The Diefayt

Full Summary: Books are simple little things, but open their pages and one will never know what they’ll find. One day Aaron finds a mysterious old book left behind by his grandfather, who had gone missing many years ago. Unbeknownst to him, the book is the gateway to fulfilling his destiny as the legendary being only known as The Diefayt.


Battle cries and screams filled the air. The noise so deafening it could drive one mad. Clashing steel and ground shaking explosions were a background orchestra to the chaos and destruction that covered the battlefield. Many bodies littered the ground, cold and lifeless while their living companions continued to fight.

In Lenosis’ great history there had been many battles throughout the centuries, but this went beyond any meager fight. This was an all out war.

“Come on, men, they’re starting to fall back! Let’s give them everything we’ve got!” a tall man screamed to his men. He was clad in high ranking warrior’s armor and the two long, pointed ears that stuck out from his helmet showed him to be of the Iliona race. The man held up his sword and with a mighty yell he cried out,

“For Lenosis!”

“For Lenosis!!!”

Many men cheered after him and as one they rushed at their enemies with renewed strength and vigor. The opposing side saw and felt this new power filled with passion and integrity and began to shrink back and retreat. The battle was close to being won.

Above them another battle was raging. Two flying creatures were twisting and turning in the air, fighting till their very last breath. One was a man. His gray hair and beard and the few wrinkles marring his face proved he was not young in life, but he was fighting like that of a man in his prime. He wielded a mighty sword in one hand and great white, feathered wings kept him afloat in the air.

The other was also a man, but no feature could be seen of him from the thick dented and chipped black armor that covered his entire body. In a clawed hand he also carried a sword, but the blade was cracked and splintered and looked close to breaking. Four fearsome, leathery wings – wings only the devil himself should have had – helped him stay up and face off with the other man.

In a blur of motion both men charged at each other and the clash of swords sounded. Steel was locked against steel and both men pushed against each other with brute strength.

“Give it up, Khornac, you’ve lost,” the old man said as his celestial like blade continued to push the demonic blade back. “Look around you. You’re troops are retreating and you can hardly lift your sword. It’s over.”

A vicious growl came from Khornac and sounded even more fearsome the way it echoed in his armor.

“It’s not over, until I say it’s over!!!” Khornac yelled and with all his might pushed the other man away from him. He then lifted his sword to slice through the man’s head, but, before it could even reach his skull, the celestial sword slashed and Khornac’s blade shattered into a thousand pieces.

“What!? No! No!!!” the armored man screamed as he watched the glittering pieces fall to the ground below.

“You should have listened, Khornac. You should have let me help you,” the man with the feathered wings said as he lifted up his sword and pointed it at the other. “But now I can see you are beyond saving. Anyone who uses the power of Deific in such a way cannot be redeemed. Instead you give me no choice but to end your suffering by taking your life.”

Khornac screeched and covered his eyes as the other began to glow with a radiant light. When it died down an outraged cry left him at what he saw. The old man’s sword and arm had now become one. Where his elbow should have met the rest of his arm the celestial blade was now in place, fused with his very flesh. The stone cold look on his withered face was just as deadly looking as his sword.

“No! It’s not possible! How could you reach that level of transformation so quickly!? It’s not possible!!!”

“Anything is possible when you have a heart that is pure and can work with Deific, not just use it. Something you forgot long ago. Now, prepare for the end!!!”

Faster than the eye could see the man attacked. He charged and a sharp cry swept through the battlefield, leaving silence in its wake as the transformed sword pierced through the armor of Khornac’s chest and went straight through to the other side.

The warriors down below stopped chasing off the last of the enemies to stare up at the heavens as a beaming light appeared. It was as if a star was exploding right above their heads.

A moment later Khornac fell from the sky. His crumbled, broken body crashed into a heap. The warriors gathered around and looked on with batted breath, wondering if the impossible had been achieved. Many looked up and took a step back as the old man gracefully descended to the ground. The moment his feet met soil his pure white wings fragmented into nothing and he sheathed his now restored sword. The man stood a few feet from Khornac and he watched as the armored man finally stirred.

Sluggishly and with much difficulty Khornac rose to his feet, only to fall to one knee. A hand reached up to cover the hole in his chest that oozed black and reddish blood. To the onlookers’ surprise, the hole only grew larger.

“No, how…how could you…defeat me?” Khornac said weakly and his voice no longer had its echo as his helmet cracked and fell away. Without it black hair surrounded a white face and hollow, blood red eyes stared hatefully at the other man. They then directed their gaze back to his body as what was left of his torso and his other arm began to disintegrate into black dust.

“This isn’t possible!” Khornac screeched. “I am God! I cannot be defeated! I am –”

“No, Khornac,” the old man said, loud enough to silence the other’s frantic cries. “You are not God. You are nothing but a hollow shell of a man who took all of his unlimited potential and used it for self gain at the expense of others. No, you are not God. You’re nothing.”

The words were said as if it was any normal conversation, but the icy tone underlying it made a few of the warriors around them shudder.

Khornac’s upper lip snarled and he made to spit hateful words out at the other, but instead he doubled over and coughed up more of his sickly blood.

The old man watched Khornac suffer and his eyes were filled with pity, as well as grief, until a voice from the crowd drew his attention.

“Master Cornelius! Master Cornelius!”

The high ranked Iliona warrior pushed his way through the sea of other fighters until he broke free and was able to run to the older man. As he did his helmet dislodged from his head and fell to the ground, freeing chocolate brown hair.

Even in his grief the man called Cornelius smiled and held open his arms to accept the other into them. The Iliona threw his arms around him and hugged him tight.

