Difference between revisions of "Mogul vs. Remnants"

Revision as of 06:49, 4 October 2020

With the death of Paladin Decen of Acadia, Prime Aspect Mogul continued his hunt to eliminate all the Paladins in the multiverse, and bring back the proper mantle of lordship to the Aspects.

The following story arc follows the story of the remnants, beings created from Decen's soul and essence, as they find their ways together, from their own stories and their own origins, to band together with the help of Guardian Merrow Rivenlight to avenge the death of their progenitor, and stop Mogul for good.

This story arc serves as a prelude to The Chronicles of Croft.

Prologue (Decen of Acadia)

"Get up, Master Decen." Sentry muttered from his numerous face wounds. His face unrecognizable. His armour shattered.

I stared at my body, which was broken. My bones were shattered, I had a punctured lung, and I could feel my consciousness disappearing. Merrow standing between me and Mogul, her face bloodied.

"Little Neptunian, you are delaying the inevitable." Mogul spoke, his voice like knife scraping against rock. If only I had my Restoration back. Or my Absorption. But it was no use. Mogul had taken it all. For the first time in my life, I felt truly helpless. Weak. Vulnerable. Like all the people I had killed.

Merrow spun her spear, at lightning speed, water and green lightning coming together as one into a huge barrier. "Cheesen, I'm not going to let you die. I'm not going to leave my Paladin."

Mogul grinned sinisterly.

"Damn.... it all." I growled, clawing at the ground, trying to find any leverage.

Everything was taken from me. First, my chance to become the number one Paladin, then my powers. I did everything right. I did whatever was necessary to be the strongest. And to have it all taken away.

Mogul striked, the force breaking through Merrow's Hydropower barrier.

"STOP!" I summoned the last of my strength, but before I could process anything else, my vision turned bright.

Streams. Streams of water and floating platforms. I looked around me, and realized I was standing on one of these platforms, suspended in mid air, like a floating city. I knew this place. I learned of this during my studies in the Paladin Collective.

I was in the Restoration Force.

I walked up the platforms, leaping from one to another. Without my powers I realized how unathletic I was. I had always depended on them, because training my body was pointless when the Restoration Force and Absorption took care of everything. Now it was really coming back to bite me in the ass.

I finally reached the top platform, which was decorated with lines of ancient Acadi. Svarkop Rolaa'ah. Elder Rolah.

I went up to the elder and politely grabbed him by the collar, shaking the old geezer.

"Grand Elder Rolah, I need my powers back. My comrades are going to die and I must kill Mogu-"

Rolah grabbed my hand, turning around and staring at me with void eyes.

"Paladin Decen of War. You have seen many battles, and fought with the Restoration Force for years. A truly remarkable warrior indeed."

I was getting impatient. "Listen here you geezer. I don't have time for this. I need my powers back I need-"

"Your powers aren't coming back."

My eyes widened. I stepped back, in pure devastation. "What... what the hell do you mean they're not coming back?" I whispered.

Rolah walked up to me, analyzing me like a book. "It must be this way. This must happen."

I clenched my fists. "What game are you playing at. You're the Paladin of HOPE. So give me HOPE. My friends, my FAMILY is going to die!"

Rolah turned around, his white beard fluttering in the air. "Friends, family. Did you not forsake these things, when you swore to be the strongest of our kind?"

"ENOUGH with the preaching! Look I get it. I was wrong. I took everything for granted. I'm sorry. Okay? Can I just have my powers back?"

"You are not truly sorry. You are only sorry because you have finally seen the true horror, the true horror that is death."

I tried to contain my rage, but I couldn't. I swung my fist. "Don't start preaching to me you old piece of -"

My rant was interrupted by a sudden back hand from the Elder. I was sent flying several feet backwards, landing on the platform, groaning and wheezing.

"Why the sudden change of heart? Paladin of War? Why love your Guardian? Why love your Familiar?"

I was barely able to speak, clutching my midsection but I managed to mutter. "Because... because they love me. They took care of me, and put up with me even though I did these things..."

I coughed, spitting out blood. My body was no longer quasi-static. It was human. So very human. And fragile.

"I don't deserve them, but they came in my life anyway. To make me realize... realize..."

Rolah approached me, his red robes dancing with the wind. "Realize what?"

