Sword of the King | FFXV × M!Reader

[Chapter VI] | Departure - The Journey Begins

A dark landscape, coveted by the night sky as Y/N stood amongst the ruinous streets of a city. Insomnia.

He looked around. Confused and bewildered. When did he get here? Better yet, when was Insomnia destroyed and put into ruins? The last thing Y/N remembered was that he and his friends had all fallen asleep in Noctis' apartment after spending what seemed like three hours playing King's Knight. But he can't remember much after that.

Suddenly, a loud boom echoed the streets, an orange color lighting up the sky along with the clashing noise of blades and the echo of gunfire. He took off, sprinting in the direction of the commotion, vaulting over destroyed and wrecked cars, and stumbling over debris that filled the streets. His breath steady, regulated with interval pants, Y/N looked around. Despite the darkness around him, no ounce of Daemons were spotted; not a single one creeping around corners or large ones lumbering around with their fierce aura. However, as he kept running, the noises began to get louder, the gunshots that were being fired off progressively getting louder and quicker.

Y/N extended a hand out to his side, conjuring up a simple broadsword and increased his running speed. He rounded the corner, in that split second, a rather buff and burly man was flung past him—Gladio. The Shield was sent tumbling into the asphalt road, skidding across before being impaled on some rebar that was sticking out of some debris.

The red-haired young man looked on in horror, "Gladio!"

"Gyaaaaahhh—!" A high-pitched scream let out. Y/N turned his head, his eyes widening even more; his horror skyrocketing to unsurmountable levels.

There laid Prompto, a large pool of blood under him, his eyes wide open as the life had left his eyes—sword impaled in his stomach as his hand looked as if it struggled to remove it from him. Y/N's eyes soon trailed up, gritted teeth before he gasped; his voice left him as he couldn't believe the sight before his eyes.

Spear right through his abdomen, the bladed tip colored in a deep red from the Hand's blood. Ignis coughed, his head slowly turning around to look at his red-haired friend. His ashy blonde hair was disheveled, his green eyes losing their color and his skin looking rather pale, he extended his gloved hand out to Y/N. Blood trickled down his mouth, his Crownsguard fatigues seeped with the red life blood; limbs trembling and quivering as they were losing their function.

"Y-Y/N..." Ignis spoke, his voice strained, "R-Run—!"

His breath hitched, a grunt leaving his lips as he slowly looked down, biting his lip as he spotted the spear go deeper into his chest. In one fell swoop, the blade removed, Ignis fell to the floor with a heavy thud. Y/N, angry and confused, had his breath escape his lungs—almost like the entirety of his soul had left his body as he gazed at the perpetrator responsible for all of this.

"Noct!?" Y/N exclaimed, shocked beyond any comprehension.

Noctis' body was heavily scarred, his shirt and jacket in ruins as it exposed his bare chest—soot and grime littering his skin. His blue eyes no longer shining vividly, replaced with an ominous orange-yellow color as it glowed with malicious intent.

The hand that held the glaive in his hand allowed the weapon to dissipate into particles. A crackling noise filled his ears as Y/N watched as a particular sword materialized into Noctis' hand—that intricate design and that bright silver color accented with many regal black pieces. The Sword of the Father: King Regis' blade.

Y/N took a defensive position, his blade beginning to glow a fiery orange as he channeled the famed fire magic of the L/N family through his sword. A swirling and swooshing noise enveloped his blade as a small torrent and spiral of flames coated his sword.