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Prologue [ROUGH DRAFT]
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"And then with a mighty swing of his flaming sword, the angel brought all the fury of heaven down upon the leader of the demons. The demon screeched furious bile-filled words out unto the angel as the sword closed in on the demon's face. 'I will pluck every feather out of your wings!', screeched the demon, then in panick he changed his tune, 'You could be one of us! You could be my commander and lead my vast legions!'

'I'd rather slay myself on my own blade than betray the Creator and cast myself into an eternity of servitude to your chains monster!' the angel yelled as he cleaved off the demon's arm clean off,", Ulthern looked up and his son was sound asleep, he closed the dusty old book and placed it onto the shelf.

"One day my son, you shall know the truth in these tales, but until that day comes I shall bear the burden for you," he mumbled as he ruffled the boys hair and walked out of the room and slowly raised his helmet upon his head with a click and a hum.

-- [The next morning]

"Not fair!", a small red haired boy yelled as he fell to the ground, "you swing too hard!'

"Get up! We can't let him win!", the other boy yelled back, both of them holding sticks and boards and pretending to be mighty warriors.

"Rawr, come angels and face me!", a larger stout boy stood on top of the hill with a giant branch in his hands, "your time has come!"

The boys charged at the "demon" as he swung his branch wide and knocked the red haired kid down, the other boy barely dodged it with a hop as he brought his stick down and bonked the other boy in the head.

"Michael, come boy we have work to do!", a yell came from way down the hill.

"Bah, my father is yelling for me I gotta run..", Michael extended his hand to the red headed boy and raised him to his feet, "just gotta be faster next time Thal."

"Easy for you to say, your father actually teaches you,", Thaldur sighed, "my father is always away defeating monsters in the wildlands.."

Michael gave Thaldur a fist bump, "Cheer up Thaldur, he'll be back soon", he turned around and yelled up the hill, "I'll see you later Daren!"

Darenthul thumped his chest and stuck it out proudly, "Later!" he bellowed down the hill.

"Michael! If you're any later it'll be dark by the time we begin!", another yell came up from the cottage.

Michael went running as fast as he could, tonight's training was supposed to be difficult and he knew that every minute he wasted was going to mean less time practicing.

-- [A few hours later]

Ulthern paced the outer edge of the room, trailing his sword on the floor with the sound of metal against stone resonating in the room. "Now my son, do not hold back, I want to see what you are capable of."

Michael picked up his practice sword and charged full speed at his father and swung wide, with a simple hop to the side and a raised blade to catch his son's, Ulthern watched as his son plowed into the wall head first. Michael recoiled in pain and grabbed his head.

"Combat is an art son, your movements should be swift, they should be harmonized, every sweep of your blade, every step of your legs should be in rhythm. You've forgotten your basics." Ulthern sternly stated as he raised his son to his feet, "let's try this again."

Michael ran at his father again but this time ducked to the side and swept wide and his father caught his blade with his gauntlet. "Hey that's cheati..", Michael yelled as his father threw the boy to the ground with one flick of his wrist and pointed his sword at his chest. "There is no cheating in combat son, you use any tools available to you because your opponent wants nothing more than to end your life and will do the same to you."

Getting frustrated Michael grabbed a rather large halberd off the shelf. "What do you think you're doing? We're practicing swordplay, you're still a far way off of using anything that heav.." but before he could react Michael had sliced wide with the halberd in his direction and shattered the stone floor where his father formerly stood, he turned around as his father smirked and swung his blade backhanded towards the boy which Michael parried with the handle of the large halberd and barely held his father's sword at bay.

"I could be wrong however," he laughed but was caught off guard when his son swiftly kicked him in the chest and sent him reeling back.

"You little bastard," he laughed again and charged at his son and swung vertically catching the shaft of the halberd with his sword, he reached behind him and grabbed another sword off the shelf and began slashing both of them, the clang of metal hitting metal filling the room, before finally he swung them both down from above his son and stopped them right above his shoulders.

"You're getting creative, good job son." Ulthern sheathed his sword and put the other one back on the shelf. He looked over at his son, drenched in sweat and panting heavily. "Keep that halberd with you, you can keep it in its scabbard but never take it out unless you absolutely have to."

Michael sat up, his eyes glowing, "you mean it?"

"I haven't heard of any Arbitor using a halberd but who knows, I've heard of stranger weapons used." Ulthern sat down and began polishing his armor. "You scuffed my boots boy..", he glared at his son and they both laughed.

-- [Later that night]

Ulthern's helmet clicked into place with a hum, the Azarite generator inside of it lit it up with an eery shade of light blue, his torso plate erupted in light and his gauntlets clicked close around his fists. It was pitch black and everyone in the village was asleep.

