Unknown Location

In a city beyond the view of mortal beings, six figures stood shrouded by shadows, in a circle around an empty throne of grand design. The silence in the room was almost suffocating, as each member stood. They could not speak, could not even move, until the time was right.

Suddenly, before them all, an odd grey glow emerged from the throne.

"It would appear that truly is time..." One of the figures spoke, a grieving tone to his voice.

"Honestly, I had rather hoped it would never come to this." A second said, reaching out to hold the throne. "But it is necessary. We must locate the successor, before it is too late. Let us activate the system."

With a series of nods, each of the shadowy figures approached the throne and did the same, causing the grey glow to grow stronger.

After about ten minutes, they stepped back, as small bands of grey light began to split away from the throne, flying off briefly before appearing to vanish.

"And now, we have no choice but to wait." A third member said. "We must hope that a candidate is successful in time, or we shall all fail. We must find the blood that shall unite us, or blood will be what divides us."

-----

Hunters Creek City, Saturday Morning

Joseph Moore

Joseph sat up from his bed with a start, taking a moment to pat himself down and make sure everything was right. That dream... It was so realistic...

He could even remember every intricate detail on the th-... No... What was it again?

The more he tried to focus his thoughts on the dream, the more he forgot. He continued to sit in his bed, desperately trying to retain any details, but unfortunately, almost all of it faded away rather quickly.

All except the last sentence.

Find the blood that shall unite us, or blood will be what divides us.

He shuddered at the phrase, which gave him the chills whenever he thought about it for some reason, and finally managed to grab his phone and check what time it was.

Seven o'clock. About time he got up to take his morning walk. Sighing again, he managed to drag himself away from the he'd entirely, the last of the sheets falling off his arms.

And that was when he noticed the markings on his arm.

It took less than a second to realise how his mother would take him getting a "tattoo", regardless of whether he'd known about it or not.

And so, after getting dressed, he carefully snuck past the exercise room, from which he could already hear his parents training, and left the house before either of them could hear him.

This... This was going to be a problem...

------

Elijah Keaton

Across the city, a Elijah stood in the cities church, surrounded by other priests.

"So I'm the only one?" He asked.

"Yes." One of the oldest priests in the church, Father Lucas, said. "Or at least, you're the only one in our church. I'm sure there would be many others in our churches in other cities."

"I see..." Elijah said, a small frown on his face.

"Do not worry, Elijah." Lucas said, patting him on the shoulder. "Your brothers and sisters will be there to support you every step of the way. We will do whatever we can to ease your burden. You will do the same for us when you become king, after all!"

At that, the elderly priest gave a loud chuckle, and Elijah grinned and nodded.

"Thank you, Father Lucas. I will do my best to survive for all of you."

And with that, he walked into the streets, his spear concealed by bundles of cloth and strapped to his back.

He would fight for his family.

No matter how much it hurt him.

------

Akihito Izami

Izami sat in an alleyway, waiting in the shadows.

As she sat, she slowly used small, but noticeable amounts of magic, to the point where any magic user with enough talent would find their way to her fairly quickly. Normally, this might not be as appealing an option, as there would be little reason to approach a mage with as sloppy control as she was pretending to have. As a matter of fact, it would generally be discouraged, with a large chance to end up getting caught in any failed spells and blown up yourself!

Now however, following these kinds of magic signatures could easily lead a hunter to its prey. The King Candidate System had started, and weak mages were an easy target. Whether they were actually candidates or not mattered little. They would all be caught in the net and culled, just in case.

"Well well, what have we here?" A voice said from the other side of the alley. "A young mage working on their magic? Now why would you be doing that, and so sloppily as well? It's almost as if you feel you need your skills to be up to scratch as quickly as possible!"

A man walked towards her. Angelic, by the looks of him. In response, she remained silent, merely standing up to face him. There was no real need for a conversation here.

"Not even going to contribute to our conversation, are you?" He asked, his smile fading. "Ah well, if you insist. I suppose its nice to not have to speak with a filthy demon like yourself. And considering your magic talent, I doubt I'll even need to use the powers of my brand to defeat you! Instead, I will merely show you how a real mage fights!"

And as he spoke, a fireball appeared in his outstretched hand, before flying towards her.

And Izami smirked.

