1 You Want It Darker

Hi, I'm Darkscythe Drake. Before you read this, I should say a few things:

I love My Hero Academia. The world and characters that Horikoshi-sensei created are an amazing take on the superhero genre and an excellent way of adapting it to the manga/anime world. The messages and lessons that All-Might and the cast teach inspire me every time I read them, both in canon and fanfiction.

Which is why you might be surprised by what I'm writing. To be fair, this is written at midnight after reading some pretty good MHA fanfics and playing a certain mobile game involving heroes (3 guesses what, cookies will be rewarded), but this fic is a projection of my feelings and frustrations towards most of the superhero genre, specifically in regards to one issue that I have seen pop up time and time again and has appeared and been debated countless times since the dawn of superhero comics. MHA falls in that category, and certain fics make that one of their main points.

Also, very few BNHA describe what I'm about to do so, point for me...

Warning: this is an OC-centric fic, so it may seem a bit off-putting, but I can assure I will do my best to make sure he doesn't fall into Gary-Stu territory, and if he will seem OP...well, in this case, it's kind of the idea.

What is this issue? Well, read and find out...

"Heroes are wrong."

The mid-aged woman puts the paper down on her desk and looks at me with a half-amused, half-puzzled gaze. "Well, I have to say, I should've expected this from you, but you manage to find a new way to reach the bottle don't you?"

I shrug at her, a little annoyed at the sardonic tone she was using. It doesn't matter how many times she says it, it won't make it change. Unless there's some bizarre Quirk that can do that.

She notices my gesture and made a 'tsk', but doesn't comment otherwise. She lifts the paper again and continues, her brown eyes following the words I wrote with precision, eyebrows lifting and dropping as she spoke:

"It's undeniable that the Heroic Age has brought peace and prosperity to the world. The rise of the Pro Hero has all but stopped wars between countries. These licensed individuals who use their powers daily to stop crime and defeat villains have inspired others to follow in their footsteps, ensuring this cycle of prosperity keeps flowing. Just like other people, I admire them, but all the heroes today lack something that could truly help them stop villainy once and for all:

They refuse to put their morals behind what needs to be done.

An example of this is a case from 10 years ago where Pro Hero Edgeshot confronted the serial killer Bloodstring. The villain in question murdered a dozen and a half innocent children by pulling them apart and leaving them hanging by their veins. This man did it with no remorse and was sound of mind at the time. Furthermore, when the police and the hero confronted him, he managed to grab an officer and do the same thing. He did it in front of police witnesses and there was even a recording, yet Edgeshot still fought to incapacitate him. He did so in the end, with the help of additional Pro Heroes and the villain was imprisoned.

The villain's motivations were clear and he even confessed to it in court.

If so, then why wasn't Edgeshot allowed to kill him?

And not just in cases like that either. If the system makes it impossible for a man to be convicted, then wouldn't it be more efficient to eliminate them before they can do more damage?

What I'm trying to ask is this:

Why can't heroes be permitted to kill?"

The woman puts down the paper and looks at me with an incredulous expression before rubbing her forehead in frustration. "Talk about your problem student..." she mutters. She puts the paper down again and looks me in the eye.

"Didn't we talk about this before Ogawa-kun?"

I pretend to think for a moment before shaking my head. "Nope, not really."

By the way, my name is Ritsu Ogawa, and the woman wearing a suit and tie in front of me looking like she swallowed a fly-infested lemon - if you haven't figured it out - is my teacher, Makoto-sensei.

She opens her mouth to say something, before doing an imitation of a fish and sighing in exasperation.

'Oh boy, here she goes...'

"Ogawa-kun, I think we can agree you're a bright student. You do well in your studies - although your spelling could stand some improvement - and you try not to get into trouble. You can get into almost any college you want if you keep your studies up and I'm sure that any of them would be proud to have you as a student.

But what I don't get is your fascination with these...subjects!"

She gestures to the paper wildly, and I do feel some guilt. She's not a bad teacher by any means and she's just looking out for my well-being. Or trying to.

"Tell me, what was the topic of this essay?"

"I think it was 'Make a suggestion to improve any one specific division of the government'. That's what I did."

"I know that. Pro Heroes are part of the government after all, and I don't think there is anyone in the class who didn't choose a hero-related topic. But what I don't understand is why you chose a subject that's so...extreme!"

