Kingdom Hearts Kingdom Hearts: Second Life

Well, congratulations to me on my first upload to this site. My username may be OrgXIII Xaldin, but my pen name is Albert Zephyr. You may call be by whichever catches your fancy. Getting down to business, this fanfiction is the product of much planning, and is based around the game Kingdom Hearts.

This being my first attempt at a legitimate story, I understand that I will most likely need some measure or another of improvement. That being said, I will accept any criticisms towards my works, but I kindly ask that they be relevant to the story and not aggressive beyond what is appropriate.

Disclaimer: I do not own Kingdom Hearts, any of the characters thereof, or anything not of my own creation.

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Prologue

Irritation. Failure. Of all, a dulled fury was prominent within him. This boy was more trouble than he was worth. The dark of the night concealed the slight look of satisfaction when his opponent struck out once more, only for his weapon to be repelled. He might as well have been attacking a wall of steel.

Seeing an opening, he let himself fade away, all but disappearing into the air. A disconcerting flash of raw energy as his body reconverted, and he reformed behind the confused teen. With a sneer, and but the slightest movement of the wrist, six teal lances shot passed his body at the youth.

Eyes wide and shock apparent, the boy flipped back and to the side, simultaneously slashing downward with his Keyblade, the Oathkeeper, and knocking aside two of the fatal projectiles which otherwise would have struck home.

He landed easily on the ground several feet away, showcasing a balance and coordination normally seen in those far older than the likes of himself. The lancer had to keep him on the defense. The younger of the combatants was quick, yes, but were he to lose that balance which graced him, he would be at the mercy of the lances circling about the man in black.

Rotating around in the orb of air in which he floated, he came about on the boy's flank, assaulting him with a quick slash of the lance he had summoned to his hand. The young swordsman danced away to safety, lifting his weapon in preparation to defend. There was a sudden shift in the air. It became thicker, heavier. Whipping his body around he caught sight of a white figure, a wand adorned with a ragged brown miniature of a sorcerer's hat at it's peak in his feathered grip. One of the boy's companions. Nothing but mere annoyances.

Before the poultry gathered a coalescing ball of red fire. He would never have the chance to finish his pitiful spell.

Quick as thought, one of the five remaining lances which roved about his body dispatched itself at the magician, dead-set in skewering him. A second body flew into the path of destruction, wielding a shield embellished with three round, black circles.

The lance struck the canine's shield, near shattering it. Both the bearer of the shield and the duck behind were sent flying away by the force of the blow, and lay prone on the ground upon stopping. Weapon having promptly returned to it's master, he turned back to face his main adversary, only to come face to fist with the claw of a beast covered in brown fur and a purple cloak which hung from his neck.

Though the blow found no entry through the barrier of air, it did so much as to knock it and it's inhabitant away a fair distance.

It was this creature before him that had brought him here. So much potential, and all of it cast away for the sake of something so disgusting as love. A total waste of time, and all because of a brat that came to his castle and found a way to reach his heart. By the power that he possessed, the boy would pay for his actions. He would see to it personally.

With a roar composed of conviction and hatred, the beast charged, eyes blazing. He raised his clawed hand and swiped again, seemingly in denial that the shield was impenetrable. As the claw fell, so too did the target dissipate into his element, flashing away several feet, only to reappear after the danger was passed, three lances now in his grip. He repeated the movement in reverse, moving back toward the beast, appearing before him, and slashing at his side as he glided passed, leaving three dark stains in his fur.

Amazingly, the creature did not fall as he had expected. Rather, he roared in defiance, whipping around to face the cloaked one once more.

Eyes narrowed, he flew toward the beast. Few things there were that survived decapitation. Twisting his body counter-clockwise, he pulled his left arm across his body in preparation for the fatal slash. Three quarters of the way through the rotation, he swung his arm. He jolted to a stop and a metallic clash rang through the air. His face contorted until the frown deepened into a scowl. Between the bladed end of his lance and the neck of the stunned beast was nothing other than the legendary sword, wielded by the boy who was now cringing from the impact he had intercepted.