As the fireball flew through the air, she sprang into action, kicking her feet against the wall to spring her towards the angel, and deftly moving beneath the growing fireball, which exploded loudly against the wall. Seeing her rapid approach, the angel casually drew a rapier from his belt, apparently deciding he could deflect her sword rather easily.

"Well, I suppose that was somewhat impressive, but now you wish to fight me, Lord Cerius, with a sword? I pity your foolishne-"

And then he stopped, the downward slash he had been planning suddenly out to his side. Before he could even register why that might be, he became aware of an intense pain in his abdomen.

"W-what?" He asked, staring into Izami's eyes.

"Looks like you were actually pretty fuckin' weak." She replied, before sighing and yanking her sword out of his stomach. "I was hoping for someone stronger for my first fight... Or, you know, less of a goddamn cartoon character. You were a disappointment on every damn level."

"Y-you insolent demon scu-"

And then she slashed him across the throat, leaving the angel unable to talk any longer.

"Shit, I know I didn't expect you to be a gracious loser, but I'd still kinda hoped you would be, you know?"

Tired of talking to the dying angel, she gave him one last kick for funzies, before climbing to the rooftops, ready to find a new ambush point.

Heaven, Kingdom of Caritas


Sirael

"So? What is it? C'mon hurry it up!" Sirael fussed, her head turning this way and there in a vain attempt to get a peek at the apparent thing that grew or attached to her back without her knowledge.

"Patience, child. This would go much quicker if you would just hold still." Gritted the much bigger and much older Peniel as he inspected the little angel's back.

"Old man, I've stopped being a child a century ago." Sirael huffed, a bit annoyed at being patronized.

"Truly?" Sirael couldn't exactly see his face at the moment, but she was doubly sure the geezer was wearing a condescending smirk. "I never would've guessed with the way you're behaving."

"If you want to stop being called a child, then behave in a manner befitting of your age." Lectured Peniel.

"Ugh..." With a childish groan, Sirael finally obeyed.

Seemingly satisfied, the old angel continued the inspection. "Now... let's see here...hmm... I believe this is a bird." He said.

"A what?" Sirael's face contorted in confusion.

"No no wait... I think it's a fish."

"Which is it, Old ma-? urk..." Sirael winced as Peniel tightened his grip on her shoulders.

"I-I mean... What exactly did you find, Seraph Peniel?" She repeated in a much more polite and respectful manner.

"It's a fish... with wings... and a horn...hmm..." Peniel seemed to contemplate deeply on his own findings.

"Oh... oh dear..." He muttered, his tone gravely.

"What? What's wrong?" Sirael asked, a foreboding feeling starting to well up from her gut.

"It seems you have been chosen as a candidate."

Sirael blinked. "Huh? A candidate? For what?"

"For becoming the king."

Sirael stared at Peniel for a long time before bursting out in a mad laughing fit.

"Me? hahha- Nominated f-for-pfffwahahha- For KINGSHIP!? AHAHAHAHHAHAHA! Ow-Haha my sides-hahaha can't breath-hehehaha helpfffwahahhah!"

Peniel watched patiently as the girl rolled on the floor in her deranged laughter, his expression serious.

Seeing this, Sirael managed to gather her wits and get back on her feet. "You're-aheh kidding... right?"

When Peniel's face remained unchanged, the girl felt a pang anxiety grow in her chest.

"...No... Nono...Nononono."

Peniel sighed sadly. "I know it's hard to take in...but-"

"NO!" With a flap of her wings, Sirael was floating at Peniel's eye level, screaming at his face in denial.

"What kind of idiots would- I can barely do my own duties and now you want me to be king!?" She argued, voice bordering on panic.

"Yes, your methods maybe somewhat... eccentric, but you always get the job done, punctually too." He hummed the last part to himself with a smile.

Sirael looked at Peniel as if he had grown a second head and was well on his way on growing a third. "What? you're actually going along with this? Why? I mean, do we even need a new king? What's wrong with the one we have right now?"

Peniel gave her a searching look before a look of understanding dawned on his face. "Ah... child... Sirael, your candidacy isn't meant for the throne of Caritas... It is for the throne that rules over all of the three realms."

That was the proverbial straw that broke the proverbial camel's back. The shock was simply too much for Sirael, it instantly depleted her mental fortitude, shutting down her mind completely and sending her body spiraling to the ground in a messy heap.

"Oh dear..."

