Archimony

The world shook as the heavens were forced to kneel.

THOOM.

The sky was thick with dust, mountains worth of debris erupting into the air like geysers with each reverberating blow. There was hardly any time for them to settle before they were tossed upwards once more, obscuring all that which they covered and leaving no room to see nor breathe.

THOOM.

The world’s heart pounded in rhythm to the explosions of sound, the sky shaking with fear, the earth below trembling with fear. The land itself quaked, but only the sands of the desert could flee before the might of–

THOOM.

A small slab of stone fell onto the sand with a light plap, its edges sharp but its facets rough and jagged, a piece of a puzzle that was being torn to shreds. The turbulent winds swirled around it, burying half of it in the dune upon which it lay, the other half battered by a barrage of dust.

“…tch.”

Gauldur grunted as he slowly withdrew his clenched fist from the stone pillar before him. The natural obelisk stood tall and proud, towering over the Haxorus at least five times over. Yet as he examined his claws, the scales over his knuckles worn but unharmed, it was not him who bowed in defeat, but the shadow of the mountain, which dared not cast its darkness on the king.

Gauldur flexed a claw, staring at it as he opened and closed it experimentally. A wisp of violet flame crawled up a digit, before dispersing in the air, an extinguished candle. The Haxorus glared at his fist, his arm flaring up and rippling with unseen strength beneath the shimmering black scales. Even under the gaze of the harsh, piercing light of the evening sun, Gauldur was the darkest thing around, a shadow that stood proudly as its brethren cowered behind the trees and rocks and ledges.

“So close…” the dragon growled. “Yet I have still yet to reach the pinnacle.”

He clenched his claw again, his jaw clenching as he roared to the sky, hurling the punch into the rocky pillar’s wound. The air rippled as the shockwave kicked away the sand around his feet. The pillar wobbled, and the cracks within its side spread further. But it still stood.

Gauldur snarled. “What is it that I lack?”

“Um, my–”

“WHAT IS IT?!” Gauldur roared to the skies, his bellow making the sky vibrate.

“Eep–!” the voice behind him yelped as Gauldur finally noticed it and turned around. A Krokorok was huddled on the ground, cowering at the feet of the Haxorus a short distance away. It trembled as it kept its face hidden.

“…What is it,” Gauldur said in a low tone.

“M–my l–l–lord, are y–you–”

Gauldur sighed in exasperation. “No, I do not intend to punish you. I was simply… frustrated.”

“W–with–?”

“Not you.”

“O–oh. Th–thank you for your infinite generosity my–”

“Yes, yes, get on with it. What is so important that my training needs to be interrupted?”

The Krokorok swallowed nervously as he stood up. It continued to avert its gaze, perhaps terrified of even seeing the Haxorus’ face. “Th–the campaign is progressing just as intended. Ebony Valley continues to prove itself an impenetrable fortress, and our forces have managed to gain access to Glendale’s eastern border. We now control most of the southern region, as well as the east, and will move in shortly.”

Gauldur nodded. “And what of–?”

The Krokorok shook his head. “N–no news yet, my lord.”

Gauldur narrowed his eyes, but did not comment on the response. “What is your name?”

“Booris, m–my lord!” The Krokorok hastily kneeled before the Haxorus.

“Are you a servant or soldier?”

“Lieutenant,” Booris answered nervously.

“Return to your squadron. Instruct them to secure the eastern portion before moving into Glendale. I will not risk failure.”

“Y–yes my lord. And, uh, I m–must say that your earlier strength was quite awe-inspiring–”

“Go.”

Booris did not need to be told twice, bolting away. Gauldur stared after him as the sounds of his pattering footsteps in the sand faded, once again leaving the black dragon alone in the silent evening.

He sighed, and craned his neck, staring up at the sky above as the night began to set in, stroking the canvas with a brushstroke that covered the reds, yellows, and blues with a deep indigo.

“…All this effort…” he murmured, his voice barely audible even in the silence. The wind whistled around him, reaching between his scales, sending a cold chill up his spine. Sand climbed up his leg, settling roughly along his worn hide. He allowed himself to relax, and for a moment, the weight of the world pressed down on his face, a gravity that made him stumble and trip.

“Gah–!”

Gauldur steadied himself, tensing up again. You could not afford to relax in such a world. Harsh. Punishing. Constant. Burning. Cold.

Always.

There was as much death in the air as there was in his fist.

Now… there was more.

And Gauldur closed his eyes.

---

…

…

…The winds seemed to ebb.

And the coarse sands seemed to smooth out, a soft blanket that tickled his feet.

Gauldur opened his eyes. Slowly.

And heaven greeted him.

A luscious field surrounded him, a sea of life which embraced him warmly. He looked to the distance, and for as far as he could see in every direction, the world was nothing but green, nothing but prosperity. He spread out his arms, and felt the sun warm his back, yet it was not the one he knew and scorned, but a gentler one, a kinder one. A star that smiles at its land, rather than burns it.

Gauldur lifted his foot, and the moss sprang up from beneath him, bidding him farewell. A step forward. And the grass parted for him. Not out of fear, but courtesy, the ones behind him closing back up.

He breathed in, filling his lungs with a fresh, chilled air that cleared his nostrils and soothed his parched throat. The air seemed to spread through his body, cooling his mind, and calming his heart.

He reached a claw out, letting the verdant blades brush him, touching him eagerly, an alien gesture of acceptance.

