Prologue

"We knew it was coming, why didn't we do anything about it? We saw all of the signs but we still let everything fall into place and then rip us apart. The government… they couldn't do anything about it. No one could, the Chinese, the Russians, even us. We were dead once we let the situation get out of hand. We ended up nuking ourselves to try to combat the threat, but when the smoke cleared those things were still there! Oh god, all those people... gone within the blink of an eye. No one knows where the plague came from, but it spread fast. It wasn't long before my neighbor Paul disappeared. They found him foaming from the mouth two days later with a little girls head in his hands… the police reports said he went insane. One day our gardener Rodriguez came to work feeling really sick, so I did what any good employer would do and sent the kid home early for the day. He just looked at me, closing his eyes and when they opened they were completely white, like a blanket of snow. He attacked me! My family... oh god Amber, I don't know if I could keep going like this! I don't know if I'm strong enough to do this without you. I'm so sorry!"

The sounds of the man sobbing were interrupted by the single shot of a gun.

The room was silent. Shadows danced behind a set of nine chairs that surrounded a large black table. A tape recorder centered itself like an isolated island underneath a bright lamp hanging off of a ceiling hidden in darkness. The bulb illuminated the room revealing nine young men sitting in the suede seats. The group was unsettled by the tape, and some jumped at the click the player made when the recording ended. Another gentleman, much older than any of the other men revealed himself from the shadows. He stared at each person in the room, locking eyes with every one of them. In some of them he saw fear, in others he saw courage. In some he saw hope, and in others he saw nothing.

"We have declared Situation Dark. Do you gentlemen understand why we do what we do?" asked the man.

"Yes, Admiral Schwartz." the room echoed back.

Admiral Schwartz nodded reassuringly. He ran his hands over the front of his uniform, dusting them off a little and turned towards a now open doorway. Light poured into the room from the other side and as fast as it came, it left. The way to freedom shut and darkness flooded the meeting room again. The group rose in unison and all of the chairs, the table, and any other inanimate object in the room pixilated and disappeared. Soon after the entire room was replaced with a gymnasium. It materialized as fast as everything else disappeared. Outfitted with a track, an assortment of weights and bars, a small fighting ring, punching bags, and even bleachers. The gym had everything. The group fanned out to different areas of the gym and began their training.

Of course there were nine men in total, each with their own unique personality. They wore the same uniform but each had their own specific color, normally their favorite color, which was surprisingly one of the only memories that these men retained after most of their heads were wiped clean by the life changing experiment that put them into this situation. As a result of said experiment, each individual had their own unique weapon which they could summon at any time. Each weapon had its' own abilities, and some of the men could have sworn that their weapons were alive.

The first to awaken, Thomas, had a golden chime. With the flick of his wrist he had the ability to heal any wound, no matter how devastating it was. The second, Varbos, had a small flame that summoned itself into his right hand during moments of anger. The flame grew with his rage and devoured his targets. Third was Omega, nicknamed "The Golem" by his team mates. He had metal greataxe which shared his size that no one on the team could lift, no matter how hard they tried, but he swung the thing around like a butter knife!

The fourth and fifth to awaken were Selfish and Paragon, respectively. Each controlled different elements with different properties. Selfish was able to launch projectiles made of pure energy from a staff that he summoned at will, while Paragon was able to steal life force from living beings with a dark scythe. The two seemed mentally unstable to their companions, and were often found in solitude talking to their weapons.

The next three to awaken, and at the same time, were Souffle, Tokyo, and Blight. Souffle's weapon matched his sharp senses and poisonous personality. He wielded a bloodied sword that everyone stayed away from, even him at times. Tokyo was probably the quietest and relaxed person of the group. His greatsword that he was able to summon seemed to increase his physical capabilities tenfold, acting as a stimulant to his calm personality. Blight was a noble soul, and his weapon illuminated this. He was able to call forth a silver spear that, when swung, seemed to controll the very winds around its' master.

Last, but definitely not least to wake from his slumber was Scraper. He had no weapon, but he needed no weapon. Scraper didn't look like it at all, but he had the strength of Hercules. The group would say that the only thing harder than his punches was his head!

Now this... this was a team! But, what's with the weird names? Well, when the experiment performed by the US government to turn these strapping young men into super soldiers succeeded, it also failed in some aspects. Their memories erased, with the exception of three lucky individuals, the group had lost the majority of their memories. Those lucky three, the first ones to awaken, only retained certain memories. Thomas knew everything that had happened during the experiment, where the group was thrown into the world of Dark Souls itself and left to survive on their own. Omega knew every member's fighting techniques and taught each individual how to use their weapons. Varbos retained his memory of what happened before the experiment, but lost anything that had to do with the actual experiment itself. Essentially, Varbos named everyone based on what he knew of them via a website called "Fan Fiction". The first three to awaken also became the leaders of the group in a way, guiding it to success through hard work and training. This is their story.

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(^.^)

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A thin, dark skinned man with a neatly trimmed beard approached the fighting ring. He wore his azure coverall suit which only had two things that made it different from the other ones; it's color, and the name that it bore across a small patch sewn into the right side of the chest area… which read "Blight". Now in the center of the arena, he breathed deeply and followed up with an assortment of stretches. Sweat began to drip from his brow and his heart started to pound inside of his chest. He held his arms in front of him and a silver spear appeared in his hands. Light danced off of the weapon and further illuminated Blight's surroundings. He spun the spear around his body, slicing through the air and cooling the encircled area. He paused and slammed the butt of his spear on the floor.