"You asked for a suggestion for improvement. I gave one. What's the big deal? It's not like I'm suggesting genocide or military police like Hitler."

Makoto-sensei looked gobsmacked for a second, but then she sighs again and slightly leans forward, her arms folded on the desk.

"You know why this can't happen right?"

Unfortunately, yes. "Fear of authority abuse, denial of due process, some ethical/moral reason and calming the masses, among other things?"

She frowns at the last one but doesn't comment. "More or less. Even if the person is as heinous as the one you mentioned, everyone deserves a fair trial and their due process to completely ensure if they're guilty or innocent. This isn't the Middle Ages; we have to be better than the criminals."

A small sigh escapes from my lips as I bite my lip and feel my fists tightening. I know why it's like that, I get it!

So why do I...?

Sensei takes one last look at the paper and puts it in the drawer. "Despite my reservations, I'll allow this and I won't show this to anyone, if only because you did technically complete the assignment.

But please don't mention anything like this again. I don't want the principal or any of the other teachers to start asking questions."

My shoulders loosen as I nod and pick up my bag. I head out the door when sensei speaks.

"Ogawa-kun?"

I turn around to meet her worried expression, an ever so tiny hint of a plea in her eyes.

"Just...please be careful. I don't want you getting into trouble over things like this."

I smile slightly and nod again.

"Don't worry, Makoto-sensei. I promise I won't do anything stupid."

With those words, I head out the door.

Well, I should have seen that talk coming, but I really couldn't help it.

If they want to make me write essays, then I should at least write it my own way. Even if most people disagree with it, and they don't have to, it is my opinion. No one can make me change it.

Those are my thoughts as I head down the street leading to the subway station. It's afternoon, so there are a lot of students like me around, shopping, studying, eating or doing whatever they want. I don't blame them; it's natural to seek those things after long hours of sitting down and listening to some grown-up mumble about something that is either completely boring or interesting but explained in a way that makes you want to jump off a bridge. Heck, that's what I'm doing now!

'Let's see...I did some of the work on recess, so I should have some time to stop for a visit and some ice-cream. Mom's coming late today, so that's a bonus.'

My mind made up, I reach the station and board the train. Luckily, I found an excellent seat, so I had some time to relax before getting off. The train had gone through a couple of stations when the small TV on the train flashed and a female reporter's voice blared through the speakers.

"This just in: the notorious villain group Akanagi has been apprehended near the lower Shinjuku district. Early reports from the scene state that a tip from an unknown source led to the police raiding a reported safehouse of the gang with Pro Heroes Midnight and Miruko. The confrontation between the two forces lasted from 10 to 15 minutes, with the villains countering many of the equipment the authorities brought with them."

The screen showed an image of several hooded men being led into the back of police cars.

"The group, which was first sighted around a year ago, dabbled in various criminal ventures, the most prominent one being illegal organ trading. While the source of their 'merchandise' is unconfirmed, it is widely believed that they kidnap innocent unfortunates such as homeless people off the streets or through human trafficking. Authorities have been chasing them down ever since, with the group evading capture until now thanks to coded messages and other means. I, for one, thank the heroes and the police for finally capturing these menaces to society and I'm sure the people of our city feel the same."

My eyes narrow at the news report, a burst of frustration flowing down my veins. Traffickers; pure scum - right up there with rapists and serial killers. Why were people like these allowed to live? Didn't people realize that by letting them live, other villains just keep coming?

I shook my head from such thoughts as the train slowed down at my destination. I got up from my seat with my bag and left, making my way through the station and climbing outside. The view of the street greeted me, much quieter than before. One of the reasons I like this neighborhood.

I stopped to buy some ice cream - cookies and cream naturally since I would accept no other flavor - and walked for a bit until I stood before a small, 3-story building. It had an old Middle-eastern look to it - Andalusian if I recall - with stained-glass windows and arches. Two pools flanked a small flight of stairs that led to the main entrance. Next to it was a sign that read: Collection of World History.

I walked up the stairs, pausing for a moment to look down at the pool, my reflection staring back at me. Anything out of place? Let's see...black hair? Still has that white streak (au naturel of course). Eyes? Pale blue as always (some of the kids tell me that I can freeze people just by looking if I get pissed - cool thought, not my Quirk). Face? Slightly angular...and an ice cream stain near my lips.

It's gone.

