章節 2: Prologue

Nathaniel trudged along a deserted highway, clutching at the wound in his side. His caramel skin was a canvas of scars, burns and bruises. His signature navy overcoat was stained crimson red from blood - most not his own. Stumbling, Nathaniel collapsed against the rusted skeletal wreckage of a dismantled car. Stripped of everything but its steely bones, the car was a semblance of its former self - an echo of what was lost. Looking up slowly with his one remaining eye, just barely making out the spray painted sign; "Lost Angeles".

He had made it. Nathaniel had crossed the globe and made it to the last rumoured stronghold of mankind. The journey had not been without great cost. Protruding from the left side of his head were numerous pieces of shattered glass, one of which embedded into his eye socket. He was barely conscious, body and mind only sustained through sheer will. Nathaniel coughed once, spitting out blood. [Fuck this is bad], he thought, [but I must go on]. Slowly, he stood up. Using his sword - a jagged blade with many cracks along its rough edge - as a support, Nathaniel limped forward.

The once bustling metropolis of Lost Angeles was quiet. Too quiet. Nathaniel spent hours walking through the broken city, heading towards the Dodger's Baseball Stadium. Billboards and road signs had been repainted with arrows, directions and encouraging messages about the last bastion of humanity;

"Dodge the Undead!"

"LA 4EVER!"

"We Still Stand!"

Slowly, a smile started to spread across Nathaniel's face. The paint on some of the signs was crisp and fresh, repainted and maintained. Ignoring his injuries, he increased his pace. Rounding a corner, the Stadium was finally in Nathaniel's reach. Capable of seating over fifty thousand people, the Dodger's Baseball Stadium had been heavily modified and fortified after four decades of the apocalypse. A patchwork tapestry of rusting steel and corrugated iron replaced any glass and covered the once-open rooftop. Lights shone and flickered through cracks and holes in the building's fortifications, further increasing Nathaniel's pace.

Finally, Nathaniel had arrived. Still smiling, he rested for a moment outside the Stadium's heavy steel door before knocking on it with his sword with an echoing clang.

Several moments passed.

Nothing happened.

His smile fades into a frown.

Nathaniel knocks again, shouting out with his hoarse voice.

Nobody answers.

Nathaniel takes a deep breath and extends one shaky hand towards the heavy steel door. 'Deus Vult: Ignis,' he whispers drawing upon his last wells of strength.

Instantly the steel door shudders, sparks flickering into existence before the door explodes with such force the door is flung backwards several metres - revealing the stadium interior. The field had been converted into a multi-levelled mini city, with walkways and buildings taking up every available space. Temporary scaffolding held up entire houses, power cables snaking around handrails and supports. It was almost everything Nathaniel had been looking for. Almost.

There were no people, only hundreds of recently risen Undead slowly turning their attention to Nathaniel.

"No," cried Nathaniel as he stumbled backwards, collapsing on his back, "No, no, NO!"

The Undead horde trudged towards Nathaniel, joints creaking and muscles spasming.

Tears running down his face, the tired man prepared for the end.

Except it never came.

"Do not cry, My Son", boomed a voice as Nathaniel fingers uncurled from his trusted sword.

The condemned man opened his one functional eye slowly, grimacing at the pain from his other. The immortal Undead had all frozen in place - stationary in time - for the first time in nearly a decade. This worried Nathaniel. The Gods had not helped him since they claimed he was the last human alive; the Sole Survivor and Champion of the Divine Tournament. His reward? To live out the rest of his days struggling to survive against immortal zombies in a wasteland once called planet Earth. Nathaniel did not trust the Gods. They lied in the past, they could lie again. Only the All Father cared for humanity. So in the spirit of his mentor, Nathaniel had pressed onward - determined to prove the Gods wrong and find other survivors.

With tremendous effort, Nathaniel raised his head. In front of him stood a man cloaked in white alabaster robes, with golden blazing eyes that hurt to look at directly. Eyes filled with both love and judgement. His neatly trimmed snowy beard and pristine outfit contrasted against the harsh grime of Lost Angeles.

