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A thick layer of dust had built up inside his mouth, coating his tongue in a slimy, unpleasant film no matter how firmly he kept it shut. With a grimace, he spat out the dirt and sand alongside a small quantity of precious water, leaving a miniscule wet spot on the sand that was soon left behind by the trotting of his horse. The animal, once proud and fierce, had its head held low to the sandy ground. The war helmet that once adorned the stallion’s head was shattered, useless as protection except against the fiercest rays of the sun. The rider’s own armor was in no better shape - splintered, bent, scratched, pierced.
Broken.
But he could not afford to fully let go of it yet, despite it contributing to the heat and the beads of sweat running down his face and body, mixing with the drops of blood dripping from him and his horse. They had to move, and be prepared for them. So they continued onwards, towards a small speck of hope in the distance.
It grew as they advanced. A speck in the distance, almost lost among the bright orange of the sand dunes became an amorphous shape distorted by the heat, and then it took proper form. An ancient obelisk, half destroyed and buried rose out of the sand, signaling that once life walked those desolate sands. Broken as it was, it still stood tall, far taller than man and beast.
The rider stopped beneath it in a blessed break under the shade, taking respite from the assault of the sun. He dismounted, his tired eyes recognizing the obelisk for what it was as his horse, panting heavily and sweating, knelt down in the sand.
The knight took a sip of his canteen, very carefully measuring three precious gulps. There was less than half left. He knelt down beside his stallion, placing a hand on the creature’s neck and gently stroking the large animal. Even resting, its pulse was beating fast. Too fast. A bitter taste coated the knight’s tongue when he realized that there was moisture beneath his horse - blood pooling from a wound, far too much of it as broken stitches and sutures betrayed the reopening of a large gash.
A small curse left the knight’s mouth and the stallion looked at the rider; exhausted and wounded as it was, there was still nobility in the animal’s look. It gently rubbed its snout against the knight’s shoulder, receiving a gentle scratch in return. After a small amount of deliberation, considering every option, the knight brought his canteen to the horse’s mouth and gave it the last of the water. His eyes betrayed anger at himself.
“That was the finest ride any man or animal could hope for. You saved me,” the knight’s voice was rough and coarse, struggling to leave his throat. He coughed before continuing. “Old friend. I will not let them take me. Thank you. Go free.”
The stallion let out a soft whiny, gently rubbing its nose against the knight’s cheek. It then laid down its head on the sand and closed its eyes. The sun moved slowly around the obelisk, and by the time the shade moved past the body of the stallion, the knight was truly alone, sitting against the obelisk and looking off into the distance. He removed his shattered helmet, placing it on the sand as he shut his eyes. Alone.
The knight counted to ten. And then to fifty, slowly trying to dull himself. He let sand grains roll off his fingers repeatedly, focusing only on the meditation to keep himself grounded. As he counted to completion, the knight finished the ritual with a small prayer to whatever higher being there was, that his stallion’s soul would be taken care of, before he opened his eyes and started to move once again. Through blurry vision and dulled senses, the knight reached into what little belongings he had still managed to carry with him and rummaged for light carrying.
A handful of bandages, emergency provisions and dried leaves from a distant land. Shoving one of them in his mouth, the knight forced himself to chew and swallow the bitter plant as he removed bits and pieces of his armor to wrap up his wounds. As he worked a ray of the scorching sun approached his body, circling the obelisk like the pointers in a clock. The knight groaned and pushed through the pain and the exhaustion to get back on his feet and turned his attention to the obelisk, placing one gloved hand against it. The leaf tasted bitter, but he could feel his body numbing to the pain as he chewed it.
“Let’s hope the legends are true, and the people that lived here long ago made sturdy buildings. I don’t plan on joining you under these sands just yet,” thought the knight, examining the obelisk carefully.
Ancient texts and symbols eroded by time and wind slipped beneath his fingers as he painstakingly, carefully attempted to translate their meaning. Through blurry vision and rough breathing, the symbols started to reveal their message. Directions. Landmarks. Two symbols stuck out from the rest, in opposite directions.
A hill of sharp bones and fire to the west, and a black sun to the east.
The knight licked his dry lips, committing the instructions to memory as best as he could. He carefully positioned himself and scoured over the desert until his eyes fell on a distant speck in the horizon. It reflected the sun in the tiniest gleam of light that irritated his eyes when looking at it directly, but was almost imperceptible otherwise. If he was not close enough to see his destination by sunset, it would be impossible to find during the night.