I head into the Collection, nodding a greeting at the clerk who responded the same. I walked through the sand-colored hallways and gazed at the various artifacts, a calm smile appearing on my face. Apart from my room, this place is my favorite hangout.

A few years ago, this rich philanthropist opened this place up seemingly overnight. I think he was some sort of archaeologist because he had all sorts of artifacts, paintings, and books from all over the world and from all of the different periods. A lot of people came at first - I think it was because of the free admission - but now it just trickled down to a few people a day, and me? I fell in love with this place. I've always been interested in old-world history, and when I saw bits and pieces of what it was like back then, and not just through a textbook or a computer, I was hooked. I come here at least twice a week, every week for the past few years and I'm familiar with the staff; namely the janitor, the doorman, and the clerk.

Huh, now that I think about it, three people manning a museum this size?...must be efficient guys.

As usual, there was no-one inside. No-one cares for history or museums anymore ever since Quirks were revealed; most of the 'history' these days focus on the dawn of the Hero Age and the various heroes that were in it. Nobody cares about what some Quirkless people did a thousand years ago.

If you haven't figured out by now, friends are not my strongest suit.

Oh well, I don't mind. I like it quiet.

I kept walking slowly through the hall, turning corners and admiring the collection when something tall caught my eye. At the end of the hall was a tall glass cabinet; one I'm positive I haven't seen before. I picked up my pace in anticipation and let a small grin appear. New exhibits were always interesting.

I came to a stop in front of the cabinet and was...a bit confused at what I saw.

Inside the cabinet was a large grey broadsword, as tall as I was. Its pommel was capped by a skull and a blue sash was wrapped just above the handle and around the widest part of the blade, held together by what looked like nails. The edges of the blade were black, a sharp yet smooth contrast to the sword's grey. The top half of the sword looked fine and shiny, but the point of the blade and the area surrounding it were rusty and dirtied by what looked like dried-out bloodstains. But what was odd about it was that the longer I looked at the sword, the more I started to feel a sense of...unease. There was a cold aura around it that made my skin crawl, and I have no idea why I didn't take a step back. But nope, I just kept looking at it, seemingly entranced by its qualities.

"Enjoying the new addition?"

"AHH!" I quickly jumped and turned around. Smirking in front of me was a tall man, wearing a black coat and white gloves. He held a cane in his hands and his posture was relaxed. He looked European and had a short grey beard and red eyes that seemed to twinkle in amusement. I haven't seen him before in the museum; was he a newcomer? Where did he come from?

"U-um, yeah, it's a very interesting sword." The old man just chuckled and waved his hand in dismissal before replying in perfect Japanese.

"No, no, you don't have to hide it. I'm aware that this sword can be rather...unnerving. Most people that saw it would've moved on by now. What made you stay?"

What an odd question. He seemed polite though, so it would be rude not to answer.

"I don't know, there's something...magnetic about it. It's creepy sure but...it's obviously seen a lot of use, and yet it hasn't been thrown away. Even better, it's like saying...' I'm old and broken and I've done it.'"

"' It?'" I gesture to the sword in response.

"Survived, I guess."

The old man's smile grew as he let out another chuckle. "That is certainly a unique way to put it, young man. What's your name?"

"Ritsu Ogawa" The man took a step forward, stretched his hand out and said:

"Well, young Ogawa, you can call me Zelretch, and I am the owner of this quaint little museum."

My mouth opened in shock; this was the museum's owner? No one had seen before, not even when the museum first opened!

"Pleased to meet you, Zelretch-san! I'm a huge fan of this place!" I said enthusiastically as I shook his hand.

"I thought you might be. My clerk has been telling me that you've been coming here all the time. I thought I might see the one who's been so interested in my collection."

A small blush heats my cheeks. "It's no big deal. Surely other people come here."

"Not as much as you, though."

Huh...really? That was...a little sad to know. But I must have shown it on my face because Zelretch patted my shoulder.

"I made this collection so people could look and appreciate it. If I know at least one person has done that, then that's enough for me."

Really? My lips twitched upwards as I felt a small burst of pride. Zelretch just kept smiling and turned his eyes to the sword. I did the same, and we stared at it for a minute, the unnerving aura seemingly gone.

I looked up and down the sword when I noticed that there was no plaque or writing on the case. I turned to Zelretch and asked:

"Zelretch-san? What is this sword? It's just that there's no plaque and -"

"An excellent question and the reason for that is..." He paused dramatically "...I just haven't put one yet."