"I was still worth loving." I closed my eyes aggressively, tears leaking through the sides. I took everything for granted, and it had to take the loss of my powers, the death of Jonna, everybody. It took all this to realize how ungrateful I really was.

Rolah was silent for a few seconds, then knelt down. "You have my blessing."

I looked up, in shock. "What?"

"You have my blessing to call upon the Power of the Paladins."

The Power of the Paladins. I had no idea what that was. Even during my studies of it, no one really knew what it was. It was just some random thing we learned, but the only thing we knew was it required the blessing of an Elder to achieve. And here I was.

"Will it help me kill Mogul?" I asked.

"Yes." Rolah responded. "But not in a way you might imagine.

"The Power of the Paladins shall bring upon a new age, from which you will be the progenitor. The stem, the seed for which numerous branches shall grow. Think. Think about what you should have done, how you should have lived your life. And the Power shall flow through you."

How should I have lived my life. I should have lived my life as someone who didn't blame my shortcomings on other people. I should have blamed it on myself. Because I was incompetent. Cursed. Everybody else, they were better than me. I would have been a better person, and become great, just like Icarus. But not through bloodshed. But through something else.

My vision shunted back to reality as I watched Merrow hit the ground in front of me. Sentry shouting her name. I couldn't take this anymore. I had the Power of the Guardians now, whatever the hell that was. I struggled to my feet, by some miracle and trudged towards Mogul's body. I could feel immense pressure from the Corruption aura he was giving off, but I didn't care. I was already corrupted. Polluted with sin. There wasn't much to lose.

"The depowered Paladin approaches. Come, and let us finish this. Know your place, servant of the Acadians."

I lifted my arm, thinking about how my life could have gone differently.

"I know my place. I'm gonna kill you, you ugly orc. With the Power of the Guardians!" I growled, releasing anything, imagining the power exiting my hand.

Nothing.

Mogul smirked and grabbed me by the throat, lifting me up as I began to choke, my vision turning dark.

"Delusional ant. For a second, I was going to cherish this execution. But to know you still live in your silly world of fantasy makes me sick. I shall rid of you and your pathetic kind."

I tried to grab his hand, but to no avail. Merrow screamed my name as I felt the bones in my neck crack as everything went dark, my body fading, my consciousness fading, everything withering away. I could feel my soul leaving my body, dispersing out.

So I guess this was it. The Power of the Paladins didn't work. I'm so sorry, Merrow. Connor.

Since I was dying anyway... I could ponder about it. What it was like.

Think. Think about what you should have done, how you should have lived your life.

Probably muscles. Yeah. Muscles would be great. Getting muscles from hitting the gym. Like that model. Samuel Mason. I'm sure he wouldn't mind having another Samuel Mason to honour his name. But maybe some kind of backstory to it. Something to drive me, maybe a drive to be great?

To be great, not by bloodshed. Not by being a killer. But by something else.

By being a hero.

Chapter 1 (Remnant 1)

Guardian Merrow Rivenlight. The Guardian of Paladin Decen of Acadia, the Lady of the Seas, and the protector of War. Lady Rivenlight was renowned for her incredible skill with the spear, her technique surpassing even Decen himself, despite my Progenitor possessing the memories and skills of numerous warriors.

When I had met Lady Rivenlight through my visions, she was ultimately the hardest opponent I had fought. I have lost to many honorable warriors, some among the likes of Kronos, the King of the Titans, and Taras, the Ancient of the Underworld. I have battled deities, Angels of the Silver Legion, and countless armies in my days serving the armies of Argen. Despite this, no one came close to Lady Rivenlight.

Guardian Merrow was among the most respected warriors I have ever had the honor to journey with... and she's apparently buying me clothes.

"You need a coat."

"I'm sorry?"

Merrow picked out several garments from the wares of a merchant. No. Not a merchant. A store. I have only spent a few weeks with Lady Rivenlight, and amongst these weeks, I had been introduced to a plethora of new technologies, civilizations, and customs. This... mall, that the Lady speaks of, it reminded me greatly of the Plaza back in Argen.

Thinking about Argen made me smile, but at the same time, filled me with sadness, knowing I will never see the young children in the Church ever again. Along with Lyra and Kaius. My dearest friends.

"Hey. You okay?" Merrow looked at me with a concerned expression.

"I apologize, Lady Rivenlight. I'm just... adjusting. It is difficult to let go." I confessed.

