Erazor Reborn

With a loud crash of ancient frozen stone, the final sealed doorway bearing the ancient symbol of the Echidna’s long extinct dominion caved inwards and the inner chamber was finally revealed.
As the seal was broken, the long stale air of the tomb flowed out dragging with it a stagnant rotting smell.
Robotnik held a clothe to his nose until it had subsided and the fresh, if cold, air of the Folstagg Island rushed in to clear out the horrid stench.
The excavation, long hidden from the Federation and its nearby allies Jotuheim and Logres, had finally after months of drilling through frozen rock and ice had found what the Doctor had been looking for.
This island, nearly devoid of any settlement, was perhaps the last place expected to have hidden in its icy depths the prison the Echidna’s had created to house forever their ancient foe. It had taken decades of study to locate this place, cross-referencing near hundreds of preserved documents from the Golden Age as well as the utilization of cutting edge satellite surveillance technology but it had been worth it.
“At last.” Robotnik sighed in contentment, his breath coming out a thick white mist. A few of his imperial honour guards advanced inside first to see if the ancient tomb was safe before he stepped through.
The chamber was magnificent; round with four pillars holding up an icy encrusted ceiling. The ice had done some damage but the magnificent murals covering the walls were still much in evidence; a prime example of late Echidnian architecture
All of them spectacular mosaics depicting in grand style the once massive Empire that had controlled almost the entire world.
The Empire upon which Robotnik had modelled his own and intended one day to exceed.
“Have the archaeology department examine this room, I want EVERYTHING documented!” He announced, his voice echoing inside the vaulted chamber. While demonized in the Federation, the Doctor was a great patron of the development of natural science, arts and archaeology and a renowned scholar and. So far as the official reports fed to the citizens of the empire was concerned this was little more than an historical dig. “Don’t miss a single…”
Suddenly his voice trailed off as his eyes fell upon the centre of the room. The floor rose a short way up in a sort of mosaic covered hillock, one side cracked due to spreading ice. On top of this hillock was a round pedestal about four foot high and on top of this, left caked in a mixture of ice and dust was a simple oil lamp.
The Doctor’s eyes went wide and he stared at it for about a minute without reacting.
“Bring down my equipment, quickly.” He said slowly without moving. The Imperial guard nearest to him nodded and shouted back up the entrance tunnel.
Nearly instantly, servants brought down to him a silver briefcase marked as belonging to the Emperor and not to be opened by anyone other than himself. It was bulky and heavy, taking two servants to carry it down into the tomb.
Robotnik opened it and smiled as the glow of the Chaos emerald illuminated his face, the Chaos Emerald that Shadow had taken from the vigilante Sonic. It lay inside the case, contained within a specialised glass container. Beside it, laid with expert care not to damage it, was the tome of darkness to which Robotnik owed some measure of his success; the Necronomicon.
“Is Operation Hook-Line-Sinker ready to go?” He asked as he lifted the book gingerly up.
“Awaiting the order to begin; your imperial majesty.” One of his guards told him with a crisp salute.
“Excellent.” Robotnik’s grin spread from ear to ear. He opened the Chaos Emerald’s container with a free hand and picked it up. Holding the ancient book in one hand and the jewel in the other, he slowly approached the dais.
The Necronomicon was open to the page he needed and as he spoke, his lips moving rapidly as he chanted the dark spell the corresponding words on the paper lit up bright red and their glow pulsated evilly.
Robotnik had rehearsed this spell until he was sure he could get it right. There were consequences for misuse of the magic of the tome of darkness and even the slightest mistake could be fatal.
As he neared, the lamp on the pedestal began to emit a glow of its own and the Chaos Emerald also began to pulsate. With book, lamp and jewel all glowing simultaneously the entire chamber was lit up with a changing multihued radiance.
Robotnik’s chanting began loudly more hoarse until he was nearly shouting, the echo bouncing back to join in harmony with his words to form a second layer of sound that had the entire chamber quavering.
With the crescendo of the shouted incantation Robotnik pressed the Emerald firmly against the side of the lamp.
