Author's Note: Sorry to everyone reading this series. School has been quite a pain, but I have managed to write another chapter for this story. There's a certain storyline I've made, but it took a lot of effort for it to make sense. In the meantime, be sure to check out my other story. Otherwise, enjoy the reading!

11 years later...

The night sky was dark and the moon was nowhere to be seen. A loud, almost painful drone of a man screaming almost pushed Mason off his feet. He was almost an adult now, and at 17 years old, he could pass for a knight in the King's army. His plain brown eyes looked around as he saw everything burning around him. He stood there like a rock; his body frozen in fear. He was deathly afraid of fire. The buildings around him were collapsing. The rubble falling down took his neighbours lives as they cradled their dead, loved ones. The earth was either scorched by flame or ripped apart like paper.

The fires danced around the dead bodies as if they were mocking them. Their cries of pain and sorrow echoed in his head. He knew each of their names, and all of them screaming out at him. A baby named Bow shrieking as it was the only one left of the Markov family across the street. Jimmy screaming for help as his lower torso was still under pieces of rubble. Marie, the nearby doctor, covered in blood and organs, crying for help.

He knew this scene all too well. He turned around to see a younger version of himself, around the age of 10. The young boy looked like him, only much more angry. He yelled at his younger self, "Hey! Get outta there!"

The boy didn't react. He stood there, waiting for something. Suddenly, a man dressed in jet black robes walked out of a nearby building. His entire face was covered except his bright, blue eyes and his hands. He held the heads of two men in each one. Their horrified faces were stained with blood. One was missing both eyes and the other one had the tongue pulled out through what was the neck. He dropped them onto the broken ground and began to speak with a rough, yet nasally voice.

"They were not capable of joining us, Master. The Oraborne fought me. They failed. One escaped me. Flew into the sky like a missile. Girgis will find him. Consume him. However, he will not come back until very much later. Also-"

The boy waved his hand in front of the man with black robes. The boy's voice sounded like a million different people speaking at the same time.

"No matter. There will be more. But they will be weak by then. As long as they are dead or consumed, they will not fight. "

Mason began to run towards them until something strange happened. He started to slow down. He stopped eventually until he felt a strong force, like wind, push on his body and pulled him back to where he was before. He turned around to see an extremely tall man, around 8 feet tall with long black clothing and a mask. The mask was completely white and covered his whole face. His hands covered his ears with his white, gloved hands. They were bleeding heavily as the red liquid poured down his arms.

The blood dripped from his wrists and into the ground. Small sprouts grew out of the ground as the tall man sprouted another arm out of his body and held Mason back. The man began to "sprout" other arms, they began to surround Mason and envelop him.

"Let me go!" he yelled at the man. He questioned why he had even tried yelling. Nothing was working in the first place.

The tall man was silent as he pointed his head towards "himself" and the cloaked man.

The boy grasped his stomach and kneeled as if in pain.

"What is it, Master? Are you all right?"

"He... is coming. Bounded not by the three, but with them. The forgotten one will rise."

The cloaked man's eyes widened.

"When he comes back, they shall rise with him. But they are old. They cannot fight no more. They will be forgotten and reborn out of the ashes of this accursed world and fight back. We will be ready. We will not fail."

"How will we know when we are ready?"

"When the Grand Oracle dies. We will destroy all that is left in this world and the pillar of civilization will crumble. Alastor. You will bring death among the land as my herald of destruction. Girgis must destroy the last of the Oraborne. None must live again, or we risk the creation of an incarnate. I will handle the three living Incarnates and the Grand Oracle. You must destroy everything around you. Do you understand?"

"Yes, my lord."

"Now go. Plague the lands with your blade and kill anyone who breathes air. You are no longer Alastor, but the ruler of this Earth until I return."

The man known as Alastor jumped up into the sky and disappeared into the murky, black sky.

"Now where were we, Mason?"

The child that looked like Mason turned around. Burns and scars covered his body. His arms looked like they were tormented with fire. The fires danced and swirled around him as if the flames were at his command.

"Who are you?!" He tried again to break free.

"I am whoever I am. I am branded by fire born out of the ashes of Mankind. I am the flood that washes away the evil in the world. I am the son birthed out of Chaos. With burning might and shining light. Mason, you of all people should know that."

