A/N: After going through the content, and making a few repairs here and there. 'Ascension' is ready to be posted back where it belongs.

I do apologize for taking this story down, but I needed to overlook things and rework it a bit on my own time. The pairing I had planned out for this story, I can guarantee is still very much the same. And since this is a God of War crossover fic, expect there to be nudity, lemons, and a good deal of savagery and gore in the near future.

If you're an old fan, you'll hopefully be happy to see this back. If you're new, than get ready for a hell of a ride!

(I don't own God of War or RWBY)

"The measure of a man, is what he does with power." - Plato

X

LONG AGO, BEFORE HUMANITY, BEFORE THE FAUNUS, BEFORE DUST, REMNANT WAS A VERY DIFFERENT WORLD. FILLED WITH MYTHS AND LEGENDS BEYOND TIME ITSELF.

AND AMONG THEM, ONE ROSE TO CLAIM HIS PLACE. A MORTAL, BURDENED BY A DARK PAST , EARNING THE RIGHT TO BE CALLED A GOD.

HOWEVER, HE WAS FOREVER HAUNTED BY VISIONS OF HIS FAMILY, A FAMILY HE HIMSELF HAD MURDERED. BETRAYED BY HIS FELLOW GODS AND CAST INTO THE ABYSS, HIS RAGE DROVE HIM ON A JOURNEY OF VENGEANCE.

THE HANDS OF DEATH COULD NOT CONTAIN HIM.

THE SISTERS OF FATE COULD NOT CONTROL HIM.

AND EVEN THE GODS THEMSELVES FELL BEFORE HIS WRATH.

AS THE WORLD TREMBLED FROM THE CHAOS HE HAD UNLEASHED UPON IT, WITH THE LAST OF HIS STRENGTH, HE BROUGHT AN END TO THE DAMAGE HIS WAR AGAINST THE GODS HAD CAUSED.

AND IN DOING SO, BROUGHT HOPE TO THE WORLD. BUT WITH IT, HE HAD ALSO BROUGHT THE CREATION OF THE CREATURES OF DARKNESS...THE GRIMM.

SINCE THAT DAY, THE WORLD HAD GREATLY CHANGED. THE PEOPLE OF REMNANT REBUILT THEIR CIVILIZATIONS AND FORGED THEIR OWN HISTORY.

NONE OF THOSE THAT LIVED IN THE CENTURIES THAT FOLLOWED AWARE OF WHAT HAD ALTERED THE VERY FACE OF THEIR WORLD TO WHAT IT IS TODAY. THE EXISTENCE OF THE LONE MORTAL, WHO DEFIED GODS AND FATE ITSELF, FADING AWAY WITH THE SANDS OF TIME.

BUT LEGENDS ARE NEVER TRULY FORGOTTEN. THEIR GREATNESS STRIVING THROUGH EVEN THE STRONGEST EBB AND FLOW OF THE UNIVERSE.

AND THE LEGEND OF THIS MAN STILL EXISTS TO THIS DAY. HIS LEGACY LIVING ON IN THE NEW GENERATION OF WARRIORS THAT FIGHT THE DARKNESS PLAGUING THEIR WORLD.

THIS IS THE STORY OF ONE SUCH WARRIORS, ONE WHO HOLDS THE POWER OF THE GREATEST SOUL HIS WORLD HAS EVER KNOWN. THIS IS THE STORY OF THE LAST LIVING DECSENDENT OF THE GOD SLAYER, THE GHOST OF SPARTA...

KRATOS.

X

The sun had just risen, the early rays reflecting on the patches of snow that settled on the ground and the tree branches above. The sounds of various forms or wildlife could be heard as they awoke to greet the new day.

Boots softly crunching along the ground could be heard in the nearly silent forest, a lone figure could be seen moving through the trees, hunched low to keep as quiet as possible. Dressed in a pair of torn black cargo pants and a black long-sleeved shirt beneath a tattered brown cloak, the hood pulled up over his head.

A large satchel was slung around his shoulders, on his back was a quiver of arrows situated beside a long handled battle-axe that had a blue glowing crystal in the center of the blade. The weapon having several deep scratches and marks from constant use over many years.

Breathing in the cool and crisp morning air and releasing it out in a white mist, he adjusted the grip he had on the bow in his hands. An arrow knocked and ready as he knelt down and checked the ground, a fresh set of hoof tracks clearly visible with the snow covering the ground.

