LOREBOOK: The Five

In the beginning, there was only one.
Face hidden behind a scarred mask, tattered cloak billowing behind, Khada Jhin walked against the searing heat of a harsh and merciless sun. The sky over Neo-Japan was red in those finals days, and the once lush forests were not but ash and sand. Every fifth step or so he would stop, staggered by a gnawing pain within, then continue onward, determined. Behind him, the others followed, undaunted in their mission. They were the Five, and they would not rest until their journey reached it's end.
Long ago, when the five was still but one, Khada Jhin wore a different mask. He was young in those days, but through blurred memories and retold tales he could recall a life as a son of a miner. His father worked on the harvester, and the rhythmic thumping created by the great machine as it pulled spice out of the endless sea of sand was forever burned into Jhin's dreams. Though he had always felt drawn to the path of art and creation, a life in the dunes left no room for such dreams. But this age of sand did not last forever, and as the great seas came, so too did a new life for Jhin. It was on the first of the islands where he learned to shoot, initially only for food, but eventually, for coin as well. And as ages past, and time went on, Jhin's ability to kill only grew. The age of oceans passed to an age of ruins, and beyond to an age of honor. The age of fear came next, and finally, the age of connections. Yet this age too, was at it's close, and not one of the five legends assembled today believed that the new age would be one of peace. And so, they had begun their quest.
The vampire Alucard had been the first to join. A true spawn of the age of strife, both he and Jhin had spent many years in combat together on Zombingerend. Their paths had crossed initially as adversaries, but a mutual enemy was found in the zombies and soldiers of the pale king. Then, as now, they fought like demons; determined to win, no matter the cost. And so, one became two.
Second had been Piccolo. For many memes the green man had been nothing but a myth to the people of the land. But Jhin and Alucard were myths as well, and soon found themselves on his island home. They had little in common besides a vested interest in the continued existence of the world, but even that was enough. And so, two became three. 
Alone of the misty shores of Brighton they had found Percival. Aged and withered in a manner that turned the stomachs of all present, his skill with a sword was most certainly gone. But what he lacked in muscle he had retained in mind, and the ancient scribe who had once carried the Grail to Camelot in the twilight of the 3rd Age now walked in the twilight of the 5th. And so, three became four.
Last had been Sub-Nero, hero of Ionia and the youngest of the assembled men. As he sat alone near the crater that had once been his homeland, the guilt of his failure weighing down as an albatross on his neck, the four had approached. Jhin spoke first, asking if he felt there was still a fire within. Sub-Nero responded with laughter; his frozen heart, he said, was all that remained. But that was enough for the four, and together they marched. And so, four became five.
Tales had been told of a Flame, Jhin said, that could reignite the world itself if a time did come where it's fuel was exhausted. To Sub-Nero, the legends of this flame were but a flickering myth, passed down through generations of storytellers. But the other four had known a time when these stories were first spun, and so believed in the reality of the Flame. Percival, in his endless books, had found a place unlike any other, a place shrouded in mist and confusion, where, perhaps, the Flame could be found. 
In pursuit of this Flame the Five found themselves in what was once Neo-Japan, and as the sun glowed red and the land slowly crumbled into the wine dark sea, they ascended the mountain that curled out from the center of the island. Passage into the Flame's shrine, Percival had warned, was impossible by land: the mist veil surrounding it could not be breached by any mortal, even extraordinary ones. The vanishing of young Nicolas into that veil several years prior, the catalyst to the team's assembly, served as a warning of the danger held by a pursuit of the Flame. But hope was not lost; Piccolo, in his lonesome travels after the end of the Second age, had once discovered a sprawling complex of tunnels buried deep beneath Neo-Japan. Whether formed naturally in the creation of the island, or carved out for some unknown purpose, was unknown and irrelevant to the Five; all that mattered was the path they snaked under the sea directly to the shore of Prismo Beach. 
But as they began their climb of the mountain that held at it's summit the gaping maw of a pit descending down into these caverns, a reptilian shriek filled the air, and at once the Five knew that they were no longer alone. As the world itself had begun to die, many creatures that had been content to spend their lives down in the depths of the sea now found themselves forced to the shores and surfaces of the surviving realms, pulling their slimy forms onto the ashy beaches in pursuit of the five delicious strangers that had dared to enter their island home.
Percival, struggling to climb the craggy peaks, had been the first to fall behind. Sub-Nero had noticed too late, and as the bearded old man disappeared behind the dripping jaws of a scaled monstrosity, he could only yell in horror that the scribe was gone. The combined gunfire of the Virtuoso and the Vampire had made short work of the creature, but nothing more could be done for poor Percival. More beasts shambled up the cliffside trail, the group began to run, and five became four.