"Why are you burning down my village?! And how do you know my name!?"

"I know because your father knows. And I didn't start this fire. This is not your village."

"Liar! How do you know my father?! Where is he?"

"In a safe place. He is still alive. However, you should wake up now. You have better things to do besides see what happened in the past. We need you to stay alive."

He smiled a warm, yet somewhat familiar smile. He knew he had seen that smile before, yet he couldn't put his finger on it. The child's eyes glimmered a blue light. The boy reached out his arm and put his finger on his heart. The fires began to swirl around Mason. The tall man seemed not to feel the intense heat.

Mason's eyes started to blink. The smoke made his eyes water. The world around began to slow down and become fuzzy. The tall man's arms started to loosen in their grip. Sweat fell from his fair, brown hair. His whole body felt like it was melting. He screamed out in terror as flashes of his father burning in his house.

Mason woke up out of his dream. He was sweating heavily, his hands trembling with fear. The sun was high in the sky; a still beating light looming over the building that was once his father's home. He still remembered that night vividly, as if it were yesterday. His hands were still shaking from the terror.

He now lived in the castle as one of the Chimaera, a group of knights that fought with such ferocity and skill that they couldn't be even considered human any more. They were valiant warriors back when the Great War was happening. They were King Thursday's best guards and war heroes put into one group. There was legends foretelling that a Chimaera could take out a hundred men with his bare hands.

However, that was a long time ago. There were no descendants of the original Chimaera. Only a bunch of misfit youth willing to be trained to face death itself.

Mason got up and splashed water in his face from a nearby bowl of water. It was freezing cold, though it helped with Mason's strange dreams. His dreams felt so intensely real that his body took a toll on itself by sweating and freezing itself. He even got a scar where in one dream he had his arm chopped off.

But this dream was different. It was almost like a replay of his father's death. However, he didn't remember himself covered in burns. He didn't remember the flames dancing at his command.

He splashed more water in his face. He began to comb his brownish black hair and eat a sandwich he had made of peanut butter and jelly. He rushed himself, moving at an unnatural pace.

DONG! DONG! DONG!

He realized the training session for the Chimaera had begun. He started to hastily rush out of the room. He ran back inside forgetting that he was half-naked. He sprinted down the hallways with a comb stuck in his hair and him still putting on a black T-shirt. His baggy black pants sagged slightly. He began to hear the names for the roll call list for the Chimaera.

"Ashe Kim!" yelled the man wearing a simple black T shirt and worn out pants..

The man with tanned skin and a forked nose. He had made a hammock out of some cloth and two spears and was laying down on it. His brown eyes were glued to a book about Mechanics.

"Forrest Browning!"

The man known as Forrest Browning looked groggy and half asleep. His hair was a mess and his shoes were tied together. His head covered in black hair was pointed down. Drool dripped down from his lips as he snored loudly. He had a bow strapped to his back and knives strapped to his vest.

"Juan De Los Santos!"

The man was already in full body armour. He was the size of an ox if it were standing up. His hand was the size of a football and his face was covered with a mask. He was holding two broadswords in both hands.

The man with blonde hair and gleaming blue eyes stood there like a man ready for battle, even though he had no weapons. His muscular stature rivalled Juan's. People knew him as Arik.

"Sana Denari!"

The only woman sat on the ground flipped a coin into the air. Mason rushed down as fast as he could and moved to the training grounds. Her long red hair glistened in the sun as she watched the coin spin and tumble in the air. Mason ran up beside Sana and stood firmly. The coin fell down from the sky into her hand.

His shirt was half unbuttoned and his comb was still in his hand. Suddenly, his pants fell down to his knees, showing off his boxers covered with happy faces. He was still shaking and he smiled in embarrassment. All of the other Chimaera laughed miserably at Mason. Even Cam broke his usual blank stare, glanced at Mason and smirked a bit.

"Mason Sabiam."

A man stood over them holding a small board. He wrote down Mason's name and looked at him. He wore a blindfold over his eyes.

The man's name was Jiorge Cross. He was one of the earlier Chimaera before the leader disappeared mysteriously. He taught them how to fight since they came here. They were in a training area somewhere in Dreake City. Not even the other Chimaera know where it is.