"Simulation one, difficulty medium." he barked.

An abnormal group of pixels filled the ring and joined together to form a hollow. It's jaw dropped and let out a groan that sent shivers down Blight's spine. The infected held a rusty knife in his right hand and his white eyes never left his opponents flesh. The beast charged at Blight, but his chest quickly met the tip of his long silver spear. Before the thing could fully vanish, Blight was already speaking.

"Simulation one, difficulty hard." he exclaimed.

The same that happened earlier happened yet again. This time two armored hollows with longswords surrounded Blight. One was a large man with black skin, and the other was a small woman whose bones pierced her flesh. Their metal patches clung with excitement as the two abominations ran at their prey. Blight delivered a swift kick to the smaller hollow and then spun around to face his bigger foe. He dodged a swing of its' weapon and turned around fast enough to impale his weapon through the thing's armor and into its' chest. The hollow flailed its' arms around but eventually dropped its' blade. The smaller infected woman got to her feet and charged at Blight, but he used the corpse that was still hanging off of his spear as a shield and knocked her backwards. Kicking the man off of his weapon, the hollow stumbled into its' other half and the spear-user charged the two, piercing his weapon through both of their necks as they shambled to stand.

Upon completing his warmup, Blight spat to the side as all of the blood and corpses disappeared.

"Simulation eight, difficulty hard." he muttered.

Shapes began to form around Blight and a feminine voice of a computer responded back to him.

"Enemies present: Knight Artorias the Abyss Walker, Lord's blade Ciaran, Dragonslayer Ornstein, Hawkeye Gough. Objective: co-operate with the whole group to eliminate all targets."

Everyone in the room started to gather around Blight to prepare for the simulation, but he motioned for them to go to the bleachers. Hesitantly, they agreed and proceeded, a wall of glass blocking them from helping Blight at all. Inside of the glass box the group casually chatted.

"He's going to get himself killed…" whispered Varbos.

Omega disagreed. "Blight has evolved his weapon beyond even my comprehension."

The fighting ring expanded and changed. The room was completely enveloped in an atmosphere that was alien to the usual 'Gym, Dining Room, Restroom, or Living Room' rodeo. All of the sudden Blight was standing in the Oolacile Township arena. Atop moss covered stone, Blight breathed air that was artificially real. He twirled his spear around him and the wind danced at his command. His opponents surrounded him, each donning a unique appearance. All of his enemies were knights, each covered in armor from head to toe. One wore plated steel and was adorned in an extravagant blue cloth that lined his body. He also carried a greatsword that mimicked the appearance of Tokyo's. Another one of the knights was covered head to toe in gold. His helmet was shaped like a lion's and his armor poked outwards with sharp edges that resembled lightning. He held a spear in his hands that was longer than his body, and equally magnificent. The third knight was a giant. The only thing more impressive than his large muscles or his gladiator styled myrmidon helmet was his large bow, which equalled his already giant size. The last opponent, and perhaps the deadliest, was a woman in dark blue robes. Wearing a gold porcelain mask on her face while wielding two small blades of gold and silver, her very image pointed to that of an assassin.

The wind carried golden leave into the arena and swirled around Blight. Hawkeye Gough held his bow up and knocked an arrow, pointing it at the puny human. Ornstein made a similar action and his spear started to glow with electricity. Ciaran disappeared from sight and Artorias charged Blight. Gough released the arrow and Ornstein rained lightning on his target. Blight spun his spear around his body and the arrow was blown off course by a gust of wind. He then jumped high into the air, watching as the lightning below struck the ground. He saw Artorias leap into the sky to attack him and he thrust his spear towards his foe violently, sending a wave of wind that sent the knight hurling towards the ground. The wind carried Blight towards Gough and he spun in the air with his spear pointed towards the giant. His distorted image took the form of a drill, and a drill he was. He penetrated through Gough's chest, landing perfectly on his knees behind the archer. He turned to observe the damage he had delivered to realize that Gough was now a puddle of red slush.

Ornstein charged at Blight with a speed that matched his own and the two engaged in a duel. Artorias appeared from behind Blight and the man had to stave the two off, parrying attacks and dodging others. Artorias lept at Blight, who saw the opportunity to fly completely under him. A gust of wind surrounded Blight's arm and enveloped his spear. Turning around, Blight launched the spear from his hand. The spear broke the sound barrier and sent it's master flying backwards. Faster than sound could reach them, Artorias had been impaled into Ornstein and their broken bodies hung off of the wall on the opposite of the arena. Blight summoned his spear back into his hands, remembering his fourth opponent. Across the arena he could see the bodies of his slain foes drop off of the wall as the weapon was removed… but no Ciaran. He looked up and met the cold gaze of the assassin's mask as she jumped off of the wall lining the arena. He extended his spear towards her and impaled her through the heart. She had pretty much just given him the win.

The bodies of the knights disappeared and the Hologram Room took the appearance of a gym again. The other men ran to Blight from the bleachers and hoisted him into the air.

