Ultimate Assassin Saga: Woodlands

Just as soon as that thought crossed his mind, Acheron felt something else. It was much smaller than the power that was making him feel uneasy, but it was much closer than it was. The larger force felt like it was on the other side of the Jungle and he knew they wouldn't be able to reach it in one go. However, this smaller force was steadily growing closer, and as it did, he noticed something. The source of the power wasn't coming from one being: it was coming from several.

Cursing inwardly, the Chaos Demon stopped in his tracks and he scanned the surrounding area, looking for any sign of the creatures. He saw nothing however and he frowned, still able to sense that they were getting closer and closer with each passing second. The question was where the hell they were. He noted the Star Elves hadn't seen him stop so they were still walking unworried about the things rushing towards them from some unseen direction, and though he thought to call out to them, he didn't. They probably wouldn't listen to him anyway so there was no point.

He still couldn't find the creatures that were moving towards him. He sensed the creatures just find, he just couldn't see them with his eyes. Then, he felt their auras move once more, but to his surprise, they didn't move to the side or down: no, their auras moved up! They were under the ground stalking them!

"They're under the ground!" Acheron cried out to the rest of the group without thinking. He jumped back away from the spot where they were coming up towards, and the moment his feet touched the ground, he drew his Diamond Blade. He didn't have time to spare his glance towards the Star Elves to see if they were heading what he'd said because it was at that moment that the ground began to tear to pieces, allotting the one's beneath to rise up. He gritted his teeth and brought his Diamond Blade into a defensive position as he watched first the hands, then the arms, shoulders, the heads, and finally the rest of the bodies come up.

The Chaos Demon backed up more as they continued to pour forth from the ground like locusts swarming and his eyes grew wider with each new of the Undead that came from the ground. They were Zombies, that much was obvious, but they weren't just Human corpses. They were the corpses of Humans, Elves, Dwarves, Centaurs, Minotaurs, and several other creatures that he had no idea what were. It was a horrid sight and one that he watched with mute fascination as it occurred right in front of his very eyes.

He'd backed up more than twenty feet by the time the Zombies finally stopped crawling free of their hole. He saw the Star Elves coming back in his direction and he realized that they'd seen what was going on. He was glad for that because there was no way he could handle them all on his own. He was good, but even he wasn't that good.

However, they were too far away for them to do him any good right now. He would simply have to fight his way through the Undead until the Star Elves got there and helped him out. That was all there was too it, though it was easier said than done. Holding up his Diamond Blade, he gritted his teeth and he watched as the Undead grew closer, moving faster than he thought Zombies could move, seemingly like super Zombies.

Deciding to take matters into his own hands, the Command Assassin let out a cry of battle and he lunged forward, sword held out in front of him. He darted straight into the crowd of the Undead, paying them no real heed as he ducked the swipe of one Minotaur's mostly decayed fist. He sliced open the Minotaur Zombie's stomach, blood and guts spilling from its insides to fall to the Jungle floor. Raising his blade to block the next attack, he fought on, harder and harder, his sword moving faster than he thought it could, defending him while hoping to get out of this alive.

That was all he could hope for at this point really.

Acheron raised his sword, blocking the attack of one Elf Zombie's sword, knocking the blade to the side. Then, he raised his sword and he sliced the Undead Elf's head from his shoulders, the body falling with it. Turning, he ducked the attack of an Undead Human, its rotting flesh falling from the bone even as it swiped at him. He gathered magic in his other palm, and when his hand starting glowing with blue fire, he jabbed it forward into the Undead Human's chest. The creature cried out in pain even as its chest was blown out its back and it fell to the ground, dead once more.

"Acheron!" cried a familiar masculine voice. He raised his eyes from the battle, looking over behind him and he saw the Star Elves had finally reached them. They were pointing their Rifles at the crowd of Zombies, but not one of them looked ready to fire just yet. What the hell were they waiting on when he was surrounded like this? "Move!"

