Becoming a King

Katan, a desert country that had long been cursed
Terra, the God of the earth had decided to punish the dynasty
A dynasty that had ruled the country since its birth
The creature of the sand promised that whatever land gained by Katon
Would be turned to stone, rock, and pebble, being sure to expand upon
the unforgiving desert.

In this land, one family has ruled, the cursed family... So foul a family
that which would offer no support to its people, offer nothing to the
beings whom paid the price for the original kings sin.

Castles and Castes sprout through out the land.
Experiments have been done on many of the people
Villages destroyed, people maimed and murdered
Crimes that no criminal would so atrociously commit.

Yet these kings would, these kings did, and these kings paid.
One of the beings whom suffered the unforgiving punishment
was a man by the name of Midnight, the name he took upon himself
The experiment name that he was blessed with, Project Midnight.

A man who survived under the Moon God, Mar, darkness becoming
synonymous with his name, yet no evil came from his heart. Proving that
good can come from the dark.

White hair, green eyes, black robes, and boots. Not the look of a warrior
But a warrior was this willful being. Having killed beings that would be considered gods
Giants, and monsters of all sizes, The Dark Prince was almost next to impossible
to overcome.

The blades at his waist, made of pure Shadow, were unfathomable to many. Though
the scrolls of old showed many legends, three being of the Shadow, Light, and earth blades.

Midnight had become a legend amongst the people, centuries old they would say
Killing and maiming any villain that came to light, and always looking for vengence for his own.

Each generation of royalty feared him, always more and more afraid that he might
come for them, wondering if it were possible for the Son of the Moon to come for them.
Five hundred years of rule after the birth of the Dark Prince, and finally the people
made their demands known to the unknown. Knowing the white haired assassin would
come to their aid if called on loud enough.

Far across the desert plains the word spread of the need for a new prince, a new king
a being whom would save them from the evils of the dynasty that had committed such
atrocious sins. So much so that they would anger the God of Earth.

The royal city, Mariaan, stood tall in the center of the desert kingdom, the only place really blessed with water and green. Though it wasn't much, it was enough for that Katonian beings, all of which had adapted to these conditions.

This day there was a man who stood staring at the walls, his green eyes flashing dangerously, and his hair blowing swiftly throughout his face. Scars etched under his heavy robing, yet his face flawless in the light of Re.

“Again, they shalt pay,” His voice was low, his eyes calm, yet the thunderous maelstrom in his mind grew louder in his ears, “Pay for their dear ancestors, and for their unchanging, unwavering, and unrelenting ways.”

Almost forgiven for their sins, Midnight stood in the center of the market that ran rich with people, the most inconspicuous place for an enemy of the crown to stay.

“Desert-Crown, run and hide, or thy side shall be run through and you will die, soon to lie in the sand you cursed...”

Forever, his mind said, even through the tsunami it had conjured.  

The purple glow that emitted from the body of The Dark King seemed to contrast the light of the sun so vividly that the guards could not help but see the six foot man grow closer to the limestone castle.

“Halt, ye shall not pass.” words that the man in black had heard many times before, yet he never could heed their words.

“Olden times are leaving, your grandparents said the same, yet now they lay in graves made of clay...” A crack intruded upon the constant roar of the town, and then a slump along with a thump caused silence to befall the surrounding.

“Hustle, bustle, do not stop,” Said the Son of Mar, he did not turn, nor look at those
who came around. Instead he walked forward, over the corpse of one unfortunate guard, rather he than me, thought the Snow-head.

In the castle, at least two kilometers from the being who walked with such slow motions, stood a King of a realm older than any before it. His red hair, a gift from Re, and his wisdom a gift from Clay. Terra and Re both blessed this king, yet he too, abused his power in ways that have yet to be changed.

Mar would not accompany his brother and sister in blessing this evil, instead he watched with a grin from the Moon he lay. As his own creation, hand through from the Kings of the realm, his own power seeped within the arm of Midnari Cateran, the project of days long gone by.

Gerald, the king, continued to pace the royal chambers that his parents once slept, his eyes closed, his mind confused, what could he do? Fight would be smart, the power of the Gods were still within him, but how could he beat such an ancient being?

Dastardly tricks were always a choice, and his castle had ample use of them.

“Okay,” Said he, “He shall die before he can even reach me.”

In the court yard stood the Ghostly, grim being of Mar. He watched as creatures began to come out of the land, they would attack on order of the ruling being. But they would not survive the encounter.

An ogre, putrid and perverse, ran towards the Black clad knight, only to be side stepped and cut through, the top of its bald head being capped off without so much as a whisk.

