I apologize for the delay, had to deal with the whole breakup stuff with former girlfriend but now I'm free and single so hopefully I'll be able to show up more often barring school and work.
Anyhoo here you are.
Requiem Of An Orphan
“My vision has almost come to fruition. I sit here in absolute victory, no longer am I hindered by those who opposed and plotted against me. They are dead and buried and now all that is left is my destiny. I, Alkanphel, have won.” So said the man with the golden cat-like eyes and elfish ears. His snow-white skin glowed eerily in the darkness of his personal quarters. His fingers overlapped with one another atop his lap, as he remained deep in thought.
For it was true, all those that had foolishly plotted against him and those who had openly defied him were nothing but a distant memory, all those that stood against the Supreme Master Zoalord were conquered and only vague memories to the populace. Those that opposed him were vaporized; it was fitting in his own mind to reduce them to such a state, as if to illustrate their inferiority when contrasted against him. Whatever atoms had composed their bodies now floated freely on the planet below, scattered across the oceans and forests.
His great ship, his symbol of power and strength hovered over the green blue planetoid. He sat there in his chair; his eyes fiercely deadlocked out the window and into the empty cold void of space. The intensity of his gaze was matched only by the intensity of a star. He continued to stare out there, where they were hiding.
Those that had betrayed him, had made him, had abandoned him like an unwanted puppy after Christmas holidays had passed. Alongside his triumphant ship, the all-powerful Ark, were hundreds of thousands of ships, all varied in design and purpose but they all shared a distinct similarity, they were his. All crewed by his children, his warriors; all humanity had been stripped clean of the planet of their birth, they were nearly ready, preparations were almost complete. Soon he would be out there, looking for them, hunting them, killing them, for what they had done to him, for the humiliation they had caused, the pain he had endured at their hands at being called a failure, an irreversible mistake.
His fingers curled into fists and they quivered with an ire that caused the air to sizzle in agony. But the flash of rage was extinguished as it quickly as it had ignited. His mind hailed back to the many obstacles he had overcome and the totality of his triumphs eased his thoughts. The Guyvers, the rogue Zoalords, but the Guyvers in particular had been a painful thorn in his side for many years. They were the core of numerous but ultimately futile insurrections against him. He had always known of the treachery that awaited him when he made certain individuals Zoalords and they, in due course, fulfilled their roles and accomplished the tasks he had set out for them. He leaned back and fell into his memories of the struggles he had to surmount.
Agito Makishima, Zeus, as he prided himself on being addressed, leader of the fanatical and dilluted Thunderbolts. His private zealot cult. They proved troubledsome at their birth, even dangerous but Agito’s huberous was their ultimate undoing. Alkanphel had to admit that Agito was undeniably a genius, for a human. He would have been a valuable asset but for his desire for power and control overshadowed his numerous talents and gifts. It took quite a few years for Alkanphel to track down and erradicate all of Agito’s zealots. The battles exchanged the two only proved beneficial for Alkanphel in the end, as his scientists were forced to think innovatively and creatively to overcome the latest Zeus Thunderbolt annoyance. It was this mini arms race that Alkanphel found himself indebeted to Agito, for if Agito had not been so persistent then improvements to his children may not have been made for years to come. The Thunderbolts also proved adequate at weeding out the weak from the strong amongst his ranks, leaving Alkanphel with battle hardened warriors, stripped clean like diseased animals from a herd.
He nevered told Aigto as much, such praise would only feed the insatiable appetite of his ego. But as time continued to progress, it was clear that Agito was losing more then he was gaining. With each resistence cell that was crushed, Agito’s fanatics grew more desperate and radical with their tactics. However the mark of their inevitable collapse was the death of Shizu. Agito’s crown achievement, their own psuedo Zoalord. Alkanphel smirked at the thought of their first and what would be his last encounter with the woman, so committed to a man that had utilized her as a tool for his own gain for the majority of her life. How she would have wept at the sight of him when he witnessed her death. It had been an assult on of his major Zoaform processing facilities. Intelligence gathered from his spies informed him of the high probability that it would be chosen as a target for a Thunderbolt raid, and thus, they walked blindly into his trap.