The erupting sound of that touch was like close range cannon fire and dust and fragments of ice cascaded down from the ceiling in response.
The lamp gave a convulsive twitch, shuddering back
“At last.” Robotnik declared with his smile showing all his teeth, the lamp trembling and cracks beginning to appear in its surface. “You are mine!”
-
There was no rest.
Only those with a physical body were allowed to reline. Instead there was only oblivion.
Erazor was indeed fortunate that there was no sense of time in the lamp. If there had been, if he had been aware of exactly how long he languished inside that prison, he would have been driven mad. As it was, time was an irrelevant concept in such a confined space. He floated through a jumbled, incoherent sea of memories that surged before him unbidden and nonlinear.
This state of being was almost a blessing and it left him unable to deal with anything coherently and as such the pain he felt; he sorrow, the guilt and the anguish was suspended. Flashes of it assaulted him now and then but for the most part, his torment was banished.
“It’s called ‘evolution’. Those who do not adapt with the coming changes wither and die, it’s just that simple. Do you want our species to die Erazor, or adapt?” The voice of his former king, Samad, resonated with another brief flash of memory. The flash was just that, a flash, gone almost as soon as it hit like a wave breaking on the beach and then sliding back into the ocean.
Faces, names, times… any tags of identity ere lost and speaks in this void were lost in the swirling emptiness and in a moment Erazor had forgotten who had just spoken.
Then… something changed. Erazor’s consciousness was interrupted from its daze by the sensation of movement.
The interruption was enough to jar him into another memory, this one far more tangible than the others.
He was there again, kneeling amongst the shattered rubble of his home, the smell of smoke and death in the air. Cradled in his arms was the broken and bloodied body of his love, Manar… the woman he had loved for decades since boyhood. Her lifeless eyes gazed up at him and holding her to his chest, he arched his back and let out a scream of such rage, hatred and loss that his heard had been forever carved in two by it.
No.. no..” He declared. “I don’t want to remember!” His protests fell on deaf ears. Even after whatever means Pachachamac had gone to ensure he was locked away forever someone had finally found the lamp.
From tattered dreams he arose, his mind coming back together unbidden to the painful whole.
“At last… you are mine.” A new voice declared and then…
Light, sound, feeling, smells, taste… the senses, long denied came back as the prison relinquished its hold on him. The lamp let him go and he flowed from its confining space and into the real world.
At first his body was merely unsubstantial cloud, a formless mass that floated freely in the air. Molecules were all out of place, chaotically floating and clashing against each other.
Erazor was in pain, feeling his body surging against itself and the atoms that made up his clothes and his sword. They had all be fused together when he had been forced down into that lamp and compressed and now like melted wax they were all squished together.
Setting his will to force them back into their original position took a great deal of effort, more effort that Erazor had thought he could muster after so long dormant, but somehow he found the strength.
His legs formed first, following up the body from the torso and then the arms. His head came next and finally, all the details began forming as hair grew back in and his clothes began to become solid. With a cry escaping his unused throat, he collapsed to the ground, his breathy struggling to come into lungs that trembled within his body.
“Success!!” That same, new voice shouted triumphantly, the sound echoing in this new, cold, vaulted chamber. “Restoration, 100% complete!”
Breathing hard Erazor lay there on the ground, instinctively groping around for his sword as he dared not open his eyes to the light. After his blade had reformed, it had clattered to the ground nearby and finding it, he held it tightly to himself. An old friend in a new strange place.
“Sire, it has a weapon!” Another new voice began in a panic.
“Stand down.” The first told the new speaker. “And give him room.”
The feeling of presence compelling his warrior’s instincts to act, Erazor used his blade as a crutch to haul himself up to his feet. His muscles protested violently at such exertion, having spent centuries without exercise. With a great deal of will, he pulled himself up and stood on his own wobbly feet.
His breathing was less laboured now but he still felt as if his entire being had been squeezed, compressed and then expanded. He could feel his bones creaking, shifting back and forth to their original positions even still, his skin rippled like the surface of water when broken by the splash of a thrown stone.
