Chapter Text
Speak not, for they have already whispered unto those without conviction nor spirit. Those without standing are already slaves.
Draw not, for the minds of those soon to be captured have already pictured that what they cannot see. Their faces are known, a reason to form visions does not exist.
Write not, for scripture is no use when those to be enamoured need no persuasion. What point is there in educating the damned?
Sculpt not, for figures of those yet to come will be of no use in the New World; a world of vanity is but another to be punished by the very idols paraded about.
Sing not, for this is a world without song. Without power known, one cannot bring about the songs of the New World.
Call not, for they are already on their way.
Soon, a song shall be heard. It will be heard across the soil, the seas and the skies that you prey and rest upon. Destruction and Resurrection are one and the same, though there exists those that remain steadfast in their opposition to the rebirth of this world. When such conditions are fulfilled, not only is it required to do so but it is also the duty of those who wish to pursue the reclamation of the land all walk upon. There are those who scorn and spit and ravage and without rest. Though they are persistent we need not worry; panic and anxiety are foreign. Soon the final Seal shall be broken: that false Goddess who has resided in comfort over a land poisoned by sin will meet those who bring salvation for all! And no warrior with enough burning soul exists to stop the oncoming singularity - a storm is approaching. No man, beast, dragon nor deity can halt the reaping of those who have sewn their sin into the very earth upon all that grows and is built.
The time of their Arrival is nigh, and the weight of heresy shall stay your feet. Can you bare to suffer under your illusions?
Speak not the Watchers,
Draw not the Watchers,
Write not the Watchers,
Sculpt not the Watchers,
Sing not the Watchers,
Call not the Watchers' name.
Chapter Text
Salvation. Salvation?
Preservation, deliverance perhaps. From what, one might ask? A great many things are encompassed within this, but it is for the eye of the beholder to choose what to escape from. What matters most is that to achieve salvation is to become protected from what will bring ruin. And it is not a case of if ruin will come, no, no, one would be quite mistaken if one were to even conceive the notion that what is to come can be avoided. When. When ruin comes. And when it does come, salvation will be brought forth whether humanity likes it or not. Humanity's only strength lies in its ego, and so this little experiment has long outstayed its welcome. That is why it cannot be stopped. Fall has been ordained and so it is by obligation and necessity that an actor must break the Seals of this realm. Fortunately, such a vessel is already marched to glorious salvation. The Empire thinks it is simply winning a war of conquest over its fellow man, while the Union struggle against both its opposite alongside fate. They are both fools, tools in the hands of something greater than anything they could possibly dream of - after all, they will both perish in the end, for it is the fate of man decreed by those watching.
Thankfully, our other wretched specimens are dwindling in population, albeit slowly. Gifted with great power, it is disgusting how they abandoned their duty in service alongside our saviours. They too shall be punished - all in due time. Those wretched Holy Dragons should never have spread their blasphemous lies around the rest of their incompetent race, as they shall soon learn how they are to pay for their treachery. It must have been willed that that particular troublemaker, Michael, met his most unfortunate end - well, unfortunate for him and his accursed Intoner and extremely favourable for ourselves. Such an incident proves that Holy Dragons are not immortal, although their ability to reincarnate must be noted (I say this in a more general sense - while Mikhail bore eventual strength of note, his idealistic tendencies and sheer foolish behaviour leaves great vulnerability in the potential of dragons and Holy Dragons alike). Our records of the Intoners are murky, and so our assumptions must make room for error either way. Legends tell of their immense strength, though their folly were at the hands of each other.
After all, everything that lives is designed to end.
Intoners. Dragons. Mankind. Our saviours shall return to exact the very end man has been delivering upon one another for centuries. So, I ask all who lend an ear: do you fear or welcome salvation?
Make haste with your answer, for word has now reached that the final Seal has been broken. The plight of the Empire and the Union is but child's play to what is ordained...
I. Hear. A. Sound.
Chapter Text
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"What vision is this? What happens to the world?"
