The Protector of Rhodes

2:13 am, The Acropolis of Lindos, Isle of Rhodes

The beautiful Isle of Rhodes, the gem of the Aegean, one of the most prolific ports of the ancient world. In ancient times it was a bustling metropolis, from Rhodes being the site of the historic Colossus in the ancient times of the Greeks and Romans, to the times of the Knights of St. John. The isle had a rich history, displayed proudly by the amount of ancient sites that still dotted the island, none more prolific than the Acropolis of Lindos. A temple stronghold, built by the Greeks that had survived the passage of time, now being known as a popular tourist site.

But within the ancient complex, there lied a secret, hidden from the world.

“Ahh,” a pale skinned man, standing at a height that neared six feet with wild brown hair framing his head like a lion’s mane said, gazing at the ancient acropolis from a close distance away on a large rock outcropping, with a long, iconic looking cape billowing in the light breeze behind him. He wore a chainmail shirt that was colored a deep black, as well as a pair of black shorts, with chains hanging lower than the cut off on the shorts. In a way, he looked like a symbolic prince of darkness, but the attire he wore could do no justice to the true blackness in his heart. “The Acropolis of Lindos; such a fabulous structure.” he said as a sinister grin crossed his features. “I can’t wait to burn it to the ground.”

Yes, Ut Puri had taken interest in Rhodes, as the island had proven itself as a prime stronghold in the passage of time. It was sort of a neutral zone, stemming from stories of the island having protectors from any recorded invasion. Somehow, Rhodes had even avoided occupation by the Axis powers under Mussolini’s command, and even repelled an attempted occupation by the famed Desert Fox. That was something none of the Mediterranean countries could claim, and this fact had the repercussion of giving the isle some much unneeded attention from Ut Puri.

The current leader of Ut Puri had set his eyes on the isle as Ut Puri’s next great conquest, hoping to use its convenient location to broaden the reach Ut Puri had on the Mediterranean. The church of Alexandria had taken great strides to fend off the influence of Ut Puri from ‘the cradle of civilization’, especially with the advent of the new Judge Magister running the place, the Ursa, Siobhan Bocharov. Her beauty was matched only by her skill, which itself was matched by few others. She possessed the ability of geomancy, which blended the Ursa's ki with the raw power of the cosmos itself to manipulate the world around them, from eruptions, to storms, to phenomena that is only experienced naturally in the wilds of space. As great as her abilities sounded, however, there were a few members of Ut Puri, the Justicars, which could pose a serious threat to her skill. To that end, he had sent one of the most feared Justicars in the ranks of Ut Puri to conquer Rhodes, the nihilistic Daeva known as Julian Draven.

The name alone sent chills through most Sovrumano, as Julian had a murderous reputation…before ever hooking up with Ut Puri. Orphaned at a young age, Julian had grown up in the darkness that is the ‘underground’ of the world. Exposed to the harsher aspects of life, he trusted nothing but his natural power at a Daeva to carry him through. He soon became addicted to the world of underground fighting, using his natural talent to crush his foes, en route to the top of the proverbial food chain. His heritage became known to organizations such as the Yakuza, the mafia, and others, soon becoming a mercenary for hire, a manslayer. The number of victims that fell to him numbered in the thousands, as Julian knew no quarter for his foes. He was sadistic, homicidal, a maniac, one who truly relished in the pain of others, especially those Sovrumano that he felt were under him.

“This is one of the few places we haven’t checked for a resistance,” Julian said after a moment, turning from his perch on the outcropping to address the three man contingent of skilled Ut Puri hoplites that had accompanied him. “We have been too kind; these Sovrumano still have the fires of will burning in their eyes. I want to douse that flame from any who dare to oppose us with my own hands.” Julian held out his hand, before making a display of balling it into a tight fist. “This place was known as a stronghold for a thousand years, and a haven of sorts for those that opposed our Order ever since. The time for Ut Puri to rise to the world stage is near; we start that ascent today.”

“For purity, for order!” the contingent yelled out, in unison as they pumped their fists twice in the air.