Turning around to face the opposite direction, he could see hills in the distance, ever so slightly elevated from the sands of the desert. Looking behind in the direction he came from, he saw the visible footprints that his horse left on their last ride together, marked with droplets of blood. No clearer trail could have been left, and it would take far too much effort - and time he did not have - to hide his tracks. No matter what path he chose, he could not hide from pursuit.
“Suits me just fine,” the knight thought with a dry, humorless smile as he considered his final belongings. He left behind his riding equipment and the long scarlet twin lances he often used in horseback - they’d be of no service anymore. Whatever he could not carry, he put in a pile by his horse’s body, taking the time to cover the stallion with sand. On each side of the mound, he left his lances, to mark the resting spot of his companion. The knight stopped for one more moment to look upon the grave.
“I’ll see you again, one day, my friend. But not too soon. Not hunted down like a mouse. Run free until we meet again.”
His work done, the knight tested the weight of his final weapon - a three pronged spear. Standard issue for soldiers, once upon a time, but he’d taken care to enhance and reforge it over the years so it would be perfect for combat and for his own handling. It thrust quickly through the air, its three blades whistling gently as they pierced wind. Satisfied with the test, the knight slung it over his shoulder and turned towards his destination, marching off on the desert, leaving behind the place where the last ride of Gaia, the Fierce Knight, came to an end.
Night was about to fall on the desert; the moon was peeking over the horizon as the blistering heat of the desert slowly gave way to cooler air of the night. Stars slowly appeared in the darkening sky, but those walking beneath did not seem interested in sparing a look to the heavens.
“....Damn stubborn, that Gaia. Damn man has no horse and no supplies and he’s still making us give him chase. We’ll have to make sure to give him a piece of our minds, eh boys?”
Animated, yet tired exclamations of agreement answered the rhetorical question. Soon it would be extremely cold but the marching force seemed to have no plans of slowing down: a small battalion of fighters, dressed in leather and iron, riding on horses through the desert led by a sneering man with tinted blue hair and a dirty brown helmet. At least twenty strong, the mercenary banner of the Exiled Force fluttered in the cold breeze over their heads as they marched through the dark desert.
“...We’re at the end of this chase though, man has no supplies. Look alive, you bunch of fleabags! We’re going to have a little game!” The leader stood on his horse’s stirrups and turned around to address the rest of the force. “Once we corner him, the first one to bring me his head gets a bigger cut of the bounty, and first picks on the room! We were promised a whole keep for this after all!”
The reaction was immediate. As the exiled force crested a dune the excited grins and fist-pumping of expectation, alongside excited murmurs rode through the force like a wave. The grin on the captain’s face just got wider as they saw it on the other side of the dune: a solitary construction, half buried in the sand. A broken down temple made in black stone, surrounded by long-shattered pillars wiped smooth by the sand and the wind.
The sand at the entrance showed a single set of footprints leading to the inside. The captain loosened his sword in the scabbard and kept his horse moving, only taking his eyes off the temple once a small mumbled prayer from the man by his side reached his ears.
“What’s with you, Gaston? Afraid of the dark?”
“It’s the legends, captain. This desert’s full of them,” the black haired man sniffled once. “Folk who built this place were supposed to be really into ritual sacrifice. They say the ghosts of chaos leave the temple at night.”
“Gaston, you’re putting me to sleep, here. Ghost stories from a mercenary? We’ve probably killed more people over the years than it fits in the damn temple!”
“Just telling what I heard, cap’n. Maybe Gaia's already dead in there and the temple got’im, swallowed him up in light and darkness.”
“Yeah well, we’re not getting paid to hear! No more bellyaching from you, and if some light and shadows did get him then I’m shoving you in them to get him back,” the captain spurred on his horse, licking his lips. He could already feel all the food, drink and women he’d obtain with the reward. “Let’s go, boys!”
***
Through the dull, constant pain in his head and the drumming of his own pulse in his ears, Gaia’s bizarre surroundings made all of it feel like a fever dream, a hallucination brought forward by heatstroke.
