Spirit Eternal

Disclaimer: I do not own Beyblade.

Author Notes: This is a story that kind of came to me in my summer school class when I was playing around with ideas in my mind.

Synopsis: This story is based in medieval times… knights and such. Anyways, it has little to do with actually beyblading, but it does have a few things to do with ‘Sacred Spirits’ and things. If you read Gundam Wing Fanfics, it’s sort in the motive of those WW2 fics some authors write where the boys are soldiers in WW2.

Basically in this story, the gang (My Original Characters included, now they are a tad different here though) are in the possession of pieces of weaponry or other special items that posses them the ability to don ‘mythical’ armor that grants them special skills. With this story I kind of hope to have a bit of fun, it’s not really something that I’d call my ‘serious’ writing. But you are the judge of how good it is.

I don’t know really how to summarize it, but if you give me ten minutes and read this first chapter, hopefully you’ll get what I’m talking about.

Chapter #1: The Red Knight

Fanfares blared as crowds avidly chatted. It was another knight tournament in the rich capital of the kingdom. Women were watching as their favorite knights showed off, practicing with their multitudes of weapons, wearing full silvery metal armor.

Eventually the first matches began as heralds announced loudly for all to hear, the names of the knights competing. The matches were savage; it wasn’t uncommon for a knight to be carried out, bleeding, or worse. But the victors were always hailed by the applause of many noble women cheering for particular knights they had a fondness for.

“Ladies and Gentlemen… and now it’s time for a true treat! The knights for the next round will be Lord Deifenberg, and he will cross lances today with the one, and only… The Red Knight!” the herald yelled.

The two competitors rode unto the field; Lord Deifenberg had a suit of fine white shined armor, obviously the result of hard work done by his squire to make it gleam like that. His opponent was on top of an ink black steed, his armor red with gold, orange, and black. His helmet seemed to have a beaked extension, like that the head of a bird. The decorative fur at the back cascaded all the way down his back and his white scarf billowed in the wind, the only thing white on the outfit. Even his horse was armored to match, it reared, and the knight shifted the lance he held into a position as ladies cheered for the mysterious rider.

The noble lord closed his visor as his horse neighed, shifting his lance straight foreword. The red knight followed, suddenly the two charged at each other, the white stallion racing at the ink black one. Their lances met halfway, both breaking into thousands of tiny pieces from impact. The white horse neighed in terror and kept racing on. The knight on top of him collapsed down pushed over by the remains of the red-knights lance.

The black horse continued foreword, slowing only when his rider threw away the broken lance and pulled back on the reins hard, causing the horse to rear and neigh, his front hooves waving wildly in the air, the armor around them gleaming like it was on fire.

The horse turned around to let the rider to see the damage he did, the other rider was on the floor, in the mud, his armor no longer gleaming, now it was mud stained. Some serfs were running over to help the knight up, the lord opened his visor and glared at the red rider, but he couldn’t see his face, as the red knight’s visor was still down.

“Ha!” The red knight commanded his horse, racing off, vanishing as fast as he came.

Women cheered but none of them drew the attention of the red knight as he vanished in a cloud of dust kicked up by the beating hooves of his black stallion.

The crowd was stunned beyond stunned, and many women were disappointed over how easily Lord Deifenberg lost, disappointed, but not surprised.

Meanwhile behind the carnival tents the red rider stopped, getting off his horse, raising his visor, casting a glance around him. Pulling off his helmet he shook out his blue hair, letting his grayish blue bangs fall into their natural angles. Looking at his steed he smirked.

“That’s another match for us,” he spoke to himself. His horse neighed in affirmation, snorting, his ears wiggling. Looking around again, he made sure no one was around, before he touched the hilt of his sword. Fire seemed to ignite around it as suddenly it began to circle the teen, his armor vanishing. Fire also circled around his horse, replacing the fancy reddish armor with a simple saddle and bridle.

The teen now wore a Red tunic, black cloak, black trousers, black boots, and black gloves, the white scarf was still tied around his neck, hanging back nearly to his knees.

The horse snorted, glad to be relieved of the weight of the extra armor, patting the horse on the neck the youth took hold on his reins and pulled him towards one of the posts, tying him there.

“There you are my boy,” a deep voice spoke from behind.

The youth turned around, his chocolate eyes instantly narrowing, “What is it Grandfather?” he asked, his tone just hinting at a bit of distrust.

“You just missed a very interesting joust Kai,” his grandfather began, “The red knight showed up, and left as quickly as he came, I thought you wanted to see him,” he added.

“Maybe I did, what of it?” Kai replied.

“Kai, don’t you see? That knight is nothing but a showoff, why I bet even you could defeat him given the correct armor,” his grandfather replied.

“I don’t see how that can be possible,” Kai replied, turning back to his horse, putting his hand on the hilt of his sword, ‘it isn’t possible for me to defeat the red knight, I am the red knight,’ he thought to himself.

“Don’t underestimate yourself my boy, I know you could defeat him if you wanted,” the man spoke in a grave, commanding tone.

“What if I don’t want to defeat him? For what, Fame? For hundreds of young maidens chasing after me because I defeated their hero? I don’t need that!” Kai barked, he was getting annoyed, and the way he gripped the reins of his tied horse, showed his annoyance.

“Think of the money my boy if you married the richest one of them, their whole estates, their whole treasuries would be at your feet,” his grandfather responded.

“Count Voltaire, the Duke of Ellensburg wishes to see you,” a serf approached, bowing at the intrusion, afraid of the man’s wrath at being interrupted during one of the talks to his ever-disobedient grandson.

“Alright, Kai think about it, all the riches you could imagine could be right at your feet, think about what you might be missing,” Voltaire added.

“I don’t need them Grandfather, it is obvious you want to get at the gold, I don’t need it at all. What we have now is more than enough for me,” Kai replied, with that he untied his horse, and mounted, sending a glare at the serf “Go!” he commanded the horse, hitting the stallion’s belly roughly with his heels, riding off, annoyed by the mere thought of having to tolerate someone inferior him on a daily basis.

“The nerve, I could win all the gold I wanted if I wanted,” he spoke aloud, seemingly to his horse, which snorted. What he didn’t notice was another rider following him behind, on a much slower horse than his own fine black Arabian stallion.

He steered the horse back towards the galley, feeling particularly annoyed at the moment, deciding to relieve his anger on another pathetic excuse of a knight. Pulling his word out he rolled it in his hand; the ruby at the hilt began to glow.

The following rider saw this glow, and his horse reared when he saw fire erupt from the hilt, spreading, surrounding both rider and horse ahead, red armor materialized on both, before his eyes, the red knight appeared, his armor appearing on the teen boy, out of thin air, as if by act of magic.

‘He's a warlock!’ the serf thought in terror, commanding his horse to turn around, ‘I must notify the Duke of Ellensburg,’ with that the serf raced off, urging his horse to move as quickly as it could.

Author Notes: So how was it? If you think I should continue, REVIEW!