Agito and his mindless cultists took the bait and laid segie to the compound. Alkanphel had prepared for it and everything went as played, beyond his wildest expectation, he had placed the weak and the subversive within his order to protect the facility with their lives. The Thunderbolts believed they were dealing significant damage to Chronos as many Zoanoids were perishing and the facility itself was being overrun, Shizu made her presence known as she pressed the charge. Agito, the coward he was, observed from the rear and allowed his pawn chest pieces to advance with their mighty queen held in reserve. He watched with glee at how easily the facility was being destroyed, that was until Alkanphel appeared.
The look of dismay on his face gave Alkanphel, even now, a fit of hearty laughter at its memory. Those still loyal to him also emerged and began to slaughter the pathetic Thunderbolts without mercy. He cornered Shizu, toyed with her, he even allowed her to strike his face, only to prove it was futile, hopeless, all in vain. He beat her relentlessly. He beat her until she could no longer rise to her feet. Flesh was seared away down to the bone. Blood dripped from inumerous lacerations along her body. He took his time, all before Agito. She had told her lover to run, to escape, but Agito, smart and clever as he was, was transfixed to the spot. Until Shizu turned herself into a suicide bomb and detonated herself in a vain attempt to kill Alkanphel, which did nothing more then remove Shizu’s blood that had splattered against his body. The only noise that followed the ear shattering sound of Shizu’s final attack was Alkanphel’s laugh as he strode out of the explosion, in his right hand he held the charred skull of Shizu and threw it to Agito’s feet.
It took eight of Agito’s men to drag him away in retreat. It was not because he loved her in the typical human sense, Agito never loved anyone but himself, but it was the symbolism of the event. The message had been clear, Agito had lost. Alkanphel would no longer tolerate him and his fanatics. The followers of Agito began to cut and run, the Thunderbolts began to crumble. The gloves had come off and Alkanphel had personally sought to it. The Thunderbolts were summarily exterminated within a year of Shizu’s death. Agito was eventually cornered eight months later. Alkanphel thought with a grin that he may have survived a little longer if he had not alienated the other Guyver and his rag tag team of misfits. But in any case, Alkanphel found Agito, hiding, cowering, he tried to fight, but was quickly crushed. It amused Alkanphel that Agito was unable to utilize the Gigantic, for it seemed the other Guyver, Sho Fukamachi had more willpower then he was given credit. Irregardless of this fact, Agito’s death was swift. Alkanphel dispised his feable pleas for life with begging to trade information about his former comrades in exchange for mercy. Alkanphel remembered that he allowed himself to laugh, just before he raised the unit remover, the one he had recovered from Guyot’s original treachery, and stripped the unworthy human of his unit. Agito barely had time to adjust to being unbound to the unit as Alkanphel raised his other hand and promptly incinerated him in a flash of light. He would not stand to listen to more of Agito’s begging or crocodile tears. Now that the weasel Agito was removed, he could focus on more pressing matters.
The challenging part for Alkanphel came next. To hunt down the other band of rebels, rebels that Alkanphel would never admit to another living soul, were probably the single most threatening opposition to his plans. Unlike Agito who craved power, The Sho Fukamachi faction desired autonomy, for all, and what was worse was their ability to spread this notion to others and turn them against him. Sho had learned much from the weasel Agito, such as how to hide in plain sight. There were a few moments Alkanphel truly felt threatened but none moreso when Sho and the renegade Zoalords allied themselves to attack him on his island of Silha while he was regenerating within his temple. Guyot, still craved a unit but also a new Zoa Crystal and he needed Sho and his team to gain one. The other renegades gave them their word they would leave Sho and his friends alone once they had killed Alkanphel, and so it was and unlikely alliance was forged.