Said "hero" pushed the lance away with a strength that caught the lancer off guard, sending him backward in a negative spin. Taking the opportunity, the beast loped away to regroup, hand covering his wounds. The boy planted his feet, awaiting the imminent strike; he was not a moment too soon.

All six lances floating parallel to the ground, the man in black sent them rushing at the keybearer, a near perfect recreation of his attack minutes previous. Different, however, was the boy's reaction. Rather than immediately attempting to evade the attack, as he had before, he stood his ground, waiting until what could only have been the last moment possible to leap strait into the air.

The lancer watched transfixed as the boy flew just above the lances targeting him. It was then that a curiosity occurred. Though they be black as the jacket the lancer himself wore, the clothes the boy wore took on a strange glow for a moment, as if they had absorbed and resonated with a foreign energy.

The lancer's eyes shot wide as, adding to his surprise, the teen suddenly vanished, seeming to blur from existence. Had it not been for his immeasurable connection to the air about him, he wouldn't have survived to see the next moment. Tracing the faint trail of the swordsman's path in the air, he looked upward just in time to see the boy reappear, weapon pointed down. Still shining from his re-materialization he dropped toward the lancer, propelled by some unseen force.

The target threw his body backward, but was a fraction of a second too late. The Keyblade, aided by the downward momentum the boy had gained, pierced the top of the lancer's barrier, causing it to disperse, then continued on to cut a slight gash through the torso of the man in black.

He retreated but a moment, hand on his chest. He raised his hand to see the black glove covering it, a glossy, crimson line splayed across it. He looked up from the proof of his wound to glare at the boy, whose own visage was set in a mask of determination. He had no choice but to acknowledge the boy's skill with a sword. He would finish this quickly to ensure a second demonstration of that skill would never be.

He and his lances became one with the wind. He flew about the boy, summoning his lances in rapid succession above his head, then sending them down at the keybearer. The boy dove out of harm's way, rolling to his feet, only to find himself needing to repeat the action as the lances once again appeared overhead. Several times this occurred, with each subsequent attack coming closer to success. After one such dodge, as the boy prepared to leap again, the lances, rather than vanishing, cut off his escape, and circled around him faster than his eyes could follow. Anticipating their intentions, he leapt from the circle as it closed in on him, no doubt meaning to dash him to pieces.

He looked behind himself too late to see his mistake. The weapons that had circled him folded in on themselves. They had been insubstantial.

From above, he heard the lances appear again with the sound of rubbing metal. He glanced up, raising his weapon in defense, and set his free hand against the back of the blade, bracing it. He could do nothing else but watch as the lances fell in unison, tilted diagonally with their blades together, their master falling with them in the empty space between them.

The lances struck the Keyblade, and sent the boy to his knee, a gash appearing on his left forearm and right shoulder.

Disengaging the master of the Keyblade, the lancer flew back a dozen feet, his deadly weapons reforming about him. He screwed his eyes shut in deep concentration. The time had come to end this.

His body shown with an unearthly black glow. Two lances flew unbidden to his hands as he rushed the rising keybearer. The weapon in his right hand, which he wielded backwards from the end, he slashed first, horizontally. He made no attempt to confirm the attack had struck, but continued his assault, twisting his body around, and swinging downward with the lance in his left hand. The boy blocked the second attack, but seemed unnerved by the intensity of the attack his opponent was putting forth.

The boy swung the Keyblade in a counter-attack, but missed as the lancer flipped over him, grabbing two more weapons as he did so. Now holding two lances longways in each hand, he landed, and promptly threw his body into a spin the razor edges of the lances extended four feet on either side of his body. The keybearer responded by dropping to the ground, sliding below the deadly vortex toward his cloaked adversary. Much to his growing frustration, the chance to attack never presented itself, for the lancer flung his body into a flip once more.