He’d reached the temple not too long ago as the wind started to cool, and the bizarre building seemed to beckon him in as he’d approached. The inside was an unnervingly odd combination of architecture and color that he’d never had the displeasure of laying eyes upon before - the ceiling and walls were all black, while the ground was covered in old yet stark white stone that shone faintly in the darkness, illuminating the path forward with enough contrast that it hurt his eyes to look straight on.
By the soft light of the white stone, Gaia could just about make out carvings on the walls. Massive stone tablets that covered it from floor to ceiling, with engravings of all sorts of creatures. Monsters, humanoids, beasts and everything in between. He couldn’t quite make out their expressions, but something told him that whoever would go through the trouble of creating such a macabre place wouldn’t have made them look any cheerier.
The worst, though, was the pressure.
As Gaia proceeded further into the temple, he could feel it on his back. The weight of many eyes on him as if he held the attention of an army, and he was sure that the eyes on those tablets followed his every move. His trident was, of course, firmly held in his grasp.
Off the corner of his eye he saw something move like thick mist, and when he turned to face it, a spectral serpentine form with crackling lightning and green-ish tint rose up to glare at him. Gaia readied his spear, squinting his eyes. He could see through it - the creature was semi-transparent.
“...A Thunder Dragon,” Gaia murmured to himself. “Very quiet for your species. Are you really here?”
Almost as if in response, the serpentine Thunder Dragon opened its maw and shrieked - though it sounded very, very distant, and the spectral form became hazier as the creature moved and flew off towards a wall, going through it without damaging the stone. As Gaia looked around, the whole room seemed to be filled with specters of all kinds coming from the tablets.
He saw a small creature covered in brown fur stumble off one and get up on spindly arms and legs, scuttering off like a critter. A witch with her eyes closed and a third one open wide, looking at him from within dark spectral trees. Some form of mechanical serpent, and spellcasters of all shapes and sizes. He recognized the signs of their power, and the nature of these creatures.
“Dark and light,” Gaia said, cracking his neck a little to the side as he carefully observed. Most of the specters seemed to be aware of him but not interested in attacking. “I guess this place must’ve been some sort of shrine. Or a monster graveyard.” Gaia lifted his spear and carefully thrust it through the smallest specter he could find - a small fuzzy demon shaped almost perfectly like a sphere. The tip of the spear went right through, but the kuriboh seemed angry about it and pounced on Gaia, going right through him. A chill that penetrated his bones overcame Gaia’s body, but he was unharmed.
“I thought this place would be quiet, good for a fight, but this is a real graveyard mash. Or am I just going crazy?” Gaia ran a gloved hand through his hair before a new sound reached his ears. In the distance, echoing through the hallways. Voices, clear and gruff, echoing through the hallway. They were coming for him.
Without wasting another moment, Gaia picked up the pace, rushing down the black stone pathway towards the very back, right through the specters. Many of them vanished in puffs of mist as he ran through while others floated up into the air to observe. As Gaia kept following the path, he started to see more normal beings. Men and women like him, warriors with swords and spears and shields. They reached out for him, grasping, yelling as he ignored their pleas, whispering inside his head.
It’s impossible
A terrible fate
It devoured me…
It cannot be done
Chaos is uncontrollable….
Light and Darkness…
Death….
Sacrifice…
Tribute….
“Get out of my way,” Gaia swung his spear, dissipating the image of a sorcerer that had materialized in front of him. “I’m not interested in your life story! I’m not going to join you lot here today!”
Finally the hallway opened into a sudden, blinding inversion of colors. A final massive room which had stark white walls and pitch black floor instead, and Gaia slowed down, covering his eyes as he entered it. As his eyes adjusted he saw what the chamber held, and paused.
A gigantic emblem depicting two sharp swords, crossed upwards over a stark black shield with golden engravings. Before it was a staircase leading to the wall and a spell circle, surrounded by three bronze braziers without any flame.
“A ritual altar. For sacrificing, I suppose. Folk that made this must’ve been the blood-covered type” Gaia said. “Great place to put my back against the wall and be done with this rat chase. So this place wants some spilled blood?” Gaia turned around and took a deep breath. His head was pounding - the numbing effect of his medical leaves were wearing off. “Let’s give it some.”
The clanging sounds of the exiled force marching through the temple echoed through the walls. Everywhere the sound reached the spirits of monsters and fallen grew restless, with the sounds of spectral wailing and howling joining the cacophony. In the ritual room, Gaia felt the temperature drop as the phantoms of the past became more and more agitated.
