Sir David The Killer Bee Beats

The rain fell in cold, relentless sheets against the obsidian spires of the World That Never Was. High above the void, perched on the precipice of a high balcony, two figures stood draped in darkness. The midnight-black leather of their Organization coats rustled faintly in the damp wind. Prince Phobos adjusted his gloves, his golden eyes narrowing as he stared out into the abyss. "May your heart be your guiding key..." he murmured, the phrase tasting like iron on his tongue. "Picture this: a black coat stashes away a secret letter, then orders a white coat to search for it. What could his intentions possibly be? I can think of several reasons offhand, but guessing is pointless. Perhaps he simply forgot. Or perhaps..." Phobos turned his head slightly toward the silver-haired marksman leaning against the pillar beside him. "...who gave the order? Was it Xemnas? Was it the Darkness itself? It’s tricky. Or was it the one who assigned me my task in the first place?...

The wind over the spires of Kandrakar blew cold, carrying the sharp scent of ozone and ash. It was the ancient people of this holy nation who had first recognized the existence of the sacred power of Soma, nursing its light to protect the heart of the universe. But these days, a thick, suffocating shadow lurked over the kingdom, as if ill tidings were woven into the very air itself. Leon of Traverse Town knelt by the shattered archway of the Great Hall, running his gloved fingers over the clean, impossible shears in the enchanted stone. "There's no doubt that it was one of my men that did this," Leon muttered, his voice grim. "It would take the skill level of a Svall to accomplish a strike like this... but the only ones left are you, myself, Diaz, Darkness, and Prince Phobos." "There is one more," Kai chimed in, stepping forward from the mist, his hand resting on the hilt of his weapon as he looked directly at the Svall and the Heir to the Meridian thr...

The rain over Meridian fell like liquid iron, heavy and relentless against the black stone of the palace. I wiped the mud from my journal, tracing the faded ink of my grandfather’s notes. Three generations of my family had bled for this single obsession: who were the Precursors? Why did they build the towering, silent monoliths that pierced our planet's crust, and where did they vanish without a trace? The answers were close, buried beneath layers of ancient deceit and shifting thrones. "You're chasing ghosts, scholar," a voice echoed from the hall. I turned to see darkness coalescing into a tall, familiar silhouette. It was Phobos—or what remained of him. "Is that you, Prince Phobos?" I whispered. "Yeah," the shadow sneered, his voice dripping with smooth arrogance. "But sometime ago I had to cast my old form away. Been through plenty of other identities since—these days they call me Darkness. But whatever suits you." "It's Dark...

In the Year of the Dragon, in a world far beyond the known realms, I waited. Deep within the ancient hatcheries, I watched over the clutch, holding my breath for the birth of the purple dragon of whom the prophets foretold. But the dark master had heard the prophets as well. I should have hidden the eggs long before, but I thought we were ready. I thought they were safe. Oh, how I was wrong. Far above the lower hatcheries, within the towering spires of the Sanctuary, Prince Phobos stood beside his sisters, Will Vandom, and Queen Elyon, gazing out over the vast expanse. "Since ancient days, it's been said that Kandrakar is a land that is easy to defend and impossible to attack," Phobos murmured, his voice dripping with smooth arrogance. "Its palace is situated on an island surrounded by a jagged mountain range, holding all enemies at bay." He turned his eyes toward the shimmering cosmic horizon. "Ah, Aredia... the perfect planet to add a third Heart to my co...

The heavy iron door slammed shut, echoing through the subterranean hall. "So, you're going to sell your soul? Are you sure?" The voice belonged to Prince Phobos, his golden hair catching the dim torchlight as he leaned against a pillar of carved obsidian. Beside him stood Diaz, arms crossed, and the shadow-draped figure known only as Darkness. "You’d be throwing away your life," Phobos continued, his violet eyes narrowing. "Not to mention your title as Suvall. What could you possibly hope to gain?" A lone figure stepped forward into the ring of flickering light, his knuckles bruised, his armor cracked. "I have set out to prove my strength. I can't let anything end my battles here on this earth for the next three years. If a contract is the price to keep fighting, I'll pay it." Darkness chuckled, a sound like rustling dry leaves. "It's been quite a while," Darkness said, shifting his gaze toward Diaz, Scarface, and Prince...

The heavy iron door slammed shut, echoing through the subterranean hall. "So, you're going to sell your soul? Are you sure?" The voice belonged to Prince Phobos, his golden hair catching the dim torchlight as he leaned against a pillar of carved obsidian. Beside him stood Diaz, arms crossed, and the shadow-draped figure known only as Darkness. "You’d be throwing away your life," Phobos continued, his violet eyes narrowing. "Not to mention your title as Suvall. What could you possibly hope to gain?" A lone figure stepped forward into the ring of flickering light, his knuckles bruised, his armor cracked. "I have set out to prove my strength. I can't let anything end my battles here on this earth for the next three years. If a contract is the price to keep fighting, I'll pay it." Darkness chuckled, a sound like rustling dry leaves. "It's been quite a while," Darkness said, shifting his gaze toward Diaz, Scarface, and Prince...