What made him solid and able to hold himself together was sheer willpower, the urging desire to stand once again and in defiance of the cruel world.
Taking a deep breath, Erazor forced his eyes open. The chamber he was in was not large nor very bright, but it his eyes still saw all things blurred and hazy. He made out carved stone walls and ice on the domed ceiling and indeed he could feel the cold coming from it.
There were others with him, at least half a dozen and he strained to clear his vision so he could behold them properly.
They were strange beings… like djinn in shape only not so tall and their skin was pale rather than pink. It took a moment but then he recognised them as members of a sub species that the Echidna’s had enslaved… humans. They were all wearing thick coats of wool and furs to ward away the cold and Erazor became conscious of the fact that his own silk pants and thin cloak were little protection from the elements. He griped them tighter around himself.
“Where…” He began through newly chattering teeth. “Where am I?”
“The Isle of Folstaag.” One of the humans said. “Of the west coast of Jotunheim.”
Flashes of memory came to him unbidden and he remembered the moment, centuries ago, when Pachachamac had used the Necronomicon to seal him up in the lamp. Had the Echidnas then sealed the lamp in turn within the coldest, most remote region in the world?
Erazor looked again at the human who has spoken to him. The being was fat, clearly overweight and bald. Under his nose was a thick, nearly orange moustache and his eyes were hidden behind a pair of tinted black glasses. His face was not where Erazor’s attention was drawn, but rather to the artefact that the human held in his grasp.
It was the lamp, cracked but still very much intact.
Before it had been selected as his prison it had simply been another oil lamp, one of thousands like it, but now it was so much more than that. Now it was the seal, the instrument of his eons long imprisonment, torment and humiliation.
“Get that…that…that thing away from me!!” Erazor snapped, trying to raise his sword but sank back to the ground almost at once, the effort of standing having drained his will power. It would be some time before his true power and strength returned.
“Don’t strain yourself… it’s been too long and your body needs to adjust to the release from suspended animation.” The human told him.
Erazor was never one for following advice but here he didn’t have a choice. He felt so weak and vulnerable.
“How long…” He began but faltered, the effort too much as he sank forward to almost topple back over. He pressed one hand to the cold stone and breaths short and shallow breaths, forcing himself to remain conscious.
He began to panic, the kind of raw animalistic panic that takes a hold of the heart when events become far more than the mind can cope with. The room began to swirl and blur before him and grasping his sword, he darted forward for the exit to this ancient chamber that he could just make out.
The humans made a move for some weapons belted at their waists.
“No!” Their fat leader barked at them. “Let him go!”
Erazor ignored them and ran, stumbling in panic up a flight of stone stairs which twisted up and up quite some distance. In his flight he ran past many more humans in their fur clothes and they darted out of his way in surprise. A few of them he even knocked down as he reached the wide central doorway.
And then he was outside and he felt the cold touch of thick snowflakes fall on his skin.
There were shouts of alarm all around him, humans and other species retreated from him in utter terror as he skidded to a stop in the ankle deep snow of a deep mountainous crevice and a monstrous shadow.
Erazor staged back at the sight of a giant, larger than any troll, standing there eclipsing the light. A giant of…metal. It stood towered above, not as enormous as the Echidna’s Atlas but imposing, wrapped in armour made of a metal he did not recognise, grey and chrome with red over a massive torso. With a loud grinding it turned its large head to look down at him through a visor made out of what looked like glass.
Erazor took a step backwards as the giant moved forward with the loud, unmistaken sound of gears moving against one another.
It was too much.
Suddenly the djinn lord collapsed to one knee, his stomach retching
Whatever he had eaten before being imprisoned in the lamp had sat with him, mixed up with his own molecules and now that it was back in there, his muscles contracted and then he emptied it out into the snow.
Several made a move to corner him.
“No, don’t be an idiot!” A voice cried out. “Give him room!”
Instinctively Erazor went for his sword and raised it to confront his presumed attackers in that one fluid motion he had done so often, but this time the motion was clumsy and off balance. His sword spun from his grip and he fell and as he fell, the light faded from his eyes.