Merrow smiled gently and put her hand on my shoulder. "Merrow is fine, Arman. I know this is hard, and I don't know what I can do to help you adjust. But know that what we're doing is to benefit the multiverse. You're protecting Lyra and Kaius by helping me defeat Mogul."

I sighed. "I know."

Merrow held out several jackets, which had interesting patterns. The garments that I had been introduced to were unlike anything I had ever seen growing up. These seemed strange, woven materials down to a microscopic level. Nylon and fibers.

"I like that one." I pointed to the green coat. It possessed several pockets, and straps on the shoulders. I wasn't sure what made it so appealing, as the straps did not serve much of a purpose. But Lady Rivenlight had explained to me that this appeal was called "fashion".

"Great!" Merrow added the garment to the clothes she helped me select.

"Will this aid me in combat?" I asked Merrow.

Merrow finished the transaction and gave me the bag... plastic. A strange material. Neither strong, nor weak. "Well, not really. But it will help keep you warm depending on the temperature. Plus it helps you fit in around here more. I mean, the whole strap and shoulder guard thing is only cool when you're in a battle. Not so much when we're in public."

"I trust you, Lady Rivenlight."

Merrow laughed. "Aww, Arman. You're so sweet. So polite too. If only Decen was more like you."

"I'm sure my progenitor had his reasons."

We continued walking, as I donned on my new attire. My Argen gear was stashed away, into a miniature disc, magical, for when I needed to re-equip it during battle. My attire had changed drastically, and the comfort was incredible. As such for a technologically more advanced generation I suppose.

I looked at my reflection. Dark black jeans, slightly baggy, more slim fit than my old pants. A white T-shirt, black hooded jacket, and the green outer coat. Around my neck was my scarf, that was gifted to me by my allies of Cabin 6, the offspring of the Blacksmith, Hephaestus.

"Looking good, Arman!" Merrow complimented me.

"It is certainly more comfortable. But..."

"It doesn't feel the same, huh."

"I'm very sorry Lady Rivenlight. I know you mean well. I really appreciate these garments, but-"

Merrow cut me off. "You're used to your old clothes. Which makes sense. You've grown up with them. But if you want to blend in here, you have to adjust to their customs. When we return home, you can return to your old attire!"

"Thank you, I apologize I-"

Merrow interrupted me once more, as we continued walking back to our place. "It's OKAY, Arman. Jeez, you really need to lighten up! Just because I'm Decen's Guardian doesn't mean you have to always address me as Lady Rivenlight, or agree with everything I say!"

I frowned. "But you're my Progenitor's Guardian, you are of high esteem."

Merrow laughed. "And you're Decen's FIRST Remnant. Give yourself a little credit! You and I, we're both bound to Decen, there's no hierarchy to it."

"Hey there, hot stuff." A bulky, tall man approached Merrow. I narrowed my eyes. Judging from his arm position, and the way he bent it, it was as if he was intentionally flexing his muscles. I had seen similar attempts used by warriors to assert dominance on their opponents. Did this man wish to challenge Lady Rivenlight to a bout?

Merrow ignored the man, and continued walking down the street.

"Hey. I was talking to you." The man went up to Merrow, and grabbed her arm.

"Sir, if you wish to initiate a bout with Lady Rivenlight, I don't believe she is interested. I am sorry." I told the man.

"The hell are you talking about, I can't even see you down there, midget." The man swung his fist at my face, which I blocked instinctively. My eyes flashed with millions of silhouettes of the man, swinging his fist in several ways, then several shoves, a few hooks. Judging from the way Combat Intuition picked up so few moves, the man had a very limited fighting pattern. Why would someone with such a low proficiency in combat challenge Lady Rivenlight?

"Damn. Got some spunk on ya. This your girl? Well, be honored, I'll make you a prime example of what a real man can offer her."

The man launched another punch at my face. It was terribly coordinated, the man was not using his weight at all, relying solely on his triceps. I was not going to fight this man, for it was dishonorable of me to use my power against someone weaker.

I stood and took the punch head on, my head reeling back. Merrow looked alarmed as I stumbled backwards, my nose momentarily bleeding, but the wound sealing instantly.

A drop of blood raced down my nostril.

"Just gonna take it, huh?"

"Yes." I replied.

"The hell? What did you just say?" The man looked upset for some reason.