Julian nodded at the men with the same devious expression, before suddenly taking on a hard look of focus. His trademark purple eyes glowed as he focused his ki; as a real master of Daeva abilities, he had the power to travel within the shadows themselves, as one with the voids of darkness. This is the ability that truly gave Julian his moniker, being known for his murderous strikes from the shadows themselves to kill his targets. It was useful as an offensive weapon, no doubt, but Julian also saw a more supplementary purpose for the technique- an incredibly efficient traveling and spying tool. As he focused his ki, the silhouette that he cast on the ground from the mellow moonlight started to change shape, extending itself into long tendrils that seemed to bleed in with the shadows of the other men. With this small, almost imperceptible connection, he could ‘teleport’ the men with him to their mission. It was simple enough in Julian’s mind: make sure there were no elements of an organized resistance, and if so, to eliminate them.

With the state of the world as it was, the conflict between Ut Puri and the Illuminati had become a war in the shadows, in the underground that Julian himself was raised in. This resulted in perhaps the only thing the Illuminati and Ut Puri had in common: the silent agreement to keep the conflict out of the eyes of the world, specifically, the government and political eyes. Yes, there were times that both groups had a hand in political affairs, but that time had passed, at least for now. History had shown both organizations the detriments of that; for the Illuminati, it was the question of human versus Sovrumano, a question of equality, where in the case of Ut Puri, it had escalated to a level that literally almost ended the world, in the days of the Second Great War, when they had aided the efforts of Hitler and his Holocaust, and the near mystic experiments the dictator was rumored to support. Did the government know of their existence? Yes, but at long as both organizations kept themselves off the radar, so to speak, they generally left them alone. However, an organized resistance could, and eventually would, draw unneeded attention to their organization, and it fell to Julian to quash that. Besides, it wasn’t just the government Julian was cautious of; he wanted to establish Ut Puri’s presence as soon as possible, before the Illuminati found out about his organizations plans for the isle.    

“Move on my signal,” Julian said with a stern look, seconds before he and his men sunk into the shadows of the night. The original shadow of Julian expanded in the matter of a giant black amoeba, swallowing up the shadows of his men that it had latched onto prior. Following this, the shadow darted along the ground at a fast pace, staying to the darkness at it flowed over the rocky outcroppings of the acropolis below. The shadow traversed the ancient, man-made wall that separated the surrounding area from its courtyard, stopping only when it hit the bottom of a set of timeless, prolific stairs, the Staircase of the Propylaea. The shadow quivered for a bit, before separating itself into the original four shadows of their owners, with the men rising from them in a way reminiscent of an elegant swimmer rising from the water.   

“You can stop right there,” a wizened voice, with a tone revealing the advanced age of the owner, yet still compelling a fierce bravery, said. The three hoplites instantly recognized the threat, and with a practiced ease, surrounded Julian in a three point defensive formation. Julian, however, felt no threat, only letting an eerily amused smile grace his face before looking up at the person who had addressed them. It was nothing more than an old man standing at the top of the steps, looking to be in his sixties, dressed in jade colored pants that had black and gold stitching for decoration, and a simple white tee shirt. However, Julian suddenly sensed something different about this man. It may have been the way he glared at Julian, his granite gaze unwavering in the presence of the known manslayer, or it may have been the way the man stood, upright, like someone who was ready for fight.

“My, my, my,” Julian said, clapping his hands a few times in a clear, mocking fashion. “This is a rare occurrence. Usually my victims try to run in futility, averting their gaze from this face of death.”    

The man’s confidence didn’t waver, instead leveling a steeled glare at the dark minded Sovrumano. “Your reputation precedes you Draven. I know of all your sadistic exploits; it’s true that many would flee from your presence in genuine fear, but I am no such person. You have no place on these grounds murderer! You’re a traitor to your own kind!”

Julian feigned a look of hurt that was foiled by the amused shaking of his shoulders, before breaking out into a wicked sounding laugh. “It’s true, so true,” Julian said with a sick grin. “But you know what? This whole isle is about to feel the blade of Draven the Manslayer.” To make his point, he again focused his energy, only this time, he held out his hand, straight as a rod, before manifesting his dark ki in the form of a blade that surrounded his hand. “And you’re first!”  The jaded Daeva suddenly darted up the steps with a speed that made him a near blur to the eyes of his men, his blade of shadows leading his charge, fully poised to impale the old man with extreme prejudice.

