The Wielder of Death Magic

“If his majesty thinks her death is nothing to be worried about, who am I to judge. As for the Doel, most of their contacts are on said list. My duties are over,” he bowed, “-my liege, I’d like to take my leave.”

“You’re excused,” he said toggling an interface of many faces, “-SSY, connection to l’ombre.”

“Connection granted,” a secure channel wrote upon the display, “-I hereby decree these men wanted criminals. Their judgment ought to be swift and merciless,” from the confine of his office – a target wrote upon a few dozens of high-ranking personas. Leaders and managers – contractors and the like, those having dared to step into Igna’s way would perish one day or the other.

Cigarette lit. Puffed smoke climbed towards the ceiling, “-Celina’s death is no mystery,’ he surmised, “-the count did an amazing job finding the truth. Everything lines up, there’s no one who could have orchestrated such a scheme – no one under heaven. How long’s Artanos been involved in worldly matters. I do wonder,” he gave a slight smirk, “-how long can the god of knowledge afford to give his attention to the mortal realm?”

Universes exchanged in an aftermath of a tumultuous battle. The air held the heaviness of death under a faint cloud of moisture. Demon insects – mosquitos of twice their normal size blew like thick black. It swarmed the piles of lifeless fighters. Weapons and remnants of high-level magic carved the landscape. If one were to venture southwest from Inux, following the main route marked by brave merchants; the capital of Zayan D’olsak would shine amidst a desert landscape. Sand for miles – the change felt so sudden it leveled on the edge of improbability. The divide between sand and forest was so sharp, so prominent – it seemed to the lesser judgment of the commonfolk that a greater force had mistaken their land with another – a matching but differing puzzle piece. Sandstorms blew the dunes waves along a never-ending display of beige.

Zya, as the capital was to be named – thrived on a massive river that ran from a faraway mountain range. Rain and somberness were commonplace – the region didn’t quite fit the criteria of dessert or scorching hell – it meandered between commonality and uncertainty. Said river, having passed Zya’s inner city, would carry on its merry way to the northern seas. Uncommon greenery brought by the flowing water signaled clear directions. A bellowing storm swept the city, the demonic insect retreated – tsunamic-like waves of sand crashed. Those left undigested were buried to never be seen. Once again, the whimsical nature of Zayan D’olsak epitomized the very essence of what Draebala had come to be known.

.....

“We’ve won the first battle,” said a rider thrust upon a tamed lizard-beast, else known as a dragonol, “-how’re our forces holding?”

“They look about the same,” commented Yuria, “-Starix, aren’t Cora and Kaleem taking a bit too long, let me go check.”

“Don’t you dare,” he thundered, riding at a snail’s pace, “-we forbid thee from taking part in any battle,” the heaviness of the storm lowered visibility to a few meters. Sword-driven corpses laid half-buried – the sandstorm breathed heavy, “-good thing you have a master mage by your side,” she winked, “-protective barriers and all.”

“Don’t cause any more trouble,” he narrowed, “-we should be at the capital soon.”

“I sense them,” they reached atop one of many nameless dunes, “-they’re close,” said Yuria with whitened gaze, “-seems Cora’s having too much fun.”

“How can you tell?”

“Well, he’s jumping around like a kid on a pogo stick.”

“And here I thought we sent ’em to play a fundamental part in our campaign.” A tempestuous flap broke what little layer of the storm had settled, “-Penoix, the legendary bird of fire – lady Intherna’s familiar.”

“That’s her alright,” narrowed Starix – above them flew a gigantic outline of pure flames. It flapped and carried plenty smaller of its kin, “-best we hold on,” they locked eyes. Penoix smirked, or what Starix perceived to be one; dangerously rough winds darted, “-easy,” he tugged onto the dragonol’s harness, “-don’t know why they hate me...”

“It’s the face,” returned Yuria, “-it’s uneasy, you know, not knowing what you are – male, female, it’s strange but weirdly exciting.”