"That was amazing!" exclaimed Tokyo.

"And you didn't even get scratched…" added Omega.

Blight smiled at his friends. "I couldn't have done it without you guys… Praise the sun!"

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(^.^)

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Eat, shit, train, and sleep. Eat, shit, train, and sleep. This was what quickly became Varbos' daily routine. Varbos would get out of bed, get dressed in his deep blue coveralls, eat breakfast (and write an outstanding poem whilst feasting), practice some pyromancy, and then go for a brisk jog in the gymnasium. The trainee had completed Simulation nine, difficulty hard in the fighting ring on the second day of training with a fantastic display of pyromancy. For this, he was rewarded with a few scoops of gelato... a break from the constant protein that was being shoved down his throat. Since Varbos didn't have much to do but physically train his body, he talked with the other guys a lot. He was their link to the past, after all.

Today however, was different. This day was going to be one where Varbos had fun! In usual fashion, the poet approached each of his colleagues to chat with them, but this particular time he decided to prod at them, play with the small amount of memories that they actually had. Varbos decided he would avoid Paragon and Selfish… the two craziest people there, but he played with everyone else. When approaching Blight, the man tilted his head to the side and all of Varbos' jokes and taunts went completely un-noticed.

Deciding he would try a little harder, Varbos then approached Thomas. He specifically pointed out the fact that Thomas could only heal others, and couldn't do anything else. Apparently Thomas said something to Omega shortly after, as Varbos received a stern talking to from the man in the green uniform, and then proceeded to turn around revealing the winged unicorn sewn into his back. Varbos didn't know what was funnier, Omega's yelling or Omega's fascination with "My Little Pony". The clever poet then settled upon Tokyo, who actually laughed at all of the Varbos' harmful jokes.

Varbos was quickly getting bored again, he decided to raise the intensity of his insults. He approached Scraper, who was hitting the punching bag as usual but quickly moved on when brawler slammed his right arm into the bag, sending it flying across the room. His sense of urgency hastened when Scraper yelled at him for making him lose focus. The clever trickster approached his last stop, Souffle. As usual, Souffle was having fun with his katana. He would wipe some of the old blood off of it, and watch as it quickly reappeared. Varbos decided to make fun of him for this, which wasn't a good idea. The man in the golden clothing stood up and challenged Varbos to a duel.

Nodding, Varbos casually walked to the fighting ring. No one seemed to pay the situation any mind. Besides Thomas who was the team's medic, the majority continued with their own individual training. The two bowed to each other in the ring. In a show of power, Varbos flashed his pyromancy flame out of his right palm and let the flames crawl up his arm. Souffle merely held his katana in one hand and waited for Varbos to finish showing off. The pyromancer conjured a small ball of flame in his hands and tossed it at Souffle. The swordsman positioned himself like he was about to hit a baseball with a bat, swinging at the spell and watching as it disappeared. Varbos' jaw dropped. Did his fireball just rapidly decay?

The pyromancer smirked. "When did you learn to do that?"

Souffle brushed some ash off of his arm. "Recently… you see… unlike you, I actually train."

The two's conversation was interrupted by Selfish yelling in the distance. "Ah snap, you need some ice for that burn, girl?"

Varbos gritted his teeth together. His pyromancy flame grew in power and Souffle gripped his katana in both of his hands.

"Come!" yelled the swordsman.

The pyromancy held his wrist with his left hand and channeled his rage through his flames. Power quaked from Varbos as the room began to shake and the lights began to flicker. A condensed orb of flame screamed in the mans hand, waiting to be unleashed. He released his arm from his own grip and threw the spell at Souffle, which quickly swelled up to match the size of a car. The flames quickly crawled to the swordsman, who dove to the right as fast as he could, suffering major burns on his legs in the process. He looked to Thomas who was already on his feet, but waved for him to sit back down. Varbos collapsed onto the ground, completely asphyxiated. He coughed and wheezed, spitting out a few drops of blood. As he was distracted, Souffle stood and strode to Varbos. The pyromancer saw this, but he couldn't do anything about it. The swordsman reached his opponent and placed his blade on the pyromancer's shoulder. The area that came into contact with the blade started to decay. Varbos could feel his flesh erase as Souffle kept his blade on his body. The swordsman took a deep breath and his blade vanished. He knelt down and helped Varbos to his feet, walking him to Thomas.

"Good duel." stated Souffle.

Too weak and ashamed to talk, Varbos simply nodded. His hatred seethed within his veins. The next time he fought someone, he would be prepared.

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(^.^)

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Thomas ran around the track, preparing for his role in the journey to come. He figured that he really only needed to be able to get around the battlefield and be able to take care of himself, since all he had to do was heal his allies. His spells put some strain on his body, but what little was placed on him was simply cured a few seconds later by his own magic, and because of this Thomas could achieve a lot of cool things.

Thomas was able to run the farthest in the group because he could simply channel extra energy into his muscles and make them last longer, he could easily run one hundred miles without breaking a sweat. He didn't have to eat, a single ring of his bell and his body would feel full and refreshed… though he ate with his friends because he enjoyed the company. Last but not least, Thomas eventually developed the ability to subconsciously recover his own wounds.

