Ok, so, I've decided to reboot the series, starting right here. Some may remember this story as Dark Olympus: Fall of the Heroes, but the story has gone through a change. Even though elements remain the same, many have changed.

This story also sports a large cast of characters, but fear not for there is a Database to refer to every now and then in case you've forgotten who is who exactly. And one last note, there is a lot of reference to Ancient Greek mythology, though certain characteristics may be changed and such to fit the plot and the world of the story. Please do not be upset if everything isn't 100% accurate and blame my incompetence (which does rear its ugly head from time to time) because I'd have most likely changed something on purpose. You know, creative licenses and all that jazz.

Disclaimer: Unless stated otherwise, all elements of the plot, the character ideas and such belong to me. Any similarities are purely coincidental and are not copied from anyone else. Do not use characters without my permission, please.

-Dark Olympus-

The End

This is the end of a story.

Sad, though it may be, all stories have a beginning, middle, and an end. While what we witness now may be the end of a story, it is also the beginning of another, greater story.

We are on the wings of eagles, soaring high over a sprawling kingdom. The outskirts are bordered with thick green trees and as we get closer to civilization we can see the occasional farm and strips of brown dirt road that lead away and into the large city. Farms gave way to the occasional estate, which soon gave way to the occasional house, which soon gave way to a bustling metropolis. In the center of this metropolis, like a god amongst its humble subjects, was a huge white castle.

The sky was dark. The soothsayers prophesized that the day was to be a clear day, filled with lots of sunlight. Instead black, ominous clouds dictated the skies and the normally gentle wind was harsh and biting. Thunder rumbled and roared as though they were the war drums of the gods, and lightening split the sky with its wrath.

The sky roared as the clouds split open, allowing the heavens to pour out their tears upon the battle scarred land. The beautiful white castle is billowing smoke and singed black at places. The metropolis in which it sits is ablaze. If we were to fly close enough we would hear the screams to the damned, smell the burning flesh of the dead, and taste the fear of the defeated. Near the city is a valley.

This once beautiful valley was now the graveyard of thousands of corpses that would never be given a proper burial.

In the valley only two figures battled. Amongst all the death and decay that surrounded them, two figures fought on as though they could do nothing but. One, tall, well muscled, with the figure of a god, wielded a mighty naginata with a blade larger than usual. His long platinum white hair whipped wildly in the wind; his eyes glowed with power and rage and danced with excitement and madness. He spun his weapon before slicing it downward sharply.

The other figure dodged the attack and blocked the follow up with a very peculiar sword. Its blade was not one of metal, but rather some crystalline substance (adamant in its pure form). Sparks flew and the two were at a deadlock for a few seconds before the sword wielder pushed away before jumping back even further to place some distance between him and his enemy. His hair seemed to be made from pure gold and his eyes glowed as though they mini-suns. Despite the weary, angry look, there was also an innate gentleness in his gaze. Blood ran down the left side of his face, and he had a rather nasty cut on his right cheek. As he took a moment from the battle his body took the chance to make its complaints known; he had too many injuries to account for, and from the small amount of dizziness he was starting to feel, he'd lost too much blood.

"Give it up, prince! Your kingdom has fallen, along with the twelve great monarchs and their heirs. The reign that has oppressed me and people like me for years will be no more, and now a new age will begin!" Shouted the white haired man who, when compared to the bloodied prince, was relatively unharmed.

While many viewed war simply as just mindless bloodshed, an act of violence from one person against another (or nation against nations), war was waged for a multitude of reasons. For land, for money, for the excitement of battle, to impose some sort of religion or way of life upon a "lesser" "uncivilized" people. People debated for years whether or not war was part of human nature; some believed that people were doomed to forever go to war, while others believed that if an appropriate substitute for it was found then perhaps there would be peace for all. In any event, if there were ever a good reason to go to war, it would be for one thing: survival.

The prince with the eyes that put the sun to shame with their brilliance narrowed said eyes into a glare. His body felt exhausted…no, his body was dying but he couldn't give up. Not now. He was the only hope for his people…what was left of his people.

"I will never surrender." He replied, pointing his sword at the older male. The man with the manic blue eyes laughed before he lunged forward and attacked with crushing strength and mighty blows that shook the very heavens themselves.

"Why continue to fight?" He asked as the prince dodged a vicious slash, forced to keep his distance.