"I will not fight you, for it is dishonorable. You are too weak for me to fight, I don't want to hurt you." I said, honestly.

The man looked even more angry, and began punching me repeatedly, throwing me on the ground and continuing his assault. My face was expressionless, as his small damage was eclipsed by my immense healing factor. It felt as if his punches were not damaging me at all, for the damage was healed almost instantly.

"Show pain, dammit! What are you? A freak?"

"Please stop this." I replied, as the man continued punching my face.

Suddenly, the man was lifted in the air, by Merrow, with one arm. She glared at the man, who stared at Lady Rivenlight in shock.

"The hell are you two..." the man muttered before Merrow hurled him into what I presumed to be his mode of transportation: a motor cycle. The vehicle was sent toppling over as the hefty individual crashed into it, knocked unconscious.

I was stunned. "But... he was..."

"A douche. I know. Why did you just take the punches?" Merrow replied, helping me to my feet, and brushing off the dust on my new clothes. "Ugh, he got them all dirty. Great." Merrow waved her hand, and Hydropower appeared from the air, scrubbing my clothes clean, and drying off.

"I don't fight civilians with my powers. Only those who demand justice." I told Merrow, who gave me an exasperated look. "Oh Arman..." She muttered, walking away to our lodgings.

"I am confused, should I have attacked the biker? Lady Rivenlight?" I shouted after her.

Merrow gave me a look, a mixture of exasperation and pride. "No, Arman. You were right. As usual. It's just... I mean at least bend the rules a bit... ugh, forget it. It wouldn't make sense anyway. Come on, let's get inside."

Merrow unlocked the door to her apartment, and I followed her in.

Chapter 2 (Remnant 1)

Because I still lacked the ability to trace the other Remnants, Merrow had worked overtime to try and locate them herself using her sources.

"Lady Rivenlight?"

"Yeah?"

"Why can't you use the psychic link you used on me to locate them?"

Merrow finished setting up a wire diagram of possible suspects. "Because when I linked with you, it was you who willed it, subconsciously. The other Remnants may not have the same level of connection to you, since you're the first of Decen."

"I see."

I watched as Merrow finished up, and took out an old photo. Merrow had explained to me that a photo was a live image capture, of a moment in time and space, imprinted onto a piece of card. It was ingenious technology. If only that technology was still available at the time I was with Lyra and Kaius.

The photo was of Merrow and what I presumed to be my Progenitor. Decen seemed rather unsmiling, while Merrow was smiling in the photo, a contrast in emotion, yet held a special place in Merrow's heart, as she looked at the photo and sighed.

"You miss him greatly, don't you?" I asked cautiously.

Merrow put the photo away. "Just need to keep moving forward. I can't let my past with Decen and his death overwhelm me."

"Your past with Decen has made you what you are today, it doesn't hurt to reminisce."

Merrow suddenly got to her feet. "Do NOT tell me these things, Arman. I-"

Merrow's voice cracked. "I watched him die... with my own eyes. He was like a little brother to me and I watched him get choked to death. Tortured, his powers stolen from him. His dreams collapsing before his very eyes. I watched him slowly die, suffering from having everything torn away."

Merrow wiped her eyes. "Then you-"

"What about me?" I asked, curiously.

Merrow's eyes widened. "I..." She turned around. "Nothing. There is nothing wrong with you, Arman. I'm so sorry. I just... it's taken me so many steps to come at terms with his death. Then to see you. His Remnant. You look so much like him. Seeing your face makes me sad all over again."

"I'm sorry for making you feel this way, Lady Rivenlight." I said, looking down.

Merrow managed a weak laugh. "You know, despite looking like him, you are so different."

I tilted my head. "How so? I know I don't approach him in power."

Merrow tied her hair up into a ponytail. "When Decen was still alive, we used to get into so many arguments. We would insult each other, and he would attack anybody, or flip out, when things didn't go his way. He quite literally wouldn't stop insulting me.

"And then there's you. Mr. Boy Scout. Never stopping to agree with me, seeing me of high esteem. So kind. So pure. It's like everything I had with Decen, but flipped upside down."

"Lady Riven... I mean. Merrow?"

"What's up."

"Can you tell me more stories about Decen? If you're comfortable with it?"

Merrow smiled, looking at me in my eyes. "Yeah. Yeah, I think I will."

Chapter 3 (Remnant 1)

Merrow had a lead.