He once got into a "training accident" with Selfish, who "accidentally" launched two magical arrows into his friends stomach, expecting him to heal himself, but the holes were patched up without a single ring of Thomas' magical chime.

Since Thomas also remembered everything that happened during their freakish experiment, he often found himself talking to different members of the group and telling them stories of great or silly deeds that they carried out within the Dark Souls game itself. This was especially useful as a tool to mend the troubled minds of the group members when they started to doubt their situation.

"One time, Selfish and Paragon completely owned a Havelyn, it was amazing!" he said one time to cheer up his friends.

The two broke into laughter and Paragon replied. "I don't even know what that is, but it sounds glorious!"

When the medic wasn't training, he found himself buried in Varbos' poems or other stories. His friend, who could recall his life before all of this craziness, had taken it upon himself to rewrite the work that he remembered. One iconic story, written by an anonymous writer, featured Lautrec as the protagonist of the story, battling through a cycle in order to break it so that he could be with the love of his life. Thomas often wondered what it would be like to meet a girl and settle down… he recalled a dream he had while in the game world, one where he was surrounded by multiple naked women after he had been called "The Chosen Undead". He laughed to himself.

Everyone realized how important Thomas was to the team, and Thomas knew how key he was to the mission. Whenever someone grew too tired to train further, he was their to support them. When two of the men got into a fight he soothed their wounds with his magic and their minds with his words. The team wouldn't have been much of a team without him. There was one incident, and only one, where Thomas lost himself to his emotions.

Scraper was punching away at a bag, completely man handling it, and Thomas could tell something was wrong. He snuck up behind the brawler to give him counsel, and possibly ease his mind a little. Scraper turned to him and punched him in the stomach with full force on accident, not expecting someone like Thomas to approach him so closely… in truth he thought it may have been Varbos playing another one of his tricks. Naturally, this sent Thomas flying across the entire gymnasium. Oddly enough, it was Selfish who ran to help the medic up. He reached for him, but right before he touched Thomas he saw a line of electricity run right over the man's arm. He backed off immediately and told the group what happened, and although Thomas didn't look like his normal happy-go-lucky self, surely he wasn't going to electrocute anyone. He talked to Selfish about it later after receiving a long apology from Scraper and couldn't recount what had happened. Both magicians nodded it off and decided to forget about it.

But it's lingered in Thomas' mind ever since…

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(^.^)

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Paragon. The big guy, Mr. Muscles, Major Douche. He was called a lot of things by the guys, you could probably match each nickname to each wanted to know how to bench press? He was your guy. Squats? No problem. Want someone to spot you? He's there. Paragon was the one stop shop for anything that involved physical fitness. How did he know all of this though? He lost his memory didn't he? Some of the guys said that he walked up to a weight set one day and it all felt natural to him. What his mind didn't remember, his muscles did. Other's (Selfish) described it as follows: 'Major Douche just walked up to the bench press one day and hoisted that mother fucker into the air like it was nobody's business.' The two then got into a fist fight with Paragon taking some minor injuries, but arising as the obvious winner.

Aside from the occasional scraps that Paragon would get into with Selfish every now and then, he was a really nice guy. He provided honest feedback to his fellow team members to help them improve during training sessions and helped them develop new, stronger techniques. He and his magical counterpart didn't see eye to eye very often (even though they were the same height at a whopping five feet eight inches) but they had a deep respect for each other. The two were the only ones to pass the initial fitness exam, which included running two miles in less than twelve minutes, one hundred pushups in a row, one hundred situps, and twenty pull ups.

Normally when Paragon trained he trained alone. He would lift weights in a variety of ways, participate in cardio training, and occasionally he would join Scraper and try to pick up some martial arts. Paragon didn't like calling his scythe out, it wasn't only the creepiest thing ever as it was pitch black, dimmed the light around him, and trails of dark smoke escaped the thing constantly, but it also spoke to him. Sometimes he would be training with it and he would see one of his friends get hurt in an accident. His companion would be laying on the floor and he would hear whispers. "Finish him." or "His soul looks so tasty." were common examples. Being the tough guy that he was, he never shared this information with any of the other guys, except for Selfish, who had a similiar problem.

There was an occasion where Paragon woke up in the middle of the night screaming, his scythe in hand. The next day he continued with his business like nothing happened, going through his daily routine. While everyone was training, he pulled Selfish to the side and they talked about what happened.

"It just… it came to me in a dream man!" he whispered.

Selfish nodded. "What did the fucker say?"

Paragon grimaced. "The usual… kill, feed me their souls… you know. What freaked me out is how it came to me in my sleep…"

"You ever tell it to…you know... shut the hell up?" suggested Selfish.

"Maybe I'll try that next time!" Paragon said with a smile.

The situation where he would be able to put this scenario to practice conveniently came up the same day. He was training as usual and Varbos had just gotten finished getting the shit kicked out of him by Souffle over some stupid prank that he had pulled. Paragon's scythe summoned itself while he was running on the track and spoke to him.

"Come on… just a taste keheheh…" it said.

Paragon stopped and looked at his weapon. "Wanna know what would be cool? If you would just shut the fuck up. Straight up."

The scythe was silent for a few seconds before speaking with a chilling whisper. "I will be patient…"

Sighing, Paragon frowned. He felt a little bad… even if his scythe was crazy… "Hey… what's your name?" He asked.