The snow was sot even if it wasn’t warm and for a fleeting instant his mind convinced him he was lying on a soft mattress and that he could sleep safely.
The djinn lord tried to stay conscious but he faded, lapsing into irresistible sleep. He felt hands on him and he was hoisted up and placed upon some vertical surface but he could see nor hear none of his, his perception too far away.
He whirled back through his memories unbidden and reluctant, tumbling through time it seemed until yet another of the images flashes before him.
Once more he was in the king’s caravan on the back of a behemoth, their caravan moving slowly towards the southern most tip of their land. His daughter, Shahra, was beside him and his king... his former king, Samad… was before him.
“You know what’s coming.” Samad was saying with a frown. “You did see it didn’t you?” His eyes were alive with a grim determination and a terrible fear. “The...the thing from beyond the stars?”
Erazor shut his mouth. He had seen it alright. Pax had showed him many things when they had talked together through dreams and much of it had engrained itself so much into his mind that it would never be forgot.
“Father?” Shahra asked, looking up at him with a confused expression on her face. Jarred out of his brooding, Erazor cleared his throat and nodded slowly.
“Yes.” He admitted. “He did… I saw… IT.” And as he spoke the image of that thing came flooding back… a form so terrible that it might drive a person mad merely to look upon it. His disciplined mind had been strained to the breaking point by that glimpse and even he could not look into those three glowing eyes directly.
And when image rose again, this time to confront him now, the sight of it shook the djinn lord to the core and he sat up with a start, breathing hard.
The dream was over.
There were shouted exclamations as a small team of humans in white coats backed off from him as he rose up to a sitting position. His surroundings had changed. He was no longer in a frozen, abandoned echidna tomb but was now in a strange room full of strange things. He was laid out on a bed and surrounded by… gadgets and gizmos of such complex design and purpose that he could not follow.
There were large lens like screens across the walls, all with green lines bobbing up at down to an annoying beeping. Strangely, attached to his chest were wires with sucker ends that fed into these machines and after a moment he became aware that the annoying sound was in sync with his own heartbeat.
He tugged these off and the machines noise became a constant low tone, the green lines going flat.
“He’s awake, my lord.” One of the humans began, speaking to something he could not see. “And he seems to be restored somewhat.”
“Good. I’ll be right there.” A voice replied. “Just keep out of his way Doctor… let him roam around as much as he wants to.”
“Understood m’lord.”
Pulling himself out of the bed, he saw that his sword and his cloak were laid out on a nearby table. The humans backed off as he approached. He didn’t pick up his sword but took his familiar cloak and wrapped it around himself. It was perhaps somewhat irrational and maybe even childish but having it around him made him feel better.
And when he slung his blade back into its place by his side it made him feel complete.
The major source of light for the room was a low window built into the far wall. The djinn lord crossed over to it, unimpeded by the humans who remained quiet and out from underfoot.
Glancing out Erazor beheld a landscape he was once again unfamiliar with.
Snow was falling quickly over a strange village of some kind, with walls made of flat smooth stone and buildings much the same. Humans and other races trudging through the snow going to and thro on various business, in admits of things that looked like birds… but were made out of metal and angular.
Erazor stared at them in awe. He had never before seen such craft, for that was sure that was what they were.
What changes had happened while he had been imprisoned?
“My latest aerial fighting and scout craft.” A voice began and turning, the djinn lord saw the human from the tomb again, coming in through a door he had not noticed. “The latest in aerodynamics and machine intelligence.” He had changed from his fur coat to a gown of blood red material with a cape over one shoulder and golden medallion in the centre.
He gestured to the other humans in the room who nodded and then filed out, leaving the two of them alone.
“How many years have past since I was imprisoned?” Erazor demanded bluntly.
The human’s reply was equally direct
“Two thousand, six hundred and eighty six years, five months and two days… give or take an hour or two.”
