Welcome to Adventu, your final fantasy rp haven. adventu focuses on both canon and original characters from different worlds and timelines that have all been pulled to the world of zephon: a familiar final fantasy-styled land where all adventurers will fight, explore, and make new personal connections.
at adventu, we believe that colorful story and plots far outweigh the need for a battle system. rp should be about the writing, the fun, and the creativity. you will see that the only system on our site is the encouragement to create amazing adventures with other members. welcome to adventu... how will you arrive?
year 5, quarter 3
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He had only half expected to end her in the first blow. In fact, a head-on collision would have almost been a disappointment, and so when her magic rose to defend her, he found himself laughing. He shattered that magic in an instant, but his sword was deflected, and his path after it altered. He appeared in a flash of red light at his blade’s hilt only a foot or so beside her as she slammed back against the wall. She scrambled for a defense and straightened herself with her own pride.
’You don’t have to do this,’ she said. ’I can help you,’ she said, and he laughed louder. Perhaps she could. Perhaps she couldn’t, and he certainly had to do nothing. But he chose to, and his war against the gods would not meet its end here.
”Do you know.” He pulled his sword from the wall and tested in a lazy swing through the air. ”How long the gods have cursed me? Oh, they made their promises and their prophecies. That their chosen would finally allow me peace, but here I stand -- reformed and immortal once more. I’ve learned to take such promises as the hollow words they are.”
”Even if you could end it.” Ardyn swung his sword, once, twice, three times with idle interest. ”I’ve waited far too long too care. I wish to revel in my vengeance, and I can hardly allow a threat to it to go prancing about, now can I?” The words came slow. Mocking. He turned the blade’s tip towards her. ”So why don’t you struggle for me?”
His eyes lit with sadistic pleasure and he twirled his sword between his fingers before launching himself at her, not with magic, but with his own force. She was not a Lucian king and he had no reason to play with her as such. No, he would take this slow. Savor her fear, and only once he’d had his fill would he end her.
It wasn’t every day he stumbled across an Oracle after all. It would be a waste not to relish every last breath.
He pulled his sword out of the wall beside her, and she retreated a step as he swung it idly through the air. Yuna would have taken the movement for careless if it weren’t for the malice in his eyes. Every move he made was calculated to be threatening. He wanted to sir up her fear. And as little as she wanted to admit it, she was afraid. She had been prepared to die at the hands of Sin. Dying for a cause didn’t frighten her. But this man was a mystery. He was stronger than an unsent had any right to be, and the look in his eyes promised that this wouldn’t be quick. He might want to kill her, but he wanted to make it last.
Struggle for me.
Yuna felt her breath quicken at the words before his sword was swinging towards her. Flinching back, she cast another Protect spell to meet his blow. She knew that he’d likely shatter the spell again, but she took the split second that it cost him to cast Slow on him. Retreating back, her eyes darted to the door, but she didn’t dare make a run for it even if he was slowed down. She remembered how he’d seemingly appeared out of nowhere by his sword, and she had no doubt that he could catch her if he really wanted to.
No, she was just hoping to buy a few seconds while he played along.
She had no choice now. As afraid as she was for the hospital’s patients, she wouldn’t be able to help them if she died here. Closing her eyes, Yuna swung out with her staff as she felt for Valefor’s power, expecting the usual rush of wind to come sweeping through the room as she did. It took a few seconds to realize that something was wrong.
Nothing. There was nothing there. No sense of calm. No feeling that the Fayth were with her. Just the chill of the dark hospital room and the scent of sickness and burned flesh.
Yuna’s eyes snapped open, and she gasped for breath, but she didn’t have time to lament, because he was already there. On instinct, she tried to block the blow with her staff, but he was a full foot taller than her and had to have a hundred pounds on her. She felt like a helpless child as he easily parried her staff aside and took another swing. She tried to cast a Fire spell at him at the last second, and that might have been what saved her from getting stabbed as the blade bit into her skin instead. She heard one of her sleeves tear and felt the damp blood against her skin before the pain actually hit her. Stumbling back, Yuna collapsed to her knees and tried to muster a Cure spell as the man slowly walked towards her, his low chuckle dark in her ears.