Rain of ash parts to reveal the forms of demonic beasts, those who have descended from above to wreak havoc upon mankind. "This world is beyond the truth of the gods", roared Angelus, soaring to combat the Grotesqueries above, "Not even they can know what will become". As several large bodies fall lifeless from the sky, and the mute Prince leaps to the ground to face countless more, the Red Dragon asks: "For you who live on bloodlust, can this new world be a happy place?". The Prince swings his sword; allies are maddened by the second. Driving mismatched warriors into a corner, the elf departs from the cluster by the allure of a feast. Her womb is gone, and her hunger can never be satiated - all can be done is watch in shock and horror.
"Arioch, what are you doing? This world is wrapped in screams!" pleaded Leonard to no avail. Fried, Arioch's mind is fixated on her meal.
"Come to me, my children! My beautiful, beautiful children!". A laugh you would never want to hear pierced the air and into ears: "Now come to me, my children! My poor children! Please, my children! The greatest of feasts!". Like a pack of dogs left to starve, as if commanded by their meal several Grotesqueries pounced onto Arioch, fangs sharpened, bellies aching. The Elf-woman widowed and left without her family had been devoured without a trace - not even a bone remained. Seere could do nothing but watch intently, eyes and mouth agape. Caim and Leonard had no time to mourn even if they wanted to - the daemons remained present, creeping inch by inch towards their dwindling snacks.
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"All has become chaos. We have descended into hell" murmured the High Priest to himself. It was now abundantly clear that each and every prayer spoken by Verdelet throughout his life - no matter how empty they became - had never been heard by any God. Nothing screams a devout believer like cowering and retreating once your Gods visit you. Within the whims of chaos and destruction, Leonard feels an urge well up in him - to repent, perhaps? Is his final action for the sake of saving Caim, Seere, Verdelet and the Red Dragon? Or for saving himself? All Leonard could think of was how he could right his past wrongs. He knew what heavy sin he carried deep in his heart, he knew it well and knew it to be evil. He knew he resented it and hated himself for what he is. And so, with a final goodbye to his allies, and promising to clear a path to safety for them, he sent them on their way and faced the opposition leering over him. Before he could do anything, his pact-partner, the insufferable Faerie, mocked him once more before realising that Leonard had finally come to terms with himself, settling the internal dilemma that plagued him for so long. Leonard was ready to die. Faerie was not.
"Hey, stupid! What do you think you're doing!? You'll get me killed too!". Leonard did not recoil, nor even turn to face his pact-partner. Silence filled his immediate vicinity, drowning the roars of the Red Dragon above. "Please, Leonard, live! Don't sacrifice yourself! Please! Please!". Upon hearing Faerie's genuine concern and fear for the very first time, Leonard did not hesitate to strike while Faerie's guard was lowered - in one fell movement, Leonard's hand captured the obnoxious pixie. "No, stop! Let me go! You're too scared to die, right?". The sheer pain and fright from Faerie's childlike voice could be felt from outside the Empire's lands. Though desperate the pleas, Leonard's resolve had never been stronger.
"Death need not be the end of hope!". Erupting with power, light engulfed the Grotesqueries along with the man at the centre of the explosion. Peace, for the first time.
All that remained was the Mother. The Queen-Beast. Reaching higher than the Empire's tallest towers, the Queen released a single shriek --
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A sound. A chime. A bell. A song was about to begin, as time warped around the statue behemoth. Buildings small and large sank into the white abyss below the Mother, the destination unknown to man nor beast. All that was known was if there was to be a method to stop the complete annihilation of man, it had to be put into motion immediately. Then, the voice of a small boy raised a final proposal:
"Only I can stop it. I'm the only one who has what we need". Caim gave Seere a sorrowful, yet reserved glance. The boy, but a fraction of the Prince's age, had grown brave and hardened over their shared journey. Too brave. Too hardened. Too stoic. "A long time ago, there was a brave warrior who drank up all of Time, drop by drop. He slept deep beneath the earth, forever young and strong". As Seere continued, the others - including the Red Dragon - could not help but spur their intrigue in the tale; "But then the world became bathed in blood, and the hero awoke. 'Now is my time!' he said", with tears slowly leaking from his eyes. "The hero who had drunk of Time travelled to the ends of the earth. The hero grew old and weak, and he died" - the youthful voice grew clogged - "But his Time gave the world a new life". A boy with such valour and resolve should not exist in this world. Innocent and safe, must they be kept. But this land knows no mercy.