"A-all Father," croaked Nathaniel, "please leave me be…"

He paused to cough up more blood, racking his lungs.

"If you truly love humanity as you say..." he struggled to whisper "let me die."

The All Father's eyes turned a furious red-gold and Nathaniel found a blade forged from pure light materialise millimetres from his throat.

"I respect you, Ňāţhāņïèļ, you are the last survivor of this wretched game - truly. You have been alone for years." replied the All Father, ignoring the mortal's request "You have survived longer than any other Champion before you and yet you have preserved your humanity. That is why I have chosen you to end this terrible game in the next, and final, Divine Tournament."

"What do you mean, 'next Divine Tournament'?" spat Nathaniel, growing paler by the moment and brows furrowed in rage "There is nobody left to compete! Everyone is fucking dead! I am alone! I've walked across the globe looking for someone, anyone to survive with. To talk to, to share the load with. Do you know what that's like? You don't. You're a God for fuck's sake, you can't die and have put us, put me, through hell for fucking what? For a damn game?"

The All Father sighed, shaking his head slowly. "I will explain everything. What I am about to do is forbidden by the Gods and will help you as well as humanity. I understand and echo your rage, that is wh-" began the deity before being cut short by a thunderous boom that cracked the concrete below the pair's feet.

Nathaniel stood tall with blade in hand, unstable energy cackling along the weapon's edge. Sword pointed at his patron God's throat, the man roared "ECHO MY RAGE? YOU ECHO MY RAGE? YOU'RE THE FUCKING GOD OF COMPASSION AND YOU LET THOUSANDS OF INFANTS DIE! YOU'RE THE GOD OF LIFE AND YOU DO NOTHING TO PROTECT IT. YOU ARE A HYPOCRITE AND YOU ARE A COWARD."

The All Father raised his hands in a calming gesture, trying "Ňāţhāņïèļ, my child, let me explain. I will help you get vengeance for all those who have suffered, please ju-".

The deity shuddered, hands shaking as he slowly looked down to see Nathaniel's blade impaled through his chest. Golden blood glistened as it dripped down from the wound. The All Father stumbled backwards as Nathaniel swiftly withdrew his sword.

"Give me one reason not to kill you." demanded Nathaniel, levelling his blade at the deity.

"Because," coughed the god, "once you die all of this will repeat over and over, again and again. The cycle of the Divine Tournament is even older than I and it has no end. But, I can preserve your memories. Perhaps not indefinitely but more than long enough to make a difference. This is the truth of the world you live in," the deity paused to cough before continuing, "Over centuries, the Gods have used various historical events as methods of cultivating power. As you already are aware of, Gods can gift a portion of their power to mortals - granting them abilities and removing human limitations. However as a mortal imbued with divine power cultivates it and becomes stronger, so does their respective Patron God. This Apocalypse as you call it, is the final game between Gods to settle who is strongest before the wheels of time are reset to the dawn of humanity - before the cycle repeats once more. It is a game of power and entertainment, a game I solemnly wish to end." explained the All Father in a tired voice. The anger in his eyes faded to weariness.

Nathaniel's only working eye widened in horror at the revelation. There was no escape, death was not the end. History would repeat itself indefinitely, billions suffering and being sacrificed all in the name of power.

The All Father nodded his feelings leaking from his eyes and down his face.

"Ňāţhāņïèļ, you will lose all your powers and skills. But the knowledge you possess has the ability to change the course of fate. Assemble the Nine Demons and build an army to end this wicked game. Please, I beg of you." begged the All Father as he wept.

Nathaniel kneeled down to embrace the dying deity "I will," he promised, "I will save humanity".

The All Father smiled weakly, "You always were among the best of us, certainly better than I. Now go and good luck." Before Nathaniel could reply his vision faded into the black inky void of unconsciousness. As the man breathed his last the All Father pressed his thumb against Nathaniel's forehead, drawing a small cross that began to glow white as the universe began to reverberate.

And so Nathaniel died, becoming the Champion and Sole Survivor of the 4,158,874,288,063,373,648,968,664th Divine Tournament.