Standing, he followed the tracks as they went across a small creak and toward a clearing. Keeping hidden within the treeline, he peered out to see the deer he'd been tracking for the last hour standing out in the open.

The animal scuffing at the ground with one of its front hooves before lowering its head and eating some of the grass it had uncovered. Unaware of the hunter that was silently watching it.

His quarry in sight, he raised his bow, using the tree beside him to brace against and help steady his aim. Pulling the arrow back, the hunter took a handful of deep breaths to calm his mind and prepare to take the shot.

The snapping of a dried branch behind him perked his ears up, the sound of claws scraping across the ground and the low pitch growl of whatever was moving drawing steadily closer to where he was standing.

Exhaling his last breath...he quickly dropped to the ground, spun on his heel and lept backwards, the arrow he had drawn firing straight at the creature that charged after him and hitting his target.

A Beowolf crashed to the ground, arrow sticking from its right eye socket, and laid motionless from the kill shot. The hunter glared at the downed Grimm, hearing the sound of the deer running off into the forest behind him while several more Beowolves stalked out into the clearing. Five total, their maws filled with glistening fangs as they closed in on their target.

Surveying his opposition, the hunter remained calm. Drawing a new arrow and knocking it while waiting for the Grimm to make the first move. He didn't have to wait long as the one closest to him lunged, red eyes blazing, claws extended and teeth wide.

But he was quicker, snapping his bow up and firing the arrow straight into its neck and dropping it. The rest of the Grimm went on the attack, intending on ripping the hunter to pieces.

Ducking under a claw that would have removed his head from his shoulders, he swung his bow and knocked one of the Beowolves aside. Jumping straight up, he kicked another in a different direction giving him time to sling the bow over his shoulder and drew his axe. The dust crystal infused into the blade flaring to life and causing bright-blue veins to spread along the dense metal.

When the next Grimm came at him, he greeted it with a hard, upward swing. The blade slicing into the beast's lower jaw, nearly taking it off and stunning the Beowolf.

Kicking the creature off the axe, he swung again, this time slamming the weapon into the Grimm's bone-mask and nearly splitting its skull in half. The hunter planted his foot on the Beowolf's neck and yanked the axe free in time to block the claw strike of another, slashing left, then right, tearing large gashes in the beast's chest and splashing black ichor across the ground.

With a hard lunge, he slammed his shoulder into the Beowolf's middle and knocked it down onto its back, leaving it vulnerable. A swift swing of his axe ended the creature quickly, leaving only two remaining.

Shaking the blackish blood from his weapon, he turned and prepared for another round. The last two Beowolves snarled and started stalking around the hunter in a wide circle. He watched them, his thoughts calculating as he prepared for their next move, grip tight on his axe.

The creatures made two revolutions around him before coming to a stop, their claws kicking up snow and dirt as they charged.

Waiting for just the right moment, the hunter spun around and threw his axe. The blade impaling the first Beowolf in the chest, the dust crystal flashing brightly as ice began to spread across the Grimm's body from the inside out.

In a matter of seconds the creature collapsed like dead-weight, its now frozen form shattering like glass when it hit the ground.

With one target down, the hunter felt the remaining Beowolf baring down on him and reacted quickly. Dropping to a crouch, he snapped his elbow back and slammed it into the Grimm's muzzle, making it recoil as he spun around to face it.

Leaning left to avoid the claws of its left arm, he grabbed the extended limb and flipped up and around onto the beast's back. Using the bone-spikes for leverage, he held on as the Beowolf attempted to shake him off. Gripping tight, he snapped his right hand out and focused his aura.

His axe, which was still embedded in the frozen torso of the last Grimm it had killed, shuttered before snapping free and flying into the hunter's waiting hand. Armed again, he slammed the weapon into the back of the Beowolf's neck several times, each strike driving the blade deeper into the beast's body.

Ichor splashed across his form, the hunter took the axe's handle and forced it against the Beowolf's throat. Already weak from the damage already wrought, it was too weak to properly defend itself as the hunter used his strength to wrench its head back and twist hard to the right.

A loud snap echoed and the creature went still, falling face first to the dirt with its head at an odd angle. The hunter rose back to his feet and stepped off the already dissolving corpse, the other vanquished Grimm having become nothing more than a grey mist that faded into the air.

