A trembling voice called out from among the crowd. "Who are you?" The question hung in the air, a challenge born of desperation and fear.
A murmur of panic spread through the crowd. "Be quiet!" someone hissed. "We don't know what he's capable of!"
"Shush, you'll anger him!" another person whispered urgently.
The fear was palpable. The destruction around them was enough to suggest that this man was not one to be trifled with. His very presence radiated danger and unpredictability, and the crowd's anxiety was a testament to the terror he had already wrought upon their city. The tall figure,
Zexira Rivendon, [ZEG]+[ZEE]+[RAA]+[REE]+[VEN]+[DAHN], turned his cold, calculating gaze toward the source of the question. A faint, almost amused smile played on his lips. "Ah, my apologies," he said, his voice dripping with a mixture of irony and menace. "Where are my manners? It seems I've neglected to properly introduce myself."
He paused, a glint of mischief in his eyes. "Alright then!" he exclaimed with sudden enthusiasm, startling the crowd. "Let's make this introduction... memorable."
He gestured to his men, who quickly scrambled to set up a beat with a music machine. The air was filled with a peculiar tension as the rhythm began, a heavy, thumping beat that echoed through the devastated streets.
Zexira Rivendon stood tall, his coat billowing dramatically, as the beat dropped and he started his ridiculous, cringe-worthy rap that he made on spot.
"Oh my my my," he began, his voice dripping with exaggerated bravado,
"It's your boy Zexira, I've come from the sky,
You're asking who am I? Well, let me clarify,
I'm the one who breaks walls and makes cities cry,
With a flick of my wrist, I bring chaos nigh.
I roll with my crew, we're the baddest around,
We fly through the air, never touchin' ground,
Our ships are so slick, make no sound,
But when we arrive, cities get browned.
Zexira Rivendon, that's the name you'll fear,
I'm the leader, the boss, the chaos engineer,
Got my coat flappin' cool, and my message clear,
Step to me wrong, oh you'll disappear.
We came from the clouds, in our flying machines,
Blasting balls through the walls, fulfilling your screams,
We take what we want, we live our dreams,
While y'all down here unravel at the seams.
Oh, look at this city, so shiny and neat,
Now it's in rubble, thanks to my fleet,
We're takin' over, our victory sweet,
You can't escape, we've got you beat.
With my rhymes, I cut deep, like a knife,
I'm the master of chaos, bringin' strife,
I take what I want, I live the life,
Don't mess with me, or face the wildlife.
I'm dangerous, baby, like a thunderstorm,
You'll remember my name long after I'm gone,
Zexira Rivendon, the chaos born,
I'm the nightmare that wakes you at dawn.
We'll conquer this place, make it our pit,
Y'all better bow down, or get hit,
And to all my enemies, here's the bit,
They were being too bitches, I put them in the pit,
Yeah yeah, they all were sons of a... shit."
As he rapped this bullshit, he danced with his long-long legs and moved his head left and right with his chiseled face, enhancing his cringe-worthy performance making it even funnier. His underdogs, even in armored suits, danced some belly dance lol.
(The reason I wrote this scene is because in anime you'll see that even in the most serious situations, there are some funny instances, especially in the kinds of One Piece and Naruto.)
Zexira Rivendon finished his rap with a flourish, a self-satisfied grin spreading across his face as he looked out at the stunned, horrified faces of the crowd. The absurdity of his performance, juxtaposed with the deadly seriousness of the situation, created a surreal atmosphere that left everyone feeling even more unsettled. Sivera and Miyawa had similar expressions on how confusing the situation was. All this was so stupid.
Zexira felt a little embarrassed, seeing that the crowd was not cheering to his sarcastically awesome performance. He began with disappointment, "Oh my my my, seems like even you people don't have any understanding of music. That's what I hate about weaklings, good for nothings—they don't appreciate talent nor have one, man! This was your first and last chance to witness My-Sama's one-hell-sick-of-a-beat-o performance, and you blew it."
A man came out from the crowd, pushing his way to the front. This man was Sokar, Miyawa's father. The crowd murmured in recognition as he spoke, his voice clear and strong despite the chaos around them. "You are the Yahunyens, aren't you?!"