There was some sort of dark magic forming in his hands, and Yuna let out a sharp breath as she wondered if he was going to end it. Was this how she was going to die? On her knees and unable to defend herself? Why? Why hadn't she been able to reach Valefor? Was she really so helpless without her guardians?
As the red-haired man drew closer to her and as her resolve was starting to crumble, Yuna suddenly sucked in a quick breath as her eyes lit on her staff that had fallen by her side. She couldn’t give up so easily. If Valefor wouldn’t heed her call, then she would cry out for the rest of the Fayth. She may not have passed their trials yet, but they were her last hope.
Leaning to the side, she managed to snag her staff on her fingernails and drag it towards her. “Ifrit!” She cried out, feeling desperately for any sort of bond like she always had for Valefor. “Ixion, Shiva, Bahamut! Hear my call!” She could have sworn that she heard a bell echo in her rushing ears as she brought her staff towards the floor, and her eyes snapped open as an indistinct whisper sounded in her head just as her staff struck the ground.
Frost exploded out from the point where her staff had touched the ground. The air chilled around them, and her breath came out in small gasping puffs in front of her face. Everything felt suddenly quiet, as if a light snow was dampening any noise, and the cold air felt good on her stinging wounds. There was an overwhelming rushing sensation that was familiar and foreign at the same time, and Yuna wasn’t surprised to see an ethereal figure gracefully float down from the ceiling and take form in front of her. A lump formed in her throat as the figure laid a gentle finger against her forehead. An aeon had heard her call and come to her aid.
“Shiva,” she breathed, forcing back tears as she looked up at the entity. It had to be. Shiva was the fayth that had the favor of the ice and snow. But there was nothing about the figure that matched the statues in Macalania temple. Those statues had showed a feminine figure with hair in thick strands and clothes revealing enough to make Yuna blush. This being had a curved icy mask and crystalline armor that made it impossible to distinguish a gender. Different shades of blue and purple glimmered back at Yuna as the light reflected off the armor. It was breathtaking. Shiva was beautiful, and for a moment, Yuna was blown away before she remembered her manners.
“I haven’t yet passed your trial,” Yuna murmured, using her staff as a crutch to pull herself to her feet. She then gave Shiva as low a bow as she was able to muster. “For you to hear my call anyway...I won’t fail you. I swear it.” Straightening up, she turned to face the red-haired man, renewing her grip on her staff. He had every upper hand when it came to strength and battle experience. But she had people to live for. Yuna refused to die here.
"Whatever your story is,” she murmured, remembering his words from earlier. ”If a summoner's wronged you before, then I'm sorry. But if this is your path, then I'll stop you."
It was an odd sensation, deja vu. How many had Ardyn killed now? More than he could possibly count, and none of them more significant than flies bumbling their fat bodies against him. Yet somehow this one stood out in magnificent color. Perhaps it was the dank and pestilent environment. Perhaps it was the girl herself in her odd array of sashes, embroideries, and beaded bangles. The contrast was exquisite, and as he made his approach (slowed by her odd magic -- why was she zipping about like a video on fast forward?) he couldn’t help but feel as though he’d seen this all before.
Her eyes widened. She stumbled back with flame in her hand. The heat did little to slow him, but the light blinded him briefly, and she used that time to bring her staff before her. ”Ifrit!” She dragged her staff across the ground, and Ardyn hesitated, watching her closer. Was she attempting to call the Infernian? Other gods followed -- Shiva, Bahamut, and a name he didn’t recognize -- but that first stilled him with a dark curiosity.
What kind of Oracle would reach for the Infernian? Certainly not one who stood with the gods.
He felt it a second before it struck him. The wave of magic. The otherworldly whispers. And then a gust of wind that carried with it a deep chill. Ardyn raised an arm against it, squinting through snow and flurried ice. His eyes hardened on the figure that fell gracefully to the space between them. Shiva.