Returning the axe to its place on his back, he looked off to where the deer he had been tracking disappeared and sighed. The chances of him managing to track it again was slim, and all the combat would have scared it off quite a ways by now.

However, the day was still early. And there was a chance he could catch something else and get home before it got too late.

He turned and prepared to head farther North-

Something slammed into his chest, sending him skidding across the ground and forcing him to slam a hand down to keep himself upright. The sudden burst of movement causing his hood to be blown off, revealing a young face no older than 18 with short-cut black hair, a pair of wolf ears peaking off the top of his head, and the beginnings of a goatee growing on the end of his angular jaw. A jagged scar running down the right side of his face over one of his dark-hazel eyes that both glared at his attacker.

The first Beowolf he'd shot with an arrow stood there, the bolt still lodged firmly in its neck as it growled ferally at him. Rising up on its hind legs and slashing with both claws in wide arcs, the hunter ducking and rolling backwards out of the Grimm's reach, coming back up with his bow in hand and a fresh arrow drawn from his quiver.

The Beowolf roared, giving him all the opening he needed before firing, the creature's echoing call immediately cut off when the arrow pierced the back of its mouth and coming out the back of its neck. The head of the bolt shined red, revealing it to be carved from a dust crystal, before exploding in a blast of fire. Blowing the Grimm's head apart and swallowing the remains in flames.

With the final threat nothing more than cooling ashes, the hunter slung his bow over his shoulder and made his way back toward the forest. Pulling the hood of his cloak back up and over his head as he disappeared into the trees.

X

Unknown to the hunter, another cloaked man had been watching through a pair of binoculars. Tracking the young man's movements carefully while talking on his scroll.

"It's definitely him, you sure about this? If this kid's anything like his parents were, I'm pretty sure things around Beacon will get more than a bit hectic."

"Yes. Trying to locate him all this time was difficult, and we cannot let this opportunity pass." replied the one on the other end. "And you know as well as I do that it was his parents, and the skills they taught him, being the reason why we have been searching for him. And with what we are facing on the horizon, we need someone like him."

Qrow Branwen sighed as he saw the young man he'd been tracking slip out of sight. "You better be right about this, Oz." he said before ending the call, putting both his scroll and the binoculars into his cloak before following the young hunter at a safe distance.

X

In his office at Beacon Academy in Vale, Professor Ozpin shut down his own scroll and leaned back in his chair. Hands steepled together as he thought about his next move regarding what he hoped to be another very talented initiate to his school.

"I take it Qrow has found him?" his trusted associate and friend Glynda Goodwitch said as she approached the headmaster.

Ozpin nodded, "After so many years. He's been living in the Northern forests near Atlas, very remote and isolated. Not surprising considering how he was raised and trained."

The blonde huntress pulled up her scroll and looked at the data displayed before her, "What are our chances of actually getting him to come to Beacon? It won't be the same as Miss. Rose's recruitment."

"Perhaps not," replied the headmaster, grabbing his cane and standing up. "But it will require an equally personal and subtle approach." Turning his attention to the holo-screen of his desk computer, he regarded the image of the one Qrow was tracking, the name 'Soterios' displayed beneath it.

"He has the heart of a true warrior, one that I believe will aid us in time of great need when it arises." Ozpin said cryptically as he headed toward the elevator, Glynda on his heels as they rode the lift to the ground level of the school and headed out to the sky-dock where a bullhead craft was waiting for them.

X

Soterios, known to a rare few simply as Rios, trekked up the small winding path the same way he had done for years, the sun had reached its apex high in the sky making the air warmer than it had been that morning.

Across his shoulders was a line of rope that had a couple of rabbits and raccoons tied to it. He may not have gotten the deer he had set out to hunt, but there was more than enough game to hunt in these woods if you were patient and skilled enough to get them.

Continuing along the dirt path that led up a small incline to the top of hill, Rios found himself in front of a small house set against the side of a large boulder.

The wooden boards that made up the walls were slightly warped and worn from years of resisting the elements, a couple of the windows had cracks in the glass but remained in tact, the slanted roof had several shingles missing and the stone chimney looked to have collapsed long ago and was only half the height it should have been.

It was a rough built structure, and had seen a lot of wear and tear, but it stood strong and unyielding no matter what was thrown at it. It was home.