The djinn lord stared at him and for one hopeful moment he thought that perhaps it was a jest. The serious expression on the human’s face did not give him much hope for this and the reality of his new situation began to dawn on him.
The Echidna’s had stolen from him eons.
“lease tell me!” He pleaded urgently, taking a step forward. “What has become of my people?”
In his heart, Erazor supposed that he already knew the answer. The human shook his head and looked down at the floor.
“Gone, I’m afraid.” He said. “The Djinn species was exterminated almost a year after you were imprisoned. You are the last of your kind.”
The digestive moment of silence that followed seems to stretch on and on like the tone of a never ending bell.
Erazor stared... and stared... and stared some more. It could not be true, it couldn't! His people, his kingdom and empire was gone? Long buried in the sands of time? Everything he had ever known, his life and all things familiar and comforting were dead and dust.
"The Echidnas..." He began, eyes wandering back and forth in dawning realization. The human nodded.
"Their ultimate Gizoid, the Atlas, marched over your empire and burnt it to cinders."
The moment that followed was far from quiet as the djinn lord bared his fangs and shook with intense rage and hatred, nearly hissing with fury.
"What they have done to my people I will visit back on them ten fold!" He declared in hatred so deep that it pierced his very soul. "I will wipe out every echidna down to the smallest infant and most unformed egg of their vile breed! I will bare them all to the gates of hell and seal them there forever!"
The human shook his head sadly.
"I'm afraid you’re too late for that." Erazor looked up at him questioningly. "The Echidna empire died not long after the destruction of yours, drowned by Chaos when the god was unleashed upon them again."
Erazor went a little pale.
"They're... all gone?" He asked.
"Like the Djinn, the Echidna race is extinct."
Then it was all gone. Even his chance for revenge. There was nothing left… nothing.
What was worse was that Pax had been right and had always been right; their races could not learn to coexist and thus had been destroyed. And in his rage, Erazor had not listened.
With a howl of frustration, he raised his fist and called forth a blast of intense magical fire. With no other target he directed it down against the ground and smashed his hand into it, the tiles bursting up with a geyser of smoke and steam and making the human take a protective step backwards. With his anger vented, the djinn lord in overcoming despair sank down to his knees and hung his head, no longer caring if such an action would shame a warrior.
The human cleared his throat and stepped forward.
"I realize that this is quite a shock…" he started.
"A Shock?" Erazor repeated without looking up. "My family, my friends, my people and even my world has long since faded... everything that was familiar to me is dead and dust. The word 'shock' does not even come close to the emptiness in my soul."
The man looked quite annoyed and in some measure offended.
"You're not the only one to have had all they knew taken from them... and I could just put you back where I found you, if being free after so long is bothering you."
The mention of the lamp jarred Erazor and he started, glancing up at the human with an expression of intense displeasure. The humans replying grin was whimsical.
"No." The djinn lord said after a long pause. "No matter what... I will NOT go back to the lamp." Regardless of all else, all things lost and taken from him, that fate was to be avoided at all costs. If he gave into his despair and went back into the lamp to avoid such pain, then Pachachamac's cruel punishment would be eternal and that echidna butcher would laugh at him forever from beyond the grave.
He looked then directly at the human.
"Who are you?" He demanded. "And why did you bother to free me?"
The man grinned broadly and made a long bow from the waist with a sweep of one arm.
"Do forgive me I should have introduced myself at once. My name is Ivo Robotnik... Emperor of the Imperial Dominion of Maya." He proclaimed grandiosely.
"There is no such empire!"
"There is now. I am the first of the Robotnik dynasty."
The djinn lord stared at him but could not bring himself to believe that this man who to him was so unimposing a figure was an emperor. Erazor had a preconceived idea of what a ruler should look like. Samad had had that flare, as had Pachachamac and he had hoped even himself but this man... so sort and fat. The idea seemed laughable.
"You... rule this land?" He asked, gesturing to the window. Robotnik shook his head.
"Actually we're quite close to the territory of my enemies in Midgard, this is a secret base I had installed on this frozen island to spy on then. It was purely by change that when digging the foundations, your tomb was discovered."
