Marked Ones: Advent of the Demon Prince

Morning rose on Watcher's Retreat; the grassland surrounding it was wet with dew. Were it under any other circumstances such a sight would be a pleasure to behold.

However, all the spectators of such a beautiful morning wore nothing but grim expressions. They were all aware of what the first light of the morning meant, and it was a march of death.

Before the day was through many of the faces that made up the forces marching through the grass would mark today as the last sunrise they would see. Such was a fact of war and such was the fate of a soldier.

Even though he had never fought anyone before, a soldier's fate was the only one that awaited poor Zeb. He was a simple farmer by birth and instead of taking the opportunity to train in a guild or take on some other opportunity, he used the reprieve Marked Ones had received to spend more time with his family.

He was lucky in the fact that his family treated him like they treated everyone else despite the fate handed to him by birth. Though it could be related to the fact that Zeb's mark was the Mark of Downpour. It was a measly mark that had no real use, beyond producing a small rain shower in a one-hundred-foot diameter circle.

Though it had no real combat potential, for someone born to farmers, it was quite useful to the family. On more than a few occasions his mark had saved his own family's crops as well as the crops of nearby farms during short droughts.

Because of his 'weak mark' he was able to live a fulfilling life. Though now he was dressed in a strange amalgamation of armor that was essentially slapped together of whatever pieces of spare equipment that was available. In his hand was a simple mace and in the other a round, wooden shield.

Despite the hopelessness of the situation, Zeb pressed on. A wise woman visiting the village had once said to him: "Fighting against one's fate may only give you a small chance to change it, but resigning yourself to it will only guarantee it… and isn't it always better to take a chance?"

He had no idea if he had the power to change the hand he was dealt, but like the woman said, it was always better to take a chance. That was why he would not let himself feel defeated before the battle had begun.

They were not the entirety of the force heading into battle today, rather they were reinforcements made up of the new arrivals that would be bolstering the lines already present, and so they marched on.

After what felt like hours, though really was at most only one, the force Zeb was a part of finally reached the rear guard of the front lines. Those present looked haggard and beaten, many had faces hung low in defeat. To put it bluntly: morale was rock-bottom.

After seeing the state of the current forces, command shouted out amongst the ranks that the new faces would take the front on the morning's assault to provide some reprieve to those who had already been fighting.

This news made Zeb grip the weapon in his hand tighter. Not long after, the horn signaling the charge sounded and the roar of thousands of voices echoed across the landscape. His own voice joined the cry of his brothers-in-arms, though he could not tell his own sound out from the cacophony of shouts.

The very earth beneath them seemed to shake as they charged towards the enemy lines that awaited them. Zeb could make them out, they wore matching sets of armor, each one emblazoned with a matching symbol on the breastplate and shields of five, black claw marks.

The symbol representing the kingdom of Alorek. Zeb heard as some of his allies activated their marks using voice activation techniques. Others who did not have complex marks, simply activated their abilities silently.

Zeb possessed one such mark that did not require an activation phrase, so as he ran towards his first opponent, he held out his left hand, which had his shield strapped to it. The mark on his hand glowed and a small raincloud appeared over the heads of the enemy and sparked a tiny rainstorm.

It was simply rain and had no force or damaging components to its activation, but it did spark confusion as well as began to turn the ground beneath their foe to muck.

Not powerful, but useful when used correctly. Zeb smiled to himself at his genius and continued his charge. Balls of fire, water, and gusts of wind burst around him.

Some were spells, but most were the result of marks. Though Zeb had no Compatibilities and had lacked the ability to sense mana, his mark granted him the understanding of the strange power behind others like him, and right now the air was thick with it.

Over the course of a few hours of fighting, it had become so thick with the power of the marks that it felt difficult to breathe. It was almost like walking through a horrifically muggy day in the summer.

Still, that feeling paled to the other sensations Zeb had awoken too. He watched as comrades and enemies alike fell beside and before him. Somehow he managed to last this long, though it seemed that the forces supporting Alorek were not stopping.

For every soldier that was slain, two more seemed to take their place. All the while, their own side dwindled as the battle continued.

A flash of light caught his attention from the periphery, and he barely managed to catch a sword swing with his shield. The warrior that attacked him continued to hack and slash at his sword, not giving Zeb a chance to counter. He felt himself being pushed back, step by painful step.

Another attacker came at him from the other side and he somehow managed to block the swing with his mace. Every part of his body screamed in protest as he was defending two attacks at once. There was a strength to him that surprised him. Maybe it was all the hours hauling hay, satchels of feed, and clearing land that gave him more strength than he realized.

Or maybe it was simply luck and adrenaline. The fear and pain pushing him past his limits.

The ground around him was wet with mud thanks to his and many other people's water spells and marks clashing on the battlefield. His body was caked in mud and blood.

It was only a moment later, when he thought that his strength was going to fail him, that he felt a new sensation enter the space. He was not the only one who felt this as his attackers seemed to weaken their own assault.

The very air itself felt… charged… like it would before a bad storm. Zeb looked down at the exposed parts of his arms under the ripped armor and clothes. The visible hairs stood on end.

Off in the distance he caught sight of a boy with black hair. One of his eyes glowed a brilliant gold and his hand was held outward. He stood on a hill overlooking the battlefield.

His words echoed across the silence that had permeated the battle momentarily. "[Tempestas: Lightning Strike]"

The charged air began to burn and a massive bolt of lightning descended down between the two forces. Zeb's vision was taken over by white light, his hearing destroyed by a deafening clap of thunder. He felt his muscles spasm uncontrollably as his entire body felt like it was on fire.

For a moment the world went black, but then when his vision returned, the fighting immediately around him had ceased. His body would not listen to his commands to move.

Zeb had no idea what happened, however he witnessed as a few arcs of electricity seemed to periodically jump between bodies around him. He then remembered the water that surrounded all their feet and immediately realized the after effects of that spell.

Darkness began to take him over again. There was no pain and even the sensation of water against his face began to vanish. Zeb knew it was coming…"I took a chance… but I still lost by fight against fate."