If this were an anime, I would've face-vaulted. That's it? Why did you pause like that then?

"This sword was found in the north of Iran, or Persia as it was called then, in the region of Alamut. The historians there say that it was dug from the ruins of an old fortress, but they didn't seem to trace to who used. The sword unnerved them though, so they were happy to give it to me."

Wait...Alamut?

"Isn't Alamut where-"

"Yes, I see you know your history. Alamut was where the Assassins ruled during the Crusades."

The Order of Assassins, or the Hashashin. An order of Nizari Isma'ili Muslims formed in the late 11th century to combat the Seljuks and later the Christian Crusaders. They were small in number, but they had power across the entire Middle East. They could get anywhere and kill anyone. They were so famous (or infamous, depending on who you ask), that the English word 'assassin' was said to have come from them. In short, they were badasses.

"It is my belief" Zelretch continued "that this sword was used by one of the assassins of the Order. The fact that it hasn't rusted away completely after all these years is rather astounding."

"Yeah, but a sword, especially that size? For assassins, isn't that a little too...conspicuous?"

"Indeed, and that's what makes it even more interesting, no?"

I shrugged in response, but the question still lingered. How could an assassin, who moved stealthily, carry a sword that big?

I heard rustling, and I saw that the old man was looking at an old-fashioned pocket watch, connected to his pocket by a thin, golden chain. He turned his gaze to me and asked:

"Young Ogawa, you must be hungry. Would you like to join me for tea in my office?"

"Tea in your office? Are you sure?"

"It's the least I can do for my number one visitor."

To be honest, spending some time with this man who created my favorite place in the world sounded very appealing. Besides, I did feel a tad hungry, even after that ice cream. I nodded and he tapped his cane on the floor.

"Splendid! Follow me then." He turned around and started walking through the hall, with me trailing beside him.

We had walked up a flight of stairs and soon stood before a wooden set of doors. Zelretch pulled a silver key from his pocket and unlocked them, allowing me to look inside. It was what you would expect; two plush chairs and a small stool in front of an old antique desk with a swivel chair and window behind, green rugs and shelves of old books. A small cupboard was located on the side, like where the tea was held. A grandfather clock and a bigger cupboard were right next to one of the bookshelves, but the latter was closed. The two of us came in and Zelretch gestured to one of the chairs and I sat down. I nodded in compliment; it was very soft.

A few minutes later, we were both sitting and sipping this excellent tea; me on the plush chair, him behind his desk. I complimented him on the tea, and he thanked me in kind. A box of cookies was sitting on the stool and I helped myself to one. After we had finished our cups, Zelretch spoke to me again.

"So, young Ogawa, I once again have to thank you for coming here. As I told you before, just one person enjoying this is enough to bring me joy."

"It's no problem; I love this place. But if I might ask, how did you find all of this?"

"Well, to put it simply, I am an archaeologist and a historian. The world's history fascinates me as it does you, and I have traveled all over the world to glimpse these histories myself. I scour black markets and auctions for artifacts like these and bring them to my house, as a way of preserving them. A few years ago, I decided that my love for history should be shared with the world. So I decided to open up my collection here in Tokyo, one of the largest cities on Earth, in hopes that more people could share our appreciation. Unfortunately, my job requires me to travel often, so I cannot be here most of the time, and it turns out that people simply lack the interest in such matters."

I nodded. Zelretch smiled before he looked down at a newspaper that was on the desk and picked it up to read.

"Hmm. Another villain stopped by All-Might. 'The criminal was rampaging throughout the city when the Symbol of Peace stopped him...' Same old, same old I suppose." I hummed in response.

Zelretch looked at the paper a little more and his smile became...sadder? It's hard to describe, but his eyes seemed to dim, and his expression became...pitying or mirthful. He then raised his head and looked at me.

"Tell me, young Ogawa. What do you think of heroes?"

I blinked at his question. "What do you mean?"

"I mean what I say; a simple question, no?"

Huh...well, I gave my answer to Makoto-sensei earlier, so it came out easier than last time, so I tilted my head down and looked into my empty cup.

"I like heroes. They protect those that can't protect themselves. They inspire others to follow in their footsteps. But..."

I made eye contact with Zelretch, who just gestured for me to go on.

