Legend of the Unsung Heroes: Book One: Awakening.

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All stories are real, just not all real in the same story.

An unknown and unimportant old man said this once. A seemingly naive and insane proverb. This man however, new something, or maybe guessed correctly. Not all stories are real, but in this infinite realm of the multiverse created by the written word, their exist but a few worlds where indeed, All Stories are Real. This is one of those worlds, centered around a young man who simply wishes to see the color in life. This is the tale of the Unkown Saints, of Misunderstood Monsters. However above all, it is A Legend of Unsung Heroes.

Prologue: The Inhuman Light.

He stood on an icy cliff, looking down on the seemingly endless vally below. A truly picturesque scene, something only the brave or foolish would endeavor to see.

Looking down, something, he couldn't identify what, was shimmering slightly. No, wait, it wasn't shimmering, it just had such a presence that it was impossible for him to not notice it. It was simply easier for his fragile human mind to interperit it as a physical sense like sight. For if he truly felt the presence not diluted by physical sense, he would have either gained enightenment or gone mad.

He stood there on the cliff face, enraptured by the sight that wasnt truly a sight. Slowly, without realizing he was, he started lifting his foot off of the ground to step forward, anything to get closer to that heavenly sight. Even if he died from the fall he would still get to see it.

He started forward.

He spread his arms out, as if to embrace something.

Slowly, he leaned forward.

Then...He fell....

"There!" he shouted in his mind, getting closer, he was right on top of-

Nothing. the scene faded to black. He was angry, stunned, and above all a crushing sadness overtook him.

That was all he had time to feel however as a flash of images overtook him.

A tainted chalice with black mud overflowing from the rim

An Eight headed snake with a sword stuck in its corpses tail

A young boy burning in a sea of fire

A lost city in ruins with a glorious blade stuck in the city square, a Sword that Promised Kingship.

A golden haired man crying over his one true friends body.

A black skinned Giant tackling a golden lion.

A teenage looking blond man in blue and silver armour crying silently over a similar looking boy in red armour who had a magnificent sword impaled in his stomach.

A magnificent Golden Sword of Assured Victory.

An Everdistant Utopia.

Finally, a white haired boy with gold eyes looking as if he wanted to be anywhere but here looking at him and saying "Wake up Lucas."

He woke up in a start, sitting up with sweat all overhis face. It was unfortunatly something he was used to.

"That damn dream again. Not like I should be suprised anymore but its still really annoying"

You see he'd been having that dream for the las six months since he turned 16. Always the exact same. And always feeling as if he should remember something.

Still, the day must go on, he sat up and swung his feet over the edge of the bed. Grabbing his red-rimmed glasses and putting them on he stood up and went to the bathroom to wash up.

About 15 minutes later he came out, his 6' tall frame covered in a blue striped shirt and jeans with black sneakers. He went over to his side of the apartment again, grabbed his black winter coat and put it on. His neck-length straight blond hair swaying in the breeze when he opened the door to see the winter morning.

He started walking, seeing the crowded morning streets of London brought a smile to his face. He was truly a city man, seeing the people all gathered together truly warmed his heart.

He was Lucas Cornwall Penhart. A seemingly ordinary high school boy except for one thing.

He couldnt see the joy in simplicity

He thought of greatness and excitement. The monotony of the simple man, that was something he would rather die than recieve. Truly, he wanted the Extraordinarity, the Supernatural.

Well Lucas, be prepared, you might just get your wish, whether or not it's what your excpecting is something else entirely.

His name was Lucas Cornwall Penhart, and his life was about to have a whole kaleidoscope of colors splashed on the gray monotony.