Blue Eyes, Silver Body: The Rise of Necronak

by The Lich Lord

Rating: teen
Tags: Dark, Alternate Universe, Human, Sad
Length: 2364

A teenager dies which leads him to create a Universe of magic, ponies and everything inbetween. But, he soon becomes enraged by the idea of ponies worshipping Alicorns, believing them to be true gods.

This is a story of a super-natural entity, who creates a universe with a planet of magical creatures once his own life ends. But when the ancient ponies believe the Alicorns are gods, he goes on a personal mission to prove that no creature in the Universe he created is perfect. So, he manipulates the unappreciated Night Princess into becoming an icon of what he wants to prove. This all happens before the Element Bearers are even born. 1000 Years before the Summer Sun Celebration.

*Cover art and MLP:FiM doesn't belong to me, and both belong to respective owners.*

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2014-05-04 09:52:22 UTC

Chapter: 1 - Updated

Chapter: 1 - Departure into Darkness

Fleeing into the nearest alleyway, I carry on running with my head turned to the side so I can detect my stalker easier. I had sensed I was being followed minutes earlier, but to me that's pretty normal here in Hanuki Valley. Up until fairly recently, my life had been pretty normal for the most part. I went to Hanuki Valley Higher Education (which is referred to as HHES by my fellow students), which was basically the only high school in the entire city. Which is pretty strange considering that the city itself has some empty fields of grass where more buildings could be built, but I guess the higher-ups wanted more parks rather than buildings.

Yeah, the high school is fairly normal is some aspects. We do the usual stuff: Science, Maths, English. That kind of thing. Strangely, I didn't know where the English language originated up until I did Geography for a while. Out of curiosity, I had checked the globes and maps but could not locate any such place what the language was named after. I had to ask my English teacher, who revealed that it was named after the creator of the language,  Englan Finnoc.

Now, you may say "Well, what makes your recent memories so strange?". Well, at first I thought that the girl next door to me (who I had been the childhood friend of for nearly all my life) was becoming more clingy. But, and I don't know how this happened, She became somewhat... insane. The creepy looks, psychotically affectionate contact drove me back with my hands often in front of me with my only thought being "Nope". You know, the normal stuff. As I recount my memories to myself mentally, I fail to note the alleyway's back-wall drawing ever closer with each bounding step I take.

And that was just the start, It got a whole lot worse as it went on. When my parents went away for a week on business (they work at the same branch of the same company, since they met each other when they became employees), I was stuck with that psycho who had been given the spare key by my parents because she was so trusted and they wanted someone able to check up during the day. Good thing our doors have bolts, otherwise I don't know what would have happened. And later on into the week, I ended up with a total of at least FOUR of girls stalking me around at random points throughout both school and at night.

Half way through the week, when I had almost lost the effort to go on until my parents got back, I found something. On my front garden, I found a strange mask half-buried in the uncut grass of the garden. Due to my curious nature, I carried it into my home and cleaned it up. The mask itself was made of strong silver with steel details (which make it resemble a human skull) welded onto it, blue and silver thread rags of cloth riveted to the mask which (when the mask is worn) would cover the back of your head and your whole neck. I had worn the mask later on and had gone on to leaving the house just to patrol the city, but only to act as a sort of spectator of what goes on. Out of curiosity, since I had nothing else to do other than sit around since I never willingly slept in case one of those crazed girls broke in whilst I was unconscious. During the day, I keep the mask in a locked cube-shaped box in my wardrobe for safe keeping.

Right now, I'm supposed to be walking to school. Instead, I'm being chased down by some maniac who tried to jump me a couple streets away. I've got to hand it to this person, they're very persistent. The mask had given me a slight increase in speed for running, but this person is still able to keep up no matter what boosts I have. Coming from my thoughts, I yell as I slam into the wall at the end of the alleyway, causing me to fall backwards whilst holding my now bruised eye.

The solid, concrete ground beneath me gave no soft impact upon my clothed back. The thick, black hoodie on my lower back (beneath my similarly black backpack) was sliced at by the razor-like shards of broken glass lining the ground like deadly blades of grass. I yelped in pain as small shards struck my clothed flesh, causing me to force my hand into the shards as I struggled to my feet. I looked in horror at my now bloodied hand as it shook from the pain-induced adrenaline pouring through my veins, forced by the fast beating heart within my chest furiously pumping blood through my body. Holding my bleeding hand, I back up into the shadows of the alleyway, and try to reduce the sound of my heavy breathing.

Hearing ominous, echoing footsteps edging closer, I slump further back into the shadows cast by the silver vents and brick roofing above. My eyes fix onto the outline of a figure cast by the lamp-posts close to the alleyway's entrance, with my pupils smaller with my heartbeat increasing as the figure steps slowly forwards, seemingly unaware of my presence. With each step the figure advances, the more I attempt to escape the eerie presence by pressing against the wall more. I gasp as I slip, a relatively loud sound in the deafening silence of the dank alley. Outstretching my right arm to steady myself on instinct, I accidently slap away an empty can which causes it roll into the figure's sight, already alerted by my gasp.

Discovering my presence, the figure launches towards me as I yell out in shock, before I'm silenced by the gloved hands now holding my neck tightly. Yanking me from the shadows, he (his gender more clear now I can see him close up) slams my back down into the shards of glass, where the light from the alley entrance is most prominent. I instinctively grab the hands choking me with my own, my left hand smearing his gloves with a few streaks of clotting blood. My eyes slowly bulge from their sockets as my head is stared of oxygen, the skin of my face growing more and more blue. I release one of my hands from those holding my neck to look for a weapon.

