddenly and he felt sick, leaning against his uncomfortable cot for support. He wouldn't think of them. It was his fault, and remembering what happened would make him sick. To his relief he heard the also familiar sound of hooves hitting the concrete, his warden coming to free him for the day. He actually liked him, a stocky orc named Wilbur who often talked to him, and even snuck Christo extra rations of food. As the orc opened his door he murmured something along the lines of 'Happy Birthday'. It was an odd detail, was it really his birthday? He lost track of time in here. The only reason he knew what today was is the fact that the Hellion Tournament is today, a chance to climb in the floors of the jail. It was rumored that the next floor up had better food and more comfortable living spaces. Though it isn't supposed to increase much. And if what he heard is true, he'll have to fight his way through a arena of other enemies, and fight the floor champion to reach it. Not that it would be a problem, he's been training his strength and Arcana, existent though rather dim, so he should be adept at handling these basic miscreants. He waved at Wilbur, practically running to the outside area, and as he exited the cell block and retreated into the outside, the aroma of rot overflowed his senses. It always smelt like this, but he still gagged a bit. Terrible... any way to get out of here would be alright. He thought, and began walking to the arena, the only place of any remark in this whole floor, where any public events were held.

Suddenly there was a shrill scream from behind him, and he turned quickly to see a small imp with a dagger made of bone charging him. He had faced this imp before, and always bested him with ease, though he was starting to get annoying. This will be the last time... As soon as the imp got in range of his foot, Christo kicked sideways, his foot connecting to the imp's face, sending the creature flying. It growled a shrill hiss and charged again, and Christo lost control. A deep laugh built up inside of him, and he let it loose, his whole body rumbling a bit. And with a rush of speed, impossible to trail with human eye, the feisty monster was in his hand. Christo gripped the creature's face and knelt, bashing it's face into the cement until a large dent in the ground was made, and the imp was begging for mercy, already almost dead. He noted the knife the imp dropped and grabbed it, a twisted smile growing on his face, his eyes looking like a evil beast, and he slammed the knife through the imp's arm, lodging it through the bone and deep into the concrete below, lodging the weapon where it is. The beast struggled against the dagger and was unable to get free, and Christo laughed his demented laugh once more, preparing to leave, and as he passed the imp, he kicked into the back of his head, pushing it's head so hard it thoroughly cracked the cement underneath it. And with that Christo walked away, whistling softly as he continued his travel to the arena.

The arena shimmered in the distance, almost as if looking at it through intense heat. While it was possible that was the reason why, it was highly unlikely. The heat was bad yes, but not that severe. The worst it would do is make the prisoners uncomfortable, though Christo didn't seem to notice the heat anymore. He had been here too long. Mostly it seemed as if the arena wasn't completely there. Christo believed that this arena existed mainly in another world and space of land not in Ragnarok, and that it was linked here, but fighting to return to it's true home. As if the arena existed in both places at once. You could not find the arena if you were looking for it, spare special events. In fact the only thing you could really find was your cell block, and when it was time to return to it, any direction you walked would head you in the direction necessary to find it. Doing this it was easy to eventually see the arena, you simply followed the gut feeling that would lead you to your cell. It was unimportant, Christo knew. Yet it was still fun to think about, how things worked and cooperated with this world. As he thought distance traveled quickly, and he was soon near the entrance to the arena, a wide open door leading into a barren field, closed off by walls of impossible heights. He signed up for the tournament, even getting a chance to fight sooner by flirting with the female attendant. It was a single elimination, you would fight an opponent and the winner moved on, the loser would be removed from the tournament. Simple and effective, and it shouldn't take too long to reach the champion. His suspicions grew even more as he surveyed the enemies surrounding him in this arena. Many were taunting one another and showing off weapons of choice. He knew they wouldn't stand a chance, more people desperate to get a better living situation than true warriors. He would make quick work of them.

"Attention!" A loud voice boomed over the battlefield, a jolly tone evident. "All fighters, the battles will begin in ten minutes so be prepared! Good luck!" And with that the voice disconnected. Christo grinned, eager to begin. It had taken too long for this too happen, he was so bored of doing nothing in his cell. He closed his eyes and leaned against an arena wall, attempting to feel for any Arcana. To his surprise there was some here, like thin rain rather than the usual drops that washed over his skin. He would win, he was sure of it. Especially with the ability to use magic, rather than just his strength, though he could have won with just that. A timer began, counting down starting at 1:30 and slowly going down. He eyed the timer and began to walk to his area, and as he arrived he continued to let the feeling of Arcana flow over him, getting used to the feel. He had not felt anything like this since... the sickness passed over him again, the thought of his passed. He quickly shook it away, biting his lip. Across from him an impossibly tall orc stood, swinging a makeshift club and grinning menacingly at Christo.

“Are you the tiny, pathetic looking creature who plans to try to fight me?” He looked down and chuckled. “It's pathetic really, this tiny thing itching to fight me. Shameful really.”

“Silence scum. I have no time to converse with you.” Christo replied coldly, a glint in his eye, the grin slowly forming on his face. Ten seconds... Seven seconds... The seconds felt like they were crawling by. Five Seconds... Two... And suddenly the match started, and the orc charged Christo angrily, slamming his club toward him. Christo dodged the attack easily, barely moving to do so. The orc roared in outrage, and Christo began to harness the use of his Arcane abilities. He snapped his fingers a spout of fire shooting from his hand, shooting into the creature's face, blinding it. He roared angrily and Christo grinned. He was excited, not yet losing control. He wanted to defeat this foe by himself, without letting the creature he liked so much to do it. The orc sniffed, and tried to swing again, and Christo simply grabbed the club, throwing it aside. And now his poor defeated enemy sat without any defense, and no eyesight. The Arcana begging to be used, pulsed around his body. He snapped again, and the shadows around the area began to move, and confined the orc to it's current place. And with another snap, fire blasted from his hand, so hot his clothes began to smoke, and the fire directed itself down the throat of the beast and soon it was dead. He laughed, his eyes maniac and his whole body shook. I did it... He laughed again. I'm on my way to getting out of here! But in some ways, I hope this fighting never ends... Magnificent. Another fifteen minutes and I'll be another quarter closer.

"Congratulations winners of Round One!" Chimed the now annoyingly cheery voice. Sixty-four players have been eliminated from the Hellion Tournament, and next round another thirty-two will perish as well! There will be a fifteen minute break until the next round, so be sure to rest up! Good luck." And with that the voice clicked away, and Christo walked, the euphoria of battle clinging to him. Magnificent. Another fifteen minutes and I'll be even closer to escaping. He thought, the idea bringing the familiar grin to his face. This time he'll lose control, let his true monster show, his friend who loved to fight even more than he did.

 

(Chapter Still in Writing)

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Tag der Veröffentlichung: 25.09.2015

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