The word 'tomb' was unpleasant sounding.
"You are at war?" Erazor asked and Robotnik nodded.
"Yes... with the Federation and their allies in Soleanna, Logres and Jotunheim who have formed a collation against me."
Again, nations the djinn lord had never heard of. Each mention of the changes in this new time was like a wrench in his heart but he steeled himself against it.
"How did you free me… and why?" He asked.
Robotnik folded his arms behind his back underneath his cloak and his smile turned almost vicious.
"When I found your tomb, I took a long time to read up on your history... although by now much of it was told of in myth and folklore. I am sure however that you know what the Chaos Emeralds are?"
Erazor's eyes widened at the mention of those jewels. Of course he knew of them. He had helped create them, alongside Pax and Samad when the three of them had torn the near limitless power from Chaos and directed it into eight jewels and then sealed Chaos himself into the ninth.
“After the Echidna's were destroyed, the Emeralds had been scattered to the four corners of the world. I managed to find one." Robotnik carried on and began pacing, apparently this being his favoured stance while talking. "But that is not all… I was also able to come in possession of a certain book…"
“The Necronomicon.” Erazor finished for him, for he already knew there could only be one ‘book’ that could help break the enchantment that held him fast.
“Ah you’re catching on.” Robotnik said approvingly.
"That is how then... so now, why?" The djinn lord asked eventually "You could have left me to rot for eternity."
Robotnik actually looked surprised by this notion.
"And waste such power and talent that come with your person? Oh do not even suggest such a horrible idea. To have left you to be sealed there forever would have been a complete mistake on my part when I could have your aide and allegiance."
The djinn's expression turned frosty.
"I was beginning to think as much." He said with a small amount of contempt. "You need me."
"Well I certainly didn't revive you for the simple pleasure of your company and conversation." Robotnik replied with a short chuckle. "I'm not THAT benevolent."
“Then what do you want?” Erazor snapped. That was one of the few immovable facts that were comfortingly immutable, the self centeredness of others.
Robotnik did not seem to take any offense at his bluntness.
“We’ll take more about that later. For now, you should rest and regain some more of your strength before I show…” He was cut off by a sudden loud blaring noise that seem to spilt the air around them, a loudly alarmed screeching. A strange red light on the ceiling began to flash red in accompaniment to the noise.
“What is that?” Erazor asked in annoyance. Robotnik however was not listening. The human pulled back his sleeve to reveal a strange device strapped across his wrist. It was a strap of leather with a metal box on the top end of it.
“Report!” He asked of the tiny machine. A moment later a beam of light shot up from the machine and widened out into the three dimensional image of another human face hovering there in mid air independent of a body. Erazor stared at it in alarmed awe. What kind of magic was this?
“Sire, we have G.U.N airships on inbound.” The face replied. “Radar contacts with two barriers and mech signatures have been confirmed. I think someone ratted us out, m’lord. I think they know you’re here.”
Robotnik swore angrily.
“What’s their ETA?” He asked.
“Ten minutes.”
“We don’t have the forces here to repel that kind of attack.” He said through his teeth. “Order the evacuation, get all the men and equipment onboard whatever ships we have. Leave the equipment if you have to, Erazor… please come with …” But as he turned back to talk to him, the Djinn lord had disappeared.
Erazor was already outside, his cloak once again tied around him and his sword in his hand. He did not know exactly why he was doing this. Robotnik was not his master and never would be. He would easily just go, leave here and leave this small emperor to whatever fate his enemies would allow to him.
But the fever of battle was already in him, a feeling and surging in the blood he had known since the first time he had gone to war.
Ignoring the snow and the swirling cold of this northern shore Erazor stood ankle deep in the cold, watching through the white haze as his eyes could see what the poorer eyes of humans could not.
Flying ships.
At least he assumed they were ships. Most of them were small craft like those Robotnik had below but the behemoth in the centre was unlike anything he had seen before.
It was seemingly all made of metal and was flat like a box with a rectangular dip in the middle along it’s underside. Many lights from windows covered the hull and sides and at the front were barrel shaped instruments that the djinn lord could only assume to be weapons.