"The heroes of the stories are the hopes of the tellers. The hero is in you, too.". Once more, the dragon's wisdom pierced further than any man could. And with this one hope left, the Red Dragon and the Prince carried the boy through plumes of toxin and ash and fire, all the way to the Mother. The Queen-Beast had now began to distort the time of all that was visible, with acres swallowed by the minute. Racing through what remained of the Empire's capital, Seere thanked the Prince and the Red Dragon one final time.
"I'm so... happy. Forgive me... Manah".
Landing on the Mother's stomach, Seere begs for his sister's forgiveness. The Little Hero was reborn. And so, time... began to freeze.
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High above, Grotesqueries had been revived and found their way to the duo in the black sky. One after another, sets of jaws plunged into the neck, legs, wings and chest of the Red Dragon. Shrieking in torment, painted in her own blood, she called out one final time to her partner:
"Ca-im... C-CAIM... CAIM!"
Falling in front of her face was the Prince she couldn't save, blade in hand, bloodied and beaten. She could not rescue him, and he could not call out to her. He could not even speak her name. He and the frozen time were reaching each other, attracted via forces felt beyond...
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Struck out of the air, a lone shadow took the Red Dragons's focus. It was impossible to make out who or what snatched the Prince - unable to decide whether to be enraged or relieved, all the Red Dragon could do was fall, until her consciousness faded or she met with the frozen time. For all that remained, she was not bothered by her blood gushing, or missing body parts at all - as far as she was concerned, nothing else was happening. Is Caim safe? Is he alive? Can he hear my cries?
Questions left unanswered, now lost to time. Forever. All was now... black. If anything was there at all. Encompassed by stillness, the land felt peace for the first time in centuries. A quiet peace... without a Prince.
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Notes:
All dialogue from the Red Dragon, Seere, Verdelet, Leonard and Faerie, save for variations of Arioch's lines, are taken directly from Chapter 12 of Drakengard / Drag-on Dragoon. I wanted to try my best at recreating the finale of Branch D.
Chapter 4: Silent Black
Summary:
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Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
The Prince was aware that he was alive when he knew he should not be. Well, not quite - he knew he shouldn’t be conscious of anything happening at all. That was not quite ‘death’ as one might put. To be frozen in time for eternity - who knows what such a sensation would feel like, if felt at all? No, all The Prince could do was be still. His wounds were too deep to be immediately concerned - or even conscious - of what surrounded him, or where he was going, or who had taken him. All he knew was… he would live to slay another day.
Wind - yes, wind, that was the sensation through his hair and across his face. What Caim had only just deciphered was a harness restricting his movements was not only constructed from rope and leather - but also some kind of aether, a presence definitely felt though remained presently unseen. Though restriction of his vision was not limited to whatever magical field kept his movements - mustering the strength to pry open his own eyelids, Caim was met only with the stillness of night. Endless, stretching black, littered only with sparse glints all around. The wind that jolted his senses reminded him that he was not stationary, as nothing else in immediate recognition served this purpose.
Despite his physical restraints, the prince oddly felt at peace. It was not normal for the rageful being inside to have been quelled - and, for a moment, he even pondered this himself - where is the fire? The fit, the burst? Where is the hunger for flesh, the thirst for blood that any other being would be met with had they tried to halt the Prince of the Union - so, why the quiet? Not even the unease of unfamiliar circumstances was enough to provoke him. All Caim had was stillness and the void… and so eventually crept the immediate events prior to how he found himself.