Surprised by the order but deciding to take it, the Chaos Demon knocked aside the arm of one small Dwarf Zombie before he leaped high into the air, out of the way. Just as soon as he left the crowd, he saw the Elves fire and blasts of pure white magic flew from the muzzles of their Pulse Rifles, arcing towards the Undead. As he watched in amazement, the blasts hit each Zombie and obliterated it with one shot. The shots kept coming, tearing them to pieces and the Undead didn't stand a chance against the onslaught.

The Zombies did their best to reach them, lumbering faster than any Zombie he'd ever seen in the past, but to no avail. The Star Elves had fanned out, standing twenty feet from each other in flanking positions. Many of them had gone down to one knee to shoot, obviously making it more accurate. The Command Assassin watched this in amazement and he found himself glad that he wasn't the one that had to fight these beings. With such powerful weaponry, it would be nearly impossible to defeat them, even with the strength of a demon.

Acheron landed in the branches of one of the many trees of the Whispering Jungle and he watched the battle ensue even more. The air was filled with the magical attacks coming from the Pulse Rifles and not one of the Undead were able to escape. Not that they tried anyway. The Undead were stupid, caring about nothing except for the flesh of others and fear wasn't something that they had any knowledge of. That was why the continued to walk on, trying to reach the Star Elves when an intelligent race of people would've turned tail and run a long time ago, not that that would be any more effective against the Pulse Rifles.

Finally, the blasts of the Rifles stopped, and when he looked closer, he noted that the Zombies were all dead. Their bodies had been torn to pieces by the magical assault and each corpse was laying more than ten feet away from the line of Star Elves, Pulse Rifles to their shoulders as if they were waiting for the next onslaught. He supposed that it was possible that that wave was just the beginning, but he didn't think so. In his mind, the battle was over.

Watching the Star Elves carefully, the Chaos Demon stepped off of the branch of the tree and he fell through the air. His boots hit the ground and his knees didn't even buckle. He'd been prepared to land on the ground when he'd stepped off of the branch. He didn't move from his spot however. He didn't want the Star Elves to turn on him and fill him full of holes to. He didn't know what they were going to do because they had yet to move. They remained in the same place they were before, staring out across the land, searching for more enemies.

There was nothing.

After long, agonizing minutes, there was a roughened order to "stand down" and the Star Elves followed suit by lowering their weapons. The Command Assassin watched as the kneeling Elves rose to their feet, but they didn't put away their weapons. They looked ready to continue the fighting and killing. Their faces were like stone and their weapons were held at the waist, muzzles pointed at the ground. It was obvious from their stances that they were trained professionals, working together on a daily basis and knowing one another's next move before they made it.

From the crowd, the head of the Warrior clan emerged, Rifle in hand and a stern look on his face. He wasn't looking at the Command Assassin, but he had a feeling that he wasn't going to escape his attention forever. Just as that thought crossed his mind, the Warrior turned his head and his jade green eyes settled on him, a stern look in them. Most people might've withered under that stare, but he didn't. Instead, he straightened his spine and he met the stern gaze with emerald green eyes empty of all emotion.

Acheron wasn't afraid of this man and he wasn't about to show it. The Star Elf broke away from the group as easily as a rock falls through water and he made his way towards Acheron. The Elf's strides were long and sure, obviously confident in his own walk. He held his Pulse Rifle in both arms, ready to defend himself at any moment. He wasn't pointing it at him and that was all Acheron really cared about. He would defend himself necessary, but he really didn't want to if he didn't have to.

The Warrior Lord stopped in front of him, his stare still as stern and commanding as it'd been before. They stared into one another's eyes for a moment, neither one speaking or moving. The air around them was tense, showing the rivalry that was brewing between the two of them. The other members of the Elven contingent stood stock still and waited to see what would happen, obviously not sure of their Lord's intention. Then, to his - and everyone else - surprise, the Warrior Lord nodded his head one singular time.

"You fought well." Acre said in a soft voice, the direct opposite of the look on his face. It was obvious that he didn't want to say it, but he couldn't deny the truth. The Chaos demon was surprised that Acre would admit such a thing out loud and he found himself staring into the other man's eyes, his own slightly widened from the surprise. Before he could say anything however, Acre continued. "You held off the Undead long enough for us to get back and put them down. The First Wave welcomes you to our people."