His eyes blinked in the air. It was not dry, but it was hardly humid.

There were tears.

Heaven began to blur.

Gauldur sucked in a breath.

---

And opened his eyes once again.

And hell jeered at him as the punishing winds slapped sand into his face.

Gauldur snarled. Glendale was blessed with such magnificence, and yet he was still trapped in The Barrens.

His teeth clenched together as his claws balled up into fists. They were shaking.

“…It will be mine soon enough.”

“What will?”

Gauldur turned around upon hearing the voice. A Garchomp stood tall before him, only a foot shorter and sporting razor-sharp claws and teeth, scales glistening with a metallic sheen, even despite the scratches and scars spanning the length of her hide.

“Aghar. What have you to report?”

The Garchomp bowed her head, but did not kneel. She did not need to. “My lord, we have received… news. From the eastern front.”

“Being?”

“…Recently, a mysterious figure has appeared. One of certain interest.”

“I have no interest in mythos and legends. You know this.”

“My liege, this is different. This Scorbunny–”

“A Scorbunny?” Gauldur scoffed. “You think I would care about–”

“It is apparently the Savior.”

Gauldur froze mid-sentence. His eyes widened, and his snout contorted into something halfway between a snarl and a grimace.

“What?” he growled.

Aghar was not phased, but kept her head bowed. “A group of mercenaries have reported that they have spotted and were nearly successful in detaining the Scorbunny in question.”

“How can they be sure it isn’t some weakling? I would have thought the Savior would be…”

He did not finish his sentence, but both of them knew what he meant. A being prophesied to be unimaginably brave and powerful… and only a Scorbunny.

“They were quite certain. Nobody has appeared in Sacred Spring in… many, many years.”

Gauldur was silent. If this was true, then…

He spoke, addressing Aghar. “Keep an eye on it. I am skeptical, but I do not believe we have reason to worry. Yet. Continue with the rest of your report.”

Aghar nodded. “We have suppressed a few rebellions in Gredas Town. It seems that they do not accept you as their true leader.”

“It seems that they have forgotten that I hailed from here,” Gauldur rumbled. “See to it that the miscreants are made an example of.”

“Yes, my lord. We also have word that a war has broken out in the north. Our own efforts to control the country are subtle, and Glendale is unaware of our intrusion, or your resurfacing.”

“Excellent. Continue as-is, commander. Focus on building our army for now, and make sure that nobody tries to resist, as Gredas Town has.”

“Yes sir.”

As Aghar left, Gauldur breathed in deeply. The wind quelled, and the last rays of sunlight disappeared over the horizon, swallowed by the Earth as the night began to set in, and the abyss became an abyss once again.

Gauldur closed his eyes, taking his attention off Aghar’s retreating figure in the distance. He had one last matter to attend to.

He concentrated.

He thought.

Gwonam.

He waited.

…

…

…

…My lord.

Gauldur snorted, his eyes still closed.

The psychic connections works, I see.

Yes, my lord.

Report.

I have unfortunately had to go into hiding, although our plans remain in operation.

What results have you to show so far?

The Shadow Plague has spread even farther than before. Nearly the entire region is aware of the threat it is beginning to oppose, though their efforts to mobilize and contain it will surely fail without the Savior.

A twinge of doubt struck Gauldur, remembering what Aghar had told him, but he remained adamant.

Very good. And what of my realm?

I have taken residence in Ebony Keep, as no mortal dares to set foot in a place so full of malice. And while it is still in disrepair from years of your absence, I am successfully refurbishing it. It will soon be ready for your return.

How soon?

In a few days, my lord.

Then I shall set out now.

Very well. I eagerly await your arrival, my liege–

Wait.

There was a pause as Gauldur squeezed his eyes, maintaining the psychic link.

Yes, my lord?

We will begin our attack soon. Mobilize your forces.

A pause, as though the receiver was grinning.

Thank you, my lord. I will do so.

Excellent.

And with that, Gauldur opened his eyes. His mind snapped back into focus as the psychic link was broken.

“This world shall soon be mine,” he grinned, a twisted expression on the dark dragon’s face.

Suddenly, Gauldur whirled around, planting his foot in front of him in a wide stance. His eyes lasered in on the stone pillar before him, barely visible in the dark but still standing tall.

His claw shot back.

A dark flame consumed his scales.

His fist flew forwards.

And the attack struck true.

With a thunderous boom, the dark flames exploded in every direction from where his fist struck the stone pillar, directly in the epicenter of the wound he had chipped into it earlier. The sand beneath his feet was blasted away as the air displaced by his punch rushed in then blew outwards with all the force of a whirling tornado.

The pillar never stood a chance. The rock splintered to dust where the claw met the wound, cracks slicing through its middle in a spiderweb pattern. The top began to crumble as the stone dust flew to either side of Gauldur, a cloud of destruction surrounding the pillar, which began to wobble.

The sand beneath the obelisk caved.

The bottom half crumbled.

The top half fell.

Gauldur turned his back, and a deafening crash echoed from over his shoulder, his cape blowing forwards as dust rushed by his solemn figure. The shadowy flames around his fist illuminated his figure in the dense cloud, the silhouette of a monster.

The dust began to settle, and the pillar lay defeated upon the sand.

Gauldur swept his tail in the sand, walking away from the desert. From his old home. From his people. From his life.

From his humanity.

The world shook.

And the heavens kneeled.