The Wielder of Death Magic

“Igna...” sobbed Eira, “-w-why did t-this h-have to happen?”

“Eira, small Eira, tiny Eira, foolish Eira,” a nonchalant glance had her heart tremble, “-I said I would meet my enemy in full, the choice has been made. Stand as my opposition, I’ll be sure to drive any who dares lay another finger on my people.”

“-B-Baron,” coughed Inesa, “-w-why did y-you l-let us l-live?”

“To be witnesses,” he smirked, “-Hero Kion, take this message to the emperor, ‘-the boundaries have been crossed. The Church’s forces will fall soon enough. I’ll be in touch soon. Should cover it,” he dusted his shoulder, “-it sure was a great fight.”

Conversation between him and the little ones faded, Eira was left curled against a truck’s tire, ‘-the fate awaiting those who oppose Igna Is beyond traumatizing. He fought the hero without enhancement or magic, he fought on swordsmanship alone. The conjuration of Mantia rendered my library useless.’

“Kion,” sobbed Alta, “-how can a person be so cruel,” heavy tears echoed against the hardened dirt.

.....

“Stop it,” he said, or tried to say, the air stuck at the throat, ‘-I-I c-c-can’t.’

Peering over the crevasse, “-quite the concoction,” he remarked.

“We went a little overboard,” added Lilith in jest.

“Our job’s done here,” nodded Gophy, “-we’ll be off to the shadow realm.”

“Alright,” he bowed, “-thanks for the help.”

“It’s no problem,” they smiled, “-see you soon, devil,” winked Intherna, black flashes opened to the other world, their overwhelming presence lifted. The combination of their powers ended in a goring sludge, empty skulls of the lucky would float, the unlucky merged in Intherna’s lava. A frown said, ‘-disgusting.’

*Once living now dead. O’ thee who’ve lost thine life to mine blade, thee who held regrets in the mortal world, I grant thee a chance at life. Be one with those who are to serve me, Blood-Arts: Ghoul Revival.* Bright crimson glow illuminated the stagnant scenery, countless bodies crawled from the pits of hell. *Living or dead, I invite all to the realm of absurdity, serve me and my companions, be one of a greater family. Forgo of the past and look towards the future, one in which thou art be immortal and without regret. Box of Soul: Shadow Realm Transmigration.* An appeasing glow caressed the disfigured, a gentle touch of a mother cuddling her child, a child caring for her pet. The charm and vigor resounded in involuntary prostration, five thousand strong revived to bow. Kion managed to stumble his way to Igna’s foot.

“What’s happening?” he inquired on all fours, none stayed by his side, they were frightened to approach.

“Quit the crazed self-pity,” snarled Igna, “-embrace the desperation and pain. You were lax in our fight, didn’t expect to get injured, did you?”

“N-no,” the face dried in sweat, “-are you at a higher realm than gods?”

“Yes,” he returned in a somewhat friendly tone, “-I’m ranked higher than Creation. In laymen’s terms, I have the power to injure gods and demons alike.”

“What about you?” he coughed; “-I injured y-you.”

“Yeah, it’s because my existence elapses across all living beings. Therefore, I can be hurt by everything. Tis self-explanatory.” The army soon ambled towards a rift, “-as for them, they’ll live peaceful lives as my servants. No need to worry, they’ll start new lives in a world like ours. Fighters are expected to die, the moment one kills, he must be readied to be killed. From an Ardanian’s point of view, allowing such wretched men bliss makes me nauseous.” He dropped to one knee and gripped Kion’s shoulder, “-as a being of another world, do you wish to return or stay here?”

“I wish I had a place to return, my previous life is worse than I could ever hope to imagine,” he fell onto his arms with forehead to the dirt, “-I don’t ever want to think about those people again.”

“Kion” he dropped onto his bottom and sighed, “-I know what I’ve done can never be taken back,” the puppet army vanished, *-Dominion Release.* The sun shone brighter, the grass and leaves cried in joy. A blanched landscape of imperfection beckoned for a splash of color. The harm done seemed to have never happened, the crevasse and spilled blood relinquished to what laid before, unchanged and tranquil. “-You’re a man of action,” he sincerely matched the man’s woeful gaze, “-you were lied too from the start.”

“L-Lied too?” he frowned.

“Answer me this, what are your parent’s names, where were you born, and name me an embarrassing moment of the past.”

“So m-many questions,” he sat cross-legged, “-let me think...” blank, the visage paled.

“There’s my point,” sighed Igna cradling both Draconis and Vanesa, “-the resurrection is true, and Dustina did grace thee with powers. Alas, thy native world is Alphia, not some otherworldly realm,” *Mana-Cancellation,* a flick to the forehead shattered the memory alteration curse. ‘-He’s blacked out,’ grinned he, ‘-a few minutes should do the job.’

Alta gathered her strength and will to move a few steps. Eira led the way to Igna, the ladies stood awkwardly, “-something the matter?” returned a condescending voice.

“N-no,” fired Inesa, ‘-my heart,’ she gulped, ‘-I’m so nervous.’

“Come on,” he gave a friendly smile, “-join our little discussion.”

