By: M Monroe Casey
Part One
“Well… that was certainly dramatic,” commented Monica.
Looking at the previous file on the Windowsill ending, they pulled up the next one before pausing it.
“Definitely… so, what’s next then?”
“It looks like the revolution where they took down the old government. I think this is the one before Marche denied my sister but it is the one where he killed Udo on the Thunder Plateau. C, I have a question.”
“Heavy stuff and yeah?”
Cuddling up next to CJ on Mt. Couch, she asked her question to her beloved.
“Why do they call it the Thunder Plateau?”
“Well, it was because it was there the Thunder and the Lighting were said to fall in love. Realizing how they complimented each other. The Lighting helped the Thunder shine brightly and be seen for how it truly is while the Thunder helped the Lightning be heard for what it truly is too. They realized that their compliments of each other were truly the most powerful forces they could ever provide to the world.”
“Awww… that’s cute but why is it just the Thunder Plateau then?”
“That’s because underneath it, inside of the caverns beneath it, there are the Lakes of Lightning. Forever resting inside the Thunder’s heart.”
“Cuteeeee! Okay my love, shall we watch the next chapter?”
“Let’s do it.”
Planting a kiss on Monica’s head as she rested against CJ’s chest, the High Goddess hit the button on the remote. Starting up the image on hand.
Hagro Tadala stood in front of his small crew and small army of loyal supporters and mercenaries. With most of them dressed in their matching red slim and sleek battle armor, they waited for their leader to commence then finish his speech. Ready for the upcoming war ahead.
Through the actions of his selfish brother, he was now left without the armor, his much larger army of otherworldly magical beasts and his physical demi-god powers. He was weakened in both stature and power but not in his spirit. They only had him questioning what he was doing before but he still had to make them pay.
All of them.
He was still Lord Jadix.
Nothing could change that, right?
Wearing a completely new and different suit of silver armor now and with this in mind, this brown hair and brown eyed hateful ridden body began to address those who still followed him. Well, mainly the ones who showed up for a good paycheck and the promise for much much more. The revolution they had always hoped for and wanted. Stuck in their ways, refusing to move on with Udo’s progression, searching for an excuse to “blow off some steam,” they listened in and questioned nothing.
“GENTLEMEN! We are gathered here together for one purpose. We are here because the hateful ones have ruined our world. Their conflicts have brought us all to a point of almost irreversible terror and dread. They call us conquerors or monsters. They even label us as the ‘hateful ones’ but I can tell you that is not true. I have seen the other side and I have dined with them. I have laughed with them and I have cried with them. I have been their ally but they do not see us for what we truly are. They do NOT understand our greatness. We have let the inferior rule us for too long… well, NOT ANY LONGER! Their inferiority gave us prejudice and division but I promise you something different. I promise you unity! Yes, I may not have some parts to my ensemble but that does not stop me from being the Lord Jadix that this world desires and needs. A true leader!”
The grunts in the room clapped along while Old Marche and Bnonoa looked out to the small sea of them. To the left of Bone King or Bnonoa was Steelbolt. The silver tinted machine-man that was described in the “Goddess Tasmanian adventure.” Then on his left were the remainder of those described. The dichromatic man with the staff, Sir Georgeton and the massive rocky dark red alien with a permanent scowl, Astrom. But it was strange, as Lord Jadix commented to his small team of generals, because none of them heard from two of their most eager and newest recruits, Alto and Crusher. They mysteriously just up and vanished from them all. Continuing on despite that oddity, Jadix hammered in the points harder now.
“SOOOOO, we need to take the fight to the upper parts of society. We need to topple the Higher Ups and ALL they stand for. They hold us down and stand on our backs. Building their wealth and their empires upon our necks. Well, not anymore!”
The radicalized group of his brainwashed supporters clapped along and hooted too.
“Now, with the power of brukev donned by us, we will still bring the fight to them and we will still win. WE SHALL TRULY CONQUER!!!! DOWN with the system! DOWN WITH everything they have built! DOWN WITH UDOOOOOO!!!!”
Reaching the highest volume yet, the hooting and hollering filled the small gathering space in a canyon to the south of Pyroclastia City. Chanting along with him, “down with Udo,” they continued on with their delirious clapping while the gathering of his small council team smirked up a storm too.