Sivera recognized the voice. He craned his neck, trying to catch a glimpse of Miyawa's father, but the throng of people obscured his view. The tension in the air was too much, as the crowd waited for Zexira's response.
Sivera's heart pounded in his chest as he processed what he had just heard. Yahunyens? he thought, the word echoing in his mind like a curse. The Yahunyens did this?
A rush of conflicting emotions surged through him—betrayal, anger, confusion. The Yahunyens, whom he had admired for their ingenuity and vision, the creators of the flying machines he had dreamed about since childhood. How could they be responsible for this senseless destruction?
Images from his childhood flashed before his eyes: the countless hours spent with Miyawa, dreaming about the freedom of the skies, the books and schematics they pored over, the makeshift models they built with hope and imagination. Every dream, every aspiration seemed to crumble into dust in the face of this horrific reality.
What is this? Why?! Just why?! It can't be! NO! NO! NO! How stupid I was! Sivera thought, his fists clenching in anger. To idolize them, to dream about meeting them. And now they stand here, breaking those very walls—not to free us, but to bring devastation. He looked around at the chaos—the burning buildings, the terrified faces, the blood and death. These were the monsters that lurked beyond the walls, hidden by the myth of progress and exploration.
Miyawa, standing beside him, felt the same torrent of emotions. She trembled, clutching Malaes tightly to her chest as she listened to the heated argument between her father and Zexira. The same Yahunyens they had admired were now the harbingers of their doom.
Sivera's mind raced with thoughts of their past. The admiration and hope he had felt for the Yahunyens had turned into a bitter pill of betrayal. How could those who built wonders of the sky bring such horror? The flying ships they had thought would bring freedom were now agents of destruction, shattering their home and their dreams.
His anger was a roaring flame within him, burning hotter with each passing second. He wanted to scream, to lash out, to do something to stop this nightmare. But he felt paralyzed, the weight of his disillusionment and fury rooting him to the spot.
Miyawa's voice broke through his storm of thoughts. "Sivera," she whispered, her voice shaking. "What are we going to do?"
He looked at her, seeing his own pain reflected in her eyes. The betrayal they both felt was a shared wound, deep and raw. "We have to protect Malaes," he said, his voice steady despite the turmoil inside. "We need to find a way to stop them."
Miyawa nodded, her grip tightening on their daughter. The argument between Sokar and Zexira continued, their voices rising above the din. Sivera knew they couldn't just stand there. They had to act.
With a final, determined look at Miyawa, Sivera began to push through the crowd, his eyes fixed on the confrontation ahead. Every step was a battle against the tide of fear and despair, but he kept moving, driven by the need to protect his family and their home, Miyawa tried to stop him but he didn't listen.
The closer he got, the clearer the scene became. Sokar stood tall and defiant, a figure of resistance against the chaos. Zexira's smug expression only fueled Sivera's anger. This was no hero, no visionary.
Sivera reached the front of the crowd just as Sokar's voice rang out again.
"WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS?!! WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM US?!!" Sivera shouted with all his anger and frustration erupting out.
Zexira's laugh was cold and mocking as he saw another man wanting to confront him. "Want? Oh, we want many things. Power, money, resources, and especially... slaves."
Sivera's heartbeat quickened as he listened to Zexira's chilling words. The tall figure stood with an air of arrogance, his voice dripping with mockery and disdain. The crowd watched in horror as Zexira began his monologue, each word a dagger to the people of Razhivaliyah.
"You all think these walls protect you," Zexira sneered, his voice echoing through the shattered remnants of the city. "These heights, this supposed impenetrable barrier—do you really believe they are a match for us? The Yahunyens have come from the stars and gone beyond the stars. What are these walls to us? Nothing but a minor inconvenience, a relic of your deluded sense of security."
He paused, letting his words sink in, the silence only broken by the distant crackle of fires and the muffled sobs of the terrified citizens. "Your city, this Razhivaliyah, is not unique, not special. It is just one of many where walls were erected to keep the inhabitants 'safe.' The world has moved on while you remained trapped in your bubble, oblivious to the true state of affairs."