However, it shocked Julian to the core when he felt his wrist seized in an iron grip, courtesy of the older man, who now wore the look of a battle tested warrior. “I see your masters never taught you to respect your elders,” the man said in a low, menacing voice, before pulling Julian past his right side, turning in the same instant to strike with a simple back fist at the head of the Daeva. The maneuver was performed with such speed and ease that Julian couldn’t react in time to defend, so he took the blow full on. Julian’s eyes widened from the force of the hit, his vision being marred by the white lights that precede a knockout blow. If that wasn’t bad enough, the hit itself had the power to propel Julian even further forward, a good five meters of sailing in the air face first before skidding on the ground.

The three corpsmen suddenly armed themselves upon seeing their leader lose the exchange with the older man. From their backs, they pulled out the standard issue assault weapon of all Ut Puri forces: a modified ARX Beretta assault rifle with explosive, hollow tipped rounds that could rip through three feet of steel and still kill. These were made especially for the pure human members of the organization, as the assault rifle was modified by Ut Puri engineers with versatility in mind. Besides the damage from the rounds, the gun also boasted a laser sight that doubled as an offensive weapon; a thin blade of laser like plasma that could cut though even the toughest of diamonds like butter. “Ut Puri!” one of the hoplites yelled, rallying his fellow operatives. “Eliminarlo!”

“Sì, signore!” the other operatives said in a unified voice, before the two charged at the man from both sides, wielding their guns like short swords as they took cautious aim to strike. While they did this, the corpsman that had ordered the attack stood back, loading his rifle to support the others. They knew that Julian would want to be the one to end his life, as the man had actually stood up to him, and took it a step further by landing a clean, devastating hit, so they attacked with the aim of incapacitation.

That proved to be a mistake.

As the corpsmen would soon learn, this older man was perhaps the worst kind of target they could face. As pure human operatives, they relied on their modified weapons to fight, especially when it came to combating Sovrumano. If those weapon were to be rendered useless, it would be little more than a formality that they would fall. This man was just the kind of person that could do that, as they found out when their weapons suddenly flew out of their hands, floating in the air as if they were being manipulated by a phantom force. The corpsmen stopped their actions as they watched their weapons in horror of the implications. The leading corpsman was the first to put the pieces all together, staring at the older man with an accusing point of his finger, stuttering as he tried to speak. “You! You-re-!”

 “Anyone ever tell you how bad an idea it is to try to fight a monkey with metal?” the man asked with a small grin of victory. Yeah, he was a Sovrumano as well, a Simia with an excellent control of his racial ability, the manipulation of all things metallic. They used their ki to mold and control natural metals, while the more talented of the Simia could manipulate the very quality of metal, down to its core elemental structure.

Needless to say, human Ut Puri operatives were at a loss against this particular race of Sovrumano. The older man drove that point home, literally, by directing the guns over their heads with a lax twist of his hand, before slashing down in the air, causing the laser blade sights to impale themselves in the heads of the hoplites. The man watched impassively as the three men fell to the ground in separate heaps, no doubt dead from the surprisingly lethal assault.

Upon hearing a crack behind him, he turned swiftly, in the same process directing the guns to aim themselves at Julian, who had gotten up during his men’s failed attack. He was relatively unfazed from the earlier assault, save a small trickle of blood that came from his temple, and a face marred with minor scrapes and bruise from the unwelcome face slide on the unforgiving stone grounds. “Quite the contradiction,” Julian scoffed, looking at his fallen men with no shred of remorse. “You patronize me about being a murderer, yet you just killed three defenseless humans.” Julian grinned as he started to head towards the older man with a brisk pace, “Tell me!” he yelled as he charged once again, a crazed expression on his face as he struck out with a punch that was met by a hard, skilled block from the man. “How did it feel to extinguish a life that is lower than our own?”