Next, two goblins.

“Clichéd but warrant of praise... At least a flank would stand better than a thrust.” But not much, as the two green pests came from the sides, he jumped, six feet up, the sickly creatures ran head first, blades in the air no longer. They swung together, clipping an arm, and an ear.

Midnight then landed, his metal soles crunching upon the heads of the goblin menace. The duo dead, Midnight walked forward, his eyes on the open door. Yet he was not a fool, this had to be a trap, but an unavoidable one.

With the thought, he walked forward, behind him came a swish, a metal grate falling to block the exit. This did not matter, not really, all it meant was his enemy had no where to go.

Out he walked, regal and firm. His dress was red, his eyes blue, without Re there could be no water, even if she did evaporate it. Another gift of the sun, non too obvious yet there none-the-less.  

There was a blade clutched in his hand, the blade of earth, Terra's craft. And in his other was a sword of light, a sword Midnight recognized to be his brothers. Another being that was tortured by this family of old. Project Midday, and as Midnight took the name, so would the light specialized brother.

“Midnight, no, Midnari...” spoke the King, laughter present in his voice, a trick so obviously held up his sleeve, “How do you like my Castle, pretty isn't it?”

A shrug of the shoulders and a chilling glare was the Sand-King's answer.

“Well, I think it is.” He stated dryly, “Anyway... Don't you want to know how I know your name?”

And yet another shrug, “I really don't care, the name is dead, the family to which I belong no longer within this realm.” part of him wanted to add a curse upon the royal family, but he would not show emotion. Not as he grew closer to his prize.

“The people want you dead...” came the almost apathetic voice of Midnight, happiness not evident anywhere within him, long since dead, “As do I, King... Re and Terra have made a poor choice with you, you were chosen because they thought you'd turn your line around, yet you are as bad as your brethren, as bad as your forefathers before you. Your line is... what?”

“I have no line, this unending beach, bare, bound, and forever cursed should not be ruled benevolently, our only hope is to continue to expand!” Suddenly defensive, the King's voice came to a roar.

“No.” Midnight closed his eyes briefly, “You could conquer this whole world, and every bit of land we gain would simply dry, break off, and turn to sand. Any ocean would simply evaporate, and any lake would be swallowed in one great gulp.”

“As for my name... My brother gave it to you, obviously... You have his blade, that can only mean you either killed him, or he came to you... I choose that latter.” He wouldn't consider the premise of his brother being defeated by such an ignorant being, no matter how much he loathed his kin.

“The rhetoric is becoming stale, can you just show me that you are able to use those blades in your hands? As powerful as they may be, they are nothing without ability.”

“I was trained by-” Midnight would have no more talk, none, he instead dashed forward, one shadow blade at his side, the other poised to strike. He cut downwards, his blade being blocked by the brown blade, then countered with the amber blade. The amber blade met resistance, and so did the Kings stomach as a boot slammed into him, knocking the man to the floor.

It was ghastly how the the gauntly form of this grim king seemed to show more and more as he dropped the sword of light. He came forward once more, this time with Terra's blade. Midnight didn't focus on the blade, instead he watched the sunken eyes, and the concave cheeks flash forward as one of his blades slit the air, as well as Terra's blade, knocking it from the reach of the king.

“No effort...” Muttered Midnight before he created a sissor like form with his blades, he hovered around the Kings neck, and allowed a moment for prayer (The King seemed to not wish to take it) and slashed them together, sliding through bone and skin as easily as he would through sand.

The head hit the ground and rolled a few feet, and Midnight stepped over the body. He walked upstairs and made short work of the rest of the royal family, not wishing to cause them agony, just death.

“Anti-climatic...” Muttered Midnight as he found the Kings room and stepped up to the balcany. It seemed Mar was beginning to rise as Re fall below the horizon, surely ready to sleep as her warrior was defeated.

Below the ground stood still, and even the usual roar of the people had been silenced. No king... no government... Civil war would break out, and more suffering would be caused until a group began to rule...

Unless... Midnight looked back towards the room, “Not my taste... but... this would be better than anarchy...” he stated as he moved towards the bed. It had been twenty years since his last slumber, it wouldn't be harmful if he were to take another nap.

So, with that thought, he lay down on the bed, its warm embrace sending him into the dream world in only a moment. Comforting and comfortable, it was surely nice.

The night was his domain... but tonight he'd let it go as thoughts of a new morning... a new age for his country was sure to come. He'd rule, they'd want him to, and he'd be sure to be benevolent... and save the kingdom from the sandy ocean it was soon to turn into.