Adjusting the soon to be food on his shoulders, he opened the door and stepped inside. The door opening up to a large living room with several couches and chairs set up around a fireplace set up against the wall. On the other side of the room were two open doorways, one leading to the kitchen toward back while the other led down a small hallway where two bedrooms and a bathroom was set up.

Unlike the outside, the interior of the house was warm and lived in, almost inviting.

Taking off his bow, quiver and axe, Rios hung them up on the pegs on the wall beside the door and putting his cloak on a hook as well. The young hunter standing there in his ripped pants and tight thermal long-sleeve that clearly showed the hard muscles of his upper half, formed after years of rigorous training and exercise.

Closing the door behind him, he carried his catches toward the kitchen where he prepared to cut and clean each animal like he had done countless times before.

Hunting for food was one of the things to expect being so isolated. The nearest town was over 30 miles away to the south, and the kingdom of Atlas was even farther away than that. But Rios had been born and raised in these woods, learning everything he needed to about surviving out here from his parents growing up.

He would occasionally head to town if he needed anything specific, he'd even gone to Atlas once or twice when he needed dust or medical supplies, but everything else was provided by nature.

Even though he lived off the land, Rios knew more than enough about the world. Keeping up with the news from time to time about what was happening across Remnant and current events from the four kingdoms. He also tuned into the happenings regarding Faunus.

Being a wolf-faunus himself, like his father was, he knew the strife his people had endured. Even though he held no ill will against Humanity as a whole, he never stood for prejudice without a fight. Whether it was from Humans or Faunus didn't matter to him, it was useless to hate one another when there were worse things in their world out to get them all.

Spending a good hour skinning and cleaning he animals he caught, Rios washed his hands and the knives he had used before fishing a bottle of water out of the fridge and taking several large gulps from it. Looking out a nearby window and seeing that it was still in the early afternoon, he figured that he'd gather firewood for the evening before cooking a quick lunch.

Finishing the water, he set the bottle on the counter and prepared to head to his bedroom to change into a fresh pair of clothes when his wolf-ears perked up.

The sound of footsteps could be heard approaching his front door. Three separate pairs, meaning that three individuals were outside.

It had been almost two years since anyone other than him had come up this way.

Eyes narrowing, Rios crossed the room in three quick strides toward the front of the house just as a knock was heard. Picking up his axe from the wall, he held it out of sight as he opened the door just enough to peer out to see who it was.

He was greeted with the sight of two men and a woman on the other side. The one in the lead looked to be the oldest with silver/grey hair wearing an all black suit and vest with a green scarf around his neck. A pair of small, circular glasses resting just below a set of intellectual eyes while his left hand rested on a cane with a clock-work trigger handle.

The woman was light-blonde and also wearing glasses covering green eyes. Dressed in a long black skirt and a white blouse with a black/purple cape flowing behind her. Her expression was calm, but stern, which also reflected in how she gripped the odd riding crop in her hand.

The last of the group looked to be younger than the first two. Black hair slicked back into spikes with a pair of red eyes. His stature was laid back, but to Rios' trained eyes he could see someone with a lot of skill hiding beneath the surface. It also showed in how the man was currently resting his hand on the handle of a sword/scythe weapon resting on his lower back beneath the tattered white cloak he wore over his outfit.

"Something I can help you with?" Rios asked, his voice rough, but calm as his eyes flicked from each individual before resting on the man at the head of the group.

"Are you Soterios?" the grey haired man questioned.

Grip on the axe handle tightening, the young hunter kept his expression passive. "That would depend on who's asking."

The red-eyed man chuckled as he pulled out a small flask and took a pull from it, "Just some folks who want to know your name, kid." he said casually, "And you might want to put the axe down before you hurt yourself."

Rios' attention snapped to him, "And you may not want to drink so much when you're tracking someone upwind. I believe you can understand why that someone would be overly cautious when approached." this surprised the two standing in the back while the man leading them simply raised an eyebrow.

"I apologize for making you feel the need to be on guard, but I can assure you that we mean you no harm. We only wish to talk." said the man while adjusting his glasses.

Looking for any form of deceit and finding none, Rios stepped back letting the door to open wide enough to allow them entry. Slipping the axe back in its place on the wall as he led them to the living room, taking a spot in an armchair while his 'guests' took up the couch. The red-eyed huntsman seated on an arm with his flask still in hand.

"Do you know who I am?" the older man asked.