He would use this small army of five thousand nutjobs to spread anarchy and chaos while his five hundred mercenaries went off with Bnonoa on a little mission. Then, the next two phases could begin. But little did these fools know, there was a secret final phase to the master plan. One that only the inner circle really knew about. Phase Four: Cut the Ties. With a devilish smile on his face thinking about all that was to come, Jadix then pulled out the small black box with intricate golden circles drawn on it. The host and holding place of the brukev.
Opening it up while they screamed on in support, he stopped with a look of pure stubborn anger as inside there was nothing. Only a small note and no vials of the magical byproduct.
Grabbing the note, he opened up and screamed to the heavens above in anger. Dropping the small piece of white paper on the ground, all it read was a short and simple message,
The prize is in the prison. Come and get it. Sincerely, Mom’s favorite.
Throwing the box on the ground in rage to shatter it against the hard rock they stood on, Marche’s portal opened up in the early months of 1982 in Pyroclastia City. It was only a few days since his last jumping point but as he entered, he smirked knowing exactly what note they just found. Being from the future and one step ahead, he knew that this jump would be the hardest though. This is where he needed to stop his greatest enemy. A fight that meant having those advantages meant almost nothing. He knew that he needed to do more than just punch his way out of this one but it was fine, he was ready with a “more or less plan.” With a chuckle of deviance for now though, he then went to his first point to intercept the impending revolutionaries.
Part Two
With Marche walking through 1982’s streets of the 1666 timeline, he knew that he didn’t have much longer before the others would be in their positions. Bnonoa was bringing a portion of the forces to law down the hammer on the lawbreakers in the western snow prison.
It was a part of the overall plan which Hagro decided could really send a signal on how absolute everything that he is doing truly is. Show just what happens when anyone defies his new empire and his new rule. There would be no prisons, only death.
Meanwhile, the generals Steelbolt, Georgeton and Astrom were moving towards various government strongholds and buildings. To topple them and Udo’s support network as a part of the next phase.
All the while Hagro and Old Marche would be leading the main force to siege the Royal Palace. There wasn’t a lot of improvising as each part of this was happening simultaneously but it wasn’t completely hopeless if things changed or the plan had to be adapted.
After all, this entire time jumping was one adaptation in of itself.
Knowing all of this and remembering every planning session like it was yesterday, Marche moved towards the Palace first.
Bnonoa would take a while to move his small force to the far off and secure mountain prison so that could wait until the next part.
Meanwhile, those generals should take a mere few minutes to defeat on his way there.
Like Alto, Shata and Crusher proved, the gaps weren’t even close.
Even with a past version of Hagro or Bnonoa.
There was only one opponent in today’s conflict that stood any chance.
Himself.
But that would come at the end when he needed to save his brother and stop his greatest mistake to date. Completing the mental checklist in his brain, his black boot clad feet reached the back edge of the army moving closer and closer, just as he felt his full strength return from his purposeful use of the Vat’s toxins.
Ducking down an alleyway to his left, he peered around the corner to see the two leaders leading the force of their devoted supporters. Freezing completely before he acted, he then remembered one more small detail from this crystal clear memory of his.
Standing at the other end of the battlefield, leading the forces of Udo and the current Pyroclastian monarchy, was his son.
Augustin Tadala.
His brown hair and brown eyes like the rest of them, a sword in his left hand.
Not having LightBlaze but his own demi-god powers now, he was just a fairly standard general of his own army and side. Holding the sword proudly though, he refused to back down as they drew closer. His demi-god powers aged him to the prime age to fight for his world now. Fight for it with that sword he currently held onto very tightly.
It was a standard magical weapon. Able to cut down most walls or rocks, it could still hold its own in a battle. Especially since Lord Jadix didn’t have the super-sword of death, DarkFlame, yet either. Also, thanks to some wonderful hijinks from their time traveling nemesis.
With a yell from Augustin, they charged in. The royal blue colored side versus the ruby red opponents for the sake of Pyroclastia’s leadership.
The revolution has officially begun.
Phase One: Siege the Palace.
Part Three
Still only watching as the two sides got closer and closer, he knew he couldn’t get involved too quickly. He had to time his involvement just right. Because it was no different than every other jump in that regard.
Everything was always about the timing.
And that time was… now.
As they reached almost to the point of blade slashing against blade, both sides paused in complete and utter horror as a large shadow covered them all from above.
Pausing and looking up, they watched as a fifteen meter wall of rock came crashing down to separate the two sides. Not being able to stop the more super members of each team, the peons wouldn’t be able to do battle now though and that’s all he needed.