Ulthern walked out of the small cottage and unsheathed his sword, "Creator be my light and watch over my boy, for he will need guidance in the days to come, with your help may he some day be a powerful Arbitor and be the guardian of our people." He looked up at the stars, never before had they shone brighter, as though he had the Creator's approval for his actions. He slowly marched out into the Wildlands until he was out of sight of the village and engaged his armor fully, giant wings made of energy erupted out of the back of it and the hum became louder, his sword erupted in blue flame and his visor brightened up and began feeding him information.

He braced himself and engaged his boots and in an eruption of flame and light disappeared into the Wildlands.

-- [End Prologue]

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Kalendros surveyed the woods, "We are not alone..", he bellowed to his cadre of rangers stationed behind him in the trees, "Show yourselves black bloods, so we may end this now."

"But why end this my dear Ranger General, the fun has only just begun..", a figure dressed in dark armor with cybernetics and pipes of black fluid oozing along it walked from behind the trees, his pale skin shined in the darkness of the forest. "You know why we are he-", his voice cut off by a trailing shot on the tree next to him, the entirety of it splinters and falls over. A metallic click rings out as another shell is chambered.

"So be it." he bellows in an almost scream as the roars of a million dead men ignite over the dark woods.

"On your guard men! Rangers to the trees!", Kalendros screamed and faded using his cloaking device, thousands of shots rang out as Wraiths flooded the area, the amalgamations of former living warriors and technological necromancy screech as they enter the woods hunting their prey. Their swords and scythes ready to slay foes for their Dread King.

The Wraith Lord pulled out his large claymore, edged with a resonance blade and began nonchalantly walking forward, cutting down trees in his wake. "Come out.. come out.. wherever you are my dear Duke.. won't the Emperor love to hear how the champion of the tribe of Keltri fell to the blade of one of his most hated enemies?"

Another shot range out, this time severing one of the pipes providing life sustaining black blood to the Wraith Lord, a sharp laugh broke out from the respirator of Kalendros, "My dear Wraith Lord, won't your King have fun resurrecting you for the hundredth time due to your failures?", he fired again and the bullet grazed the cybernetics on the arm of the Wraith Lord with a deafening twang.

The Wraith Lord charged forward up a tree and sliced the barrel of Kalendros's rifle in half barely missing the torso of the cloaked duke and rending his full body cloak and respirator. Reeling back from the feeling of a resonance blade on metal, Kalendros unsheathed his twin blades and fell from the trees, in a whirl of stinging metal and resonation, his blades found the chest of one Wraith and the forehead of another, viscous black liquid pooling out of their bodies as they fall to the ground in clumps.

He barely spun around quickly enough to catch the full might of the Wraith Lord's claymore with both his blades and caught a nick to his mask from the blade's edge. "Pity, was hoping you'd put up a better fight.. your father fought valiantly before I robbed his body of his life essence.." the Wraith Lord hissed as he pushed Kalendros to the ground, his sword pushing heavier against his blades.

Kalendros could hear the silence of his radios, his men were dying, his will was faltering, and his body was failing him. With all of the force he could muster he pushed forward with his swords, but it was now apparent the Wraith Lord was toying with him enjoying every second of his struggle.

"You see Kalendros, this is how it is, you may slay me a thousand times, but I shall return a thousand times to haunt you until you are dead beneath my heels and your body a new toy for the Necromancers.."

In his mind his faith forged a sharp sword. "never..", he bellowed and pushed back as blood began to fill his respirator.

"Yes, struggle, its what I enjoy oh so much in watching the life and spirit fade from you.."

Just then a bright light erupted throughout the clearing, "Onward men, for the glory of Azaria!", a resounding voice echoed over the hillside. A thousand armored soldiers, decked in cybernetic armor roared into the woodlands cutting down thousands of wraiths with their charge.

One figure stood alone among them, walking forward into the fray with a resonance halberd at his side and glorious wings made of energy erupting from his back. As he was charged by foolish Wraiths underestimating the power of the duke, he easily dispatched dozens of them without hassle a low laugh bellowed from his helmet as he watched the Wraith Lord stagger back from his position assaulting Kalendros.

"So this is the best the Dread King can offer, his eternal failure.", the voice echoed from the respirator. "Your 'men' are dead and your errand revealed, turn yourself over so we can provide you a final death and eternal rest."

His laughter overtook the battlefield, the clang of metal on metal and the song it makes is even deafened by it.

"You really think I am afraid of a priest in armor and a hunter of game? I shall enjoy every moment of this.." the Wraith Lord screeched as he charged into action, his weapon meeting the Arbitor's halberd's edge, the resonating sound of their blades meeting covers the area.