"You're Ozpin, professor and headmaster of Beacon Academy in the kingdom of Vale, if I'm not mistaken." replied Rios.

Ozpin nodded, "Indeed I am. The woman beside me is my deputy headmistress, and associate, Glynda Goodwitch. And this is Qrow Branwen, a huntsman and a good friend of ours." he said introducing those with him.

"As interesting as it is to meet all of you, I have a feeling that this isn't a simple house call." said Rios pointedly. "No one comes this far North just to say hello, nor do they have a huntsmen track that person. So forgive me for sounding rude, but why the hell are you here?"

Professor Goodwitch cleared her throat, "We've been looking for you for some time. Both your parents attended Beacon Academy when they were your age before setting off into the world. We came to offer you a place in the same school they attended."

The young hunter turned his head and looked at a photograph in a frame on a nearby shelf. One that showed a blue eyed man with black hair and wolf-ears standing beside a pretty blonde woman with hazel eyes. Between the two of them stood a little boy that looked like his father but had his mother's eyes.

"Then you wasted a trip." said Rios, standing up and heading for the kitchen, "What reason would I need to join a combat school when I already have the abilities to fight?"

"Because It was your folks' intention to have you become a student when you came of age." said Qrow, causing the teen to pause in the doorway with his back to the room. The huntsman took a pull from his flask before capping it and putting it away, "I knew them back when we all went to Beacon together. Hell, they were good friends with me and my team. They were good people."

Rios turned and narrowed his eyes at the man, "Then you know how they died." he spoke with such a cold tone that the temperature in the room seemed to drop with each word.

Qrow nodded seriously, "I do. I also know that any White Fang that have ventured this far have never been heard from again. Folks from the town a ways from here claim that some kind of vengeful ghost haunts these forests..."

All eyes were on the young hunter who remained silent. Ozpin stood from his place on the couch, his cane before him with both hands resting on it. "I can see so much of your parents in you, and from what Qrow has told me your skills may even surpass theirs. Talent such as yours would be beneficial to Remnant as a whole. And I promised your mother long ago that I would ensure that her only son not only got the education he rightfully needed, but also that he was ready to face the world that awaited him."

Turning to face the headmaster fully, Rios locked gazes with him and tried to figure him out. He masked his emotions well, too well, but everything he spoke rang with truth which surprised him on a small level.

"What do you get out of all this, Professor Ozpin? What's your stake in me going to Beacon compared to countless other students?" he asked after a moment or two.

The headmaster's lips curled into a half-smile, "It's not what I gain, but what you gain, Soterios. I see the potential of a strong warrior and hero in you. Destined to do great things one day. But the decision is ultimately yours, I am only here to offer you a chance to hone your skills and show you the paths you can take."

Ozpin reached into his coat and produced a scroll that he sat on the coffee table in the middle of the room. "The new semester starts at the beginning of next month, should you choose to attend my school, all of the information you will need is here." he said before making his way to the door, Glynda behind him. Qrow, however, lagged behind.

"Oz is right about the resemblance," he said standing from his seat, "You look a lot like your dad when he was your age, and you fight just as hard as he did. You also got your mom's eyes, she could put a shot through a small Nevermore a mile away with that bow of hers. You got the best of both of them, kid."

Rios said nothing, hearing the huntsman's words but keeping his focus on the photo of him and his parents again. Qrow sighed, "I ain't gonna twist your arm or nothing about going to Beacon. That's your choice. But I will say this; Your folks were good people, and I was happy to have known them. From what I've seen and learned, they'd be damn proud of you, and I know that they would want the best for you."

The huntsman gave a nod in the teen's direction before leaving the home as well, leaving Rios alone with his thoughts.

X

"Do you think that he will decide to attend?" asked Glynda when they were a ways away from the home an making their way to the clearing where their bullhead was waiting for them.

Ozpin hummed, "Hard to say. I do not blame him for being skeptical from our arrival and invitation, but I believe that he will make the right choice in the end."

"All I can say is that you better be right about this, Oz." said Qrow while taking out his flask again and draining the remaining contents. "The kid's been through a lot, and living out here on his own for so long has him set in his ways."

Professor Goodwitch sent him a sympathetic look, "You worry about him."

The huntsman grunted, "Yeah, what kind of godfather would I be if I wasn't worried about him?"