"Just made it, Mason. But maybe a belt would be a good choice next time," he said with a quick chuckle.

Mason sighed.

"Let's start everyone! Twenty laps around the track!" he yelled. His voice boomed like a cannon explosion.

It went on for about the day. The exercises that pushed him to his limits. The fact that he was always the one falling behind because of his "condition". The fact that he had a bit of a problem with time management. His stupid yet terrifyingly vivid dreams of his childhood he never had.

He already knew. His life sucked. At more times than one, he contemplating suicide. The only thing keeping him from doing that was becoming a Chimaera. He was accepted as one at the age of 9. His father said he could never really be a soldier because of his "condition". His father didn't like to call it a condition. More of a blessing, he said. Mason didn't believe that. He thought it was a curse.

Hours passed by. He sat next to his old friend, Sana. The Chimarea sat with each other in silence around a fire enjoying plates of chicken and loaves of buttered bread. A jug of clean water and cups were passed around. Juan, still wearing his armour, gulped down a couple of loaves. Forrest was chomping down on his food just as fast as Juan was. Arik silently ate his bread.

"Where the hell's Ashe?" asked Forrest.
"Dunno. Maybe he's getting a new book from the cellar," replied Juan.
"Can one of you pass the bread basket?" asked Mason.

Arik handed him the basket. He took a couple of loaves and munched on his chicken.

"I'd like to propose a toast," said Sana.

Everyone looked at her, ready to grab their glasses of water.

"We've made it. Made it to wherever the hell we are and to an opportunity that all of us could have never could have expected. We were chosen by the original leader of the Chimarea to train and follow in their paths. They may be dead, but their legacies move on. We might have just been commoners, but now we are warriors! No! We are Chimarea! Here's to us! And another good year!"

Everyone banged their glasses together, careful not to spill them. Mason drunk from his glass. The cold, soothing feeling ran down his throat. He glanced over at Sana, who took a quick bite of chicken and smiled at him. Forrest took another chicken leg.

Today was the day they had all met each other. Chimaera Day, as everyone called it. Warrior's names were taken all over the sector and competed in a tournament. The top four winners get to come here. However, there was always something that they did. They would always draw from a list, and draw a random person who watched. A wild card.

Mason had come to the tournament just to see his friend Sana win by defeating Arik. He was appalled when his name was called to be the Wild Card. He had no fighting experience. How could he uphold the tradition of the previous Chimaera?

He looked back to a faint memory of him waking up again, much like this morning. Everyone didn't want to miss their first training session. Mason was late of course, but Sana had covered for him. He knew Sana pretty well because their families were friends. They had went to the same school before his father died. Luckily, their family took him in. If it wasn't for Sana and her family, he could be lying in the sewers as a corpse for all he knew.

"What do you guys think happened to the former Chimaera leader?" Juan asked them all.
"What do you mean?" asked Sana.
"Like how he disappeared. Better yet, why?"
"He might have went to get revenge on someone. People always said he was crazy," replied Forrest.
"Maybe he left to train further," answered Sana.
"What do you think happened with the old Chimaera anyway? Jiorge wears a blindfold because he's blind and Ramta doesn't have a right arm anymore," questioned Juan.
"No idea," said Sana.
"Same here," replied Forrest.
"Maybe they fought something powerful enough to take them out. Something so powerful, the Chimaera couldn't handle it," answered Mason.

They were silent. The idea of the old Chimaera not being able to fight off something sounded so strange. They were strong fighters. Just what could be so powerful to take them all out? They ate in silence as Arik left. Ashe came back a few minutes later.

He whispered into Mason's ear, "Jiorge wants to see you."

Mason set his plate down and walked over to the tower. He made his way up the stairs into Jiorge's quarters. Jiorge sat on a leather chair, hands clasped together. He looked at Mason.

