The Wielder of Death Magic

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” returned a pouty Fenrir. A distant look to the wall as well as the constant feed of information told of a gradually subsiding tide, ‘-seems the panic has calmed. Not Fenrir,’ he paused, taking time to scan the area. They had crossed into the land of no return so some said, foolish adventurers hungry for fame and fortune very often returned in body bags. Then and there, Fenrir side-glanced again with a hard-to-read regard, “-STOP IT!” he said, “-tell me what’s in thy mind?”

“No,” she shrugged her shoulders and crossed her arms, “-why should I, a comrade you’ve known for long, ask about what just happened. Yeah, it’s fine, I understand the new faces, the strange power able to control monsters, I get it, totally.”

“Yeah, the expression says otherwise.”

“Your point?”

“Fine, I’ll explain,” he picked up the pace, “-I’m the inheritor of various entity’s symbols and will.” The story summarized to an understandable level, the promenade and parle ran in parallel.

A heaviness wrapped the later steps in a murky and dense aura of malaise, “-I feel nauseous,” said Fenrir, the tale ended on her pressing her lips in a straight line, her eyelashes rose on to Igna with the same straightness, “-doesn’t bother me anymore.”

.....

“Don’t roll your eyes at me. I wasn’t the one being overly sarcastic.”

“Oh shut it,” she returned, “-where are we anyway?”

“The Border into Totrya.” Tall mountain rose before them, the rocks and foggy forests were reminiscent of Mont Blanc. While it felt similar, the sharpness of the slopes was like a blunt sword’s edge. The dulled gray carried over, a canvas of very little color, grayscale to some extent, painted over the horizon. Most of the dullness arose from the barrier. Fenrir stopped to sniff the strange entity; a ragged edge line liberally divided each province. He hunched to examine the halted meadow where the border had begun. Behind, where rose the Azure Battlefield held scarcely plotted tree lines, the ground mostly muddy and without weeds. Long one walked, the more the area vegetation changed. A sprinkle of intrigue veered its head, left and right, an expansive tree line went onto miles. Most assumed the forest bordering Totrya and Oxshield to be full and dangerous, instead, what stood was a world-class illusion. Consider one who was able to cross into the enemy line, having fought monsters, they’d waver to the border in search of answers, for the latter, fog, a mountain, or a labyrinth of trees would conjure to meet their challenges.

“Welcome to Totrya,” said a shuffle, Fenrir immediately leaped in front of Igna, her tail stood and ears stern. Outline of figures approached from the right over a small hill, the shadow of the trees, real or not, who’d care to know, cast shadows onto the dirt trail.

“Thank you,” a gentle tap upon her shoulder led into a lowered guard, her belligerent persona dwindled, “-did Vesper inform of our arrival?” the ominous entities arrived and turned to be but a singular personage.

“My lord,” it bowed, “-tis an honor to make thy acquaintance. I am Slithaphall, a proud member of the Naagi tribe.”

“Naagi?”

“Yes, we are what the common world refers to as demi-humans. Instead of mammals, we Naagis are reptilians, snakes to be precise. Stewardess Vesper is also a member of our people.”

“I figured much,” he scanned. She bore a humanoid form. Her visage had black colored scales shyly hiding under her eyes. Her nose, smaller and sharper, to what had been commonly observed laid peacefully. Her tongue would occasionally slip, the eyes never blinked, beady dark pupils watched every movement.

“Perplex to why I have a human’s form?” she inquired, he nodded, “-for convenience,” she said, “-we prefer to stay out of the way, and a human’s body is easier to mimic and learn. I’ve wasted enough time,” she continued along her road, crossed the duo, and headed straight forward, “-please follow me.”

“What about Totrya?” Fenrir questioned reluctantly.

“There isn’t much to see, the borders between the world have been ruptured. Nature’s slowly taking its territory, the many illusions we used to ward curious adventurers have been replaced for a lighter confusing spell. In a few months, the realm will stand free of the monster’s control – a lush forest will rise to conceal our arrival. Training is primordial, here or there(a reference to the Shadow Realm) we exist to fight our monarch’s enemies.”

In a way, the walk along the border was pleasant. Monsters dared no inch – the gusty strayed were sent running with tails behind their legs. ‘A Naagi’s stare is said to have the power of hypnosis,’ read a random piece of trivia courtesy of Mantia.

Alongside fighting, Igna had worked on gathering information from the library. The general layout of the castle was more or less known. If he had to look for some piece of information, the brain would go through various pages till what he needed. The manual process took time and attention, both precious commodities in times of need. Now, instead of focusing on a particular situation or entity, the mere thought of a word would ready an avalanche of knowledge. Fighting the storm daily eventually gave rise to a particular skill, no name was given. Briefly, if a random situation sprung, the deluge of information would cascade, the subconscious mind leaped, grabbed relevant information, and read it mentally, hence, the trivia.

“I apologize for the inconvenient detour,” she said upon the sky turning pink. A portal rose, “-please head-on in – tis a direct passage to the town of Aria.”

“Will you follow?”

“No, I have other duties to oversee. Worry not and take in the town.”

Surely enough, setting foot inches from the oval-shaped hole pulled, “-okay?” he replied to none, the guide disappeared.

“Igna...” said a preoccupied Fenrir, “-I need some help here...” it swallowed her tail.

“Go on,” he spun and closed line them inside – instant teleportation, she landed on her bottom while his nose barely grazed the ground.

“IS THAT-” exclaimed she, cold stare fell on the duo, stopping her outburst, the stone-tiled streets held many o’ bystanders. It but took a few seconds to pass, ‘-what’s wrong with them?’

“Here,” the palms clasped.

“Thanks for the help-” she dusted her clothes, “-wait a minute, who in their right minds...”