Stepping into the clearing where the bullhead was warmed up and ready to take to the air, Ozpin paused and looked back into the forest. He may not have known what decision the young man would make, but deep down he had a feeling that Rios would choose the path that would not only benefit him, but also the state of peace that was at risk in their world.

X

Hours had slipped by, the sun had long since set but Rios had yet to notice as he sat in the living room of his home staring at the small flames licking the walls of his fireplace. The picture of him and his parents laying on the coffee table beside the scroll given to him by Ozpin.

He was at an impasse. As much as he wanted to simply ignore the invitation that had been given to him, something deep within made him pause. His thoughts now going back and forth on what his decision should be.

Remembering the stories both his mom and dad used to tell him about their time at Beacon when they were starting out as a huntsman and huntress in training. Their team, their friends, the teachers, even how they met and fell in love.

When he was little he loved to hear about those times in his parents' lives...but now they were bitter memories that reminded him of how they had been taken from him six years ago.

The mere thought of it caused his jaw and fists to clench and his eyes to harden in their gaze. Qrow spoke about the White Fang disappearing up here and the rumors of a vengeful spirit, he was partially right.

There was no ghost, but there was a vengeful orphan out for the blood of the ones that destroyed his family.

Screams, gunshots and blood spraying through the air flashed through his thoughts.

A younger version of himself on his knees, tears streaming from his eyes mixing with blood splattered on his face while he sat in a large pool of dark-crimson where two bodies laid unmoving nearby.

Men in Grimm masks standing over them, laughing at the death they wrought, causing a burning rage to blaze to life within the boy's soul. A scream of fury pulling from his young lungs as he charged the men with his father's axe in hand.

Rios stood up fast, the couch flipping over as his form literally vibrated form the rage within him. A dark-orange colored aura flaring around his body in-tuned with his emotions before he closed his eyes and breathed deeply, his fury and aura diminishing bit by bit until it settled back where it belonged.

Even after all these years, he had to work hard to keep his semblance under control. It was a specific one that was passed down through the bloodline from his father's side, every male possessed a rage that could be used like an ultimate weapon on the battlefield. In fact, his great-grandfather ended several great battles with such an ability long ago.

Even Rios' father was renowned and feared for his fury. It was why he was known as the 'Blood Wolf'. The only one who wasn't scared of him was his mother, who saw the gentle soul he was beneath his strength.

Of course, a Human/Faunus relationship wasn't really excepted everywhere, and the two of them were scorned by those that were outside their small group of friends. It was hard on them, but their thrived perfectly fine regardless and made a life for themselves...until the night they were killed in front of their own son.

Running a hand through his hair, Rios flipped the couch back upright before sitting back down again. Going back to thinking about what he should do, he reached into his shirt and pulled out a pendant on a gold chain.

The charm was round, no bigger than a quarter and was shaped like a shield. A handful of unknown markings surrounded an omega symbol made from a ruby that was set into the metal. It was his mother's, given to her by his father when they first got together.

The heirloom had been in his family for centuries, its origins lost long ago but held great meaning. Passed down from each generation as a symbol for what their family stood for and their strength. It was one of only a handful of cherished possessions Rios had that meant the most to him.

Clutching the pendant in his hand, pressing his fist to his forehead, the young hunter mulled over what he should do. What was the best choice? And what his parents would have told them if they were with him now?

He knew that his mother would want him to go, to learn more about the world and expand his mind. His father would have also wanted him to go, to improve his skills and learn more that could prove useful. Both of them had always wanted the best for him, and if Ozpin knew them and was tasked with ensuring he had a place at the same academy they went too...then it was obvious they were continuing to put his best interests forward.

Even when they weren't there anymore.

Leaning back against the couch and sighing deeply, Rios let his mind finally settle on his choice before sitting back up and reaching for the scroll. Dialing the only number displayed in the contacts lists and waited for the line to be picked up.

"Hello, Soterios. Is there something I can help you with?" Ozpin's voice floated calmly through the speaker.

"I've made my decision, professor..." the young hunter said back.

X

In another plain of existence, somewhere between life and death, a female entity suddenly became aware of a shift in the strings of fate.

"After so many millennia...the time has finally come."

X

A/N: Not much has changed since the first time I posted this, aside from my OC's name changing and the combining of chapters 1 and 2. But believe me, I intend on coming through on what I've promised thus far. I'll have another update ready in the next couple of days, if I've got your attention let me know and I'll keep this train rolling.

Soterios = Savior