"Your kingdom is in ruins," There was a loud clash as the prince blocked an attack with his sword, the resounding clang jarring him to his very bones.

"Your wonderful people? Your loyal court? Your comrades, your bodyguards, whatever the hell you call them. They're all dead as well." The crazed man laughed, striking the prince's sword again. In a flare of sparks and a boom of thunder the prince almost fell as he stumbled away from the attack.

"And you, despite your noble, yet pathetic, attempt to stop me, are dying. What exactly are you trying to prove by fighting me?" Asked the crazed man with a genuine curiosity, as if he never once considered the possibility of the prince walking away from the battle. The prince seen his chance, an opening in the other's defense, and launched himself forward.

The white haired man, who in a moment of hubris decided to relish in his moment of impending victory by laughing triumphantly at the churning skies, doubled over suddenly as blood spewed out of his mouth. He looked up at the prince and then glanced down at the blood-slicked blade plunged into his stomach (and out of his back, coincidentally, but he couldn't see that).

The crazed man opened his mouth to speak but coughed up more blood. He growled, baring blood-stained teeth, before he back handed the prince with enough force to send the male flying. It was a miracle that he didn't land on any weapon.

"You'd think that would work?!" Roared the man as he marched towards the prince, the injury already starting to heal as he approached. "I am a god! I am immortal! No man could ever succeed in killing ME!!!"

The prince tumbled a bit before he finally landed on his stomach, his limbs splayed, and facing a rock-like structure that jutted out of the ground, with a figure leaning against it. Probably a dead soldier…

Behind him the man who brought his kingdom to ruin slowly pulled the sword out of the abdomen before tossing it aside as if it were a mere thorn.

The prince wanted to get up. No, he needed to get up, but his body wasn't responding. There was a bright flash of lightening that struck nearby and lit up the area. In those few seconds he seen that the dead figure was…her. He loved her…yet he allowed his duties and responsibilities to separate them. He was the prince, what would everyone think if he courted her?

And yet, now, as he lay on the ground dying, he realized that it shouldn't have mattered. Her own sword ran through her stomach, and held in her cold, dead hand was a spear. The wind toyed with her hair, as if trying to coax her to get up.

Suddenly the prince found himself being yanked into the air and found himself face to face with his enemy. Blue frenzied eyes glared at him, though the prince could only stare back with blank eyes. What was he fighting for? Everything was gone…everyone he cared about, everything he ever cherished. Gone. His mother, his father…the kings and queens of the alliance…his friends…her…all dead.

"I see that I've finally broken you prince. Oh how the mighty have fallen!!" He shouted, holding the prince up higher with a shout. Thunder clapped, lightening danced, and yet the heavens protested with torrents of sadness.

Suddenly the prince grabbed the wrist of his captor with both hands. His grip was weak, his fingers were cold because of the rain and were raw from all the battle, but it didn't matter…

"No…" He groaned out weakly, the symbol on his forehead suddenly glowing with a dim, almost dying light.

"I won't let it end…not like this…" rasped out the prince.

Before his victorious opponent could comprehend what the prince meant, the symbol on the prince's head blazed brightly with a warm light that eventually engulfed his whole body.

"What…? Stop this at once!" Shouted the man as he sent currents of electricity down his arm which held the prince, and into the prince, who screamed at the pain but didn't dim in brilliance. He grew brighter.

The man tried to let go of the prince but he found that he couldn't and cried out in anger. The storm raged it's hardest at that moment, as magicks mixed and emotions soared. The waxing light grew brighter until it became a miniature sun.

There was a suddenly flash of light…and then it was dark again. It was as if nothing had changed except for one thing.

The once beautiful field was war torn, nothing about that had changed, and dead bodies, broken armor, and discarded weapons littered the field, and the rain water mixed with the blood of the fallen, allowing the earth to soak up both. Still…certain bodies that were once there were missing. Notably, the prince and the man with the wild eyes were gone as well.

Slowly the storm started to die down. The battle was over, the great and violently short war finished.

For whatever what reason wars were fought, whether it was one man's ambition or one's desire to protect that which he cherished, in the end one can guarantee that there will be casualties. Someone who was loved will die, leaving behind loved ones to mourn their departure.

But what if we got a second chance?

Would we use that chance to learn from past mistakes…?

"I just want to give everyone a second chance…"

Or would history repeat itself?

-Dark Olympus-