In the settling dust of the newest addition of Main Street, his armored fists then brought themselves to the gut, chest, side and face of Hagro, slamming him into the wall he just introduced to their lives. All the while, he signed (oh, just stop) into him as he did it.
Watching his brother crash into the rocky structure hard, after forming his own divot, he swung one more hit to the side of his helmet, knocking him out completely. Making eye contact with Augustin through a hole in the white rock, they both paused as Augustin recognized the man with those eyes that just saved him a fight that would later inspire so much of his darker sides.
“No way… I know you…”
With a smirk and head nod, Marche then began his full pursuit of Old Marche as he snuck away towards the Royal Palace once more.
Chasing after the past version of himself, he had to stop his assault on the others.
Augustin would return to the palace, probably even beat them back there, after this initial fight to protect Hia and he couldn’t let the rage, destruction and carnage of Old Marche get to him.
He had to protect everyone yet again from his own past.
Including all the events before that which fueled his opponent. A rage that he just couldn’t let go of.
Watching as Old Marche slammed his fist into a pillar to knock it off its foundation, he then hooked onto it with his clamp and swung his new toy into the main gate. Crashing it open and then quickly following. Similar to his own actions in the 1666’s 1666.
Attempting to catch up, the rage and brukev fueled Old Marche proved to be quite the adversary as he was still leaps and bounds ahead of Marche’s pace.
Smashing down walls and ripping apart foundation alike as he went.
Turning the corner to find him walking down the main hallway to the barricaded door ahead, he launched his clamp at his past self’s left foot while he was nearing closer and closer to making even more mistakes. For beyond that door, Hia and other scared and innocent servants were.
Slowly shattering the wooden and stone barricade as he tossed repeated projectiles against it, his past self still attempted to move on and on towards his goal, relentless in the bloodshed.
Knowing this wasn’t any normal enemy, he had to start using full power soon or he wouldn’t be able to stop what was coming next.
With an immense amount of strength and effort exerted, he then heaved him back, away from the beings on the other side. Through a small hole in the defense, the blue eyes of Santiago the I watched on in safety and gratitude. Knowing that he and his own son, Santiago the II, could live to see another day. Thanks to the “Black Armored Being” that saved them.
Spinning his prey around and launching him back down the hallway they just traversed, Old Marche was removed from the palace before more damage could be done but not before he could find exactly what he was looking for. The piece of knowledge that his target wasn’t there. Then, like a wild animal focused only on the hunt, he watched as Old Marche went off in search for their shared oldest brother. Randomly and crazed as he did it.
Successfully preventing the First Phase, with some effort expended though, he then positioned himself in both body and spirit with some deep breaths and meditative moments. This part was over but it was now time for the next part of the master plan. Now, it was time to go even further west.
Phase Two: Topple the System.
Part Four
Bnonoa Tadala was leading the small force of mercenaries across the foothills of Western Pyroclastia City. Passing the Royal Palace over an hour ago, they marched on ahead as they neared their target. The white armored forces from the north blended perfectly into the snowy landscape all around them. Unlike their leader who stood out in his thick black robes covering his skeletal but powerful form. His hood was up hiding his face.
Bnonoa was often described as the “Unknown Tadala.” Not because he was easily forgotten but for a different reason entirely. Very few alive or otherwise just knew how powerful he truly was or why he was even this way. A living skeleton.
Acquiring a rare disease as a child, he began to slowly lose his muscles and surrounding features as it dug deeper into his whole life. Becoming a “monster,” he knew he couldn’t survive on his own like this. He knew their society and he had seen it done to others. He knew he would be a target unless he could learn to defend himself. So, he sought guidance and wisdom from any sage, guru or magician he could find. Any old wizard could do, he just needed to learn more about his condition and how he could make it work to his benefit. So, as a teenager, he set off on a journey throughout Pyroclastia to do just that.
To no longer be just Bnonoa Tadala. But become the one who could control the bones of the deceased and rule over them all, The Bone King.
It was on this journey that he discovered those secrets, even more about his own magical power and so much more. But it was one particular day on this quest that truly changed everything. The day when he heard “the voice,” while he was exploring the Caverns of Sand in the midlands.
Walking over golden dune after golden dune, he heard the voice guiding him there, deeper and further into the madness. But when he reached the end, not a living soul could be found.
Only a small pool but it almost seemed to call to him. Like it was the one responsible for bringing him here. Promising him a chance to change everything he thought he once knew.