That said, he turned and walked just as confidently away from him as he had when he'd approached him. His strides were just as long and sure as they'd been before. It was as if he didn't mind being show that he was wrong about something. The Command Assassin was glad that he'd managed to prove himself to someone who didn't necessarily like him at least. That showed him that his actions did indeed speak louder than his words and his actions were the same as his words.

Grinning to himself, Acheron cleaned the blood of the Undead from his Diamond Blade and he sheathed the weapon. Then, he followed after the the Warrior Lord and the rest of what he'd referred to as the First Wave.

This was the first step to the trust of the Star Elves.

XXXXXXXXXX

Acre walked ahead of the First Wave contingent and the Demon. He was barely paying any attention to his surroundings though. It wasn't every day someone showed you that your prejudices were wrong and that you were an ass for feeling the way you'd felt. However, today was one of those days, and because he'd been shown he was wrong, he began to question what else he'd been wrong about over the years.

Had he judged people too harshly based on their actions because they seemed to affect him? Was he a selfish bastard who thought that he was better than everybody else because of his rank? He didn't know the answer to either one of those questions, but he had the feeling that if he asked the questions out loud to an objective party, he wouldn't like the answer. That was what was keeping his mouth closed and his eyes on the path.

He didn't want to hear the truth.

The Star Elf had seen the strength and the ability of the Demon when the Undead had poured from the ground. He hadn't backed down and he hadn't hesitated, facing down hundreds of the Undead alone. He wasn't even sure that he himself would've done that, but that wasn't what mattered. What did matter was the fact that the Demon had proved himself to be a powerful ally, and if he wanted to, the demon could easily kill every last one of them without breaking a sweat.

That was the very moment that Acre, Lord of the Warrior Clan and Commander of the First Wave, began to believe in Acheron the Chaos Demon.

Darville, King of the Tundra and the Elk Barbarian tribe, lay awake in his bed. He lay on his back staring up at the roof with his hands behind his head. He had a lot on his mind and couldn't seem to shake it at all. His thoughts went from dealing with the Barbarian tribe to dealing with all the problems of the Tundra and finally to their new allies, the Ice Demon clan.

He was tall, standing at over six foot tall, and heavily muscled. He had long blonde hair that fell unrestrained to his shoulders and dark blue eyes set in a pale, roguishly handsome face. Marking his lip and chin was a newly grown blonde goatee. Normally he wore his furs and leathers, but at this time, he was naked. He hated wearing clothes to bed and he knew the sentiment was shared by many others.

The Barbarian sighed and wished he could banish the thoughts from his mind, but he couldn't. They continued to come again and again like a wave of water slamming against the coast. They just kept coming and coming in a never ending tide. The only way for him to get rid of the thoughts was to go ahead and let them play out. If he tried to fight them, they would continue to push against the front of his mind and he would never be able to get to sleep tonight.

The King sat up slowly and allowed the fur quilt to fall around his waist. He ran a hand down his chest to his abs and he pulled back the quilt, revealing his naked form beneath. Sighing out loud as his naked flesh was revealed to the cool air of the Tundra, he slid his legs over the side of the bed and he pushed to his feet. He took a moment to stretch his arms over his head, popping muscles and cracking bones as he stretched. He allowed his hands to fall back down by his sides and he tapped the pads of his fingers against his naked thigh.

The blonde man walked across the rug covered floor, his bare feet slapping against the floor as he ambled across the room. Reaching the corner of the room, he leaned his large, masculine hands on the sill of his window and he stared out at the land beyond. The Tundra - to someone like him - was a beautiful sight. It was a land of snow and ice, but it held a wondrous beauty about it at the same time. Outsiders wouldn't appreciate the beauty of it, but for those born in the Tundra, they loved the land.

It snowed every single day on the Tundra, most times only falling to about a foot worth of snow. However, when night fell, the moon came out and the snow stopped. Because of this, the snow mostly melted away before the next day came. There were black outcroppings in the snow as well, showing the mysterious land that had once existed here at one time.

