This is a different side project with no relation to my superhero story called 'Never Judge a Book By Its Cover'
It’s a cliffhanger, and you can write different endings to it if you want, just credit me and send me the link! :D
The most unassuming enemy of the huge army, massed in front of the simple yet impressive palace, stood nonchalantly. He balanced a dagger on his left hand pointer finger, and smiled easily at the huge group. Each and every soldier felt a surge of uncertainty. Here was one man, no, boy, against ten thousand strong, and he wasn’t even showing signs of being scared.
The commander of the army, the wicked King of the Dakrons, shakily raised his hand. This was a game for land, a bid for territory. He had come himself, to try and destroy the rival kingdom. The whole army was destroyed, except for a few elite squads and the commander of their army. He only needed to kill them, and the royal family, and the land was his. He had come so far, and wasn’t ready to back down. He studied his opponent: a blond, short boy who looked around 15, wearing a purple t-shirt, contrasting with his shorts. “He’s just one boy. Kill him.”
The army glanced nervously and the King, and charged.
It was the worst idea of their lives.
The boy threw the dagger at the first soldier who swung at him, sending him to the ground, blood spurting from his forehead, then changed.
His height increased, and his fingers stretched into razor-sharp claws. The scleras of his blue eyes turned black, and his teeth sharpened. Horns jutted out of his head. The purple shirt transformed into a black chestplate, glowing as if some vein of purple crystal was running through it. Likewise, his shorts elongated into the chainmail leggings of a knight, except fitting the dark color scheme.
The monster that had been a boy roared at the sky, then swung a huge claw, slashing through ten warriors at least, then dropped on all fours, and pounced through the crowd. Its skin became like a reptile, and no weapon could penetrate the thick skin.
Blood streamed out on the battlefield. The king, for once, was quiet, eyes and mouth equally wide. It shouldn’t have been possible that one boy, even a monstrous boy, could cause so much blood to be spilled and corpses to be crushed.
It laughed viciously, in what could have been described as a snarl. “Here’s for my family. Do you remember the Battle of the Hawthorn?”
He remembered, alright. The Dakrons had crushed the opposing army of Phoenixia. It had been a slaughter. Almost as big as the one going on right now.
There, so many had died, and the Commander of Phoenixia had been wounded.
The monster roared at the sky, then charged the King. The leader of the Dakrons tried to dodge, but it was just too swift, too fast. He was hit like a bullfighter who took one wrong step. The horns pierced the King’s side, and he fell to the ground, gasping.
The monster turned back into a boy, melting into a smaller form. There was a playful, if malicious, look in his eyes.
“Now, let’s see what fun I can get out of you.”
The King groaned, raising his sword shakily. The boy grabbed it by the blade and easily crushed it to dust in one hand. “Say hello to hell for me, will you?” He raised a glowing purple fist, and brought it down.
Here's my past, present, and future thing. It's alternate versions of the Inheritors. I know, it's bad, but I just YOLOd to post something.
What if there was more than one path to each story?
What if humankind had begun in the South Pole? What if William the Conqueror had lost? What if the Nazis won World War II?
What if Oblivion was killed before he even toppled the first countries? What if his attacks were successful, and the Inheritors didn’t manage to get humankind off Earth? What if the final confrontation was lost?
Past: The continuation of the Unity
The Lieutenant strode impressively down the hall. His right eye, scarred in an accident with one of the remaining Rogues, pulsed a bright, neon purple, sclera, iris, and all. His other eye was fine, a normal light blue. His uniform remained dark and polished as usual, twin scabbards slung at his waist as if they were always there. His blond hair was combed and sleek, part of the uniform of a Guardian.
He reached the room he wanted to be and walked in. Inside, a man stood, with the exact same uniform as the Lieutenant, only a larger size. Also blond, this man had black scleras, and usually people felt eerie around him. He was named Commander. His purple irises flicked towards the newcomer, measuring him in one quick blink. The man sighed and sat down on a dark black chair behind a large brown desk. “Welcome, Agent. We have a new mission for you. Are you up to the task?”
The Lieutenant flashed back to his previous mission. Chasing down the last rogues who had attacked the nation, and destroying their regime. That was where he had gotten his eye scarred. He had been wounded, almost killed, but the target then had been the strongest Rogue remaining. He remembered the thrill of the chase, the joy in serving the place he loved. Was it worth it?
It was.
“What’s the job?”
Present: Oblivion’s Primary Reign
‘Light’ stared down the long alleyway. His hair, normally blond, had been affected by the Necromancy sector and Oblivion’s curse on him so it was black with a hint of green. His eyes were purple and green, and Jormungandr's blade was gripped tightly in his right hand, blazing a purple and red color.
When Oblivion had absorbed the world into his own universe, he had split the planet into six sectors: Necromancy, Combat, Healing, Speed, Protection, and Elemental. ‘Light’ and his sister, ‘Shadow,’ had lived in the Necromancy their whole life, and could manipulate the dead. However, Light’s primary Inheritance was Healing, and Shadow’s the Oddities.
It was the other way around before, he thought darkly. Oblivion’s curse had swapped around the Inheritances, so he couldn’t have fulfilled the prophecy of Oblivion’s doom.
The boy with the purple flames. The boy with the powers of all and none. The boy with the powers that are but not separated.
Somehow, he would have to find a way to defeat the immortal tyrant. He pondered this as he stepped out into the alleyway, judging it safe.
Future: Void
The Rebel didn’t feel anything. All his friends were dead, killed by the Dark One. He felt cold, emotionless. His sister, his friends, the girl he had loved… gone. He had buried the bodies an hour ago, but had also found his potential. He could manipulate time… keep equilibrium… combine powers…
But he couldn’t be a Necromancer.
The Rebel was ready to kill. And all around him were the perfect targets. The henchmen of the Dark One. They were closing in on an innocent, powerless boy who couldn’t do anything. Or so they thought.
The Rebel had failed in saving the world once. He wasn’t going to fail again. He took a moment to consider the past.
A fire appeared in his hands. But it wasn’t blue, like normal. It was a deadly green. A purple sword materialized in his other.
The Rebel took a deep breath, then swung at the surprised circle of killers.
He wouldn’t fall short again.
I worked on a collaboration with a friend, and since it's kind of long, here's the link. To warn you, it's a bit violent, and you might not want to read it if you're faint-hearted.
https://docs.google.com/document/d/1Jz4ss363zA1WxQ3i9aMVPc9toGQ9PgHNnCUZyN40IGo/edit?usp=sharing