Apocalypse Rising: Chapter 1

Our world was being watched. It was being scrutinized by the ever-watchful eyes of the infamous shadow that now stalked the night. His eyes saw through the darkness as clear as daylight. Darkness was light through his dark eyes. These dark eyes saw everything in our world, for our world was now engulfed in darkness. They studied the vast, barren landscape, searching for his next compilation of prey. 1

His senses were keen, probing the air and earth for any sign. The anticipation was insufferable; he longed for the rush of battle, the taste of revenge, the sound of defeat, the smell of fallen carcasses, and the sight of another effortless victory. There was still nothing.2

The air seemed still despite the forceful wind ripping across the land. Atop the rough, plateau outcrop the great, bare plain opened up far below and stretched as far as the eye could see. This was the largest elevated surface in the savanna, giving him the upper hand. If it were day, the plain covered in tall, green prairie grass and strewn with the occasional mammoth tree, the sight would’ve been breath taking. Maybe at one point it was, but no more. Ever since the Emperor, as he’s called, appeared here, the whole planet was struck by a horrendous plague, wiping the land clean of life. Only the few that hid in their remote and ruined cities with little food, water, and shelter from the beasts that still stalk them remained. They struggled to stay alive and strive to protect what was left of their race. It has been by pure luck that the humans still resided here, but not for much longer.3

There was something unusual in the air; a certain stillness that griped the Earth with fear like the calm before the storm. Never has the world been so still before as if being held in the grasp of the Emperor against its will. The wind desperately called out to all that remain, telling them of the impending danger: the end was coming. The final confrontation was close at hand.4

The Shadow’s patience ran thin, very thin. The bristly wind merely glanced off his face; he felt neither pain from its merciless sting nor helplessness from its frozen brush. All feelings were the same to him: nothing. Though he did not feel the natural senses of anger, sorrow, and torment any longer, they were what drove him into continuing his being. The simple detail that he did not feel was due to the fact that he had grown so accustomed to the thoughts and actions caused by these feelings. The adrenaline rush aroused by the heat of battle and the flurry of hatred flowed through him constantly such as a life force. The sweet bitterness of cold, hard revenge was all that was life to him. He had waited so many years to repay the Emperor for what had been done to his soul.5

A brief whiff of an intoxicatingly familiar scent skimmed his nostrils. Even if it was just a slight trace, he knew. They, finally, had come. His ears pricked up and strained for the resonance that followed. He heard it, still distant but closing in. Then came the minute sensation; the natural sense that something evil was approaching. His eyes pierced through the pronounced darkness to the east to see the faint outline of a horde in the distance. They would be in the deserted, cosmic plain beneath him within the hour.6

He relaxed a bit, allowing his mind to rest and recollect for the upcoming encounter. Even so, he continued to feel the distinct messages of danger on the wind. Closing his eyes, he saw the image of the advancing creatures: the petrifying, glowing crimson eyes; the distorted, repulsive shape; the jagged, fiendish teeth and claws. The impression on his mind was invigorating. He was already experiencing the inevitable confrontation subconsciously. He could see, so clearly, his next satisfying triumph, taking him one step closer. Yes, after this he would be one step closer to achieving his ultimate goal.7

He could see them; approaching the cliff at a steady pace, but still faster than any human could run. He felt the rush coming. He readied himself for the descent. Any being would surely think that such an attempt down the steep rock face would be utterly impossible and suicide. We’ll see about that.8

Just a bit closer. Not too much longer before it begins. As he sensed the time arriving, he summoned his one and only companion. He extended his arm to his right and immediately a physical object materialized out of the darkness in his hand. It appeared out of the shadows in the form of a long, dark sword that shined in the dusk with a demonic design of a black phoenix laid into the handle. The blade was serrated as if in flames and curved elegantly like a phoenix tail. It held a mysterious, powerful aura around it; it was a beautifully malicious tool that had been through many battles and hardships, now bearing a new master. This legendary weapon was his one true comrade.9

It was just minutes before the horde reached the foot of his roost. He switched into a pouncing position, like a panther ready to jump through the trees to its steadily approaching prey. At last the time had come with his unbeknownst game treading briskly beneath his feet. The adrenaline was flowing vigorously through his veins, urging him to take the plunge. Just a bit longer, wait for it. A flash of a shadowy figure with a majestic, grey wolf at his side came to his mind’s eye. The signal.10

He instantly sprung from the cliff top and “glided” down the face, just brushing it. He had full element of surprise with the horde marching past without suspicion. This one is for you. He gripped his sword tightly and stuck close to the overhang, staying in the shadows. He slowly floated to the great plain below as a lone wolf moaned into the night.11

*~*~*~*~*12

The disfigured mass of demons reached the foot of the precipice without so much as a single one among them standing idly to gaze above. Suddenly, the leader paused; he thought he had heard something in the distance. Listening intently for a moment, he heard it again. The hollow cry of a wolf pierced through the quiet darkness. The leader flinched, becoming more alert to the surroundings. He darted his gaze across the badlands searching for anything out of place; there was nothing.13

He calmed some looking back at his troops. They were all puzzled as to why they had been halted. The leader passed on a message that rippled through the atmosphere. The echo stretched beyond the dark sky in the immense openness. He felt something strange in the air. The thick darkness surrounding them was like a drug that intensified their senses and instincts. It spoke to them so to say, and it was telling the leader that something was afoot.14

He stood motionless for several moments as he interpreted the signs. At that time, his eyes widened and wrenched their way to straight ahead of the army. There stood the figure that was called forth by the wolf’s howl. The leader curled his mouth into a snarl as he recognized the infamous demon slayer. Although his face was shrouded beneath the cape that seemed to fade into the surrounding shadows, he knew the knight was staring at him with a mocking look. It was true that he thoroughly enjoyed slaughtering their kind to no end, but he had no desire to do it for the sake of his own. It was simply for revenge on his pitiful state. The Great Lord had thrown him into a purgatory worse than any imaginable. Not even the leader could envision how horrible it must have been, not that he pitied him.15

The leader strengthened his stance preparing to charge. His troops took the signal and primed as well. He sneered at the demon slayer, daring him to make the first move. There was no way he could wipe them all out; they were The Lord’s finest, and the leader, himself, was fairly close to His Lordship’s personal command. It was impossible for any mortal being. The knight smirked.16

*~*~*~*~*17

The demon slayer mocked the leader for his cowardice to urge him to make the first move. He expected him to have more pride than that. It didn’t really matter anyway. Either way he, or any of his soldiers, wouldn’t live long enough to run back to their “Almighty Lord” and inform him of their triumph. He opted not to delay the inevitable any further.18

He pulled his sword forward, holding it with one hand. The leader noticed the gesture and snickered.19

“What do you say, Saravon? Should we teach them just how inferior they really are?” the knight asked his ally.20

The leader reclined his jeer and quickly counteracted with his frontal assault, his troops close behind. The demon slayer didn’t flinch or attempt to move at all. He solely uttered a simple, final word from an ancient language of kings.21

“Fiat.”22