“Cornelius, you did it! You really did it!” the man said as he pulled back and gave the man a smile full of pointed teeth and a thin, skin colored tail that peeked out from behind him twitched with his enthusiasm.

“Calm yourself, Monaren, it is a bitter victory,” Cornelius said with his smile still in place, but much sadder.

The Iliona’s ecstatic grin faltered at the words and he placed a gloved hand on the other man’s face and stroked the skin of his cheek tenderly.

“Do not sound so sad,” Monaren said softly. “It was what had to be done. The evil has poisoned his body and mind much too deep and he would have spread that vile darkness to all of Lenosis. You had to cut the evil off at the root. You understand that, don’t you?” he asked with imploring, ice blue eyes.

“Yes, I do,” Cornelius answered. “But it doesn’t soothe the hurt any.”

Before Monaren could reply multiple gasps sounded in the crowd and a sharp cry caught his attention,

“Sir! He still lives!”

Monaren looked over Cornelius’ shoulder and his eyes widened in disbelief and fear.

“Master Cornelius! Look out!”

Cornelius turned only to meet the end of Khornac’s remaining arm that had morphed into what looked like a fleshy cannon.

A sinister grin twisted Khornac’s blood soaked face at the surprised look he received from the other. Most of his body was gone now, but it was all worth it just to see that look.

“If I’m going die,” Khornac said, and his eyes shown with vicious glee. “I’m taking you to hell with me!!!”

Black and red energy began to collect into a ball around the opening of the cannon and was pointed right at Cornelius and Monaren.

Before the energy could launch the old man twisted around toward the Iliona and shoved the other away from him.

“Monaren! Move!!!”

As Monaren fell to the ground he watched in horror as a beam of light tore through Cornelius’ back and through his chest.

The Iliona hit the ground and a couple of his soldiers were instantly by his side to help him up. All three stared on in numb disbelief as the old man stood perfectly still, his breath heaving, until he reached up and pressed a hand to his chest. He then removed it and looked curiously at the blood that soaked his skin. Cornelius looked down and seemed surprised at the gaping hole now in his chest.

“Master…Cornelius?” Monaren said, his voice hardly above a whisper. He couldn’t believe what was before his eyes. He didn’t want to believe it. Tears welled in his eyes when Cornelius looked at him and the sparkling life in his ocean blue eyes snuffed out all at once.

“Cornelius!!!” Monaren then screamed when the man fell back as a spray of blood left his mouth. The Iliona scrambled away from the other warriors to Cornelius’ side and he reached out to touch the man, or help in some way, but his hands couldn’t make contact. If he touched the old man it’d make the scene before him real instead of a horrific dream.

Laughter reached Monaren’s ears and he turned his head to see Khornac with his head thrown back and a mad laugh erupt from him. His cannon arm fell to his side before disappearing completely, but he still continued to laugh. Then Khornac’s head snapped down and his twisted smirk was still visible as he stared at the Iliona with crazed eyes.

“Do not think this is the end, Scum. He’s wrong. I am God. My body may be destroyed, but rest assured I’ll return and when I do I’ll take what’s rightfully mine! This isn’t the end. It’s only the beginning!!!”

Laughter rang over the terrain and made the very heaven’s shudder as the last of Khornac disappeared. The black particles that remained swirled up into the sky and were carried away by the wind.

Monaren stared after the particles before returning to his injured master. Blood was gushing from the wound and the man was growing colder and paler by the second.

“Cornelius, no, you can’t die! We need you! Don’t leave us!” Monaren yelled as he finally placed his hands on the man’s shoulders and started to shake him. The tears fell from the Iliona’s eyes and trailed down his face and drip onto the injured man under him. He froze when Cornelius spoke.

“Mon…aren, its…all right. It is my…time,” the man said, his voice weak and breathing labored.

At this Monaren let out a wail and bent over to bury his head in the man’s shoulder.

“No! No! It can’t be your time! Please! Please don’t go!” Monaren sobbed and clung to the dying man desperately. “Please don’t leave,” he said, his voice softer. “Please don’t leave me…”

With the last of his strength, Cornelius lifted his arm to put around the quivering Iliona.

“Th-Thank you for…everything, Monaren…my…friend.”

At that Monaren’s sobs grew in volume and Cornelius could hear sorrow filled cries come from the other warriors. The man smiled feebly. Such strong, brave men and women. Cornelius was blessed to have fought side by side with them and call them his friends.

His head felt heavy. So heavy. The sounds around him faded and his vision was beginning to dim. He could feel his head fall to the side and through the haze that covered his eyes he could see something near him. It was small and gold glinted in the sunlight. It was his locket. The locket he always wore around his neck. It must have been ripped from his neck in the blast, or when he fell. He couldn’t think which. He could hardly think at all.

In the locket a small picture was staring back at the man. It showed a beautiful young woman with two small boys at her sides. One was standing strong and proud with a wide, cocky smile. The other, smaller, boy smiled shyly at the camera and clung tightly to the leg of his mother’s jeans.

Tears now welled in Cornelius’ eyes. He would never see those smiling faces again. Never hug the woman he had raised or hold her boys’ in his arms again. With the last breath in his body he whispered,

“I’m sorry, Rebecca…my Rebecca…my…little girl…”

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Hello everyone. I return to bring you another story that has been stroking my mind lately. It seems a little dark just from this small prologue, doesn’t it? Well, it gets better, trust me, this is just the prologue, after all *smiles sheepishly* I hope you enjoyed it anyways and any comments or C&C you would like to share I’d be very happy to receive. I could use all the help I can get, just like the next person. I’ll be back with another chapter sooner or later and, no worries, ‘Serpentine Embrace’ will not be ignored either. Everyone have a wonderful day!