"...I feel like today's heroes are conforming to society's standards. They're limiting themselves by constantly having to follow the law, and that costs them more often than not. Also, most of the heroes today are in it for the fame or money. I get the last part; we all need to have food on our plates and a roof over our heads, but fame? That's not heroism, that's attention-seeking."

Zelretch said nothing and simply rubbed his chin in thought. He hummed a bit before asking me another question:

"So, you believe that heroes should have more freedom in comparison to now? And from what I'm hearing, you also want heroes to kill villains."

My eyes widened in surprise and a bit worry. How did he know?

"Call it intuition of old age. Don't worry, I'm not judging you. It's just that I knew - or know I think - a boy and asked him the same question. He answered me that he believes a hero is someone who saves everyone."

"Someone who saves everyone? That's -"

"Impossible? I told him that, but he said he would find a way and never give up his ideal. He would become a Hero of Justice and save everyone. Did he do it? Maybe, maybe not, but that was his ideal."

Saving everyone...that was stupid, suicidal even. I just can't put it another way.

"All Might also believe in something similar, to save people with a smile. Your idea of a hero, however, is more like that of a punisher or executioner. An interesting view, one that encompasses both sides of the spectrum."

My mouth slightly opened in disbelief. No-one had told me that my idea of heroes was 'interesting'. They would usually say that only villains kill, or that all heroes were good since they were heroes. Stupid yes, but I didn't want to waste my time arguing with them.

Zelretch reached for the teapot and poured himself another cup before gesturing to me as I approached the desk and he filled my cup, he spoke again.

"Did you know that the Assassins were considered heroes to some?" I raised an eyebrow.

"Really?"

"Yes, although to as many as they would have liked. They were simply a group of people who had to resort to harsh measures to protect their own, but they didn't stop there and brought (relative) stability to their whole region. Their leader was an enlightened man who ultimately sought peace, and he achieved it in the most efficient way possible: by weeding out the corrupt, greedy and tyrannical who sought to destroy them. Unfortunately, the other nations didn't share the same views and vilified the name of the order, spreading false rumors like how they were called Hashashin because they consumed hashish to enter a trance, or were extreme radicals like the Muslim terrorists from before this New Age of Heroes. Not that ANY side was guiltless, mind you - the Assassins did some pretty monstrous killing in their time - but to the people they protected, they were heroes."

Wow. I didn't know that. Definitely a new perspective. "But it didn't matter in the end; they lost and their name was forever tarnished."

The old man sighed. "True"

He stirred his tea and suddenly adopted an inquisitive expression.

"Tell me, young man, do you want to become a hero?"

Looking back, I should've expected this, but I nearly spat out my tea when I heard those words.

"W-what?"

Zelretch tilted his head in mock confusion. "What do you mean 'what'? It's just another simple question."

I coughed a little to clear my throat before considering the question. "Why do you want to know?"

"An old man's curiosity, especially with your view on heroes."

I scrunched my forehead in thought for a few moments before answering the question, despite the answer being clear to me from the beginning.

"No...no I wouldn't want to."

"Why not? Surely you could advocate changing the system if you show them the facts and pros or cons. Or is it because of your Quirk?"

Ok, I was convinced that Zelretch had some sort of mind-reading Quirk because this was getting ridiculous. I had a super-hearing Quirk that I needed either to manually activate, or it would trigger if I'm being threatened. Didn't work when I heard him approach though. Still, not a good Quirk for Heroics.

"Yes, it is partially because of my Quirk - I'm not suicidal - but it's really because...they won't listen." I rubbed my hands together as I continued, my tone becoming frustrated.

"People hate change, especially when it comes to those who are stronger than them. It took years before Quirks were accepted around the world and even today people discriminate. To allow such powerful people the ability to kill? Hah! They would sooner ban the profession altogether."

Zelretch hummed in response, rubbing his bearded chin a little. "But let's say you didn't have those limitations; your Quirk and the system. Would you still want to be a hero?"

I wet my lips as I kept rubbing my hands. Would I?

I still remember when I first saw heroes on TV. The way they took down the villain, the smiles people had after being saved, the relief I felt when they emerged triumphantly...

"...yeah."

I looked up to see that Zelretch's smile grew and for a brief second I saw something glint in his red eye. He tilted his head a bit then raised his eyebrows.

"Oh, would you look at the time! You ought to be getting home now, I believe."

I looked at the clock. Yeah, it was getting late. I lifted myself and my bag from the chair and slightly bowed to the grey-haired man.