“S-sure,” and so made a circle of friend and foe. Neither could the once elegantly dressed lady nor shorter bud of energy directly face Igna. Inesa contended in hiding behind the passed-out Kion. Somewhere in the palpable silence, Draconis began to drool. With no reservation, Igna warmly wiped the saliva and settled the boy in a better posture. Vanesa changed to sit at his side as opposed to on the lap, her pale expression carried into an adorable and innocent slumber.

“Who are they?” inquired Eira.

“Come on now cousin,” he smirked, “-tis no way to talk to family. The boy here is named Draconis Haggard, and she’s Vanesa Haggard, my son, and daughter, your nephew, and niece.”

“Come on,” she facepalmed, “-how old are they?”

“No idea,” he laughed, “-we’re not blood-related, and neither are we. Vanesa’s the deity worshipped by Vane’s cult, as for him, he’s one of the ancient demons. The one bearing long dark-brown hair is Lilith, Queen of Demons and wife to Lucifer.”

“W-wife t-to t-t-the king?” the comment struck her in awe.

“Correct. I don’t have the time nor the will to explain why she’s on my side.” Kion slowly came to, the tears flowed without stop, he innocently locked upon his companions.

“I know now,” he sniffled, “-my home and what happened.”

“Care to share the story?” inquired Igna.

“S-sure, I was born into Alphia’s lower society. Life growing up was hard, school never really suited my abilities. I always had a knack for thieving. One day, I stumbled my way into the land of dreams; I overheard a conversation between shady-looking men. The pride of Hidros’s return, she was spotted in Melmark. Here I thought it would be a good opportunity to make some easy money, I mean, blackmailing a dead idol won’t get me in trouble. The last thing I knew, I was up a skyscraper and held in her arms, she cried out, ‘-even if I die, my music will live on. And trust me, the day a certain man finds out the truth, the whole of the Patek Dynasty will tremble!’ Gunshots rattled our step, she shielded me from the first barrage and fell, I reflectively grabbed her arms... sadly, they hurled me over.”

“Look at that,” he chuckled, “-fate is weird. A hero, one from the church, was the reincarnation of the man who witnessed the death of the one I sought after.”

“Excuse me, were you acquainted?” inquired he.

“Yeah,” the tone dropped, “-I knew her pretty well, Aceline was one of those people vowing to change the world using all under her means. She died trying to save another despite being targeted. The Patek’s dynasty, suppose the plan ought to shift a little.”

“What?”

“No matter,” he exhaled, “-Kion, and the hero’s companions,” a whim spurred from inside, “-the truth’s revealed,” he looked to the shaken hero, “-forget about delivering my message. Eira will perform just as well.”

“No,” refuted Eira, “...”

He held out a hand, “-Kion, our fight has showed a multitude of things. Our blows recounted the tale of what type of person you are. The feelings are shared mutually. I, therefore, extend a hand., forgo of thy puppet lifestyle and join me, the Haggard’s, in our agenda. I don’t ask for forgiveness, hate me for all it’s worth, I slaughtered five-thousand of thy men. I’m not expecting much, you’ve suffered at the hand of the Church, and so have I. Join me, I’ll make sure you and your friends won’t ever need to touch a sword or enter the battlefield again.”

“-Ha-ha-ha-ha,” he broke, “-how is that fair... I’ve lost everything, my memories only speak of how wicked a man I am.”

“Returning would fully sanction execution. A hero unable to protect his men is worth naught, the wrath and guilt will eat from the inside. In the end, you’ll exist as an empty shell, devoid of dreams and full of regrets.”

“-W-WHY?” he screeched, “-WHY!”

“Because I’m like you,” he stared off into the distance, “-I lost people who I vowed to protect. My family was slain mercilessly by Kreston. The regret still lingers to this day, power means nothing if it can’t save another. Here’s Eira for example, we’re family, she’s the daughter to my uncle, a great man who once unified Hidros and created the Federation, a man of unfathomable strength. He died trying to save what he had lost, death by the hands of his daughter, the silver-haired princess.”

“What if I refuse?”

“Head on home, nothing changes the outcome.”

“What if I say yes?”

“Tis the opportunity at starting over, a life without violence.”

“What if I was to fight?”

“You’ll fight as a member of the Barony of Glenda, or, join the familia as a wicked man of slaughter. There are many paths I can offer, you choose.”

“I-I...” he inhaled; “-I want to be someone who fights for justice. Not for the church, not as a hero, but a normal man who fights crime and saves people from enduring my fate.”

“Take a moment and discuss with your companions,” he stepped away, “-Eira,” the lass followed. Silence divulged into a full-blown argument. Arms waved, the expression scrolled, woe, ire, bliss, none knew what the other felt.

“Taking out the opposition,” remarked Eira.

“Not really,” returned Igna, “-tis a whim,” they sat atop a boulder. “-What now?”

“I’ll report the defeat of Kion’s party. It depends on his answer, if he wishes to die, he’ll die.”

“We’ve decided,” panted Kion, “-I selfishly forced them to agree. Baron Igna, please, allow me to start over.”

“Good choice,” he leaped, “-Kion, Alta, Inesa, and Ulia, from today onward, thy life ends. The hero and his party were slain on the battlefield. Princess Eira has agreed, after all, the winner decides the outcome.”

The daunting fight between the devil and hero halted prematurely. Seeing the death of so many comrades would have spawned a thirst for vengeance, or so one would have thought. ‘Hook, line, and sinker. Sincerity trumps any fledgling amber of revenge. Kion’s out of the picture.’