He gestured broadly, encompassing the city and its people. "Your precious walls didn't just keep danger out; they kept you in. They turned you into prisoners, and now that prison is about to become your reality once more, but this time, under our rule."
Sivera felt his blood boil as Zexira continued, each word a punch to his gut. The Yahunyens had not come to liberate or enlighten—they had come to enslave.
"You see, we allowed you to enjoy your freedom for a time, consider that the goodness of our generosity. We let you believe you were safe, protected. The Government had just forgotten about you people till we needed you, how long it's been? 100 years? 200 years? 500 years? 1000 years? Since these walls were built? But now, the time has come for you to serve a greater purpose. Business is booming, demand is increasing, and our trade networks are thriving. Progress is too good for the Yahunyens and the Government. We need more resources, more labor to meet the demands of both us and beyond the world."
Zexira's eyes gleamed with a malevolent light. "You will become our slaves. You will toil for us, mine for us, build for us, bleed for us. Your lives, your freedom, your dreams—none of it matters. You exist to serve us now."
The crowd's murmurs grew louder, a mix of fear and anger bubbling up. Sivera's fists clenched at his sides, his mind racing. He couldn't believe that the Yahunyens, the very people he had idolized, were capable of such cruelty. The dream of flight, of freedom, had been twisted into a nightmare of subjugation.
"Look around you," Zexira mocked, his voice rising. "See the destruction, the chaos. This is just a taste of what awaits you if you resist. You think dying is better than being a slave? You are free to kill yourself, go ahead, son of a shit."
Zexira stepped forward, his presence imposing, as he continued to belittle the citizens. "You thought yourselves safe, hidden away behind your great walls. But we are the Yahunyens. We transcend these barriers. We conquer them. Your existence is but a speck in our grand designs."
He pointed towards the broken section of the wall, where the debris still smoldered. "This is what happens when you cling to your illusions of safety. This is the fate of those who dare to believe they are untouchable."
Sivera's heart ached with a mix of rage and despair. The ideals he had cherished, the dreams he had nurtured, were being torn apart by Zexira's cruel reality. He looked around at the faces of his fellow citizens, seeing the same pain and anger reflected in their eyes.
Sivera, unable to contain his rage, lunged forward to punch Zexira. The technique he used was one Miyawa's father had taught him long ago. Sivera didn't even consider the fact that Zexira's great army stood behind him. His focus was solely on the man who had shattered his dreams and his world.
But Zexira was unfazed. With a dismissive air, he raised his pinky finger, positioning it between Sivera's chin and throat. As Sivera's punch neared, Zexira flicked his pinky with effortless precision. The impact was devastating. Sivera's punch froze mid-air, unable to reach its target. Blood spurted from his mouth, accompanied by the unmistakable pain of a broken tooth dislodging.
The force of Zexira's pinky flick sent Sivera soaring backward, his body hurtling through the air. The crowd watched in horror as he was flung beyond them, crashing to the ground before the crowd. The sheer power of Zexira's minimal effort left the onlookers trembling. Sivera lay injured, blood pooling from his mouth as the crowd turned their shocked gaze back to Zexira.
Zexira stood with a slight tilt of his head, his expression one of smug pride. His right hand remained extended, pinky finger still outstretched, a symbol of his overwhelming dominance. The sight was terrifying. Even Sokar, Miyawa's father, was taken aback by the display of power.
"When you fight me, do not think of it as a mere duel," Zexira declared, his voice resonating with cold authority. "Battling me alone is not a fight. It is a war."
"I am... a war."
The crowd remained silent, paralyzed by fear and awe.
Miyawa's heart pounded in her chest as she saw Sivera's crumpled form on the ground. She felt a mixture of fear, anger, and helplessness. Sokar's eyes narrowed, understanding the full extent of the threat they faced. This was no ordinary enemy. Zexira was a force of nature, an embodiment of chaos, an absolute winner of wars.
Sivera struggled to rise, his vision blurred, and his body aching from the impact. Miyawa neared him to make him stand again, asking him if he was fine or not. Sivera wasn't able to answer, his mouth still bleeding. Miyawa held his back head with her right hand.