It sat in his hand for a while, it's black mist dripping to the floor. "Ebonslash, the Night-splitter Necrosis."

"Haha, sounds like a five year old named you!" laughed Paragon.

His weapon was silent for a moment. "YOU named me…"

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(^.^)

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Scraper slammed his fist into the punching bag in front of him, completely tearing it apart. His Blue coveralls were flanked by white cloth wraps surrounding his hands. The admiral had expressed interest in his abilities at one point, asking if he needed extra protection for his knuckles. Scraper simply stated that he could punch a wall and his hands would be completely fine.

"Simulation four, difficulty hard." he whispered.

Another punching bag appeared in front of him, this one made of pure gold. He started to jab at it with his left hand, leaving indentations the size of his fist all over its' surface. After a couple of warm up right hooks he rotated his body backwards and twisted forward, slamming the bag with his right fist and sending it flying backwards. His hands were completely fine.

"Simulation nine, difficulty hard." he said, panting.

The same process occurred, but this time the bag was a much more metallic gray color. This was the hardest material known to man at that time, Scraper was a little confused when he had it explained to him. It was able to "Survive a nuke", as he had been told. This excited the man. It was his personal goal to crack through this, and today would be the day. He had completed all of the fighting simulators in the ring, mastering the final difficulty. But this… this was something else. Feeling that he needed to be a much formidable force on the battlefield, Scraper practiced on this large metal cylinder for hours a day.

Scraper began, thrusting his left and right fists forward, causing the bag to rotate on the hinges of the chain holding it up. With each punch and each twist of his hand he scratched the surface of the object in a way that small bits of metal would fly into random directions like shrapnel. The training got to the point where the sound of Scraper hitting the bag was the only thing that could be heard in the room. Everyone watched in anticipation as the brawler slammed his fists into the object, cheering and cringing with every punch. The man punched away, and got into a rotation where he was punching so fast that he was just a blurred image to everyone else. He didn't realize this, but his fists were glowing red with heat, which escalated with each consecutive punch. Some of the men in the room covered their ears and eyes, like they were in a room with a really bright jackhammer! The chains holding the bag up eventually melted away, causing the bag to fall to the floor. Scraper quickly jumped onto it, continuing his assault. Before he knew it, the object was split in two.

Scraper rose to celebrate and view his work. Metal shavings lined the wall behind the punching bag and a pool of melted ore formed on the floor. He looked at his hands, his cloth wrappings had been completely disintegrated… along with his entire set of blue coveralls.

"Huh… how did I manage that?" he asked himself.

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(^.^)

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If one was to ask any member of the team how they were doing at that particular moment, they would probably respond with the same thing. 'Good, same old same old, and oh you know… chillin.' Not Souffle though. The guy would most likely reply with an 'Amazing! We have everything anyone could ever dream for! Three free meals a day, plenty of things to keep us occupied all day, and super powers!"

Indeed, Souffle was definitely the smile of the group, but this didn't mean that he could be pushed over the edge. It is good to remember that to every light, there is a dark. Souffle had a poisonous personality that spread to his companions in a good way, but he also had a very venomous weapon. By this I mean that it was literally poisonous, one cut and you would be dead in a couple of seconds to a minute if you didn't have an antidote. Like everyone else, with each passing day Souffle saw rapid improvement in his abilities. He learned that he was not only able to spread decay to other living beings with his weapon, but to all forms of matter, and later energy as well.

His Katana, which Omega had dubbed "The Manslayer" was quite the sight to behold. Normally people would flock to Souffle for a lively conversation, but when he had his weapon out… everyone would flee. The thing seemed to devour the air around it, sending a wave of pestilence outwards that would kill a fly. Of course Souffle realised this and summoned his weapon as little as he could, only bringing it out for training purposes. Souffle felt truly blessed. He was able to complete all of the simulations in the training room at any difficulty without much effort a few days after his awakening. He did have one curiosity that he wanted answered, though. His weapon would break any other that he clashed with. Omega's axe, Blight's spear, hell even Selfish's staff. But no matter how many times he slashed at Tokyo's greatsword, it never faltered. One day, he decided to go all out.

"Hey Tokyo, you up for a spar?" exclaimed the man.

Tokyo simply shrugged. "Why not?"

The two approached the ring and bowed to each other in usual fashion. The ring actually shrunk in size to compensate for the two melee fighters, leaving them with just enough space to take advantage of proper footing. They both summoned their weapons, which caused Tokyo's face to twitch a bit as he adjusted his nose to the putrid smell of Souffle's blade. The two charged at each other, clashing swords in the middle of the ring. Tokyo overpowered the katana wielder and pushed his greatsword forward, knocking Souffle to the ground. He then leapt into the air to pounce on Souffle's body with his blade, but watched only as the man in the golden coveralls rolled to the side, avoiding the massive weapon. Tokyo took hold of Souffle before he could rise, but was nicked in the arm by the swordsman's poisonous katana.

"Shit…" he murmured out loud.

Souffle smiled. "You calling it quits?"

Tokyo returned the gesture, still holding Souffle in the air with his left arm. "Abyss."

"A- what?" murmured the confused swordsman.