The resemblance was unmistakable. Gone was the mortal guise in her furs and golden silks. Gone was the ice-tinged sprite who danced through the air on chilled currents. In its place was a solid figure shrouded in full armor and hidden behind its helm. It carried itself differently than the Glacian ever had, but it could be none other. Its power felt identical.
”Shiva.” The word dripped from his sneered lips, elongated and low. ”How long has it been? Ten years? Nothing for you, I suspect.” The girl bowed to the goddess, muttering her thanks. Ardyn ignored her. The Glacian would never let him lay a finger upon her, and at the moment, the girl couldn’t have been further from his mind.
”Is this a new incarnation? Color me impressed.” Ardyn’s eyes locked on the black space behind her helm. He paced forward sideways like a cat towards its prey. If he could subdue the Infernian, then could he subjugate the Glacian as well? There was only one way to find out.
”Did you like what I’d done with your beloved? Oh, but I’d forgotten you weren’t exactly on the best of terms. Such a tragic lover’s quarrel!”
Ardyn stopped only two feet from the Glacian’s frozen gaze. He twirled his sword expertly in his hand. ”Let’s reunite the both of you, shall we?” He was on her in an instant, rushing forward in a stream of pure corruption. Their swords clashed and Ardyn grinned, eyes alight with rebellious fire.
In that dim, pestilent light, immortal faced immortal with nothing but malice and disdain. The girl was nothing more than a bumbling fly.
The man ignored her entirely and spoke directly to Shiva. Yuna watched him carefully as he goaded the aeon. Something about his manner had changed. He no longer looked like he was enjoying himself, but the condescension in his face had doubled. He looked so hateful that Yuna was honestly surprised. He clearly disliked summoners, but to despise the fayth themselves? What did this man have against their sacrifice?
“Ten years?” Yuna echoed the man slowly, feeling her heartbeat speed up at what that implied. He hadn’t seen Shiva for ten years. Gripping her staff tighter than she had before, Yuna stepped closer to Shiva so that she could easier meet the man’s piercing yellow eyes. “My father became the High Summoner ten years ago. When he died,” she said warily. “So tell me what happened ten years ago that you would despise them and their summoners.”
Had her father done something to him? She wanted to vehemently deny the possibility. Her father was a gentle soul, and she was positive that he would have wanted to send this man too if he were still alive. He couldn’t have been in the wrong.
Still, there was a flicker of doubt in her that wasn’t able to be extinguished as the man seemed to lose his patience and pulled his sword on Shiva before her questions could be answered. Yuna stiffened and moved back a pace or two to give them space--she knew how large an area an aeon’s attacks sometimes needed. Shiva moved gracefully in a cloud of ice and frost and met the man’s relentless attacks blow for blow. Still, Yuna was amazed at how well he seemed to be keeping up with her. She’d never known a human to move in pace with an aeon before, and the man’s hair once again flickered blue in her vision.
Sucking in a breath, Yuna touched the side of her head and blinked rapidly a few times until the vision faded and she could see that his hair was most assuredly red. What was that? Another memory returning? If so, then why did this man keep triggering them?
Yuna was still struggling to catch her breath when the man’s magic collided with Shiva’s and some combination of ice and shadows struck the wall and crumbled plaster and drywall like it was nothing. There were muffled screams from the hospital room next door, and Yuna froze in place for a moment before shaking her head. What was she still doing here? She wanted to wait close by to send him, but she couldn’t when their battle was so destructive. She should be evacuating the sick!
“Fight in my place. Please,” she quickly prayed, waving her staff to cast Protect and Shell on Shiva before rushing to the door and hoping that her aeon could keep him distracted. At the very least, he didn’t seem interested in her in the slightest anymore.
Yuna slammed the door closed behind her again and started to run down the hallway, almost colliding with a group of doctors and healers who had gathered to stare at the door in fear.
“You need to evacuate!” She begged them, wondering what a sight she made with her bloody wounds, torn dress, and skirt stained with black fluid. “Please listen to me. The patients are in danger here. That man with the red hair. I think he might be the cause of this plague.”