The buildings below and around him were marked with an emblem not unlike Robotnik’s own face, while these ships had a strange rune like symbol with stars around it as their battle standard.
Truly this was an age wholly unlike that from which he had come. What marvels were commonplace if these flying ships of metal were standard in warfare?
He wondered if perhaps he was wise putting his blade on the side of the empire. Who was he to interfere in a war that he knew nothing about? Would it not be best to remain neutral? Of course he knew as soon as that thought came to him that such a thing would be impossible. He would never just sit watching with a battle to fight where, either way, his aid would tip the outcome one way or the other.
With a flick of his hand, his sword snapped out and its blade shone in the faint sunlight. Inside the lamp the blade had not dulled or blunted at all and it still shone bright with the razors edge reflecting the light.
With a single fluid motion he held the blade in front of his body and drew his finger across its flat length as he had done many times before; charging the sword with the powerful magic he could control. As his finger moved, it etched runs into the sword that glowed brightly red the instant he was finished.
Thus armed, he leapt defiantly into the full force of the storm and the oncoming ships. His blade whirled around, arching up and over and unleashed a powerful shockwave of energy that shot towards them.
By the way the vessels kept coming, Erazor supposed that magic must have faded from the living memory of modern nations and they did not recognise their danger. His attack collided into the largest ship.
It energy wave scrapped along the vessels underside, tearing through the metal hull and spraying bright sparks in the darkness as it went. When it same across more resistance inside the interior of the vessel the shockwave ended in a vicious explosion that blew out the nearer windows and the vessel trailed smoke and bursts of flame.
Erazor could not fly as the expenditure of magic required for such a feat would be exhausting but rather he could deliver a burst of energy behind him, sufficient enough to propel him high into the air in a colossal leap. Cascading himself into the sky, the djinn lord leapt up and then came down on the ship he had damaged.
These vessels had appeared seamless from a distance but close up he could see the ugly rivets and welding that held them together.
The small vessels, scouts if he was any judge, swooped down to fire at him like angry hornets. Erazor dealt with them each in turn as they came near, slashing and swiping with his blade. His steel blade, augmented by the magic he had infused it with, cut them each one and sent them tumbling down to the ground below where they exploded into a firestorm with each crash.
It did seem strange him that these craft seemed more interested in him than in attacked the Imperial base which by now was clearly visible even through the snow.
There was a loud shunting noise from behind him and glancing over his shoulder Erazor saw three of the odd exuberances he had seen before turned to directly face him. With a rattling noise, they unleashed a hail of tiny metallic projectiles at him.
Instinct saved him for he used another spell, one taught to him by Samad himself and developed to be the ultimate spell in translocation. It disassembled the body of its user, forcing it temporarily into a gaseous state and like this Erazor was immune to the torrent of metal shards. His form moved quickly like a breeze, moving so close that these futuristic weapons could not fire at him safely and when he became solid he dispatched them all with swift strokes of his sword.
No sooner had he finished off these nuisances that another of the scouting ships came down almost directly towards him. He saw it at the last second and reacting with trained reflexes, he somersaulted out of the way. The small hip continued on its kamikaze run, smashing into the spot where he had just been moments before.
Erazor stared in sick fascination at the burning wreckage before him and wondered what kind of people would deliberately commit suicide to take out their enemy?
When the fires died down however his expression changed from awe to sudden disgust. There was no warrior inside, any body to behold. This… metal thing, was completely automated.
In terrible rage he was reminded of the echidna’s and their own death machines, the Gizoid’s, remotely operated automatons and of course of the ultimate expression of this trend; the giant Atlas.
Soulless, bloodless, honourless.
“Is this the calibre of the warriors of this day and age?” He demanded in contempt, shouting down at the ship beneath him. “That you allow machines and automated devices to do the fighting for you? Cowards! I spit on you, you yellow spineless armchair soldiers!”
