Chapter 1: The Beginning
It all started with a dream.
That's it. A dream. A dream that would create the reality I'd be living in for a few years. A dream with an epilogue that would try it's best to kill me in any way possible.
Dreams do that.
Oh, yes, how rude of me. I should have introduced myself first. I'm Avalon. Well, Leonard Avalon Zyxino is my full name, but everybody calls me Avalon.
Avalon. The one with that mysterious history that nobody knows about, the one that killed anything with a link to the Government, the terrorist, the thief, the assassin, the mass-murderer...Yhea, that's all everybody thinks of me, even now.
But I'm more. I'm a living being. I'm the proud owner of a heart, and a soul, and a mind. I'm someone who feels sorrow and remorse. Oh, and of course, I have dreams. There's more than this, but these things are more important to me than everything else.
...But it all started with me, twelve years old, thinking of a dream.
In truth, back then this dream was all-consuming. I swore it was original at the time too. It was this hero. His name was mine (My name was different at the time, just so you know) but he was just so much more...well, awesome than I was. He had all these unbelievable powers. He lived in a completely different dimension, apart from ours. He was a demon-slayer. He fought to protect existence unto itself. He went under the codename of 'Gear Pesse'. I worked on his world in secret; it was a desire I didn't want my world to know about straight away.
Of course, at the time, I swore it was just a dream. I had no idea, not even the slightest clue, not even the teeniest, tiniest slither of a hint, that it was reality.
It was Halloween Night, I believe, when that illusion was swept clean off my mind.
I was putting the finishing touches to the world, I was making it a place somebody could live in, for real. For Gear Pesse, I created a civilization with people of similar powers (but nowhere near the same level), a legend he fit into, allies and enemies, true mental states for each and every character, however minor. And the last bits of it were coming to completion. My pencil was working feverishly on the desk of my loft bed.
Then I heard it.
That was a voice that bore not even the slightest similarity to any of my family: I looked everywhere around me, but didn't panic yet. A Trick-or-Treater, possibly...But it was almost midnight, and I was still awake. Trick-or-Treaters at this hour? Not likely.
"I'm not a trick-or-treater. I'm not a Halloween spirit, either. I'm a person."
Now I panicked. I tried to keep myself under some control, enough to say that I wasn't freaking out entirely, calling for my mom or my dad. I remained silent.
"Only you can hear me; this is like a message, a recording of my voice. By the time you hear this, I've probably have died. But this isn't important. You are."
I didn't try to speak. I wasn't paralyzed in fear to that extent, however. If anything, I was actually mystified.
"...If I had a choice, you would not be the one I'd bestow my power to, but...There isn't. Something is wrong. With everything. It is war. But it is unlike anything you've ever heard of before."
When most children hear that, they think of magical power they can use to threaten bullies. But I was different, for some reason. I thought of power as an atrocity, and already this 'recording' was leading me down a trail I'd rather not take. Power wasn't for me. I wasn't responsible.
"Again, If it was my choice, I would have given it to anybody but a child. But I don't. I am sorry. You will not see your family for a long time...Sorry for that, too."
I loved my family. It was worsening. Now I was tempted to yell out to my mother...But I was falling asleep. In a chair. Chair's weren't comfy enough to qualify for beds.
Then I was realizing this wasn't me falling asleep.
"There is one thing I must tell you...Do not reveal your secrets. Do not tell anybody of this. Say you have amnesia. Or else, you will suffer a fate far worse than merely dying. I am so sincerely sorry for this..."
I had completely went under at the last sentence.
I was conscious and alive. I felt energized, if anything. Why was I laying down? I felt like I could run a marathon. I also realized that I wasn’t in either my Halloween costume or my pajamas.
...I heard voices.
"Sir, we found him unconscious, in a thicket. Well guarded from eye’s view by the bushes. It looked like somebody put him there on purpose. Tell us...We felt incredible power emitting from him, just by walking past...Is he...You know...Him?"
I barely opened my eyes-enough to see, and enough to fake unconsciousness. Three people. Two looked like your average thug, but the third one...He was wearing a black cloak. I couldn't see his face.
"...I cannot believe this..."
The cloaked man's face was unidentifiable, coated in shadow, and the other two were looking at him from each side. Tension was drilled into the faces of the duo.
"For once, you did something right."