"His name is Brickhouse. I don't... really know what his given name is, says he doesn't have one."

Merrow and I left the apartment, and entered the portal that she had pinpointed. An extremely dirty, fighting ring. This place reminded me of the arenas back in Argen, as well as fighting arena in Camp Half Blood, but with the numerous spectators chanting and throwing drinks, it didn't seem at all civilized.

"AND NOW, OUR NEXT COMBATANT..." The announcer shouted in an electrical device, which amplified sound.

Merrow and I went to investigate the fight... the combatant in the ring looked extremely experienced in the art of empty handed combat. I narrowed my eyes, and from the looks of it, it looked as if he had even more experience than me. Which made sense, considering I was chronologically eleven years old.

"Michael's got this. The dude is a tank. He's a beast. Knocked down like fifteen fighters without a break."

"Lady Rivenlight?" I turned to Merrow, who had her arms crossed. She was probably thinking the same thing. If Brickhouse were to fight this man, he surely would be killed. I didn't know what kind of fighter or powers this Remnant had, but if he came from Decen, it was very likely that he was superhuman. Michael, as talented and experienced as he seemed to be, was only human. Even at peak human strength and ability, there are limits.

"I hope Michael knows what he's in for..." Merrow muttered.

Suddenly, the crowd went silent. I peered at the corner. And my eyes widened.

The boy, who I was presuming to be Brickhouse... looked... like...

"He looks just like you!" Merrow gasped.

Brickhouse wasn't wearing a shirt, but he had some toned muscle definition, similar to me. He wore baggy short pants or "shorts" and had a very confident expression, spreading his hands and looking at the crowd. His hair, long, swept to the left side, danced along with his movements.

"The hell? Is this kid for real?!" One spectator shouted.

"This is a joke right. This kid's going to get killed!" Another exclaimed.

I watched as Brickhouse confidently walked up to Michael. It seemed strange, since Michael was at least six foot five inches, while Brickhouse stood around the same height as me, five foot seven.

"Yo. Big Mike. Let's give em a good show. Capeesh?" Brickhouse held out his hand, but Michael glared at him.

"Kid. I don't wanna hurt you. I don't know what lies the big man said, but I don't wanna do something you gonna regret later on. Walk away."

"Just going to tell me to walk away without fighting me yet? You're pretty confident old man!" Brickhouse began pacing around.

The bell rang.

Michael sighed, and I could tell he meant well, because he didn't want to hurt the Remnant. However, that would be the least of his worries. Because the moment the bell rang, Brickhouse went up to Michael and gave him a good shove, sending the bigger opponent flying across the entire octagon.

The boos from the crowd went silent.

"Is he on the juice?" One spectator asked.

"The hell, he's not human. He's a meta. Don't matter, Michael will win."

Michael got up, as Brickhouse began taunting him. "Come on, get up Big Mike. We ain't done!" The Remnant walked up to him. Merrow shook her head.

"The Remnant is going to kill him! We need to do something. Arman?"

"Wait." I said. Merrow looked at me, incredulous.

"Why?"

"Because the spectators have noted that Brickhouse is not human. They have faith in Michael. I believe he might possess abilities of his own."

Merrow looked at Michael, in concern.

Brickhouse cracked his knuckles. "Let me break it down for you Mike. You're no match for me. I'm going to win and get the prize money. Then I can finally peace it outta here. Last win for me."

Michael got to his knee. "You're real confident, kid. But I never showed you my abilities."

Suddenly, Michael's eyes glowed red, as he looked up, energy emitting from his eyes and blasting the Remnant in the chest, sending him back.

The crowd cheered, but the celebration was a bit soon. Because Brickhouse immediately began to overpower the beam of energy, grabbing Michael by the head, and slamming him onto the canvas, knocking the fighter out. The crowd went silent again, and began to boo the young Remnant, who ignored the crowd and exited the octagon.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. You're all haters anyway." Brickhouse left and entered the locker room.

I turned to Merrow. "We need to follow him!" But Merrow's face cringed.

"I'm not going into a men's locker room."

I looked at the Remnant, and turned back to Merrow.

"Then let me go after him."

Merrow looked surprised. "Arman, are you sure?"

"Yes."

Merrow walked to the edge of the octagon, peering at Michael, who was being bombarded with a vast array of rotten fruit.

"Go Arman. Find your brother."