"I am the champion of the light, the chosen of the people's souls, you are but a worthless worm who fate deemed weak and cast to the bowels of hell.", the audible bane of his words ringing out through his helmet, his wings reaching out towards the sky in brilliance as he screams it as if to make his point known.

"Cower and know death fool.."

Just then the sound of two resonation blades behind him caused the Wraith Lord to whirl around and meet them with his claymore, the Arbitor's threat beckoning closer as the Wraith Lord unholstered his pistol in one hand and takes up his claymore with hand and a half, holding Kalendros against the ground with one and taking shotgun blasts at the Arbitor with another.

The Arbitor's body shifts with each heavy shot that sings as it hits his armor, suddenly in a fury unmatched his wings burst into flame and he flies forward striking the Wraith Lord and knocking him aside, rending his arm with one slice and with another cutting his shoulder clear off.

"He is mine, for my honor let me take him.", Kalendros's bubbling voice echos in the respirator, choking on blood.

"As you wish, brother", the Arbitor steps back and his wings disappear into the back of his armor, his resonance blade goes silent.

The surviving rangers and the Ranger Lord step forward and surround the maimed body of the Wraith Lord.

"By the fury of the Emperor and the mandate of the imperial order against all those who would oppose his rule or seek to threaten our existence, I cast you back to the pits of hell black blood, may you never know the peace of true existence again."

"F-", the Wraith Lord attempted to eek out a response only to be cut off by the sharp vibrations of resonating blades cutting through his chest and head. The sound of crushing bone and sliced flesh echo throughout the woods as a warning. The corpse slumped forward and black viscous fluid pooled below the body.

"It is done", Kalendros choked as he cleaned his blades.

The Arbitor rested his hand on Kalendros's shoulder, "come brother, we must nurse your wounds lest you meet the same fate as that bastard."

The men walk away from the grim battlefield, knowing very well that this was not the last of the Wraiths and their vile Wraith Lord they had seen. For like all the Dread King's minions they would be resurrected in his dreadful tombs and come back stronger than before.

They could only hope some day to stymy the flow of undeath and stop the plague that tormented them so. The fate of the Empire depended on it.

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"So tell me son, what brings you to my doorstep?", the monster shell of a man sat upon a throne in front of Michael, his armor gleamed and hummed as his voice echoed through the halls. He was the Forgemaster, a Duke of the Empire and a mighty warrior and craftsman.

"I seek strength, so that I may be a worthy successor to my father," Michael stated swiftly and humbly, on his knees before the throne.

"I can teach you what you want to know, but first you must prove yourself to me", the voice grew grim, "you have learned combat from some of the best the Empire has to offer correct?"

"My father and a few of his friends have shown me how to handle my way around a blade", Michael responded, knowing full well what his response would lead to.

"Good," the Forgemaster's voice trailed off then boomed, "Guards! Send in the Mastersmith.."

Another large framed man entered the room, wearing similar armor to the man on the throne but less elegant. His helmet adorned with rising pillars that shone against the lava that filled the forging room. A mighty hammer rested in his hands, even without armor Michael believed he stood an easy 7 foot tall.

"This is the boy?", the Mastersmith mockingly yelled to the Forgemaster, but before the he turned back around a blade had struck his armor and sent him reeling back. "I am no boy with all respect my lord," Michael wiped the sweat from his brow as his opponent gathered his bearings.

A mighty laughter arose from the throne, "Good, let us see if the son is worthy of his father's name," he pounded his hammer against the ground with a crashing thud of metal on concrete and both combatants charged each other.

At first it appeared Michael had the advantage over his foe, weaving himself around every swing of his opponent's heavy hammer and striking his foe's weak points. The Ranger's training was starting to show. Some fancy footwork and he had navigated himself behind the Mastersmith and pulled his sword back to swing.

However things quickly turned against Michael as his feet were swept out from underneath him by a quick sweep from the hammer's handle. He hit the ground with a sickening thud and his head shook violently around itself.

"Pride is the bane of all men," the Mastersmith said as he helped Michael to his feet, "never underestimate your foe, the battle isn't over until their heart stops beating, and even then there are exceptions.."

The Forgemaster stood to his feet at the throne, "Your father and the other Dukes have trained you well, but you have much to learn. I will offer you my help son of the Arbitor," he stepped down the steps towards Michael, "when I am done with you, your skin shall be stronger than iron, your will like refined steel, and your skills with smithing shall be unmatched in the Empire," he rested his hand on the boy's shoulder.

"Your father would be proud."