The attack was crippling and costly for both sides. Those loyal to Alkanphel did their best to defend him while Barcas did his best to revive his slumbering lord to aid them. Alkanphel’s disciples put on a strong defence, but it appeared that Sho had also learned the crucial skill of battle tactics from Agito and even exceeded him. Many of his disciples perished that day, all save Barcas in the end. Gigantic Guyver, with the combined efforts of Aptom managed to kill Imakarum, but not before Alkanphel’s prized disiple had all but single handedly killed all of the renegade Zoalords save the cowardly Guyot. By the time Alkanphel had entered the fray the renegades were all but dead and the Gigantic Guyver was at his limit and were forced to retreat. He had knelt down next to his loyal warrior, Imarkuam and for the first time in a what seemed to be eons, he wept at the passing of another sentient being. But all was not lost, Aptom, heroically sacrificed himself to allow Gigantic Guyver and his remaining allies to escape by allowing himself to be captured. It was this heroic sacrifice that ironically doomed the resistance movement. Barcas, in his diabolical and twisted way, found a way to make Aptom useful, after months of experimentation Barcas informed his lord that he had found a way, through Aptom to revitalize him. Alkanphel never asked of the specifics of how nor did he care, all he knew was that this was going to ensure that his dream would come to pass.
It was fitting in Alkanphel’s mind that such an annoyance as Aptom would prove so valuable. He still smiled at the memory of Aptom’s screams of definace during the process. But then, at the end of the procedure Alkanphel felt something familiar, almost nostalgic, he felt whole.
Sho cointued to resist him, valiantly, Alkanphel wold later admit to himself. Even after he captured and processed Tetsuro and Mizuki into Zoalords to replinish his ranks, he did not stop fighting. It was an admirable quality, one that he wished all of his children possessed, but in the end one had to stand and the other to fall. Sho fought like a cornered wolverine with shuch tenacity and raw emotion that Alkanphel felt a sliver of compassion dig into his heart once he had stripped the gigantic and finally of his actual Guyver, he continued to fight. The battle itself was legendary, mythic even by Alkanphel’s standards.
It was battle that he could have lost and would have done so if he had not activated his own unit. Even against a Guyver Zoalord Sho continued to fight until there was nothing left his body could give, for the spirit was willing but the flesh was incapable. He stood over the bloodied and naked body of his greatest opponent and he gave the boy a choice,
to join him or to join oblivion. He knew the boy’s answer before he say it, but he felt honour bound to ask. Of the Guyvers Sho, not Agito that proved to the stronger. As the boy spat his final defiant words to Alkanphel, the great Guyver Zoalord vaporized into nothingness. On that spot where Sho had died, nothing would ever grow again.
Sho’s Guyver unit, in the capable hands of Barcas proved to be the Rosetta stone to Advent technology. It was a painstaking task but within 50 years Barcas was able to produce his own Guyver units of equal caliber. Within 15 years of that date Alkanphel had the entire human population reprocessed into various Zoalord forms, all genetically bound to his will and thus entirely trustworthy with a unit.
The serpent Guyot was captured during the raid upon Silha so many years ago, but he had not been executed, no, Alkanphel chose to savour his time with the traitor and routinely tortured him to the brink of death, that was until he was publicly executed yesterday. To prove to his people and to himself, that there was nothing stopping them now. He could feel the ship begin to lurch away from the sway of the planet’s gravity. Soon they would be free of this prison that Alkanphel was forced to endure for so long. All of his planning, his hardships had been worthwhile. He felt a great sweeping sensation of freedom as the armada of ships passed the threshold of the last celestial body of the solar system. The great warrior stood up and strode to the bridge of the ship, savouring every step.
All those on the bridge stood in attention as Alkanphel entered. He was greeted with unflinching loyalty, some had been with him since the beginning, and others had only recently joined his legion. All eyes were upon him as he morphed into his Zoalord form and then activated his Guyver armour; he did not speak as he strode towards the central Control Medallion, no explanation was needed. His Control Medallion pulsed until it was synchronized with the massive ship’s own Control Medallion, one of the many new upgrades that had been uncovered by studying Sho’s former unit. Alkanphel had kept these coordinates stored in his mind for a very, very long time: the coordinates to the Advents’ core solar system, the cradle of life, and his true home.