Sokar, seeing Sivera's plight, pushed himself forward with fury, aiming to attack Zexira. But Zexira, with an air of nonchalance, raised his pinky finger once more. This time, he applied a bit more force, striking Sokar on his left cheek. The impact was shockingly powerful. Sokar's head spun so hard, a full 360 degrees, about fifty times rapidly. The crowd watched in absolute horror as his head finally stopped, now facing backward. His body stood eerily still for a moment, an unnatural and grotesque sight.
The crowd gasped, frozen in terror. Sokar's lifeless eyes stared at them, his face grotesquely aligned with his back. The realization that Sokar was dead, his neck twisted so unnaturally, sent waves of panic and horror through the assembled people. Screams began to pierce the air, a cacophony of terror echoing through the ruins of their once peaceful city.
Zexira stood before Sokar's twisted form, a dark figure embodying horror and malevolence. His towering presence, combined with his casual display of lethal power, made him seem like an evil beyond even the worst ghost stories. He was a living ghost, who would remain in the senses of those people forever until death would take them.
People scrambled to get away from the scene, their fear driving them to desperation. Parents clutched their children, trying to shield them from the horrifying sight. Friends grabbed each other, eyes wide with dread, the character who was trying to be funny just a while back then, was such a insanely insane crazy ass!!
See? How things went from sarcastic to complete horror?
The chaos reached its peak as the soldiers moved swiftly, capturing everyone in the crowd. No one was allowed to run or hide. Panic and desperation were met with force as the soldiers rounded up the terrified citizens. Miyawa clung to Sivera, their infant daughter Malaes held tightly in her arms. She tried to resist as soldiers pulled her away, but their strength was overwhelming. Sivera, still recovering from the blow Zexira had dealt him, struggled to stand. His vision was blurry, but as it cleared, he saw Miyawa being torn from his grasp.
"Miyawa!" he cried out, his voice hoarse and desperate.
Miyawa's tears glistened in the harsh light of the ships above. She reached out to Sivera, her face a mask of fear and sorrow. Despite his resilient spirit, Sivera's body refused to cooperate. He was too weak to stand, let alone fight. Soldiers roughly picked him up, and to his slight relief, he was placed in the same group as Miyawa. They were herded together with other survivors, all of them looking bewildered and terrified.
The soldiers swept through the city with military precision. Every corner was checked, and no one was left behind. From other sectors of the city, survivors were gathered and packed into the giant flying ships. Resistance was futile, every man, woman, child, of all ages were dragged mercilessly, it didn't matter how much time it took. The sound of crying children and murmurs of fear filled the air as families huddled together, seeking solace in their shared terror.
When the city finally fell silent, devoid of any signs of life, a soldier approached Zexira and saluted. "Sir, we've scanned all the sectors and towns. It appears we've captured everyone."
Zexira, standing tall and imposing, glanced at the soldier. "Report the numbers," he ordered, his tone now more businesslike.
The soldier, using their advanced technology, quickly counted the captured people. "12,479,043 individuals, including children and infants, sir."
Zexira's face twisted into a mocking grin. "What? Just 12 million?" he exclaimed, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Man, that's less. With such big walls and all that privacy-privacy from the world, they could only afford to rise to such a small population? Son of a shit man!"
His attempt at humor fell flat in the tense, fear-laden atmosphere. No one laughed. The soldiers remained stoic. Zexira's words hung in the air, a bitter reminder of the people's grim reality.
The flying ships, which Sivera and Miyawa once dreamed of as symbols of their ultimate freedom, became the very vessels that carried them into a reality of unfreedom, just harsher.
Later, Sivera, Miyawa, and their infant daughter Malaes were taken to the Slave Order of Shiyahval. The journey to this place was a harsh awakening from their dreams of liberation. The Yahunyens, who they had once admired for their technological prowess, had shown their true colors as conquerors and slavers. In the harsh environment of the Slave Order, Miyawa was separated from Sivera. Before they were torn apart, Miyawa entrusted Malaes to Sivera, pleading with him to protect their daughter at all costs.