Darkness erupted from Tokyo's sword and the entire arena was hidden in a large black sphere As usual, when weird shit happened everyone looked to the fighting ring in surprise. Thomas made a sprint to the ring but was stopped by Omega.

"This is Tokyo's doing… let them finish the fight." he murmured.

Thomas simply nodded, staring into the dark.

Inside, Souffle lost sight of Tokyo. In fact, he lost all of his senses. He could no longer smell the odor of his weapon, he couldn't hear Scraper slamming his fists against a punching bag like he always did, and he couldn't even feel the clothes that he wore on his back. He didn't even know if he was still holding his weapon or not.

Tokyo on the other hand, was completely fine. No, he was rejuvenated by the darkness. It nurtured his wounds and closed the small cut on his arm for him, sucking the venom out of his veins. Tokyo frowned at the sight of the confused Souffle, who could do nothing but stand still and await his fate. He stabbed his greatsword into Souffle's gut slowly, watching the man's face as its' expression never changed. Souffle had no idea what was happening to him.

"Ciaran." Tokyo muttered as the darkness disappeared around the two and he ripped his greatsword out of Souffle.

Souffle fell to the floor, Thomas sprinting at him, chime in hand. The smaller man healed his wounds and the swordsman rose to his feet.

"What in the world was that?" said Souffle, un-summoning his blade as he breathed in clean air.

Omega approached the small group and spoke. "It was Tokyo's weapon, the greatsword of Artorias the Abyss walker."

Thomas nodded, adding on to the information. "Yah… Artorias was a lonely knight. But he had one particular companion named Ciaran, who was also a knight… the two were in love."

Souffle gasped. "So… Artorias was gay?!"

Slapping Souffle across the head, Thomas continued. "Ciaran was a female you idiot, and she was the only person who supported Artorias and his… Abyss walking, besides his wolf companion Sif, who accompanied him wherever he went."

Souffle gasped yet again. "So… he was into wolves too!? What a guy!"

The entire room laughed at Souffle, who was just being himself.

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(^.^)

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Selfish sat on the bleachers after a hard day of training. He always finished with plenty of time at the end of the day because he never took breaks, once he started a job he would complete it. He also did this to make sure he had plenty of time to talk to… her…

"So… how is your day going so far?" whispered Selfish.

His staff, resting vertically in his right hand and sitting on his shoulder… replied. "Well you only summoned me one time today, ONCE. What were you even doing the rest of the time?"

Selfish coughed and waved at Blight as he ran by on the track. "I was training, like always."

The staff retaliated. "Train train train… that's all you ever do! You never pay any attention to me, especially while you're training, which takes for ever by the way! Also when you used me to block Souffle's attack the other day… ew! First of all, I broke in half and second it smelt horribly! Sometimes I think that you don't even care about me!"

Raising his voice, the sorcerer responded. "Are you still on about that? We won that fight, so it doesn't matter."

Blight jogged by again, making another lap, this time he saw Selfish talking to his staff… again. He quickly turned his head, a weirded out expression on his face.

His staff continued… "You know what? I'm done. Find some other slut to satisfy your needs!"

The weapon un-summoned himself and Selfish sighed… not able to do anything about it. This was how his days usually went. Sleep, train, argue with Athena… 'her' supposed name, repeat. One day he had asked Omega about it, and the man simply shrugged.

"I have no recollection of you ever having a talking weapon, but Athena is an ironic name for it seeing as to how it's the 'Staff of Wisdom'." he would say every time Selfish asked… and oh… he asked.

One particular night Selfish prepared himself to go to sleep. The Hologram Room, as it was dubbed by the group, turned into a restroom so everyone could take care of their business. Following that, it turned into a large room, with beds that were well spaced apart. Each of the men had set up curtains around their beds, creating some small form of privacy. The lights in the room shut off and it was pitch black.

In the middle of the night, Selfish was awoken by something in his hands… it was his damned staff. It's blue crystal faintly glowed on the pillow that he rested his head on, nearly scaring the shit out of him.

He flinched. "Wha-... how did you?!"

"Shh… hey I want to talk to you about what happened earlier today…" whispered the staff.

Selfish sighed. "What do you mean?"

The staff continued. "Well I just wanted to apologize for… being a bitch."

The man smiled. "Nah, it's ok. We argue every day so it's pretty normal for me now."

"Normal? So you mean you're all right with us being a dysfunctional couple? You could kiss my ass, you dick!" replied the staff angrily.

"No I didn't mean it like that… and you don't even have an ass!" Selfish retorted.

The staff's blue glow illuminated Selfish's living space, revealing his black coveralls neatly folded on top of the small cabinet to the bed's right.

"Well technically…" The staff whispered. "I do."

Selfish's eyebrow raised itself. "What? I don't have time for games, I need sleep."

Unable to unsummon her and infuriated by the light, he covered the crystal embedded in the head of the staff with his blanket, accidentally rubbing his hand across it.

"Hey, don't touch me THERE!" snapped the staff.

Selfish pondered for a moment. He finally found something that Athena hated! Of course he was going to continue! He rubbed his hand on the crystal and the staff moaned with pleasure. He paused, a little weirded out.

"Don't stop…" whispered the staff.