“The same way it’s going to feel when I exterminate you and your organization’s presence from this isle!” the man yelled, hitting Julian straight in the chest with a double open palm thrust, pushing the Daeva away from him. Julian quickly recovered his footing from the push, but before he could move to attack again, the man gave him yet another surprise by lifting his hand, upending Julian by his shorts due to the metal chains attached to them. “You know,” the man said as a stony look came to his face, while simultaneously aiming the three guns that he still controlled with his ki, each in a vital spot. “I could very well kill you right now, and finally end your spree of terror.”

“Do it!” Julian yelled, actually daring them man to follow through with his threat. “Watch the ramifications of my death as Ut Puri descends on this isle like a cleansing flame. Watch how soon this island suffers a fate the likes of Atlantis, dismissed beneath the seas and cursed to be an afterthought in the pages of time!”

The older man held Julian in his place as he gauged the expression of the crazed Daeva. “You have no fear of death, no peace mind you, but no fear.” The man took a step closer to Julian, still on his guard as he kneeled down to look into the upside down eyes of Julian. “What is your organization’s aim for this place?”

The question threw Julian for a loop, not expecting the man to exhibit any type of curiosity for his or Ut Puri’s plans. “That would be telling,” Julian answered with a sinister grin. ‘Good,’ he thought as he continued to look at the man in the face, if only to draw the man’s attention from his attempt at escape. Even now, his shadows were slowly cutting the chains from the cloth of his shorts, but he could tell that the old man was completely on guard, ready for anything. If this was to work, he needed to distract him, so he decided to oblige the man after a few more tense seconds. “But I guess it won’t hurt to let you in on it; this isle has no hope of resistance anyway. Ut Puri seeks to expand, to reclaim the power we had possessed in the ancient past. Soon, you will see as Ut Puri leads the world into a glorious age, one that will be dictated by our will.”

“Sounds sick,” the man said simply before subtly waving his hand, seeking to end the life of the malevolent Sovrumano. However, Julian had gotten the time he needed so get free, only upside down now thanks to his own manipulation of his ki, with the shadows clinging both to him and the chains. With that being said, he barely dodged the salvo of bullets that the older man had let loose, doing a sit up to escape the bullets’ trajectory. In the same motion, Julian aimed his hands at the ground, as two waves of shadow like ki emanated from inside his palms to collide with the ground below. Julian brought his hands together, pulling the two smaller shadow waves together into a larger one, before sinking into the wave itself. “Coward!” the man yelled, directing the rifles to shoot at the mass of shadows that was hastily fleeing. The man chased after the shadow until it ascended the wall, clear out of his reach. The man shook as he balled his fists up, still tense as he stared at the way the Daeva had used to flee.     

‘He’ll be back,’ the man thought, keeping his guard up for a few more seconds, knowing of Julian’s tendencies to sneak attack an enemy of threat from the shadows. Once he felt it safe from any other presences, the man suddenly dropped to a knee, panting as his face became instantly covered in a light film of sweat. It was now that the man truly showed his age, controlling his breathing until his breaths evened out. ‘I can’t keep this up forever.’ Despite his skill with his supernatural abilities, even he could do nothing to stave away the enemy of time. He was sick, in the final stages of cancer, with perhaps a good three months left in him. It was only his force of will that kept him from giving up, but he knew that his time was almost up.

It was he that had been the Protector of Lindos, of Rhodes, since he had been entrusted with the task of his family line almost forty years prior with the death of his father. Unlike his predecessor, he had no heir, so his line, the royal line of Troy itself, would die with him. With the activity of Ut Puri increasing on the island by the day, he couldn’t trust just anyone to protect the item that had defined his family’s legacy. With that thought in mind, he thought of the young Illuminati Corporal that he had mistook for an enemy that week prior, as well as the task he had trusted the wild youth with. ‘Please Santana,’ he thought as he looked to the starlit sky above. ‘Rhodes begs for the salvation of the Illuminati. We’re depending on you; our race’s continued survival rests with the delivery of that message.’

Just like the Exemplars, he knew one thing for certain: if Soulbreaker fell into Ut Puri’s hands for a second time, it could leave an irreplaceable scar on the world itself. It was only a matter of time before Julian wizened up to what Rhodes had hidden from history itself. How much longer could the isle keep its dangerous secret from the murderous manslayer of Ut Puri?