Yuna wondered if they might have argued with her more if the sounds of clashing metal hadn’t come from the quarantined room at that moment. The aftershock was so great that it rumbled the floor, and Yuna had to steady herself against the wall, staring at them in desperation.
“Please. I don’t think this place will be standing much longer.”
It was painful to admit. She was part of the problem after all. She didn’t have to summon Shiva indoors, and the truth struck her like she’d been slapped in the face as she ran after the doctors and helped to carefully load patient after patient onto stretchers so that they could be transferred. She’d been selfish. She’d chosen to live and she’d put countless people in danger for that choice.
She'd never be able to atone for this. Not for as long as she lived.
Ardyn let out a wild laugh. Yes, this was what he’d longed for. The frozen embrace of a goddess’ light clashing against him. The chink of blades and magically threaded armor at his fingertips. He kept himself moving, darting in shadow around the Astral like a wasp. It wasn’t fair to say whether he would triumph, but at that moment, he hardly cared. The act itself was enough.
Windows shattered. Walls caved in like paper. He was vaguely aware of his blade meeting human flesh, of the screams, of the goddess’ power freezing bodies solid. The place made a poor stage for their battle, but they would level it soon, and once they had, he would have the full range of movement that came with the power of a Lucian king. The Glacian caught him in a swing and thrust him back thirty feet through a window. He landed hard on the street, skidding to a stop as his skin peeled and rejuvenated.
The screams rang out like rippling waves. Ardyn’s grin blackened as he thrust himself upright. His yellow eyes burned intense and exhilarated. Their sclera ran with corruption that he didn’t bother wiping away. The opposing wall burst in a rain of splinters and broken stone. The Glacian faced him with her all her inscrutable wrath. He twirled his sword through around his fingers.
He’d need only a moment -- just one opening to trap her in his corruption. And then she would be his.
She started towards him, and Ardyn waited for her sword to swing before he phased through it and quick-stepped behind her. His blade struck her hard from behind, staggering her, and he took the opportunity to seize the back of her neck. His power flared and pulsed through him, and he felt the Astral stiffen beneath his grip. Flickering visions danced before his eyes -- snow-laden mountains, tunneling vortexes, trees ripped from their roots -- before it all burst in a shower of light. Ardyn blinked at the empty space before him. His hand closed shut. A cold wind passed over him, and then there was nothing.
”What?” Ardyn circled around, searching for that telltale shimmer of blue. There was only rubble. Distant cries. The pounding of running feet. The makeshift hospital had been decimated -- its inhabitants crushed in the wreckage. The street was still slick with ice. Ardyn looked to it all without understanding.
And then his grip tightened on his sword. She had fled from him. Right at his moment of triumph, right when he had nearly taken a fraction of his true revenge. He felt a deep darkness well inside him, ready to burst.
And he laughed. A pulsing, almost feral laugh that echoed over the ruins he’d created. The Glacian had deprived him of even a moment of triumph. She’d watched him with those shrouded eyes and taken neither pity nor hatred upon him. He was nothing to them. Nothing but a tool in the great machinations of fate -- not even worthy of their destruction. But they had made a mistake. Time and time and time again, they had thrust him aside, underestimating the very curse they had bestowed upon him.
But they were not omnipotent. They could be felled by his hand. He would watch as they struggled beneath him in the very darkness he had withstood for far too long. He would destroy all they loved, and he would revel in the loss he had known so long ago. He would shatter the world if he had to and the very course of fate itself.
His laughter faded until he was left standing alone with his head tilted towards the sky. He suffered the familiar burn of the sun and he did not look away. He would start with the girl. Their Oracle and their tenuous link to mortality. He would seek her out, force her to summon the Glacian, and then he would drive his sword through her heart in full view of the divine.
He closed his eyes and offered the sun a dry smile. Its light would fail in time. The Scourge had awoken, and with it, the Astrals who so reviled it. He snatched his hat from the road’s edge and set it in its proper place. As he strolled down the road to ruin, a new conviction darkened his heart. This world too would know a silent death. He would act as its harbinger with the power the Astrals had forced upon him, and he would show no mercy upon those who suffered its end. For he was no man.