"Thanks for the tea."

"You're welcome. I won't be around as often as I would like, but if I see you again, I'll invite you for another drink. Oh and before you go..."

He went to the large cupboard and opened one of the drawers. He approached me holding a black box of sorts.

"Consider this a gift from me to you for coming here so often."

I looked through the glass lid and gasped softly. It was a white skull mask, as big as my face, with a blue X above the eyes. Under the mask was a dagger, looking like a smaller version of the sword from earlier, only with no nails and the sash wrapped around the handle only.

"This was one of the last findings in Alamut" Zelretch explained as I took the box gently. "I strongly believe that the Assassins wore similar masks when they were active. No-one was interested in displaying it or buying it, so I kept it as a personal souvenir. I thought that you might appreciate it more than I."

I was slightly reeling in shock from the gift, still entranced by the mask. I hardly had the words.

"Th-thank you. I'll treasure this, I promise."

Zelretch's smile widened and he clasped on the shoulder. "I know you will. Now, go on, shoo, you don't want to be late."

I nodded quickly, gathering my things before heading out the door and out of the Collection. If I had stayed a little longer, I would have heard something that would partially explain all the shit that was going to happen to me.

"Step one complete. Time to let the tiles fall..."

I got on the first train home, but it was getting dark outside when I arrived. Seems that winter didn't get the message properly this year. My home is simple; an apartment on the ground floor of a complex. Spacious enough for me and my mom, yet cheap.

I walked briskly to the apartment, still clutching the case in my arm before unlocking the door. The sight of the familiar couch, coffee table, and TV greeted me, but the flat was strangely silent. I walked to the kitchen to see a note. '

Hi Ritsu. I was called up for an emergency review at work so I'll be coming home late. There's food in the fridge and make sure to do your homework:)

~Love, Mom

Oh, well that explained it. My mom, Asuka Ogawa, worked in a law firm. My dad died shortly after I was born, so it's been just us for as long as I can remember. I'm really grateful to her for everything; trying to support a son as a single mother must be hard on her.

Luckily, I had little homework today so I started working on dinner; namely heating the fried beef Mom left me. As I waited for the food to be ready, I decided to take a better look at the gift Zelretch gave me. I opened the glass lid and started to feel the mask. It felt very smooth and fine, as though it was carved recently rather than a thousand or so years ago. The mask had no jaw piece, I'm guessing to allow easier communication. All in all, a very fine piece of workmanship, if it wasn't for two things:

One, there were no signs of any band or something that held the mask in place, but maybe the passage of time wore them out.

Two, the more I looked at the mask, the stronger an odd tingling felt at the back of my spine...almost like back in the museum. But this felt duller...weaker.

Shaking my head to clear that feeling, I put the mask back and moved on to the dagger. Like the mask, it was finely-made and very well kept - still sharp even! - but other than that, there was no sign of anything unique about it. Maybe that was the whole idea, something so simple yet effective.

A *ding* went off and I knew my dinner was ready. I put away my thoughts on my gift and happily devoured my beef. The hours drifted by after that; I did my homework, played on my computer and soon I felt sleepy, so I decided to go to bed. I put my gift next to my futon as I took a shower and put on pajamas. As I lay down and went to sleep, I looked at the black case and a piece of my conversation with Zelretch.

"If you didn't have those limitations...would you still want to be a hero?"

Heh...a hero...

...if only...

It's cold. It's hot. Why is it changing why is it twisting?

It smells like rot like corruption like filth like death.

I'm walking through sand, the scorching winds stinging my face. It's hard to see, but there is a shape up there on the mountain.

A ring in the sky.

A swirling「 」 in the center.

The sand flies and clouds the sky. No! What is there? I must see! It swirls and swirls and...a skull?

How? What?

Why is this happening? Something's dragging me, I can't go up, let go let go let go!

Pitiful.

Everything is silent. What?

BONG...

Thou cannot brave the truth yet...the truth of the One...

What truth? Who is this? Where's that bell coming from?

BONG...

Hmph...but thou art young...a young fida'i...like the rest when they began...

I'm scared I'm confused what is this?

BONG...

The evening bell begins its toll on the world...but who shalt hear its ringing?

...who are you?

...I am He Who Walks in the Valley of Death...I am the First...all others are mockeries...

BONG!

Prepare thyself, contractor...for the world shall hear our name once more...