As the precipice loomed, the four soon found that their destination was blocked. Piccolo moved to shatter the boulders that lay in the center of their trail, but the Namekian was not in his prime, and even he, the strongest of the Five, could not destroy their roadblock fast enough. The clammy forms of their pursuers emerged from all sides, and the group pressed their backs against the barrier, resolved to fight until a better plan could be reached. But Piccolo shook his head, and pointed upwards: the Five had come to the island for a single purpose, and they were not to give in, no matter the cost. With a solemn nod, Jhin understood, and he motioned Sub-Nero and Alucard to climb. It was slow going, and the crumbling surfaces of the rocks made it hard to find a steady grip, but it was too late to turn back now. Piccolo's roars and shouts echoed from down below as he disappeared into a sea of tentacles and claws, and four became three.
Into the chasm the group made their descent, determined to succeed in honor of their fallen comrades. As the crimson sunlight was replaced by stone and shadow, the sounds of wind gave way to the measured drip of water from stalactites. In silence the group walked, each of their minds concocting different images of trials and tribulations lurking down in the darkness. Jhin stumbled again, and pressed his hand to his mask; though the dark magic imbued within had been harnessed to keep his form solid and mobile, was it possible for it to fail? What if it were to corrupt him into some shadow of his darkest impulses, as it had before? Sub-Nero, meanwhile, struggled to push away the nagging feeling of regret gnawing within himself. Should he not be back on the mainland, protecting the common people who, almost daily, fell victim to the death of their home? Was this flame, this path, really the key to salvation? Alucard only concerned himself with thoughts of the monsters that might live in such underground tunnels, and how best he might kill them.
Indeed it was Alucard whose musings proved most prudent, and the quiet moans from every direction cleared the minds of both Jhin and Nero. As a unit they slowly crept ahead, Alucard listing the many creatures that could have made such a sound. Zombies, perhaps, or necromorophs, or maybe even humans, starved and desperate as living down here would make one? But as they emerged, crawling from holes in the walls and floor, only Jhin recognized the face of their attackers as those who had once been weeaboos. Their eyes were vacant, and their bones were visible through the tightened wall of their nearly transparent skin, but their purpose was clear, and they scuttled towards the three warriors with the intent to devour. 
Shooting and running, running and shooting, the trio sprinted deeper into the cave, pausing only to verify that they were still on the path Percival had mapped. Their ravenous foes continued to pursue, dying in droves. Eventually, as the bodies of the starved weeaboos began to pile up, it seemed as if the trio would be buried alive. While Jhin and Nero paused for a moment to debate over the correct turn to make at a fork in the cave, Alucard announced his intention to stay behind. Their foes, he said, would not be stopping, and while they might be able to end them here, time was a luxury not all of the group could afford. Thus, with a toothy smile and a wave to his friends, the first vampire rushed into the emaciated crowd, his laughter louder than the gunfire echoing in the darkness. Sub-Nero looked to Jhin, who said nothing, and the two continued on. And three became two.
They traveled for several more hours before reaching another wall. At first, it seemed as though the duo had been blocked by some kind of invisible barrier, but upon closer inspection, a misty halo could be seen. Jhin fired a shot into the fog, and the bullet vanished. Sub-Nero threw an ice shuriken; that too seemed to pass out of sight. But as they pushed forwards, the wall pushed back, and try as they might, the two could not move more then several meters in before a salty blast of air held them back. Sub-Nero squinted, desperate to see further, but only mist and darkness lay ahead. Somewhere, down the tunnel, he could hear rain, and the sound of waves crashing, but it didn't matter. They had reached as far as anyone could go.
Sunlight momentarily blinded Jhin as he and Sub-Nero emerged from the underground labyrinth. There had been no sign of either the depraved Weeaboos or Alucard on the duo's ascent, and now, at the top of the island once more, the only sign of Piccolo or his struggle was the mangled corpses of several sea monsters. Neo-Japan continued to crumble around them as the two made their way back to the shore, but they did not care. All of the struggle, all of the death, had been for nothing. 
After a silent voyage back to the mainland, Jhin only nodded as Sub-Nero explained his intention to go back to what was left of Ionia. They might have failed to find the Flame, he said, but they did not have to give up on trying to save lives. But Jhin was no hero, and whatever motives he held did not push him down Sub-Nero's path, so as the two parted ways, he turned towards the wilds of Gruganda, determined to prevent the end of the world, no matter the cost.
So two became one.
And in the end, there was only one.
Category:Lorebooks
Category:Last King of New Eden