“W-what is all of this?! Boss, we can’t hurt them!”
“They can’t hurt us either! Shut yer yaps and keep moving! We ain’t afraid of no ghosts!” The captain barked at his soldiers before shouting down the hallway. “GAIA! There’s no more running for you, you think hiding with the dead’s gonna save you? A little magic trick? We’re going to drag you out of here no matter what! Come out and fight like a man!”
Gaia considered his options for a moment.
These acoustics seem good enough, let’s play it up, he thought.
“I’m not hiding, you big oaf. Come and get me. Watch your back though,” Gaia’s voice echoed down the hallway. “These spirits are nasty. I hear this place was built to keep all these creatures locked up. The worst of the worst, to feed some dark power. I think some of them are looking to swap places! When I’m done with you lot, maybe I’ll just leave your bodies around. I’m sure some of your men would be better off as zombies.”
A gleam in the darkness of the hallway caught Gaia’s eye as he quickly moved out of the way. An arrow had been shot from afar. They were within firing range - but they’d still need to come through the door. Gaia heard the approaching footsteps.
“Big talk for a half dead man in a trap, mister ‘Fierce Knight’. It's over.”
"It sure is", Gaia thought with his trident in hand.
The first two mercenaries crossed the door with hatchets and swords, squinting their eyes at the sudden inversion of black and white - still dizzied by the brightness, they had no resistance to Gaia’s lunge as the knight’s trident pierced through their bodies in one powerful thrust. Among the screams of pain and rage, he steeled his base and with a grunt, rose both bodies in the air with his spear before throwing them towards the hallway as the rest of the exiled force attempted to approach, bottlenecked into a killing corridor. Gaia’s trident sang as its blades thrust through the air, aiming for legs, necks and exposed spots.
Blood spilled liberally as Gaia took advantage of his position to thin them down as much as he could through his aching body and numbing senses. He couldn’t keep track of everything that was happening - he could simply keep fighting, attacking, thrusting, keeping them at bay.
A heavy arrow came flying from the back of the force and hit his pauldron like a catapult rock in the middle of a lunge, throwing off his aim. He ducked before a hatchet could embed itself onto his head, brandishing his spear in a wide half-moon, sweeping the legs from below two of his adversaries. As they fell however, more came flooding in, screaming and brandishing their own spears and shields, pushing him back further into the room.
The Exiled Force flooded into the room with Gaia’s position compromised, pushing onto the lone fighter in an attempt to take him by surprise. Gaia’s muscles screamed as the knight put all his power onto a firm stance, a few feet away from the ritual circle, and with all his strength he thrust at a large man brandishing an ax coming at him, skewering him through the chest. As his opponent’s weapon fell to the ground, Gaia let out a scream of effort as he lifted the massive frame of his enemy and swung him at his old companions to knock them down like bowling pins. Blood dripped from his spear and droplets flew through the air - and onto the ritual circle. The blood sizzled and darkened as the circle gently started to glow.
“Boss! He got Pippin!”
“Of course he got Pippin, he’s an elite soldier! CIRCLE HIM!” The commander of the exiled force shouted. “We can’t take him on single combat! Attack together if you want to live!”
As the blue-haired commander of the force shouted his orders, a loud crackling started to manifest itself. Behind Gaia, the braziers of the ritual suddenly burst into long flames that reached the ceiling as the spilled blood activated the dormant magic. A wave of heat emanated from the ritual altar, and the sounds of howling and yelling filled the room.
The Exiled Force and Gaia stopped at the same time, taken off-guard as the walls were suddenly overtaken by specters of monsters, coming through like twisting mist. Before their eyes, the phantoms of light and dark became more and more solid - and then the ghost of a fallen warrior struck at a mercenary, drawing blood and throwing the entire fight into chaos as the battle became a free-for-all.
Gaia had prepared himself to fight many human opponents knowing where they were coming from; switching to a horde of monsters was not what he had braced for, but the knight kept swinging. Whereas his spear was piercing armor and shields, now it slid and scraped against tough hide, fangs and claws.
Gaia ducked, avoiding the whistling tail of a large scorpion and skewered through its body - the spear found purchase, and the creature slumped down, physical but slowly dissolving into mist. It struggled even as it was vanquished, weakly trying to grab the knight with its pincers. Gaia couldn’t spare too much time thinking about it as he spun his spear to deflect two smaller monsters attempting to sneak up on him, before thrust through them as well. He recognized the two round, low-to-the-ground monsters as Kuriboh and Griffore.