With my eyes watering, I begin to frantically shove my free hand across the ground, cutting my knuckles from the shards of glass. Searching the ground weakly, my hand brushes along the source of the shards. The cold glass of a discarded bottle of an alcoholic drink brushes along my bloody fingers, the contact making me turn my bulging eyes to the side to locate the bottle's handle. Grasping the bottle's handle with my weakening hand, I swing the bottle's shattered form to the head of my assailant. The sounds of the bottle exploding into shards and the pained gasps of both me and the man emanate through the alleyway as glass shards slice his head onto to land onto mine. Releasing my neck, he falls backwards whilst holding his eyes with hands slowly growing more painted in his life essence. Slumping my head onto the concrete floor, my arms lay limply to my sides as I pant from near-suffocation.

Rolling onto my stomach, I weakly use my hands to push me to my knees before turning my head to look at the man, his form now rolling around on the floor from the glass embedded into the flesh of his scalp and face. The edges of my vision clear so that darkness does not line them, but a slight blue tinge replaces the darkness as I slowly stand up and back away from the figure as he stands up with one hand rubbing his head and one reaching into his trench coat. Lowering the hand holding his head, my eyes go wide as I stare at the glass shard digging into the soft flesh of his eye, blood and clear-ish liquid draining from the wound. The man half grins wickedly and half scowls with seething hatred towards me, his prey which is fighting back.

Removing his hand from his coat's inner pocket, he bares a menacing-looking crooked blade. The silver metal glints in the dim lighting, the rays reflecting upwards to shine onto the fiend's face. Growling and snarling, the man lunges forwards with his blade and swipes it through the air. Reacting swiftly, I reach my right-hand towards the wrist below the knife-wielding hand only for the wrist of that hand to be grabbed by his free one. Chuckling darkly, my assailant pulls on my hand causing me to expose my back as my arm is pulled away, only to then plunge the blade into my now exposed back. Screaming from the searing pain striking through the flesh of my back, I throw my free left-hand around and deliver a powerful impact onto the man's cheek, causing him to groan in pain before dislodging the knife as he backs away.

Slumping forwards from the fatal wound, I knock over the tin cans filled with waste which are closest to me as I fall against the wall for support. Coughing up speckles of blood, I weakly turn my drooping eyes to my assailant as he holds a hand to his eye, the force of my punch disturbing the glass in his eye and causing the wound to drain more bodily fluid onto his face. But then I notice the lack of knife in his hands, making me look down to the concrete ground and notice the heavily-bloodied blade laying on the ground. With seething anger at the cause of my bleeding wound, I lazily scoop up the blade's handle into my blood-caked hands and slowly approach my distracted attacker.

Grabbing the fiend by his greasy, facial-hair ridden neck, I begin to repeatedly shove the knife's pointed tip into his stomach over and over. His hands droop to his sides as blood squirts in torrents with each strike landing onto his now sliced open abdomen. The hands try and lift up to grab me weakly, but I respond in a fit of rage by thrusting the blade into his stomach as far as the blade will enter, becoming stuck within the thick flesh. Releasing his neck, I grab the knife's handle with both hands and begin to pull forcefully, falling onto my back when the blade finally comes loose. Groaning, I sit up and watch as the corpse of my foe slumps back and slides down the wall, as his stomach slides from the gaping wound.

With the adrenaline draining from me with each droplet of blood escaping through the hole in my back, the edges of my vision slowly retain the darkness from earlier as my heart slowly falters under the bodily trauma I've sustained. Coughing up more crimson ichor, I push myself up to stand but I need to lean into the wall to remain upright as my legs become too weak to stand on their own. Using the damp concrete alley walls to my side as support, I begin to slowly limp towards the exit. Once I finally step to the threshold, I slump further against the wall as blood drips from my mouth, my fatal wound bringing me closer to death but my steps bring me closer to aid, giving me my purpose to keep moving forwards. Spitting out the excess gore in my mouth, I force my legs to weakly move forwards.

But, without any aiding walls to lean against for support, I fall to my hands and knees as I violently choke up more gore from the rising pool inside my chest. The physical trauma wreaking havoc through my body causes me to fall into a more prone position as my arms become more weak, my mouth exploding with a more frothy torrent of blood. My arms lose all feeling as a cold numbness spreads through me like a snaking frost, my form losing strength as my body collapses into the blood pool forming around me. Lazily, I turn my head to the side as to not drown in my own bodily fluid, my eyelids drooping as the gaping wound within saps me of my energy.

My eyes rotate around in my sockets as they scan my view, the hand to my right twitching momentarily as blood drips down its fingers into the growing pool around me, some bubbles in the pool caused by the frothy mixture which drained from my bloodied throat. The cold, concrete tiles of the path I had collapsed onto steals the warmth from my near-corpse. More thick, crimson liquid drips from my mouth, blocking any speech I can make from escaping my throat and into the morning air around me. The ringing sound echoing within my skull is near-deafening, all noises around me distorted and muffled. The short, rapid sounds of multiple pounding sprints comes ever nearer towards me, my vision revealing many other students only just noticing my dying form as I lay in silence.

As the sound of voices begins to rise in the air, the sound reaching my ears begins to wane as my mind slowly begins to shut off from blood loss, my death drawing closer. The sight of healthy youths around me is slowly eaten away by a new, colder sight. Or lack of. The edges of my vision are now completely swallowed by darkness, the rest of my sight slowly becoming consumed by black as my eyes involuntarily droop further and further down as they seal shut, my eyes rotating upwards. I felt my body become an abnormal lightness, all feeling now gone from my dying nerves as oxygen fails to reach the dying tissue of my form.

And my consciousness, though with me mere hours earlier, began to fade into its counterpart. Leaving me to wonder if this was my end.