He thought to himself… and then continued to slowly rub the crystal. After a couple seconds of moaning, groaning, and a loud "YES" proclaimed by Athena, she disappeared. Selfish laid in his bed… not really knowing what had just happened. A few seconds later, Varbos slid his head around one of the black curtains surrounding Selfish's living area, his pyromancy flame illuminating the "room".

"Did I just hear a woman?" whispered the confused man.

Selfish squinted. "Uh… no that was me. I woke up from a… dream. Yah that's it."

"Oh… well good night." said the pyromancer before he disappeared back into the darkness.

The next day Selfish's power was more devastating than it ever was before.

.

(^.^)

.

Tokyo sat on the bleachers away from everyone else, just like he preferred. He was a quiet and very simple guy. He didn't train much, but when he did he would summon his greatsword and proceed awkwardly. Running on the track? Whip it out. Lifting weights? It's there. Sparing Scraper? Left hand, baby. Of course there was a reason for this, he wouldn't do something like this randomly. His weapon gave him an unmeasurable amount of power. He felt alive with it beside him, and it quelled his loneliness. Omega described the weapon as being an ancient relic, and would always warn him to treat it with caution. Tokyo took heed to the advice, always respecting his own power.

His weapon not only gave him strength equal to that of Scraper's, but he could also use it to call forth the Abyss. If one were to get trapped in it, they would lose all of their senses and would be as helpless as a baby couldn't explain this power… but he knew one thing. The word "Abyss" was written on one side of his blade, while the word "Ciaran" was written on the other. He asked Thomas and Omega about it, and besides a little bit of backstory they didn't seem to know.

The first time he muttered the word out loud he was standing next to Paragon. Darkness covered the two and Paragon stood there, frozen. The golden trim of his blue coveralls wasn't noticeable in the blackness of this realm. Tokyo explored his surroundings, completely unphased by the dark. He felt another presence in his companion's direction and he naturally turned to meet it. Standing next to Paragon was a robed figure holding a scythe. It looked up to Tokyo, but he couldn't see a face, only a mesmerizing darkness. Tokyo soon realized that the scythe it held was actually Paragon's scythe, the same weapon that was now being held to his friend's neck. Tokyo quickly intervened, sprinting at the dark figure with his sword trailing behind him.

The being screeched and removed the scythe from Paragon's neck, letting out an ear rattling shriek. Tokyo attacked the enigma, but it dodged his blows easily. It moved for a counter attack and horizontally slashed the scythe as to cut Tokyo in half at the waist. The swordsman grabbed the scythe's shaft as it approached him and yanked it out of his opponent's hands, throwing it into the Abyss. Tokyo grabbed the anomaly with his left hand and thrust his weapon into its' chest.

It whispered to him. "The abyss will consume all!"

Tokyo wiped a look of disgust off of his face. "What in the world are you?"

The being cackled maniacally before it vanished.

Tokyo was face to face with the side of his blade. He read the inscription written on it out loud and the Abyss was sucked into his blade. Now recovered, Paragon looked at Tokyo… extremely confused.

"What just happened?" he asked.

Tokyo shrugged and thought to himself. Now, he not only preferred to be left alone… but felt like it was his duty to be left alone, lest his power consume all of his friends.

.

(^.^)

.

Omega would often watch the others train, or do some physical training himself. He already had previous knowledge of his weapon and knew his own limits. Omega was the first one done with all of the combat simulations. He volunteered to go through all of them as a product of already knowing what he was doing. The first few weeks of training that the group went through were very productive and busy for Omega, but eventually things died down as (mostly) everyone figured out how to control their power. Occasionally Selfish wouldn't be able to cast any sorceries from his staff, or he would claim that he wasn't able to summon his weapon or even worse, that it would actually hold full conversations with him. The two would discuss the topic during one of their "sessions". Selfish laid on the bleachers, Omega crouched beside him in his comfortable green coveralls with the image of a white winged loli unicorn stitched onto his back.

"So what did 'Athena' do now?" he asked.

Selfish gulped. "Well I was in the middle of a spar with Scraper and she just stopped working."

Omega nodded. "And what did you do?"

"I told her to stop screwing around, then she just disappeared!" replied the crazed man.

"Hm… and what happened after that?" prodded Omega.

"Well, Scraper thought that I unsummoned the staff and figured I was screwing around with him, which pissed him off. So he beat the fuck out of me." whimpered Selfish.

Omega sighed. "Maybe you should come to good terms with 'Athena'. Maybe then she'll cooperate with you."

Selfish gave a quick nod and stood to leave. "I'll try."

Omega smiled. He didn't actually believe a single word that spoken by Selfish about his staff, in fact he thought that the man was bat shit crazy. But it didn't matter what was in his mind, what mattered was the action he took in trying to counsel Selfish. Obviously Selfish wasn't the only one with problems, everyone would meet with Omega whenever they had something prodding at their mind.

He would often take his weapon for a spin and put his skills to the test. He nicknamed it the "Golem Axe", and it was truly worthy of the name. It weighed one whole ton and it was made of a metal called "titanite", an ore only found in Dark Souls itself which meant that it was completely alien to Earth. Whenever he swung it, the weapon produced a powerful shockwave that would travel to opponents like a cannon ball and hit them with the force equal to one. Omega still recounts the very first day the group started training.