O~O~O~O~O

In the comforts of her own quarters, Peniel, bless his holy bald head, accompanied Sirael and explained to her the terms and conditions of being a "King Candidate".

"I still don't get it. Why do I have to do this? Can't I just throw in the towel or something?" Sirael asked, beginning to get irritated at her situation.

"I'm afraid it's not that simple. Regardless of what you do, you will be dragged into this war." Peniel explained in a resigned tone. He truly wished that Sirael could avoid this fate, but he knows that trying the defy the powers that be who chose her would be... counter-productive. The best thing he could do is support Sirael as much as he could. It would've been better if he could actually go with her but as a Seraph, he has a lot of responsibilities to attend to.

"Wait a minute, what do you mean war? Are we going on a tournament to decide the rightful king or something?"

Peniel caressed his beard in thought. "That is one way of looking at it."

"You're joking." She groaned almost painfully when she found no humor on his face.

"Isn't this the demons' way of doing things? Why do I have to play along with their deadly barbaric games?"

"Cunning, Virtue, Wisdom, Might, the Candidacy takes all attributes and traits into account. This is, after all, the system that would decide the King who governs all."

"If that's the case, wouldn't Yahweh be the better choice? " She suggested a little bit hopefully.

"Perhaps, perhaps not... what matters is that you, Sirael, have been chosen as a candidate."

Sirael grumbled, still not satisfied with the answers she had recieved.

Peniel smiled gently and placed a fatherly hand on her head. "Do not sell yourself short, Sirael. I believe you are destined for great things. I'm sure you will make a fine king... someday."

Sirael pouted.

With a chuckle, Peniel decided to share a little of wisdom. "If you truly do not want to become king, you can simply collaborate with another candidate and become a supporter. And if he or she happens to win the candidacy, you'll become his/her retainer."

"That still means more duties and responsibilities though..."

"Well, at that point, I'm sure you can probably quit." 'Assuming you'd still want to, that is.' Peniel left that particular last bit of his thoughts unsaid.

Sirael looked thoughtful for a moment before giving off a resigned sigh. "I guess..."

"Good. Now, that's decided. Let us make sure you are amply prepared for this trial." Peniel spoke with a gleam in his eye.

O~O~O~O

"This is called a 'mace'. When some dastardly fellow tries to force you to do unspeakable things with him, you pull this string, aim this on his face and push the button."

"I know what a pepper spray is... and for the thousandth time, I'm not a child! Sirael blurted out in disbelief at the spectacle she was witnessing. Peniel brought out every conceivable trinket he had. Her own luggage bag was dwarfed by the gigantic pile of junk and assortments that the old geezer recommended she should ALL bring.

Amulets, potions, knives, grenades, swords, shields, guns, armors... and was that a bazooka?

"I...I..." The balded old angel looked positively senile as he fretted over her and his pile as if unsure of what to do.

"What the heck's gotten into you, old man? Weren't you the one who convinced me to go through with this stupid game of thrones in the first place?"

"I... Sirael..." Her words seemed to have knocked some sense back to him as the old angel approached her with a solemn face.

"I know I was the one that persuaded you but... you have to understand... this is a serious matter... It's dangerous, you could even get ki-."

Sireal rolled her eyes and flew up to his height and gave the bumbling idiot a good karate chop to the head. "Alright, that's enough gibberish from you."

"I... You're right, I apologize..." He turned to look at Sirael, smiling gently, he placed hand on her head.

"I feel like it hasn't really been that long since I saw you in that basket sitting on my doorstep." He chuckled.

"Peniel..." Sirael, swept along by the suddenly tender mood.

"Who could blame me? When you only grew this much over the course of a hundred years."

"Urgh!" The small angel wasted no time slapping the offending hand away. And with an irritated grumble, grabbed her enchanted duffle bag and stuffed Peniel's entire pile into it and walked away. After a dozen steps, she looked back, surprised that Peniel didn't utter a single complaint about her taking everything. The old angel just stood there, wearing a solemn smile on his not-really-old face.

Shrugging, she took a few more steps before looking back once more.

"Remember this, old man. If and when I actually become king, I'll make sure you'll become one of my pawns. I'll work you to death for making me go through with this!" After blowing her benefactor and father-in-all-but-name a cheeky raspberry, they waved each other goodbye and finally separated.

