Death and destruction blind the soul of its purity and consciousness. That was what I feel even to this day. It has been the toughest of three months ever since that day, and it has been the most painful of times…

My name is Drake.

I have traveled far and fought for many years – ever since I was a child or so. But now I vow to never uphold the sword again. The only place for me stands as Requital Forest, where I can repay for all of the sins that I have committed. No longer shall I fight again. And no longer shall I interfere with another life.



A single man sat, against one of the hundreds of trees that made up the dense forest. He had not moved for three months now; his conscience still existed heavy with the regret of past evils. From time to time, a lady would come by and try to inspire him to live out the rest of his life to the fullest, but he still would not change. All he could do consisted of sitting there and staring downwards, as if heart-broken or dead.
Yet today came as a different day - a day where the words of one person would finally enter into his consciousness. At this point in time, the light blue hair that made him stand out in a crowd had darkened, into an opaque blue color of hair, which stood pointed atop his head. His dark blue eyes had turned dim, a representation of his near-lifeless soul. More recognizable, the sword that he once wielded honorably at his side appeared nowhere in sight, for it most likely had disappeared to somewhere secluded and unknown. The black cloak he always wore now looked dirtied and torn.
Drake sat there, motionless and blank, until for a moment, when it looked as if he had glanced upwards. Someone had entered the forest and headed toward where he sat. Could it turn up as Amy, his own sister, who visited every once in awhile? Or did fate have it that a new task would unfold? Either way, he felt no inclination to move, or even bother with what would occur during the encounter. But that by no means held would he keep disinterested in what they might say. He glanced up again, with particular intrigue this time.


“Message from the Empire! Message from the Empire!”
What? So it indeed came time for a task yet again? He listened on.
“To one Drake Misamu-“
There came the sound of a fall, followed by a crackling of twigs and leaves and the banging of trees. Out from nowhere, a young child came crashing down from the trees right of Drake, dressed fancily, with a letter in his hands. The child quickly flipped upwards and questioned, “May you be a Drake Misamura?”
No reply.
“Well, you do have the blue hair and awkward clothes, so you must be him!”
He smiled and pointed to Drake. “No wonder you’re in a place like this!”
Moments passed and the child stood up. He looked amazingly innocent, as if he just began to enter the adolescent years of his life. Walking over, the child dropped the letter in his hands to the side of Drake and turned away. Following with his eyes, Drake continued to sit, almost interested in what may of lied within the envelope beside him. “Hey kid.” His voice sounded hoarse, from the lack of speaking for three months. “Why are you in a place like this?”
The child turned back to Drake, now looking a bit more focused. “Why are you in a place like this!” he responded, cold and unforgiving. Anger appeared next on the boy’s face, along with a feeling of insatisfaction. Before he continued, the boy stuttered, and then grabbed Drake by the collar of his garment. Looking intensely at the seemingly lifeless man, who at the time actually stood twice the height and twice the age of him, he began to sputter out words, all uncomprehendable and too quiet to hear. Finally, he dropped Drake back against the tree with force and walked away…

What had just happened? The child – who? Thoughts filled Drake’s head as he pondered away on the event that had occurred merely hours ago. The envelope still sat unopened beside him; himself still laid against the tree. It had all come down to an anonymous boy from the Empire to get Drake’s mind running about the sorts of things within thought or question and imagination or belief.
Later that day came the evening, followed by the next day and then the next. Before he knew it, a week had passed; his conscience overfilled with the memories of himself. Hunger finally began, for an aroma of flavors came into smell as his thoughts continued to scatter.

Amy pushed away the brush, using her free hard to maneuver through the forest. Tonight felt like a special night, because of the fact that she had just finished her first year at the magic academy back on the island of Nirvana. In her other hand belonged a box, filled with a grouping of all kinds of food – from fruit to fish to dessert and so on. She felt that this night would come time enough for her to pull her brother out of the forest and back into society. As she neared the opening where Drake had always sat, Amy brushed away the dust on her white dress, which represented her occupation as a White Mage, and continued on.

The small aperture where Drake sat looked exactly the same since the last time she visited. Cold night air filled the area, as a breeze caught on and blew along the branches and leaves of the trees. Oddly enough, there in the middle of the space ensued a fire, which illuminated the surroundings. Against the tree base sat Drake, as usual, but at this moment, he looked asleep. Amy neared him with the box of food and sat down, only to find him in slumber, with a parchment of paper in his hand. Beside, an opened envelope lied in the dirt.

Morning came and the man awoke to the wonders of nature around him. The fire in front lit no more, for only a pile of ashes filled in its place. But to his side, a box stood, with food from the night before inside of it. Might Amy have visited? His thoughts flustered, as he finally began to reach over to pick the box up. Although, a letter in his hand sustained, unread and dirtied. Lifting the text, it read:

“To whom this may concern:
You have been formally chosen to lead an army in help of the Empire. As for what task should be assigned to you is not of question right now. Our nation needs your help in the elimination of the dragon species. Please travel to the capital on the Continent if you do so accept.”

There behind the first piece of writing then appeared another, more handwritten, letter. Magic had brought it here. He continued on:

“Subjected to one, Drake Misamura:
I have heard of your great combat skills and tactics. So it may be in your best interest to help the Empire in survival from the terrible dragoon. I believe you had already met with their creator, Cerenos, and their great ancestor, the White Dragoon. We believe that he had survived your last encounter and now has begun to spawn these smaller creatures. You will now have the job of taking him down, once the others have located his habitat. The counsel and I have chosen to select you, with your experience in mind, and the others to lead an army against the creatures. If you agree, you know where to find me.

-Emperor Zaexes VI”
Those last words echoes in Drake’s head. Zaexes. The fourth. Could it have foretold that such a coincidence would occur? Deep within the consciousness of Drake, memories flashed like lightning. This man now to call upon him for help lived only once known as The Son. Child of Zaexes III, a man upon the cruelest of men recorded in time. Did it not hold true that The Son stood aside when great Leon Misamura beheaded his father? Did it not hold true that this same man once swore vengence against the Misamura family? Today, did all this not matter anymore? Drake realized that his body had shaken and that a strange feeling filled his stomach and soul. For the first time in three months he stood; tears flowing from his eyes.

Shock, madness, fear, and fulfillment struck his heart. To protect… a motto he could not before enforce. So why did he stand? There stood no answers anymore for him in this place. He could now protect once again. And the only way to continue on involved the stopping of such vile species, of which threatened the existence of life around the world. First, he would exterminate such threat – it proved a task much greater than “withholding the Empire”, but a task to save everyone. Then – and only then – could Drake proceed with his goal to find an answer.

Moving over to retrieve an object from the stream which flowed behind many trees, he began to feel confidence within his choice. Once at the bed of the water, where no obstacles seemed to exist, he looked down. Chained around multiples times stood an object, no less. Upon further view, a sharp end appeared, along with a hilt, blade, and more. There stood the silhouette of a sword, in the middle of the water, which flowed through the depths of Requital Forest. As it began to unchain itself, a more solid figure bestowed. There stood that sword, which Drake had vowed never to wield again…

The Dark Sword.