Chapter 2
The room is dark, very spacious and made of stone from top to bottom in an ancient origin arcatectual manner. In the centre is a square arena with flamed torches in every corner. Surrounding the ring is what looks to be 50 humanoid shadow figures watching in silence standing as still as the stone structure that surrounds them.
In the centre of the ring come loud noises of metal slamming against metal in what sounds to be a battle of epic proportions in an effort to survive.
A young man in what looks to be extremely heavy battle armour covering his whole body with strange markings, made from what looks like bone, wielding light weight katana blades in each hand and one still un wielded on his back is exhaustingly fighting off against an unfair advantage of five skilled opponents, strapped with a multitude of weaponry from head to toe dressed in light weight battle armour made from leather and cloth.
We cut to the shadows of the still crowed whilst hearing metal upon metal clashes and grunts echoes through the cold room and work our way up a flight of solid stone stairs towards one character sitting upon a massive stone throne. The humanoid figure looks to be completely black as if he was made from the night itself. His eyes are glowing in a aura of red and spewing upwards towards his hair giving us a slight view of what he might look like watching the fight as still as the other spectators.
The young man is surprisingly fighting off the unrestrained multitudes of attacks with brilliant fighting skill but is getting slower and slower and cant seem to deal enough damage to the attackers to slow the assault.
One after another the attackers deal blow after blow connecting their swords through the tiny openings in his suit, drawing blood and more exhaustion than pain when suddenly he is kicked into mid air and sent flying to the edge of the ring and as if he weighs a tonne, breaking the concrete arena as he hits the floor. He struggles to try but is unable to move.
One of the assailants removes his mask, dropping his sword and sprinting towards his victim as if to be concerned for him. He looks to be in his late 20's and begins to assist in removing the helmet of his victim and suddenly in the background he hears from the man on the throne....
“Stop.... ENOUGH!” after sensing something in the far distance.
Everyone stops and watches as the man slowly appears from the shadows and walks down from his throne. As he is revealed, he appears to be a middle aged, muscular toned man with only a few grey hairs and humbly says “He's not the one.”
As he gets within touching distance of the young man he says “But that's not to say he's completely useless”.
He helps the young man to his feet with little to no effort, bangs his palm against the young mans chest, lighting up the strange marking which causes his armour to piece by piece fall off of his body, not in any way harming the young man, revealing his pale, white, ghost like skin leaving only his helmet.
The older man says “you shall make a fine young captain”.
The young man pulls off his helmet with both hands and drops it on the ground breaking the concrete around it.
The armour then begins to turn into pure energy, whirl winding around the young man veraciously and makes its way into his body.
The young man smiles then opens his eyes which are glowing red, revealing similar markings the armour had.