He could be free.
He could escape their judgement.
He could escape their hate.
He learned all of this from “a voice in the deep.” Or “the voice in the beyond,” as he once described it too.
He even mentioned one time about hearing it say, “No more walls” as well, unknown to him about what that meant though.
Putting some of the magical byproduct into a few vials, he brought it back with him as his quest finished up in early stages of 1980.
The brukev promised him all of this if he just gave in.
If he just surrendered.
Walking closer to his goal, The Bone King knew he must get it back. He must have that freedom it promised. He couldn’t be anyone’s puppet ever again.
Pausing his troops with a left handed fist to the air, they looked ahead at the twenty meter metallic sunshine yellow gates ahead. Standing as a stark contrast to the snow-capped mountains surrounding them, inside was the prize. In both senses. The brukev and every last being who deserved the hammer of a strong justice to fall upon them.
“There shall be no mercy for the wicked ones…” he muttered as he walked closer to the gate. Purple eyes eyeing up the impressive and powerful structure ahead. Raising his right knee into the air, he prepared and prepped to access his full power into that right foot. With the snowfall starting to enter the scene from above, he brought his bony barefoot to the gate with the purest malice and anger.
Ripping it immediately off its hinges as the multiple ton engineering feat was nothing but putty in his presence.
Repeating the same action as the Old Past, “Bnonoa’s Epic Gate Kick,” was immediately salted and sullied though as instead of sliding across the entire lawn and smashing into the command tower ahead like it did the first time, it merely slid about one meter and halted. Suspended in place.
With a look of anger mixed with confusion, the skeletal facial structure of the Bone King kicked it again.
Nothing.
With a yell of frustration, he did it again.
Nothing.
With a scream even louder, he tried once more.
Nothing.
Then, as he prepped one more kick, he stopped to hear a chuckle from the other side. A chuckle he recognized all too well.
“I knew it… MARCHE!!!!!”
Dropping the gate to their left in a loud boom and snow swell, Marche could be hazily seen through the settling frozen wetness, slowly nodding along to his name.
Before Bnonoa could react even further, he stopped once more in horror as he looked around at the snow packed lawn.
It wasn’t the typical soft and playful white snow that he came to expect, it was merely his worst fear coming to life. This snow had a dark shade of purple that he also came to expect to see. Just not as it was tainted and made unusable by the ground and is slowly disappearing to the skies above. No amplifying one’s magical prowess now. Just waste. The five hundred soldiers were still standing back to watch what would happen next though. All of them recognized just who Bnonoa was talking too after all and none of them wanted to make any hasty moves around him.
“WHY DID YOU DO THAT?”
(Oh… you wanted this brukev? My bad brother…)
“I knew it when I saw you before, I just could not believe it. Do not even get me started on how selfish it is what you are doing. But again, I will ask you, why are you doing this?”
(I’m not selfish and you’ll see. You don’t need it.)
“What makes you think you can decide that for me?”
Bnonoa gripped his milk white bone staff tightly as the jewels on the top and bottom of it began to glow a purple shade that matched his eyes.
(I’ve seen the ending. Don’t like it.)
“But you can not decide that for everyone, Marche! Can you not just be happy for everyone else and find some happiness in your own life despite everything?”
(No. You came here to use the brukev to change your story, yeah? What’s the difference?)
His grip loosened as the last point hit home for him.
“But… I mean… you are…”
(Yeah?)
“You are crazy… Wait… does that mean you are going to try to stop the whole revolution then?”
(Maybe I am, maybe I’m not and yes.)
By this point, small group by small group, every last mercenary had now fled in fear back towards the City. Each one scared deeply by the raw conviction in his relentless eyes and tone. Something no amount of gold was worth going up against. Still there though, Bnonoa responded as he saw the last few stragglers run back down the mountain climb.
“Cowards… but Marche, what will happen if they do not listen to you?
With him pointing down to the ground as his response, Bnonoa could now see it. The spilled liquid spelled out something. Reading it outloud, he stopped the questioning immediately after it.
“Say it louder.”
With a smirk shared between them, Bnonoa knew he couldn’t stop this anymore than one can stop the sun from rising as he then moved on to join his older brother’s ideology.
“Fine. Okay, but you can not possibly stop everything at once… Unless… no… did you?”
Snapping to the sky above, one of the grateful prisoners then heaved an object in from the bystanders on his left. Catching and dropping the dichromatic mind-controller Georgeton’s broken staff at his feet, Marche smirked even harder now.