His hand held aloft, a ball of the intense fire of Iblis gathered between his fingers and clenching a fist around it he swung his arm won and punched the ships metal deck. There was a responding clank, followed by a vast roaring crash and the creaking of tons of metal.
The force of that blow, augmented by the fire was tremendous. The fire melted right down through the deck, moving through the various floors of the ship and bursting out the bottom in a terrific spray of flames and molten metal.
The ship groaned in protest loudly, the fire still spreading through its body. With a tearing groan large chunks of the metal ship began to break off and its momentum came slowed to a near stop. The vessel almost seemed to hover in mid air, suspended for a brief moment before the warped material broke apart and the ship began to cascade down into the icy waters below.
The disintegrating form tipped down and crashed; jets of thick steam and a spray of icy foam shot up into the sky.
Without the protection of the larger vessels cannons, the smaller ships were easily picked off by the counter attack from the turrets below and the attacking fleet dissolved, some turning to flee and those not fast enough crashing down to explode on the hard snow clad ground.
Erazor’s body was numb for a good five minutes before slowly he was able by force of will to hoist himself up, clutching his curved sword like a cane to support himself. He was breathing hard, straining at the exertion. Grimly he turned to look around at the flames around him, the jagged metal carcass of the flying vessel wilting in the heat.
The djinn lord looked at the flames for a long time. It was part of Djinn tradition that by staring into a fire, one might talk to Iblis and hear his wisdom,.
Certainly by staring into this fire, Erazor was afforded some clarity of thought. This was a new world and he knew he had to survive it. He could do no more than to carry on living, if he were to honour the long dead of his fallen family.
With this new resolve, he pulled his cloak about himself and began to move on out of the wreckage.
From a safe distance, in a protected bunker surrounded by many security lockdown doors, Robotnik observed the battle with a smile on his face. His glasses reflected the light from the monitors that observed and recorded Erazor’s battle from stealth spy orbs that he had had following the Djinn lord ever since his revival.
Data was being taken, complied and analysed for future use.
“Is he not all that I told you he would be?” A rough voice from the shadows asked, sounding amused.
“Indeed.” Robotnik replied without turning around, knitting his fingers in front of his face. “Single handily taking on a battleship and a squad of drones?” He sighed in a slight melancholy. “If only my entire army might be composed of copies of him.” A faint smile crossed his lips. “I might want to look into that when I have the leisure.”
“I would not advise it.” The voice of his advisor recommended. “I speak from grand experience that one Djinn is enough of a handful and you do have other concerns.”
“Quite so old boy, quite so.” The Doctor cast his gaze upon the live feed of Erazor as the Djinn lord emerged from the fires of the wreckage, looking none the worse for ware.
“It was clever of you to remote control a few of your captured enemy’s ships.” The shadowy advisor remarked thoughtfully. “A man of a warriors honour, Erazor will now follow your lead.”
Robotnik chuckled deep under his breath. Their operation ‘Hook-Line-Sinker’ had been pulled off flawlessly right down to the last detail and the deception had indeed been masterful. The supposed enemy ships, all of them completely automated, had been hidden in the icy sea and taken off at remote command.
“I have kept my end of our agreement, Doctor.” The figure in the darkness added, stepping briefly out into the light. As he moved, the light from the monitor reflected of the metal of a robotic right arm and the chrome of a head covering. “Erazor has been raised and with him at your beck and call the way to Angel Island is now open to you.”
Robotnik turned to face his guest with a wide smile.
“And together...” He began ingratiatingly. “We will claim the Master Emerald.” He offered his hand forward, his face all smiles. “And free your people from their Twilight Cage.”
The Echidna leaned forward and took his hand, shaking it with a metal hand full of claws. A large cybernetic eye looked off in the other direction from its fellow, not bound by the same muscles that controlled the organic one. The fur was snow white, almost albino
“You’re a worthy partner, Doctor Robotnik.” Zarchary declared.


(If any of you are wondering how did Zarchary get there, and now a cyborg… after we left him back in the Twilight Cage then do not worry. This will be explained in the upcoming Knuckles Spotlight, which hopefully will be an audio version)