Admiral Shwartz walked into the gym to explain how things worked. "Everything in here is a simulation. You may state the simulation you want, and add a difficulty to the end of that and the Hologram Room will create it for you. You could do this anywhere in here… the fighting ring, the punching bags, hell even the track will become harder."

The entire group stared at everything in awe and the admiral continued. "Does anyone want to give a demonstration?"

The men stared at each other in confusion. Omega sighed and stepped into the ring.

"How does this work?" said the bravest of the group.

"Simply state Simulation and then a number from one to nine, one being easiest. And then state easy, medium, or hard difficulty. I'd start off slow if I were you." added the older man.

Omega summoned his axe in his right hand. "Simulation nine, difficulty hard."

The admiral coughed. "Or not."

Everything in the room except for the bleachers vanished. The admiral guided everyone to them and they all took a seat. Glass walls appeared between all of them and Omega. The man in the "MLP" coveralls, as he grew to call it, gave the group a thumbs up.

Three men appeared and surrounded Omega. All of them were tall and decorated with unique armor. They all had white hair and appeared very old… in fact they looked almost like kings. One of the men adorned a robe like visage with silver plated armor hidden underneath the magnificent cloth. His blade looked demonic, but glowed with the aura of the soul. The second king appeared as luminous as the sun itself. His golden armor blinded Omega, as it was reflecting the flames off of the king's gigantic greatsword. The third king wore a set of black plated steel, with a dark cape hanging off of his shoulders. He carried a shield and sword that matched his size, which was easily that of two men. The room also changed and took the appearance of an ancient kiln.

A feminine machine like voice echoed throughout the room. "Enemies present: Old King Allant, Gwyn, Lord of Sunlight, King Vendrick I of Drangleic. Objective: Survive for 10 minutes."

Omega thought to himself… survive? He smiled. He would do more than simply survive. All three of the kings simultaneously charged at Omega as he threw his body out of the way. Their blades collided in the center of the kiln and sent ash flying in all directions. King Allant's sword glowed with energy but Omega swung his axe through the air, sending a shockwave at the king. It collided with him, knocking the foe to the floor. Gwyn jumped at Omega, but the axe wielder slammed his weapon into his opponent's and forced the king to drop it. He took advantage of the defenseless king and dug his axe into his chest. Before he could pull it out King Vendrick charged at him with his shield, knocking him off of Gwyn. Omega quickly summoned his weapon to him, watching as blood poured from Gwyn's wound. Allant was now on his feet and launched a volley of soul magic at Omega, forcing him to go on the defensive. He dodged the spells but saw a giant flash of sunlight appear in the corner of his eye. He instinctively two handed his axe and prepared it's face to block for him. Gwyn launched a spear made entirely of lightning at Omega, who blocked the attack. With lightning coursing through his veins and Omega was brought to his knees. He tried move, but he simply couldn't. The kings slowly approached him, their swords in hand.

Omega coughed up a hand full of blood and leaned on his axe. His opponents had reached him and raised their weapons into the air to deliver the killing blow. Omega reacted by raising his axe and slamming it into the ground, sending unleashing a massive shockwave. He knocked all of the kings onto the ground and brought himself to his feet. He lobbed off Gwyns head before he could rise and dug his axe into Allant's waste. He kicked the king off of his weapon. When he thought he was in the clear he was backstabbed by Vendrick. Blood spilled out of his mouth and stained his pink clothing. The blade protruded from Omega's stomach and he felt like giving up. Vendrick lifted Omega into the air and then tossed him onto the ash covered floor. Omega twitched his fingers and the king took notice, he prepared to deliver the killing blow.

Inside of the glass box that housed the bleachers and the men sitting upon them, a conversation was brought up.

Selfish turned to the admiral and asked. "What happens when a person dies during a simulation?"

Admiral Shwartz shrugged. "They die."

The sorcerers eyes widened and he rose from his seat. He pounded on the glass and yelled for Omega to stand. The others were too shocked or scared to do anything.

Omega flipped himself around to look at what would be his end. He managed to lift his head and noticed a man in black coveralls slamming his fists against the glass wall. He looked really worried for Omega, but the injured man couldn't figure out why. He had literally just met these people, why would any of them care? When the group noticed Omega staring at them, every one of them got up and started to do the same thing. He couldn't hear what they were saying… but from their lips he could read two words.

"Get up." he whispered…

He turned to meet Vendrick, who plunged his blade downwards towards him. He rolled out of the way and jumped to his feet, ignoring all of the blood and pain. He summoned his golem axe into his hand and charged at his opponent. Vendrick thrust his greatsword forward but Omega ducked underneath it, striking at the king's legs. Vendrick fell to his back as his severed leg was sent flying into the air and Omega dug his axe into the king's chest. The sound of Omega's battle cry echoed over the shattering of his opponent's ribs. Within moments the dead bodies of the kings disappeared and Omega was back in the Hologram Room, disguised as a gym. He turned to the group as they ran to him. Thomas had his chime in his hand and was ringing it like a madman. With his wounds closing, tears streamed down Omega's face.

Admiral Shwartz applauded as he leisurely strolled to the man. "You have the qualities of a good leader!"

Omega smiled. "Thanks."