He came down with his right side parallel to the ground this time, right arm pointed at the stones below him, and his left angled above his head. The boy hardly had enough time to roll to his feet and jump away before the lances began spinning at a speed unattainable by human hands.

Seeing his target was out of range, the man in black released the lances, twisted his body, and landed feet first above the stone of the bridge they fought upon. The lances found their way to their master, aligning themselves one after the other, and connecting at the ends. The Nobody gripped the center of the union and thrust himself into yet another rotation, sending the lances to slash an excess of thirteen feet in any direction.

Slowing himself to a stop, he was able to take notice of his surroundings. The boy had managed to escape the range of his attack, and was even now charging to launch his own attack. The lancer withheld a sneer. Attacking the boy directly wasn't working as well as he had hoped it would. He was beginning to grow accustomed to the Nobody's fighting pattern. He would have to take another approach.

The master of the Keyblade came upon him with his weapon, but missed by inches as the lancer leapt away, landing upon one of his lances. The other five quickly proceeded in creating a chain which writhed in the air like a serpent. There he stood with his arms outstretched, pulling raw energy from the air, his weapons becoming bloated and transforming with the power. Leaving the bridge, the lancer turned his creation about. The energy held within his mount gathered at the front, which divided into three prongs. He took aim: the keybearer's companions, who were only now coming to from the blow they had been dealt.

Even from his high vantage point, the Nobody could see that panic was evident in the boy's features. He sprinted across the distance, forcing every ounce of stamina he possessed to increase his speed. The lancer's energy cannon fired. The last thing he saw before his field of vision was overtaken by a blinding white light was the boy diving the last few meters to his friends.

It was several moments before the energy was spent and the beam died away. When it did, the sight left the lancer dumbfounded.

There, in the center of a blackened hole of rubble, was a transparent honeycomb shield which encased the boy and his friends, who were now on their feet. The barrier fell, and so too did the youth. His companions caught him, and there seemed to be a short exchange.

Weapons returned to normal, the lancer returned to the bridge, albeit near the opposite end in order to observe. Should the need arise, he could be at the other side in a matter of seconds.

The boy looked to his friends in turn, a look of profound worry set on his face. They nodded to him, and the worry seemed to fade away. With some small measure of unknown strength, he stood on his own, the canine to his right, and the duck to his left. The Nobody could have laughed from the sheer audacity of it. They still meant to oppose him. However, before he even had the chance to move, something unforeseen happened.

The master of the Keyblade floated into the air, a shining sphere surrounding his body. In unison, the dog and duck swung their weapons and struck the shield. Their bodies converted into energy and were absorbed into the orb. The lancer finally realized what they were attempting to do.

He dissolved into the air, sending himself flying across the bridge in multiple flashes of light. He reached the boy in time to see the energy flow into his body, causing his clothes to turn a striking yellow. The lance in his hand fell to the boy, only to come to a sudden stop. A shockwave of energy blinded them. When his vision returned, he found his weapon resting in the intersection of the Oathkeeper and a second Keyblade, this one resembling a true sword, silver in color, and embossed with the likeness of a lion's head.

The Nobody's eye's blazed. More and more he showed himself to be related to the traitor. The teen heaved, sending the lancer reeling away. He released the lion-sword from his left hand, leaving it to hover just next to it.

There they stood for what seemed like an eternity. The lancer inclined his head. Truly, this boy was a prodigy. Such a shame that, with all the power he now exuded, he would still expire. The man in the black robe rocketed into the air, grabbing two lances in his right hand, one in his left. He altered his velocity, angling back down toward the boy who leapt up to face him. They neared each other and-

"JARED!"

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And so ends the beginning of the beginning. I eagerly look foreward to comments on this work, and any encouragement that is forthcoming to continue on with the story. Thank you for reading.


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