=Viceroy of Rego=
--Chapter 1: Fall of Radiance--
Before the window, hands held calmly behind his back, stood the imposing figure known as the Eclipse King. A man, clad in raven-black armor and shrouded in an equally black hooded robe. The man had been standing at that spot, staring out from the window, from the moment they had taken off, not moving or breaking his silence for anyone or anything. If one hadn’t known better, they would have thought him to be a statue. Around him, a collection of Reavers silently went about their work, not stopping to take concern in the Eclipse King or any of the other Reavers. They simply carried out their tasks, as ordered, then reported back for new ones. Such obedient little machines.
"Sire," a Reaver said, its metallic limbs clinging against the ground as it walked up to the Eclipse King. The Reaver was a Guardian model, though it was a special modified model, one with its entire body forged from solid gold. The Reaver stood up on four, heavy-plated legs, each an equal distance from the other. The Reaver was equipped with two pairs of arms, with both of the Reaver's lower arms equipped with a large, bulky shield that, when placed together with the other, formed a larger shield. A large sword was mounted on its right arm in place of a hand. The Reaver's upper arms both had cannons mounted in place of hands, though they lacked any form of shield that the lower two had. On the back of the Reaver was mounted a large, triple barrel turret, which rose roughly one and a half feet above the head of the Reaver. This Guardian Reaver was one of the Eclipse King’s bodyguards—not implying that a man of the Eclipse King’s power actually required bodyguards—and, as such, special attention and care was put into it's creation, making it the most powerful Guardian model currently produced. "I am here to update you on our current status. We are currently less than an hour away from reaching our target: Radiant Garden. Both Carriage Reavers are in good shape and all of the Reaver forces inside have all been accounted for. Your flagship, Odin, while lower in fuel than previously predicted, is in perfect running order. The miscalculation of remaining fuel will not affect our return trip. That is all." The Reaver turned and walked away, its metallic legs clinging against the floor as when it came.
The Eclipse King finally allowed his statue-esque pose break, letting out a long, drawn-out sigh, his whole body seeming to sigh along with him. He released his hand from the other and allowed his arms to limply fall to his side, his right hand twitching ever slightly. They would be arriving at Radiant Garden soon. Though it was not the headquarters for the Resistance, Radiant Garden was, in fact, a potentially more important target, as, according to the intel gathered, it served as the main training ground for the handful of remaining Keyblade wielders and was home to a large number of Resistance members, one being the second-in-command, Ansem the Wise. Therefore, the Eclipse King had decided to lead this acquisition of Radiant Garden personally, as such an opportunity was far too important to trust in the hands of others, even his marshals, who he had already sent on ahead in advance, were told to lay low until he himself arrived. No, he wouldn’t allow for any mistakes on this. This blow would all but seal the fate of the Resistance.
The Eclipse King exhaled, his eyes focusing onto the small world coming into view. Radiant Garden: One of the few remaining hives of the bug infestation that had been plaguing the Eclipse King for far longer than he had wished it to. He released another sigh and lowered his head slightly. "Now it begins."
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"Alright, I believe that is enough for today’s lesson."
A man stood before a large group, his posture calm, but authoritative. He bore a dark gray chest plate which, despite its name, only partially covered the chest, with most of the armor covering the right shoulder blade and stretching down the entirety of the arm, stopping just at the wrist, where it bulged out slightly to form a gauntlet. At the shoulder, a large plate, which bent and partially covered the right upper arm, was attached to the chest plate and had two spikes, which extruded from both sides of the plate, that curved inward toward each other, stopping just short in a sharp point. The plate itself was held on with two straps, which wrapped around the man's body diagonally and met at a small, golden circle in front, forming an 'x' across his torso. The piece of armor was set, almost casually, over normal, everyday clothing: a simple, white t-shirt and a pair of khaki pants, as well as a pair of sandals that clung to his feet for dear life. Over his clothing and alongside his armor, the man wore a long, green coat, which reached just below his knees, that was modified so that the right sleeve was removed and the backside of the coat latched onto the armor he wore.
"Yes, Master Isamu," the group shouted in response.
'Master,' huh? The whole concept of master and apprentice is still quite new to me. I feel like I should have more respect for this guy, as I'm sure he has certainly earned it, but, I just... I don't know. Obviously the problem isn't with him, but with me. Worthless, old me.
Ogen stood erect, his body stiff and appropriate position-wise. Well, not just Ogen, but every other Keyblade wielder who studied under Isamu. It was a show of respect, at least that was what Ogen gathered from it. Though, for him, it was really nothing more than a hollow stance for him to blend into the crowd of fellow wielders. The façade made Ogen feel pathetic.
The tension in every one's stance faded into a state of relaxation as Isamu dismissed himself from before the group and left to handle other matters. Several of the other wielders began talking to each other, though the conversations were mainly related to the training they had all just underwent, which, frankly, did not interest Ogen all that much. Instead, Ogen began weaving his way out of the clustered group, hoping that he would be able to escape into the seclusion of the numerous alleyways. However, knowing his awful luck, Ogen would run into one of his 'friends' and be reluctantly drawn into a conversation with them. Such was the luck of a recluse.