“Wow. Well, nevermind I guess. So… one more stop then?”
(Yep. One more stop.)
Ending the once-angry and awkward confrontation in a high five, the most relaxed Tadala was easily switched to his side as Marche knew the most dramatic was going to the hardest one yet.
But like everything, he already thought of that.
Punching hardly into a chunk of the gate at the bottom left, he broke it off after as he began to walk it to the edge of the steep downhill. Remembering a favorite sport of his and Veronica’s when they visited Earth’s mountains in Utah together, he hopped onto the ripped off gate piece and rode it down the mountainside towards the Thunder Plateau ahead.
Phase Three: Dethrone the King.
Part Five
Practicing yet again what is known on Earth as “snowboarding,” Marche flew down the mountain at an incredibly fast speed. Overtaking Jadix’s deserters on his way down, the great surge of powdery snow that followed him now overtook them too in a literal wave of its frozen splendor.
It was time to make good ole King Freezecry proud. For he was the one proudly wearing his sword now after all.
In his mind though, he knew he needed even more frozen power. Purposely jumping up and down to build more unearthing power and every so often swinging his clamp out to the left or right to knock even more loose, it was beginning to build more and more to his growing tidal wave.
Seeing Udo running away from his rage-crazed younger brother ahead, their reunion has finally reached the Thunder Plateau itself so he knew time was limited now.
With Old Marche now chuckling above the cowering and bloody king, his enemies’ sword in his hand, he stopped for a second as something was showing up in the side of his vision. Turning to his left with only enough time to see and not react, Old Marche was viciously caught with the front of the massive snowy tidal wave. Udo was not.
Ripping him off the shadowy and dark plateau and into the darkness to their left, Udo slowly and painfully only stood up and watched on as what looked like another Marche just saved his life. Complemented by a massive metal gate that he just rode down a mountainside. Hopping off the makeshift transportation, Marche and Udo then made a quick moment of eye contact. One not as surprised as the other. Completely shook and frozen to what he just witnessed, Udo was about to say something when Marche held up his hand to stop him.
Marche knew his opponent. Old Marche wouldn’t stop so easily.
Looking down the waterfall of snow, he could see his ancient form of living rage attempting to climb his way back up towards his murderous goal. Ignoring his own footing though, he wasn’t making much headway and kept sliding down further and further. Literally undermining himself along the way.
Being buried more and more under the weight of his own anger and hatred.
Until all the snow, and the gate piece itself from the trip, joined him there. Preventing any movement whatsoever.
Looking back to the slowly recovering Udo, he smirked and signed back to his brother.
(Bnonoa and Hagro should be here soon. You can dig him out and beat some sense into him.)
Wincing through the pain, Udo Tadala responded, “Thanks… but… are you… who I think you are?”
(Yep.)
“Woah… so… Marche… why did you save me?” Udo stood to his feet and looked over at him as equals for the first time. Their brown eyes met without a deep hatred for the first time in years.
(Easy. The right thing to do. Veronica was my fault. Not yours.)
“Vernoica Dancer? The non-magical Earth girl?”
(You can just say girl.)
“Right. Sorry…”
(All good. But yeah. All for her. Now, brother, if you will excuse me, I have a challenge to do.)
“Good luck…”
Looking off to the northeast now, Marche smirked harder and nodded as he knew what was coming next. It was near the time to fulfill the final reason he was here and doing this all.
To win back her love.
Part Six
With Marche going off to do the next check on his checklist, Monica paused it to see an update that they both quickly viewed and wrote down.
God-King Doenca and Doenca the God-Like had acquired their super swords. God-King Doenca with DarkFlame and God-Like with LightBlaze. The final pieces had fallen into place.
Finishing the update in their notebooks, they resumed the image at hand. Not using a jump this time, he merely walked towards the mountains of the northeast to an area little known in Pyroclastian history and geography. Mainly for the fact that it housed what was known as the “unwinnable challenge.” It was a dark, desolate and empty place due to the complete fear and mystery of what that truly meant.
As he progressed on further and further in that direction, it was clear that the jumps and heroics of the last few hours of his own existence were beginning to take a toll. He was moving slower now but he couldn’t stop or turn back now.
She was there.
He knew exactly why too.
Passing a sign for the Grand Murder Challenge, Marche Tadala marched on.
Following the arrow directly towards the danger ahead.
The End.
Castle Johnson Publishings 