Soldiers of Light - Chapter 1: "Organizing"

[Raiden]

The sound of heated battle echoed through the halls of the dark fortress. The colossal structure was epic in scope and dwarfed even the nearby mountains in scale, but that was a benefit of harnessing the collective power of demon and mortal alike. Nestled within the structure like a withered heart, supernatural flames of purple and green lit up the throne room where Talkatz, the Demon King, sat and listened to the fighting carrying on outside. He stood at 11 feet tall, his skin a dark blistering mix of crimson and black, with six orbs glistening in his chest. His warped double-edged blade of demonic iron rested against his throne of stone, but he gave it no particular care.
It wasn't an uncommon occurrence for one of his station. Shogun, solitary heroes, and ragtag groups lead by a young soldier with hair and sword bigger than his brains often believed they would be the one to put him down. That they had the special something that made them unique compared to the hundreds of others who came before them. But it always ended the same. Just more stains on the front walk that had to be mopped up by the kappa. Most never even made it inside the fortress walls, and even those that did were put down like mad dogs by his Weapon Altmas. At this rate he'd run out of humans to eventually rule.
A loud knocking on the large iron double doors leading into his throne room began to clang. The demon lord's three eyes looked to stare at the doors as they were smashed open, the corpse of his Sword Altma tossed into the room with his dog-like head hanging to the body by only a thread of flesh. Following it in with a tipsy stride was a single warrior, his armor of samurai design with a facemask depicting a bird. The man reeked of cheap alcohol, and the stains and wetmarks on the front of his clothing indicated he had been drinking intensely.

"Ah! Talkatz! It's good to see you! Heard so much about you, but the stories just plain don't do you justice, sir!" The samurai stepped on the dead dog demon's corpse as he walked in, a loud crunching sound being heard. "Oops. Your dog left a mess on the floor."

The demon lord looked the warrior up and down. He had made it into the throne room. Whether this spoke of the samurai's skill, or the harm age had done to his Altmas, that was yet to be proven.

"You think yourself funny." The demon lord got up from his chair, his full height towering over the human samurai. His hand grasped the massive double-edged blade and hefted it up. "They never laugh very long." The demon king then hesitated when a flash of light seared his eyes, making him cover them.

"Oh, you don't like that? Yeah, it has that effect on you things." The samurai was holding a glowing katana inscribed with seven runes, the aura alone causing Talkatz to feel his strength drain away. "Beautiful, isn't she? Makes you just want to look at it for hours." The samurai reached for a gourd at his hip, pulling a plug out with his teeth as he drank down the alcoholic contents. Talkatz frowned deeply.

"I recognize the make. You wield a demon's blade, mortal."

"Well I have it now. So it's a Daisuke's blade, demon."

"...be pleased, warrior. I will kill you now, and save you further embarrassment."

"It'd be borrrring if ya didn't." His words were starting to slur more.

"And whose name should I spread as the latest samurai to be gutted and fed to my followers?"

"Yer mother." With that the samurai sprinted at the demon king, his glowing sword slashing in low.

------------------------------------------------------------------------
1000 years later
------------------------------------------------------------------------

~~Daisuke Village~~

Daisuke Kurama kneeled upon a cushion in the house of his family, quietly awaiting his guests. The Raigaki, the Sword of Light, rested upon the floor before him. It had been...what? Ten years? Ten years to the day that he had discovered the blade while wandering the grounds of the village? Whether it was a rustle of the wind or a sign of his ancestor, Kurama had stumbled across the small shrine dedicated to the legendary blade. His family had, mostly, taken it as a sign of the Demon King's return. Others simply saw it as fanciful luck. Regardless, from that day he had been trained to wield the blade until its grip was almost a part of his hand.

And it had served him well. Demonic presence was building across the land, with more chaotic kami and wells of corrupted elements bursting into existence. It had been controlled for a time, but now few villages were safe. Many humans had moved to the relative safety of the larger cities, hoping to find protection in numbers. Daisuke village was overflowing with refugees, as the location was believed a Bastion of Purity. Or some other such nonsense. A steel blade did just as well against a demon as that of the Raigaki.

He sipped at his tea. He was not looking forward to this meeting. In an effort to quell the demon growth, a plan had been forged to assure that the Demon Lord would be incapable of returning. But it was a silly plan, truth be told. But it was all they had. And so he had made contact with several who would be willing to fight for him, whether out of duty or coin. And so, he waited.


~~ The Dark Fortress ~~

The millenia had not been kind to the home of Talkatz. Scavengers and time had picked away at the external decoration, the tops crumbling down so even the mountains could hide them away. What remained was a skeletal husk of a building. An iron framework kept most of it up, but the only rooms to retain any true function were the inner sanctums. It was there that a small group of Talkatz's chosen had gathered. As they arrived one by one, a tall figure in thin gold spectacles and a robe of white made notes about their features and presentation. His main focus, however, was a truly elderly mortal man who sat upon an old stone throne. He would check his blood pressure, look into his eyes, even check his teeth. But he did not seem to respond to any until all were present.