He narrowed his eyes and caught sight of the black stone of the village around the palace where he lived. He could barely believe what he was seeing to be honest. At one time, the Elk tribe was a small, nomadic tribe of fifty thousand who had been at war with the other Barbarian tribes of the Tundra. However, after the Demon Acheron - their new ally - had come to the Tundra, the other Barbarian tribes had joined forces to stop his late brother from taking over the Tundra and reeking havoc.

Darcine, now dead, had always had a bitterness inside of him when it came to his brother. It wasn't something based on logic, but out of jealousy. He'd always felt that Darville had been given everything by their father and by everyone else simply because he'd been born first. It was true that he was the Heir to the Elk when their father was alive, but he hadn't been given anything. He'd earned everything that he'd gotten.

That was the one thing that his little brother had refused to believe. He'd wanted to be right and there was nothing anyone could do to convince him otherwise. It was because of this overwhelming need to be right that he fell in with a Demon who had come to him in secret to disrupt the alliance the Elk was starting to build with Acheron. That was the biggest problem at the time and Darcine had hated every last second of it. He'd thought them weak and foolish for allowing a Demon to come among them, so to rectify the situation he joined up with a Demon himself.

The double standards that his brother could spout was amazing.

The Demon ally of Darcine's had been the one to poison his father to death and had knocked him unconscious, leaving him in his father's house. The very day that they found what had happened to the King, he was Exiled from the Elk tribe. He'd left, but he hadn't left alone. Acheron had come with him and he could admit that if it wasn't for him, then he never would've returned under positive circumstances.

He'd met with the King of another Barbarian tribe, and after making allies with them, it was revealed that the other tribes were coming there to become allies as well. The Barbarians of the Tundra had recognized the threat that Shadir, the Kingdom to the north, had posed to them. At the time, they'd sent scouting parties into the Tundra to judge the strength of the people there to determine whether or not they should extend their borders there. In the end however, the Shadirans had turned away because they were too powerful and the King of Shadir didn't want to sacrifice too many of his people to a cause that he judged to be hopeless.

It was then that Acheron left, but he knew that he would see the man again. They were allies and he knew that Acheron would need his help again. When he came calling for help, the Barbarian King would give it freely and happily. If it hadn't been for Acheron, he wouldn't be the King of the Elk tribe and they never would've gotten justice for his father's death. He realized that and he knew there was no way for him to deny it, not that he would even if he could.

Darville sighed and he closed his eyes for a moment. The near pure whiteness of the Tundra could be blinding at times and there were times when he'd gone temporarily blind. It happened so it wasn't that big of a deal. Outsiders would've panicked and probably gotten themselves killed if they experienced the blindness, but it was temporary. It was merely one of the side effects of living on the Tundra.

Opening his eyes once again, the Barbarian turned away from the window and he stared into the darkness of his room. His thoughts turned to his baby sister and the pain that she'd endured while Darcine was King. Diana had been raped by a guard, and despite the fact that it was a heinous crime, his brother had done nothing, blaming her instead. Because of that, he felt no remorse when he killed his brother. He hadn't wanted to do it at first, but then, he'd learned afterwards that his brother had allowed Diana to be raped without doing anything to punish the man who'd done it.

It was because of that rape that his sister never went anywhere near men. Before, she'd trusted the members of the Elk without a second thought. She'd always smiled and spoken with those that were even strangers to her. Since the rape, she'd grown more withdrawn and thinner from lack of eating. He'd told her many times that she needed to take care of herself better, and even though she'd said that she would, she made no choice. She often sat in her room in his home, sitting in a corner in the dark.

For that, he wished that he could revive Darcine just so he could kill him again and again.

Cursing under his breath, the Barbarian King raised a hand to his face and stroked his beard. He didn't know why, but the beard had started growing in the moment Acheron had left the village. Most Barbarian men had thick beards and there was even the prejudiced that men without facial hair weren't true Barbarians, but no one did anything about it. They would make jokes about those men behind their backs and sometimes even openly snicker at them, but never did it resort in violence. Even with an extra five hundred thousand men, women, and children, violence continued to remain low among the Elk tribe. There was a simple explanation for that of course.