The coordinates were distributed instantaneously throughout the legion and within an instant the ships cut a ragged hole in space as they plunged into the sub-layer of hyperspace and vanished. The transit time to the Barcas calculated the time it would take to reach the Advent home world, approximately 10 years. They would spend every instant of those 10 years training and preparing. The ships themselves, as marvelous as they were, could only handle month long trips within hyperspace before requiring adequate time to recharge and re-supply. Alkanphel decided these periodic intervals would also be utilized to build their reputation amongst the galaxy. With every transit back into normal space, either out of boredom or some twisted notion of self worth, he would order his legions to pillage, rape, and strip planets of their resources and as an added bonus, eradicate the sentient space faring inhabitants down to a mere handful in order to spread the word of Alkanphel and his terrifying army. Indigenous inhabitants that were technologically or intellectually inferior were enslaved and brutalized beyond imagination as to permanently etch their culture with the memory of Alkanphel and his monstrous armada, often left so battered and beaten that it was almost piteous not to exterminate them.
Although it was physically impossible for anyone to question Alkanphel, if anyone could, they would. He continued to grow increasingly more brutal with each attack and continually invent new atrocities to outdo his last one. His army continued to spend an increasing amount of time in normal space instigating wars and massacres across the galaxy rather then keeping focused on their true objective. Alkanphel reveled in the slaughter, it was his element, and it was what he was made for, a warlord of unholy proportions.
The six-year journey ballooned up to 12 years. His troop numbers had continually grown throughout the journey and he smirked at the swelling numbers as they finally came out of hyperspace at the edge of the Advent home world. Alkanphel, fully adorned in his Gigantic Guyver Zoalord armour, had exited the ship and entered the solar system moments prior to his fleet. All ships appeared, weapon systems activate and expecting heavy resistance.
But something was amiss.
His arrival had been grand and bold without secrecy or even an attempt of caution. Alkanphel’s powerful Hypersenses quickly discerned that the planet’s defense grid was offline. There was nothing within sensor range that could be considered hostile. There was a sick feeling that began to fester in the back of his mind. He was always curious as to why the Advents had not attacked him, or at least scouted his armada during their 12-year campaign. He had remembered that their empire was vast beyond comprehension, but in his blind vendetta he did not realize just how much of their old territory they had crossed through without incident. The fleet cautiously hung back behind him as Alkanphel, silently and like a dove, sailed through space towards the cradle and the crown of the Advent Empire. His mind continued to reel as his Hypersenses continually fed him sensory data.
The planet was void of any Advent influence.
They were not there.
He teleported down to the surface to see nothing but foliage and fauna, nothing truly sentient in the least that would be even comparably close to the Advents. He felt his jaw clench in frustration. It was then that he became aware of a faint power source on the far side of the planet. In an instant he teleported himself to its location, his fleet had encompassed the planet with enough ships to blot out the sun. He looked at the structure that had drawn his attention.
A black obelisk stood there. It was plain without any designs or complex symbols adorning it. Alkanphel touched it with his hand out of curiosity and felt a small jolt strike his Control Medallion as data tracks were uploaded into them.
Alkanphel fell to his knees and began to sob. The message wrenched his heart worse then death. He let out a soul-shattering scream of anguish and rage that caused the tectonic plates of the planet to quiver. He lay there; his body shook as he replayed the message over and over in his mind. The Advents, the great and glorious race, were extinct. Dead. All of them, no survivors, no legacy, nothing-except him. It was not a glorious war with an unknown foe that had killed them, nothing of that grandeur at all. It had been their own doing. In an attempt to gain absolute mastery of the cosmos, they had experimented upon themselves, altered their biology and in doing so had damned themselves to extinction. It all happened within a span of a few million years, all while Alkanphel was asleep within Silha’s temple upon Earth. This obelisk was labeled as a warning to all those who would attempt to pursue a similar path.
Alkanphel slowly stood up, distraught beyond comprehension. He ordered his armada to land and begin construction upon the planet, it would be their new home and they would wait. Wait for what, you may ask, for all of his sins to be revisited upon him. All those species that he had decimated would come looking for him and he would wait. He carved a great throne of obsidian and sat upon it and waited, and waited, until once more the sunlight was blotted out by an armada of ships belonging to hundreds of different species, all bound together by their hatred for Alkanphel and he remained motionless as they descended. Alkanphel’s army fell quickly, Alkanphel remained motionless as he watched his children cleansed from the soil by this new alliance. He stood up and stepped down from his throne for which he had remained upon for eons, awaiting this moment. He opened his arms wide and closed his eyes as the combined legions of his former slaves gave him his final release in a blaze of fire.