The Prodigy

Prologue

A man in a long, black hooded cloak that shrouded his body stood in front of two large gates that stood before a large grey cathedral. Clouds covered the sky, the sun peaking out occasionally.  The large metal gates in front of him flew backwards and smashed into the ground with the flick of his right hand.  The man walked forward to the doors of the cathedral.  As he got closer, the doors opened and three large men in black bullet proof jackets walked out. The men wore thick glass helmets that hid their face and muffled their voices.  

    “Halt!” One shouted  “None shall enter!  Master Andrew is not expecting visitors and shall not be interrupted, leave now!”

    As the man finished his sentence, pistols appeared in all of the three mens hands. They aimed their pistols at the hooded man.

    After a long pause, the man that stood in the middle shouted at the cloaked figure. “This is your last warning, Leave now, or die.”

    The man in the hooded cloak continued standing there, not moving.  Finally, the three men grew impatient, exchanged glances, and unleashed fire upon the man.  The cloaked figure was quickly wrapped in a vortex of darkness from his cape, bullets bounced off of his cape.  When he left his vortex, two silver katana’s held tight in his hands, he lowered his head and charged the three men.  

    The three men continued firing rounds of bullets at the robed man, his silver katana’s deflecting all shots that got close to him as he sprinted faster than a cheetah.  The hooded figure, faster than anything they had ever seen, was in their face before they knew it. The hooded figure aimed for the man in the middle first, shoving his silver Katana straight through his bullet proof jacket and into his heart. The jacket vanished and the man fell to the ground, screaming in terror and pain. Blood ran down the concrete steps of the cathedral, turning the once gray and beautiful concrete finishings to blood stained disasters within seconds.

    The hooded figure let go of his sword and let the man fall, sprinting over to the man on the left, shoving his second Katana into the man's throat.  The hooded figure turned around and looked at the last guard, who was standing on the steps of the cathedral shaking in fear.  The hooded figure slowly walked forward, twirling his katana in circles like one would do with headphones when bored.   

“L… l… look sir,” The guard spoke with terror, pleading for his life. “I was just doing my job, I...I didn’t mean you any… any harm.”

The man in the hood raised his katana, ready to strike down the guard.  

“Look around you.” The hooded figure spoke deep and threatening. “Does it look like I care what you were doing here? Does it look I care about your pathetic life? You are just a means to an end, an obstacle to my inevitable goal. Say hello to your friends for me.”

As the man finished, he violently and mercilessly struck down the guard. The man released his Katana, leaving it inside the man, turning his attention to the open cathedral doors. He slowly walked inside, noticing a man kneeling down before an altar.

“Ah, Jack, I have been expecting you.  Here to finish the job I suppose.” The man whispered.

The man slowly stood up and turned to look at Jack.  The man had short, brown hair and brown, sad eyes.  He wore a long tattered brown cape, scorched and slashed to pieces. The man was bloodied and bruised across his face.  As he stood up he allowed the cape to fall off his shoulders to the floor, the cape turning to ashes as it touched the cold, stone floor.

“You can stay seated, Andrew.” Jack said.  “No point in putting up any more of a fight than you already have.”

Andrew mustered up a laugh

“As the last leader of the Exiled, don’t you think it would be an insult to go down without at least a little fight?”

“Fine then.”  Jack allowed his cloak to fall to the ground as well. “Fight. Let’s see if you are worth being considered the last Exiled leader.”

Jack was a tall figure, about six feet tall with long, black hair and dark brown eyes with a hatred in them.  Andrew and Jack finally faced one another, a red and orange flame appearing in Andrew’s hand. Jack’s hand also began turning to fire when two firebolts shot across the room at one another.

The firebolts smashed into each other exploding in a white light of fire.  Jack leapt through the fire toward Andrew, Andrew flew backwards without even a touch.  Andrew hit the altar behind him, cracking his back and falling to the floor with a loud THUD!  Jack continued sprinting after Andrew as he got up. He slowly looked up and he realized how close Jack had gotten.  Andrew sped up to his feet and instantly starting throwing more firebolts toward Jack, a spear of pure ice appearing in Andrew’s hand.  Jack spun around the firebolts and saw Andrew had his spear down and ready to impale him.  Jack came to a sudden stop, a silver Katana appearing in his hand.

    “Just give up!” Jack shouted. “You can’t defeat me no matter how hard you fight!”  

Andrew stared in fury at Jack. His spear began glowing with a cyan light.

“No.” Andrew whispered. “I won’t kill you. My death will pave the way for the one that will.”

“Don’t tell me you believe the old stories too, you fool, you're smarter than that.” Jack stated

Andrew looked seriously into Jack’s eyes, a grim frown across his face. “Jack…” He began. “Whether you believe it or not, it will come true. I’ve read it, seen it, been to the vault, you’ve seen his power, felt it. My death is the beginning of the fall of the Exiled. We’ve lasted long enough, it’s time for a new order to replace us, I don’t know what it will be, but they’ll be stronger than us, Jack. I already know I can’t convince you otherwise, Rezzit will kill you himself.”

Jack was grinning at Andrew. Andrew knew that Jack didn’t believe him, it didn’t matter what he said, because the prophecy said so. Fighting back was pointless, Jack winning was pointless, continuing the Exiled line of leaders was pointless. Jack’s hand was darker than the night, the void growing larger the more he focused.

Time in Andrew’s mind went to a standstill as he watched his last few seconds drawing near. He thought of the pointless slaughtering he had committed as leader of the Exiled. He thought of everything he could have done to help the prophecy, to help Rezzit, and to stop the Exiled. Had he helped… Not left the Prodigies or the Academy… Maybe this day wouldn’t have been his last. Pointless. That’s what it all was. His choices, his death, his life, and he knew it.

Andrew was slowly enveloped by the dark void summoned by Jack. Jack laughed in insanity as the void swallowed Andrew. He saw the lives of everyone he had taken, their faces, their screams of mercy, yet he had done the same as Jack did now, laughed with anger, hatred, and passion as he slaughtered them, and he felt his life pass, his body become limp, and his soul was absorbed by the void, leaving a lifeless carcass on the floor of the cathedral.

Jack leaned over and kicked the corpse, ensuring it’s lifelessness. Andrew’s corpse caught fire as Jack strolled out, laughing maniacally, his Katana vanishing. Jack stood for a second outside the cathedral, then vanished.