The cloaked man said. The two bodies relieved themselves. "In fact, you did something that's almost unbelievable, especially from the likes of you. You found the Archangel. I must congratulate you two-after so many failures, you come up with a success great enough to make your prior record...ignorable."
The cloaked man added, as they turned their backs to me.
I got up, very slowly, opening my eyes fully. The room was an old wooden shack with a concrete floor, just off the border of a lot of lights-probably a city at night. I already knew something was wrong the instant I heard the voice, but now it was as bad as I thought
"You two may very well be taken in as Majors to the Arbiters yet...I do not guarantee anything, however."
That was a mental trigger: The Arbiters. For some reason, my mind was swearing that the Arbiters weren't good people. In fact, my mind said "Get the heck out of there, they're going to kill you!"
I saw one weapon: A large stick of bamboo, still green. I took it from where it was, as silently as possible, not sure why it was there at all. Maybe it too was taken from it’s home to suffer the same fate here.
Creeping up on the trio, who were talking about such topics as 'The High Priest,' 'The Loyalists,' and 'The Paradise,' I realized that they were either talking in code or were just flat-out insane. The two brutes talked quite excitedly; the cloaked man was rather emotionless.
I was in range to take all three by surprise-the bamboo cane could have easily knocked them all unconscious on the spot. I didn't think; I did.
I was acting on subconscious action alone here, but it served me better than I expected: I had put the cane horizontally, and shoved it to the back of their heads at speeds I didn't know were possible for someone twelve years old. The impact knocked the two thugs to the old wooden walls, knocking them unconscious. The cloaked man was knocked outside, but was still awake. I pounced on such an opportunity to knock him out too.
He now faced me, and his face-a blonde with a large nose and brown hair-was shocked. He couldn't do anything. I later realized that he could have instantly killed me on the spot, but was far too shocked at who he believed was betraying them. You're no traitor, however, if you weren't on their side.
He didn't react as I hit him unconscious with the cane a second time, getting him unconscious.
I had to do something, so I did the logical thing: call the authorities. I was lost somewhere-where, I didn't know. But there were authorities.
I searched the bodies, but I didn't see anything like a phone anywhere. I saw a blade on the cloaked man, guns, ammunition, and other stuff. There were these weird rectangular things, but were they phones?
I tried pressing the screen of one of them. It lit up, showing the time and date. It was Halloween, and it was just past midnight. I managed to get myself here, from my room, unconscious, in just three minutes.
I tried moving the screen a direction-I was new to these kind of phones. I was lucky enough to take me to a place where I was supposed to enter a password I didn't know by doing something I didn't know how to do. Or, I could tap the convenient emergency call button. I did just that, of course.
It instantly dialed up 911, and almost instantly, a voice came out.
"Hello, this is Cavix emergency department, how may I help you?" The operator said.
Cavix? Never heard of it before. I decided on keeping that opinion quiet. But what would I say?
The words of the voice from prior that probably was the reason I was here at all came back: say you have amnesia.
"I've got amnesia, I have no idea where the heck I am, I do not know how I wound up here, but it doesn't look like my home, this isn't my phone, there are three unconscious people, I think one of theme’s something called an Arbiter-"
"Pardon? Did you say one was an Arbiter?" The operator said. I knew they were supposed to be professional, but his voice seemed slightly panicked at the mention.
"...Yhea, I think so..."
"I'll get you someone right away, right now, stay right where you are, and keep the one you think is an Arbiter unconscious!" The Operator said, hanging up right then.
Apparently, if someone was an Arbiter, they got top priority. I kept on guard, making sure they all were unconscious, and keeping their weapons far away from them. It took thirty seconds of this routine for something to happen.
The ground shifted, briefly. I only realized it because I stumbled a bit.
Then a hole, coming from the center of the shack, which had a hard, concrete floor, suddenly appeared. And someone came out of it.
Someone who’s name and features I instantly recognized to be Gear Pesse, exactly as I imagined him. Dear god. Of all the odd things to happen in the last few minutes, this took the cake. I nearly fainted. I studied his features briefly. There wasn't anything out of place. He looked nearly like an older version of me, but he must have been twenty or something. He had a goatee, and basically was colored a metallic brown in every aspect-hair, eyes, clothes, everything. It was as if my works decided to come to life.
Now I fainted.