The Wielder of Death Magic

“Master,” said éclair, “-the live-footage is spreading across Iqeavea.”

“Oh,” said he now sipping whiskey, “-the more people who know of our involvement – the better.” Suzanne’s mind halted, her visage, devoid of emotions and response, kept firm on Vil being broken bit by bit.

*Dring, dring,* “-master, tis lord Elon calling.”

“Put him through.”

“Hello, Shadow, is that you?” came the old slow-paced articulation of the Overlord.

“Yes, how may I be of service?”

.....

“Shadow...” the voice came across cold and perturbed, “-are you the one responsible for this atrocity?”

“Are you referring to the live-torture?”

“Yes, it’s disgusting, how... why?”

“Lord Elon, thee must know,” said he straightening the posture, “-I’m not a forgiving man. I came upon your orders to remedy the situation of the pills. The matter is still in process, I but sent a warning to Snow, the group associated with Cimier shall pay, that much I promise. You see, I have deep relations with them; they took away the thing I vowed to protect.”

“Shadow,” returned he with a calmer tone, “-you misunderstand. I merely called to say it’s disgusting. Disgustingly good – keep on torturing the man. I expect a result, this will send a strong message. Though, putting the DG out on display admits the bodies sends a bad enough impression.”

“No need to worry,” he chuckled, “-said message is for the eyes of Snow, anyone unrelated to the underground won’t be able to see.”

“Is it a spell?”

“No, it’s the handy work of my butler.”

“Ominous,” he paused, “-well, continue the good work. I’m entrusting you with cleaning the village of Earn from damned pills.” *Beep,* the call ended.

“Please, no more,” begged he.

“No, it’s not over yet,” said the boy holding a hammer, “-we’re going to resculpt that devilish smile.” A hit followed with stomach-turning screams, the pain of having one’s tooth broken paired with the merciless punches – there wasn’t a shred of doubt nor mercy.

“Don’t go too hard,” voiced Staxius, “-here.”

“What is this?” he caught a flask of which was green.

“Healing potions. I’ve around 3 more left – three more chances at revival. Go on boy, do your worse.”

*Click,* he left the basement and locked the door. “éclair, inform me if anything changes.”

“Yes, master, I’ll track the torture.”

Stained by blood, the figure climbed the stairs into a place of silence. The prior warning Vil engaged had altered the neon lights. A screen in the main-room displayed the happenings of the live-feed. Few dozen men stood menacingly in a circle with the night-workers in the middle.

“Greetings gentlemen,” said he sauntering towards the armed men.

“Who are you?” said one who quietly gazed at the video.

“A valued customer,” said he with a stoic face, “-might I ask why the workers have been taken prisoner?”

“You smell of blood,” commented a man in body-armor.

“Well,” crossing his arms, “-one of the ladies was going through that time of the month. I do apologize for my less than amiable tastes.”

“Yuck,” said another, “-that’s freaky.”

“We gathered them because of this,” pointed the man in armor.

“If it isn’t Lord Vil, who in the world would do such a thing...”

“That’s the question,” he turned to the hostages, “-the boss isn’t happy. One of the gang leaders is being tortured by the DG.”

“The Dark-Guild, I thought they weren’t active in Elendor?”

“You know of them?” exclaimed the guard, “-it’s going to be simple. We were ordered to gather the workers and wait. The boss is trying to figure out the next course of action.”

“Might I interject?” inquired Staxius.

“Sure.”

“Don’t you know where Vil is?”

“No, we have no idea. We checked the basement to no avail.”

‘They’ve checked the basement?’

“Thank me later,” whispered the conniving voice of Gophy.

‘It explains the mana I felt.’

“If he’s not here, then I don’t know. Maybe they took him to Hidros or some other village?” shrugged he with semi-interest.

“Well, we don’t care really,” said the man who watched the video, “-we’re mercenaries. Money is what talks, Snow’s been grateful for giving us a lot of cash to be on standby. This job is peaceful.”

“Speak for yourself,” voiced another angrily, “-this job is shit, I have a wife waiting home. I need to get there as soon as possible.”

“Don’t speak so loudly, Connor.’

“But l-leader Oeta...”

“I said enough.” A master telling his dog to stop barking, the impression came across as the same. The man named Connor with the face of a teacher (bearing square glasses and neatly combed hair) didn’t give the aura of a fighter. Granted if one ignored the rather well-built body.

‘Mercenaries and they seem to have a lot of knowledge about Snow.’

“Say, men,” voiced Staxius strongly, “-how much is Snow paying?”

“Around 10,000 Exa per month,” replied the leader with an inkling of caution, “-why do you ask?”

“Out of curiosity,” the aura dropped, “-you don’t seem inclined in harming the hostages. Speaking to an unknown as if he were one of you. Even the captives seem relaxed and waiting despite the gun being held against their heads.”

“So?”

“I have an offer.”

“I’m listening.”

“20,000 Exa, mercenaries have no sense of companionship. I want to know more about Snow.”

“20,000 Exa,” laughed Connor, “-have you ever seen such an amount before?”

“éclair, transfer the funds right away.”

“Yes, master.”

*Ding,* “-YO, I JUST GOT 20,000 EXA!”

“Me too,” screamed another.

“What will it be, leader of the mercenaries, I’ve transferred the funds, tell me what you know about Snow.”