Nevaeh stumbled back, clutching the tree for balance and breathed heavily.
That dream, it was real. She could still feel the electricity in the air when everyone touched that chair.
Find the blood that shall unite us, or blood will be what divides us.
Nevaeh swallowed and sunk to the ground below her. She set her hands on the Earth and shut her eyes, feeling the shift and movement as she brought forth a late blooming flower.
The King's Candidate, the running had begun. She looked up at the sky and watched it shift. So much destruction was about to happen to the people and this precious place she called home. Earth was more her home than Heaven ever was but it was her duty to protect and fight for it and so she would.
"Let the games begin," she said and brought herself back to her feet as she headed out of the woods to embark on this new journey.


Nixon felt the burning sensation on his skin as he walked down the alley. He sensed it before it even happened, the mark forming, the novice mage trying to use her power. She was a demon, that much he knew. Weather she was truly any good, that he was about to find out.
He paused in the ally, creating a shroud of darkness to conceal him as he lifted up his shirt.
He watched the mark curve and form up the side of his body. It tingled and burned but left a pleasant sensation chorusing through his body.
Nixon grinned. He was chosen, the King's candidacy had begun and he was to fight in it. Well, picking off this demon should be a breeze then.
Nixon lifted the concealment and walked out to hear the tale end of this demon's conversation with a very much dead angel. Ah, so she could handle her own, probably trapped the dumb thing. Nixon grinned in appreciation and watched the demon climb to the roofs.
He concealed himself again and transported himself to the roof tops with the help of his circling shadows. He landed at the top silently and prepared himself to chase after the girl.


Max floated on the water, watching the clouds shift around. He could feel the storm on the air, it was coming and it was going to be big.
As soon as Maximus woke from his hellish dream he came out to this secluding lake up in the mountains. He found this place while working at the resort when he was on one of his breaks and has been frequenting the place since. Its crystal blue water, surrounded by fir trees, birds of all kinds and animals that come to drink from the lake that was fed by the mountain water. This was his home now. This was his safety. Until that dream.
His father was right, everything he told Max in his dream state was right. Max lifted his arm to observe his mark. He never quite liked it the day it showed up, but it was apart of him now. As much as he disliked this Kings Candidate thing, he didn't have much of an option he feared.
The water dropped off his arm and tinkled back into the water, catching sparks of the rising sun. Maximus sighed, dropped his arm onto his stomach and looked back up at the sky.
Maybe if he stayed hidden out here, no one would find him, no one would care if he fought or ran.

James' bed was very springy and bouncy, testing this as he bounced on it getting out of bed. He clicked his alarm off, and got ready in the morning. Shower. Clothes. Teeth. Hair. Food. He hadn't told his parents about his abilities, there had always been a disconnect from him and them, they never really got along. This only perpetuated the matter. He grabbed his B-Phone, put in his headphones, put on his jacket, and scarf, and headed out. He was going to go practicing his dragon technique. He though it was incredibly cool to make some ice dragons shoot water out of their mouths, even if it was only for himself.

That thought was thoroughly interrupted though. James tried keeping his hobby a secret, but I guess some of the kids in his town found out. It startled him so much, that his entire act fell to the ground, ice and snow scattered all over.

"Oh look, it's the 'special' kid. Looks like your going to pee your pants. You scared little boy?" He started to beat his hand into his palms.

No, he had the power. James would stand up for himself. He stood his ground, his hands in his pockets, shivering. He was scared, but he wouldn't show it, wouldn't let them get a foothold on him. He sent small shards of ice from the destroyed dragon their way. They came like a condensed hailstorm, and they turned tail and ran, screaming.

"Oh shit! When could he do that?" Whoever told them was going to have to have a nice talk.

He shot one ice shard down, and pinned one running boy to a tree by his pants, and James walked up to him.

"Who told you my hobby? Oh, and don't come back, I'll spare you." He was shaking so much, but he hid it, and put it all into being menacing. The older boy was very apparently scared. His face was pale like he had seen a ghost.

"It was...um....Jim. He lives a ways away in a cottage alone in the woods. Please don't hurt me..." His voice quivered at the last sentence, and pointed a different direction.

"Good boy." James pat his head, and pulled the ice stake from out of the tree. "And remember, don't come back. Spread the word to everyone. Don't Mess With James."

James started in the direction he pointed him to. It wouldn't be to long, and he had a plan...