“What the hell is happening?” Gaia asked through gritted teeth as he attempted to make sense of the sudden turn of the battle around him.
They smell a tribute. You. They shall offer you to the powers of chaos.
The distant voice rang in Gaia’s head like it was his own voice distorted and horrible, making the knight tense up.
You have shed blood upon the altar and offered sacrifice first. You have awakened chaos, but it is not enough. Dare you try to grasp >supreme power? Offer yourself. Offer sacrifice. Offer your soul and try to obtain what lies between light and darkness.
“Supreme…Power?” Gaia muttered. “So this is how it happens? This place’s a chopping block for fools trying to get this power!”
Gaia heaved his spear. The bodies of the Kuriboh and Griffore flew through the air towards the ritual circle and vanished into light as the entire altar lit up with a mysterious light. The emblem on the wall changed - the two swords over the black shield lit up in black and white.
“Luckily for me, I’m no fool. I’ll be succeeding in taking it,” Gaia said. “And I’ll be keeping my soul right where it is! Hand it over, and get me out of this damn place! I’ll offer myself as tribute, if you think you can take me!”
“HE’S TURNED AROUND! SOMEONE SHOOT HIM!”
The commander shouted for his men, but they were all too busy fighting off the different types of monsters to take the shot. And as he opened his mouth to shout again, a much louder sound smothered his words - a deep, loud rumbling as the entire temple started to shake.
Before the eyes of all the presents, the emblem on the wall before the altar to chaos split in two and the stone wall scraped the floor as it opened outwards like a door, showing a swirling vortex of brilliant blue behind it. Without sparing a moment, Gaia charged forward and entered the gateway to chaos.
Sound and sight became meaningless immediately. An assault on every one of Gaia’s senses started as he charged through an ever-shifting hallway of light. Something far, far on the end was coming towards him, beckoning him closer. He pushed his body, charging through the chaos as tendrils of light and darkness attempted to restrain him. Voices of old tributes called out to him, reaching, trying to grasp his soul and pull it to limbo alongside them. Gaia fought them all, swinging and thrusting, never ceasing to run.
It was getting closer to him. The source of the power, that which beckoned him.
And he saw the armor.
“You're mine! You’re taking me out of this place!” Gaia shouted, extending his hand towards his goal. His fingers brushed against the armor. “Come to me, chaos!”
***
Outside, in the altar, the battle suddenly had died down. The specters and monsters all stopped at once, looking intently at the altar of chaos as if in expectation. The swirling light beyond the door was intimidating, bathing the entire room with a mysterious glow, as if keeping the fallen monsters hypnotized. Even when the exiled force hacked away at their forms and sent them back to their mist-like forms, the specters did not react. They waited.
“Boss, I can see him! D’you think he slipped away in the confusion?” asked Gaston, wiping sweat off his brow.
“No…I saw him. He went into the altar,” the captain of the Exiled Force grit his teeth, with his eyes locked into the hallway. A deep dread settled on his spirit - instinctively he knew that if he or any of his men went inside, they would not come out. “Damn him….Stupid bastard got himself killed somewhere we can’t get his head!”
“Boss…”
“We came all this damn way for nothing! No body to show means no bounty! Damn it!”
“Boss!”
“WHAT?!” The captain screamed at Gaston, spit flying out of his mouth.
“I-I can hear something! Listen!”
The commander squinted his eyes and waited. From the edge of hearing, the sounds of metal greaves stepping on stone came from within the gateway to chaos. A man-shaped shadow appeared inside the light, slowly approaching them. The exiled force kept their weapons ready, but the monsters had different ideas. Almost all at once, the specters became incorporeal and dove out of the room, going through walls, floor and ceiling as the figure exited the gateway. The altar to chaos closed behind him, leaving only the braziers to illuminate the figure.
It was undoubtedly Gaia, but changed. His skin was blue, crackling with a mysterious power, saturated with chaos. His old, broken, shattered armor was nowhere to be seen - instead a full suit of armor, black and blue with gold and red details adorned him, with dancing shadows and light on its surface. Instead of the trident, he carried in one hand a dark shield with gold details and a red gemstone in the middle. On the other hand, a single-handed sword with a blade that shimmered with a black luster.