He did not understand what had occurred. All he needed to know was that his blade was firmly gripped, and his Dragon ready to dive into the infernal horrors that materialised below. His… Dragon. Her. The Red Dragon. Now, it was all flooding back to the silent prince. Where he had come from, the stakes, the anguish, the rage within. Where… where was… she? Where is everyone? Where is she? WHERE IS SHE? The prince’s body met his thoughts with beginnings of struggle. He wants this feeling of wind through his hair, but not on a joyride - he wants to ride the Red Dragon into battle, towards war and famine and bring about death and destruction. He wanted his heart to be full of the only substance he knew satiated him - misery. And misery is precisely what he believed he provides best.
For a moment, however, he seemed to remember a boy, and the tale of a small hero. Ah, yes. That boy. The warnings towards the boy also lit up in Caim’s darkened mind: of fear, of a release, of a frozen landscape. Though it was not to be a tundra - no, everything was to turn to black. Black.
Caim couldn’t be… there, could he?
No! Of course not, he asserted to himself. Your hair is blowing, and your body is now writhing against your restraints. You can move your eyes. You can cast your gaze to what presumably is the sky. You can lick your dry lips. You can start to close and open your eyelids, and close, and open, and close, and open them again. And again. And again. And again. And faster and faster and faster and faster and now feeling returns down your arm, you hand, your fingers, the tips of your fingers, now they curl, now they are forming something, something familiar, yes, YES, the form of a fist, of your nails digging into the skin of your palm, yes, now the feeling is coming back, it greets you like an old friend. The writhing perseveres. The rope and leather and belts begin to rub against one another and begin to tear. A wry grin grows on the mad prince’s face - yes, the mad prince. A blessing and a curse for the smiling executioner.
The sky was still black - white teeth pierce the view. Soulless eyes fill the gaps. The Prince prepares himself and must decide - now, or upon arrival?
There are no sounds or songs ringing here - only the rush of blood to the head.
Notes:
It's been over a year since I last worked on this at all. A lot has happened in my life since then - I returned to university, quit and decided to transfer to a new course (from BA Political Science and International Relations to BA English and Creative Writing...!), and sadly a very personal and traumatic loss in my family. But I've since decided to carry on with my new undergraduate course, and with it my interest in Creative Writing has reignited, prompting me to revisit this project.
If you're discovering this work for the first time, then welcome, and I hope you enjoy some of what I write! If you're a returning reader, then - wow! Thank you! And most importantly, if there is anyone who was waiting for the next chapter and never received it - I sincerely apologise. I hope to return to this with renewed vigour - and more dedication. Thank you!
Now, onto notes on the actual text - as you may expect, as it's been over a year since I last visited this work, I'm still trying to get back into a rhythm and recognise what I wanted to do with this story and what kind of characters, locations and perspectives I wanted to explore within YOKO TARO's works, so forgive me as I try to re-establish my footing. Here, I wanted to adjust back to exploring the perspective of everyone's favourite genocide-advocate and -enacter, Caim, Prince of the Union from the original Drakengard. I hope you find my take on such a perspective enjoyable, and that I hope you come back to my work when I next update it. :-)
lolrus777 on Chapter 1 Fri 23 Jul 2021 11:03PM UTC
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lolrus777 on Chapter 1 Sat 24 Jul 2021 01:26AM UTC
Last Edited Sat 24 Jul 2021 03:35AM UTC
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robonick on Chapter 1 Sat 24 Jul 2021 11:30AM UTC
Last Edited Sat 24 Jul 2021 12:07PM UTC
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lolrus777 on Chapter 1 Sat 24 Jul 2021 01:13PM UTC
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lolrus777 on Chapter 2 Tue 27 Jul 2021 05:19AM UTC
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lolrus777 on Chapter 3 Thu 29 Jul 2021 05:39AM UTC
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lolrus777 on Chapter 3 Fri 30 Jul 2021 01:10AM UTC
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lolrus777 on Chapter 3 Fri 30 Jul 2021 01:10AM UTC
Last Edited Fri 30 Jul 2021 01:38AM UTC
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lolrus777 on Chapter 3 Mon 08 Nov 2021 05:47PM UTC
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flowerbit on Chapter 4 Fri 28 Oct 2022 09:49PM UTC
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