Black and White

Chapter 1 - The Stones of Yin and Yang

Bodies are piled upon bodies in a courtyard. A man soon to become King holds his sword aloft above them. A titanic figure topples lifeless to the ground. And a sphere of pure energy disintegrates its own creator. Death weighs down the air and tears descend to the ground like waterfalls. Some of those dead you will care for but most of them you won’t. That is how this story shall end. 

The way our story begins is much simpler; with a 20-something man sprinting through mud and sand, the sea lapping at his feet. A strand of light brown hair fell across his face as he ran. His determined, deep green eyes gleamed as he swatted it away on impulse. He was running at a speed which a cheetah would envy as he pushed his unusually athletic body with all the fires of desperation. He couldn't stop here. Not yet. A purple flash of light and he was gone, the beach quiet once again. But not for long. Only a few moments later a much more substantial yellowy greeny purply pool of who-knows-what appeared in the air and ten people emerged from it in quick succession before disappearing through a second portal, in even quicker succession, each yelling order after indiscernible order.

A desert. A small island. A thick marsh. He disappeared before appearing again in each of these places, one after the other. None of them were right.

It has probably become clear by now that this man has a very unusual ability - he can teleport. It has probably also become obvious that he is being chased. How he came to be chased is a tale for another time, but it was then that he teleported to a lush forest, overflowing with birdsong. Tension permeated the air as those ancient trees tried to digest the sheer gravity of what was about to take place.

As he materialised in this place, he hefted a large bag over one of his shoulders. Sweating, realising that it was slowing him down. But it was the prize. He could not leave it. He glanced behind him, just for a moment, to watch a dark-haired woman emerge behind him, followed swiftly by her compatriots. An outgrowing root stuck out intrusively into his path and he tripped, the bag suddenly opening and a single, round stone, with the Yin-Yang symbol expertly engraved on one side, fell through the air. The man grasped at it desperately - too late. "Crap!" he cursed in a harsh whisper. Nonetheless, he couldn't let them catch him. Not yet at least. Maybe it was luck. Maybe it was fate. But not one of the ten following him saw it fall.

Pick was one of those ten. Though not the leader, he was the kind of man who demanded respect. Well dressed, blonde and handsome in a better-watch-out-he's-probably-in-the-mafia kind of way. But he was just as shocked as the others when he passed through Suzen's portal to find himself standing on an invisible disc of matter hundreds of meters above the ground. They had the man thoroughly surrounded but, strangely, he didn't seem to want to teleport away again. He had even drawn his swords. Weird.  The man scanned around him. "Well it looks like you caught me" he said, with a sly smile. Pick bit his lip. He couldn't quite place why but this man scared him.

Their self-proclaimed leader, Ren, stepped forward. "Yes Zen, we have." he said evenly, as if he were a police officer calming a gun-wielding teen, "Now I see myself as an honourable man so I will give you a choice. Drop the weapons and come with us peacefully or die." Zen glanced around again before spouting a hasty "Sure." That sly smile didn't disappear even as his long-swords clattered to his feet. 

Ren made towards him cautiously and began "I'm glad we didn't have to ki-".  He never finished.

With truly superhuman speed, Zen had grabbed one sword and pierced it straight through Ren's chest. Pick didn't even notice it happen. In fact, by the time he realised what was happening, Zen had already cut down one girl before she could even draw her axe and had kicked the women standing beside her over the edge of the platform with effortless might. Zen then turned hastily to exchange blows with another man. Even as he kicked up the second long-sword, parried Pick's attack with it and dodged the brunt of a massive ball of fire that had been hurled at him, Zen's blade was a hurricane. The man was cut to shreds within seconds. Then suddenly Zen was in front of the fireball-thrower making sure that their last memory was of his sneering face.