“Keep the complaining for later,” the chest rose, ‘-Town of Aria,” he looked around, the buildings were two to three stories’, alleys and narrowed passageways separated differing properties. Alarms rang to the side on a slightly elevated platform, a terminal upon which bore holographic displays advertising weapons and products from Phantom. “Affordable and deadly, why risk a clashing sword when you can blast away your enemy,” a handsome woman bore safety glasses and a contagious smile, “-monster problem?” she spun and pulled, the gun blasted explosive pallets into the living flesh of a goblin, “-buy one, Raida Mrk 4, starting price, 5,000 Exa.”

‘A bit much,’ he smiled, “-Raida Mrk 4. Way to make a life-ending instrument feel childish.”

“Hungry,” said Fenrir.

“Right,” a map materialized onto the phone, “-we might find something to eat at the market.”

“Anything’s fine,” she said, “-a tavern would have been nice.”

“We’re in the first district,” he said, “-taverns and lodging over there,” he pointed vaguely to the southeast, “-ought to cross a river first.” Soon enough, the buildings elapsed, various Guild Emblems projected on the colorful buildings, copper, silver, and gold color, a representation of, low, mid, and high tier guilds. The centerpiece, the tower of God or Tower of Aris rose silently and menacingly in the distance. The scale, larger and without competition to the walls he’d seen in Draebala, the peek wasn’t visible to the naked eye, the clouds barely scratched its surface. A crescent moon peeped around the shaft, illuminating part of town. The names worked interchangeably, tower of Aria, Aris, or Town of Aria, Aris, they meant the same.

Fenrir’s quest for sustenance brought them to the market which also held the terminal of Plaustan. Here, various other trams led out to the renowned beaches, tranquil towns, and villages. One word described the province, Affluent. The large highway connecting the outposts, sliced straight into town, cutting the station from the market and curved to the south. Flyovers layered the obnoxiously loud road, rider gangs often paraded from one outpost to the next searching for the next best place to get drunk. A cozy little shop on wheels waited opposite one of the flyovers – a little community of fast-food sellers neatly arranged. Benches faced the cook who hid from the visitors by hanging shoulder-high curtains. An old man held the stand, “-what you want, kiddos,” said he expertly juggling ingredients from pan to pan.

“Anything, old man,” said Fenrir, the aroma joyously twinkled her ears, “-what do you recommend?”

“It’s going to cost a fair penny,” he leaned over the edge, smiling with a few missing teeth.

“My friend here is rich,” she returned his energy in full, “-old man, you like booze?”

“Bet you five exa I love ’em,” a nonchalant gesture pulled a bottle of wine from the underbelly, he dowsed the pan and drank the rest, “-you’re a fine kid,” he said, “-I’ll give it my best,”

“Old man, order us some drinks too,” said she aloud, “-keep a few yourself, a gift to a fellow booze lover.”

“Girly,” he laughed, chipper at the prospect, “-I’ll get right on it,” he leaned to the other side, “-WENDY, BRING US WINE AND BEER, THE BEST STUFF YOU GOT!”

“NO MORE DRINKS FOR YOU, GEEZER,” fired an equally chipper tone.

“IT’S FOR A CLIENT.”

“NO, YOU’LL SPEND THE EARNINGS ON DRINKS AGAIN!”

“I’M SERIOUS!” he exclaimed.

“OLD MAN TENMO,” rose from the other end, “-BACK AT IT AGAIN WITH THE DRINKING, HUH,” laughter permeated the gathering.

“Isn’t this a lovely place,” said she.

“I agree,” he smiled, “-I love the atmosphere, it’s very welcoming,” the chef kept exchanging banter to the neighbors, a lass soon brought the drinks. Regulars slipped in, took a ‘to go’ meal, and made way to a viewpoint overlooking the highway. The road was built on a dried river bed. Humble lighting rose the appetite – neon signs reflected against decorative ponds in the distance.

Dinner finished. Before he realized it, more drinks carried over, a small crowd gathered – the many stalls held a communal gathering area in the center, basically a walkway in between, turned makeshift gathering area. Humans, demi-humans, and various kinds climbed stairs; activity heightened. Igna and Fenrir shifted from the stall and into the stone-pathed area, tables and chairs were brought, smiles and laughter went to and fro.

“Old man Tenmo,” said an adventurer, “-has the party started?” another group peaked into the gathering.

“Just in time, kiddo,” he smiled, one could see the expression from the side, a wide rectangle in the humble eatery, “-these two lovely kids have decided to sponsor our night,” he cheered, nodding to the side, “-apparently the boy is loaded.”

“Are you sure about that?” slyly smirked the broad man, “-could cost you a lot.”

“Once a decision is made,” he stabbed a can, the liquid gushed, he guzzled the drink, “-there’s no turning back!” the canister slammed against the table. The crowd of strangers fell silent, a would-be barbecue stopped, they watched and stared... “-HELL YEAH!” it roared. “Drink, drink, drink,” they chanted, a bonfire lit, the night livened, more adventurers arrived, the smell of alcohol and delicious food hid the scent of blood. The crowd spilled onto the walkway, unknowing passersby clicked their tongue, rolled their eyes, and were on their merry way.

“Not going to drink?” said a lady dawning a bandana, orange hair, freckled nose and cheeks, “-had enough?” she chuckled and held a glass of her own.

“My friend’s having fun for the both of us,” he said facing away from the mildly populated highway, “-Aria’s more jovial than I imagined.”

“Thank you,” she smiled, “-I wish everyone was like this, happy and full of life. Our little commute grows smaller each day, our customers die, and most of the townsfolk scowl at us. Hard to imagine the whole town was like this at one point, blissful and living in the moment. Look at them now, empty vessels trying to survive.”