“Mercenaries or not, we have a code. Never give client’s information to another.”

“What a shame,” sighed he, “-cancel the transfer.”

*Death Element: Unleash Aura.* A black fog filled the room to paralyze those who stood. Fear glued their tongues, the mind tried to make heads or tails to no avail. “You’re the last one,” said Staxius appearing before the leader, “-it’s been a pleasure talking.” *Slash.*

*Once living now dead. O’ thee who’ve lost thine live 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.*

Fog, the intruder to the calm interior, vanished just as mysteriously as it came. The sitting workers came to their senses, the mercenaries were gone. “Where did they go?”

“Home,” replied he covered in more blood. “Please go for tonight, Vil’s brothel is closed.”

“A-are you sure?”

“Yes, have a break. Everything will become apparent in the next few days,” soon to head to the basement, the boy neared the end of the second flask. The screaming grew more haunting, Suzanne crouched in the farthest corner of the room. ‘It’s close to the hour of culling,’ thought he with an injection in hand. ‘If my theory is correct.’ Quick to pull her on her feet, “-continue having a fun boy.”

“Yes, master,” smirked he completely enthralled by the prospect of hurting another.

‘The cult should make their way here in a few minutes.’ Outside, the building’s light was off. The people in the immediate vicinity; workers of Vil’s brothel, were nowhere to be seen. The place turned into a ghost town, *twinkle,* came the eerie sounding bells.

‘Alright,’ *smack,* a punch had her fall forward.

“Why did you do that for?” asked the lady confused by his actions.

“Shut up,” no emotions came from his face, the figure simply vanished into the darkness.

‘No,’ she panicked, ‘-this feeling,’ the effects of the drugs shot to her mind, ‘-who g-gave me the i-injection.’ The face turned into a broken mess of emotions, “-h-help me,” she stood to dash at the strange men wearing robes. “HELP ME,” she screamed.

“The devil has possessed that child,” voiced one strongly, “-cull her right away.”

*BANG, BANG,* two shots had her fall headfirst. The narcotic nulled the pain, two bullets rendered her unable to walk. The blood stained the gravel path.

“Hear me, my companions, we are on the mission to cull those who are touched by the devil. She bears the mark of evil; her foot has been tainted!”

.....

“Bless her soul.”

“Bless her soul.”

“Bless her soul,” came the slow hypnotic chants from the followers.

“Take her to the pry, we shall cleanse her body.” Around the village, they walked to arrive at the center. The bodies of two, including Suzanne, was dragged and impaled onto a blunt sharp stick. The pain jolting from her back, the rod pierced her inner-organs to come out the mouth. The fading eyes came upon the man she somewhat felt trust towards, ‘-betrayal...’

“In the name of God, we light this fire to cleanse the people who live in Earn. Hear me, o’ god who protects us from atop, grant us thine divine protection,” it set ablaze.

“May thee rest in peace,” said Staxius gazing from afar. ‘My hypothesis was correct.’

“éclair, did you record the event?”

“Yes, every single bit of it.”

“And, were the faces of the culprits captured?”

“Yes. Master, may I ask a question?”

“What is it?” facing away from the fire, he promenaded back to the brothel.

“Didn’t you feel anything?”

“About what?”

“About the lady, did you not save her from Vil?”

“You misunderstand,” the building came in view, “-she was only a means to an end. Her death, painful as it was, gave us evidence of the true intention of Earn. We have leverage against the cult.”

“Still, it doesn’t seem right.”

“I understand where you’re coming from,” the cheerful and smiling face returned to emotionless, “-she granted me trust and extended a hand of friendship. I took her offer and did as was needed. There’s no need to think of those who I’ve walked over to get here. I’m no hero, anything goes.”

“BAHAHAHA, DIE, DIE, DIE, DIE,” laughed the boy with Vil’s broken head laid open on the now red couch. Brain matter dribbled, the stomach was torn opened to expose the intestine that flopped outwards. “Welcome back master,” voiced he in a frightening tone.

“What’s your name, boy,”

“No name,” said he continually stabbing the dead Vil, “-I was orphaned and sold into slavery. No name, no life, no place to go – I’ve had enough of being abused!”

“What will you do now, boy?”

“I don’t know, master,” the passion-filled gaze laid upon his.

“Does thee wish a place to call home?” he held out a hand.

“Home, sir?” covered in blood, he walked towards Staxius with bloodied footprints behind. “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” he smiled, “-take my hand if thee wants a home.”

“Please,” the handshake turned into an embrace for he longed to have cared. The boy cried, cried, and cried, the acts he suffered and done, “-take me with you.”

“With pleasure,” *SLASH,* the boy fell whilst coughing blood all the while Staxius held his heart. “I don’t need a human,” the grip tightened to crash the heart.

‘If you are to serve me,’ a few droplets of his blood landed into the boy’s mouth, ‘-you need to be strong.’ A burst of red fume had the walls covered in liquid; the dead figure awoke to hover. “Does thee have the will to become a nightwalker!”

Left to right, the figure tore himself apart trying to get away. Part of the arms turned into claws; the curse of the vampires worked twice as much on his tainted soul. *BAM,* it flopped onto the ground, no response, nothing, ‘-what a shame.’ The weather thundered, the night screamed, the wind blew, so many lives were lost, people’s trust broken, and the God of Death stood mercilessly before those who he used. ‘-Pathetic.’