Sivera's resilience and determination to keep his promise to Miyawa fueled his every action. Nearly a year later, he managed to orchestrate a daring escape from the Slave Order, taking with him not only Malaes but also a clutch of dragon eggs he had discovered within the order's confines. These dragon eggs, became the foundation of his plan to fight back against their oppressors.
After his escape, he traveled the land to nowhere until, Sivera encountered others who had similarly managed to flee from different slave orders around Shiyahval. They formed a tight-knit camaraderie, bound by shared pain and a mutual desire for freedom. They shared their stories, sympathized, and empathized with each other, creating a bond forged in the crucible of their suffering.
Sivera, despite his lack of knowledge about dragons, he sometimes kept the dragon eggs in the sun, maybe fate suggested him to, and sometimes they remained in the caves with the energy of magma beneath the land, resulted in something magnificent. To his astonishment, the dragons eventually hatched. The group worked tirelessly to tame these magnificent creatures, forming deep bonds with their dragons. These dragons became not only their companions but also their means to fight back against their oppressors.
With the dragons at their side, Sivera and his companions formed a rebel group. They carried out daring heists in the city of Shiyahval, striking fear into the hearts of their enemies. Their actions disrupted the slave order and inspired hope among other captives and oppressed people. The rebels became a symbol of resistance and defiance, their dragons soaring as pride of their rebellion.
However, their fight for freedom ended before they could really start it. During a fierce battle with Walith Ehasor, the minister of the state of Grega, Sivera and his comrades met their tragic end. They fell on the streets of Shiyahval, their dreams of complete liberation unfulfilled.
In the aftermath of their martyrdom, Malaes, along with Griswa and Yesdar, continued their journey to find 'Ehayor'.
Extra Information:
Zexira Rivendon hails from the prestigious Rivendon family, one of the two families renowned for their unwavering service as Generals in the Yahunyen armies. For generations, the Rivendon family has been a cornerstone of Yahunyen military might, their loyalty to the nobles unwavering and their strategic prowess unparalleled. This legacy of martial excellence and devotion to the Yahunyen cause has solidified their position within the societal hierarchy, making the Rivendons a name synonymous with power and authority.
The Rivendon family's influence stretches back through countless generations, their history intertwined with the rise and dominance of the Yahunyens, remaining loyal to Ehasor and Gomiyor families. Each successive generation has produced formidable warriors, individuals who have played pivotal roles in maintaining the Yahunyen's grip over their territories.
Zexira Rivendon, as the latest descendant of this illustrious lineage, embodies the martial prowess and genius in physical power that define his family. Rivendon, name alone evokes a mixture of fear and respect among those who oppose the Yahunyens. Zexira has been instrumental in quelling numerous uprisings, his ruthlessness in battle earning him a fearsome reputation. Zexira's actions are a testament to the Rivendon legacy, each victory adding to the storied history of his family.
The Rivendons, however, are not alone in their service to the Yahunyen nobles. The Relm family, equally prestigious and feared, shares this responsibility. Like the Rivendons, the Relms have a long history of military service, their generations also marked by strategic brilliance and unwavering loyalty to the noble families. Together, these two families form the backbone of the Yahunyen military machine, their combined efforts ensuring the suppression of any threats to Yahunyen supremacy.
The synergy between the Rivendon and Relm families has been crucial in maintaining the status quo. Their collaborative strategies and relentless pursuit of victory have crushed countless rebellions, particularly those led by the Mackenasians. The Mackenasians, despite their numerous attempts to overthrow Yahunyen rule, have faced devastating losses time and again, primarily due to the formidable opposition posed by the Rivendon and Relm generals.
This enduring rivalry has shaped the history of conflict within the Yahunyen territories. The Mackenasians' repeated failures underscore the effectiveness of the Yahunyen military leadership, a leadership dominated by the Rivendon and Relm families. Zexira Rivendon, with his imposing presence and undeniable skill, continues to uphold the fearsome reputation of his family, ensuring that the Rivendon name remains synonymous with Yahunyen military dominance.
General Orem Relm, will be introduced later.
Pronunciations:
Orem Relm: [OU]+[REM]+[REALM]