"Mason."
"Hey. Ashe said you called me here?"
"Yes. I have meant to talk to you for a while now. About something important."
"About what?"
"About the Chimaera."
"What about it?"
"The Chimaera has always needed a leader. Someone to head them into battle and someone to protect the King in his most personal chambers. They must be a valiant fighter. "
"What are you saying?"
"I've chosen you, Mason. You will be the new leader of the Chimaera."
"What?! Me? Why me!?"
"The leader has always been someone who has been different from all the others. No specific strengths because they were trained in a certain way. No certain tactics that they use. You are, by far, the worst of the Chimaera to ever be chosen. But you are were the Wild Card of the tournament. You may not know this. The entry raffle is rigged to choose someone who is worthy as well. Just look at the previous leader."
"Who was he again?"
"Max Mallory. He was the leader of the Chimaera when I used to train in here. He was older than all of us. Around forty, I think. And he bested us all in a fight, and he was a Paurvair."
"Paurvair? He was homeless?"
"Yes. Nonetheless, the bowl used to choose the Wild Card is enchanted. It's an ancient item that was blessed by the Grand Oracle. It chose Max. And it chose you. You have a gift, don't you Mason? Something that makes you different?"
"No. Nothing of the sorts."
"Really? I've seen the way you recover from Juan's strikes. Ashe's precision jabs at your body didn't even disable your movements. You can heal from injuries faster than a normal human. And you aren't affected by pressure points or pain"
"So what?"
"The Grand Oracle blessed you with a gift. It might not be the most useful at first, but it helps you. You might get tired more easily, but you recover in under half a minute. You're stronger than you think you are, Mason."
"Why not Sana? She's the one who won the tournament!"
"Again, the leader has always been the bowl's Wild Card. The way you fight is adaptable and unpredictable. Sana can barely dodge the projectile volleys like you do. She might be the tournament champion, but she has her weaknesses."
"That doesn't make sense? I can barely speak up to people and rally them. Even Arik can do better job than me at that!"
"Sana can do that well, I know. But there's a reason for that."
"What is it?"
"Can't tell you. You have to find out yourself. Don't tell the others. Go off now. I have to take this." Jiorge proceeded to pick up a phone from beside him.

Mason sighed. He couldn't believe he was the new Chimaera leader. Sana should've became the leader. It didn't make sense in his mind for him to become the leader of the Chimaera. How was his "curse" a blessing? And the bowl being enchanted by the Grand Oracle? That was all childhood stories he used to believe in. Just old tales his father told him as a child. It wasn't real. The Grand Oracle wasn't real. Was it?

He was halfway down the stairs when he heard Jiorge's annoyingly powerful voice again.

"Mason! One more thing!"
"What?"
"You're going to leave the group. Because of your abilities, you'll be leaving the training ground. You're ready for some field work."
"What?!"
"You'll be protecting something held very dear to the King."

Mason nodded.

"The Prince."
"The what now?"
"Prince Luxias is the King's only son. He is the only heir to the throne left. Princess Taryn married the Prince Charles of Hannes. He is of utmost importance to King Alamore. However, the Prince is rather rebellious. He is doing terribly in school and has skipped his classes many times. It's your responsibility to take care of him."
"What the hell! I don't want to take care of the Prince!"
"You're the leader of the Chimaera. You don't just fight people. You protect and help the royal family."
"Why?"
"Any and all Chimaera have to be ready for many tasks. The Leader especially, due to his nature. Pack your things up. You'll be leaving at midnight. Remember, don't tell anyone that you are the leader of the Chimaera."
"Midnight? I can't just leave! I have to-"
"You have to. And look on the bright side. Since you're leaving, you aren't considered the leader any more. Sana's the leader now."
"Bright side? I have to leave! I'm leaving Sana and the others to babysit some uptight, spoiled royal? No way I'm not doing that!"
"You are. Get ready now. Midnight is in eight hours. Pack up, get some rest and be on the grounds. Let no one see you. Don't talk to anyone about this."

Mason walked off angrily and slammed Jiorge's door. He was obviously angry at Jiorge. He was angry at the fact that he was going to leave his friends here. He may have only known them for a year, but he felt as if they were the siblings he wished he had. He didn't want to leave the training grounds. He knew that this was all for the better, but he couldn't help but regret ever going to the tournament.

He sat down with the rest of the group and ate his food in silence. He talked with Sana and when anyone asked him a question. However, he just couldn't get the feeling of regret out of his mind. What would happen if he hadn't done certain things today? Or even choices that he had already made? It kept him awake, which annoyed him. He just wanted to go to sleep and dream it all away.

To doze off and forgot what happened today.