He said nothing. He simply looked over the altar room, at every remaining member of the exiled force, breathing deeply and calmly. His eyes met the blue-haired commander and for the first time, his expression changed.
He pointed his sword at the captain with a sneering smirk.
“So? Here I am. Come,” said the Black Luster Soldier with a voice that resonated twice over. “Claim your bounty, if you’re not afraid.”
A bulging vein popped on the side of the captain’s head. He pulled out a sword - not his usual arming sword, but a polished one from a decorated scabbard that hummed lightly with some form of magic.
“Crush him! Kill him! Whoever does it gets to keep his bloody armor if they want!” the captain said, charging with his sword in hand, screaming madly. Behind him the remaining mercenaries all charged too - some had their own magical items, like a large silver ax with a golden emblem, and a demonic looking mask that seemed to empower the user. All of them entirely focused on the soldier that had walked out of the gateway of chaos, attacking to kill.
The black luster soldier raised his shield and sword together and took a step forward, positioning himself as calmly as if it was simple exercise. His shield met the incoming ax, absorbing the powerful blow without so much as a splinter, while his sword met the captain’s own in a parry. With a twist of his body, he pushed back the oncoming mercenaries and stepped back in time to dodge the next wave that came with multiple overhead blows. Their weapons hit the ground, shattering the stone below but missing their mark entirely.
“My turn,” The Super Soldier said and held his blade over his own head. The shadows within it danced, and when he brought it down it left a streak of white in the air. The black blade connected to the ground, far from the mercenaries but sending a razor sharp white and black wave through the ground towards them. Two of them were thrown to the ceiling, their weapons and armor splintered and cut into pieces as the chaos blade hit them like a battering ram. The Soldier couldn’t help but smile at the sudden power and vigor coursing through his body, as if he had never been close to death at all.
He charged, running with strength he never knew before, towards the exiled force. This time he let his armor deflect their attacks - daggers, swords and even hatchets couldn’t pierce it or even slow him down. He swung his blade, felling one, two, three mercenaries in an instant. One of them brought down a heavy longsword upon him and the black luster soldier met his blow with his own blade - the clash made sparks fly, but with a heavy push his blade’s edge cut through his opponent’s, quickly finding its way towards the neck of the mercenary.
It was a blur of power and strength - The Black Luster Soldier felt as if he was fighting amidst a hurricane that carried extra power to his blows and extra swiftness to his movements. Both his shield and sword found targets, smashing and slicing like thunder and wind at those that dared come at him, none of them a worthy challenger even when fighting together. With a bash of his shield, he sent mercenaries skidding to the ground and with a slash of his sword, he split heads from bodies as he carved his way through them.
It didn’t take long until his rampage was over - most of the mercenaries laid around the altar, dead or injured. The soft whimpers of those that had survived the onslaught broke the silence as the black luster soldier held his final opponent down at swordpoint - the captain of the exiled force, unarmed and defeated with the black blade against his neck and his back to the wall. The mercenary’s eyes were pinpricks and his breathing was heavy as he looked up at the inhumanly powerful warrior, utterly powerless to stop whatever came next.
“You’re not Gaia,” he spat out. “You’re not human! What is this? Who are you?”
“I am him. Or rather, I was. Maybe I am not Gaia anymore - but consider this his final act,” The voice of the Black Luster Soldier was low, but the powerful resonance still echoed menacingly. “I am he who charged through the gates of chaos and bent it to my will. That’s all I am, for now. As for you.”
To the disbelief of the mercenary captain, the soldier lowered his blade.
“You are not worth it anymore. Weaponless and defenseless. Your biggest lucky stroke is that I did not see any sign that you disturbed my friend’s grave. The sun and the sands can have you and what’s left of yours,” the Black Luster Soldier said plainly, sheathing his sword. “It’s better than what awaits you if we meet on the battlefield again.”
The mercenary slid to the ground, grasping at his own neck and panting in disbelief. The soldier of chaos spared no second look to him as he walked out of the sacrificial room and through the temple. Complete silence followed him - the phantoms kept their attention on his frame, but none dared approach as the soldier left the dark hallways towards the desert once more. Gaia the Fierce Knight was no more - but Black Luster Soldier, the Super Soldier lived on, clad in the armor of chaos.