“No more,” he rose his hand, “-I rather not get involved in thy fantasies.” Thus the duo’s humble journey continued. Closer came the capital – clearer grew what occurred. The makeshift peasant army recruited by Plu Oden, mayor of Inux, laid in a grave of their own choosing. Despite Starix’s countless warnings, “-mayor, tis insanity, no, never mind insanity, its buffoonery to think such meek framed fighters ought to help our cause. As my lady firmed – we represent the Devil, we need not men of weak stature to fight the battle,” memories flooded.

“I know,” narrowed the mayor, “-these men are nothing but weak and useless. Lord Starix, remember the discussion we held pertaining to what a lord might sacrifice when faced with bankruptcy and famine?”

“No...”

“Yes,” mumbled the mayor, “-it pains me greatly... the number of refugees flooding our city after news of our victory’s grown out of hand. We barely have rations to keep the locals fed, now these people from richer backgrounds have stormed the city. What am I to do in this position. The richer men have their way by flaunting wealth; I’m under strain from his majesty the king – nobles and traders art be hailed as gods, and indeed they ought to be hailed so.”

“We cut the crowd under the pretense of war?”

“...”

Reality wrote upon the one-sided battle. Orders of a full-on assault headed by the heroes reached the peasant army’s ears. “No other way,” he mumbled, “-such is the way of war,” decapitated bodies of the elderly laid in ruin. The sickly were thrown as bait, with no remorse for the very essence of life.

“I feel bad for them,” said Yuria, “-might I give them a prayer?”

“Go for it,” the Dragonol halted, she slipped down onto the uneven ground and knelt.

Penoix’ cries beckoned in the faraway distance. Rains of fire, instant vaporization of any entity without the blessing of immortality. Zyu’s massive gates came into view – the weather changed. The ever-encompassing sandstorm eased, “-here we are,” Yuria clasped her hand, “-dispel.”

Smoke rose from inside the massive capital. Gates were thrust open, escaping cries ran outward, “-die,” flashed a disturbingly hallowed expression, “-the last of them,” it rose an emotionless gaze at the clean skyline, “-peace at last,” followed quietly.

“Vengeance,” Starix unsaddled the lizard-steed and pulled closer, “-taking out a titan singlehandedly is an amazing feat.”

“Ah,” sight of familiar faces snapped the ever potent regard, “-lord Starix and lady Yuria, I do apologize for the unsightly display,” he smiled warmly – nothing like the killer from a few seconds ago, “-once Penoix joined our the siege, there was no escape. The capital of Zya’s now under our control.”

Defeated silhouettes, undead as they appeared, came from the outside battlefield. A familiar face led the battered soldiers, “-guys,” hailed the boy, “-I made it back,” grinned Esh, “-found a few comrades along the way.”

“Survivors,” whispered Starix under his breath, “-good job,” he smiled, “-who knew the lady of luck would smile so openly on the vacant expressions,” a snap and Vengeance vanished to only return with severed heads. The survivors laid headless on their knees. No blood flowed, “-clockwork spies,” added Starix, “-Esh, I can understand being empathetic. However, this now goes beyond recklessness.”

“I KNOW THEY WERE THE ENEMY!” he cried, “-Thought we could make friends...”

Without another word said, Starix side-stepped, allowing a better look inside, “-you think they’ll want to make friends after we did this?” blood, destruction, and carnage. Penoix perched its majestic frame upon a clocktower. There, as the sun seemed to merge with its outline – fire breathed mercilessly onto the town. Innocent and guilty slain, “-don’t act coy with us,” side-glanced Starix, “-I know you’re a demi-god, Esh. A member of the werewolf clan. I don’t need details, I already know our guardian deities were behind the little intrusion. Doesn’t matter – look at what’s here.”

“Guess the innocent act lasted so long,” he sighed and chose a sterner voice, “-what now, why the change of heart.”

“To be honest,” Cora landed, “-it doesn’t feel right to slaughter so many people.”

“I don’t care personally,” added a gloomier Kaleem.

“Yuria’s near-death experience and how they were taught the truth of battle,” approached a scarier presence, “-is enough to make a man cower. Here’s the truth of Draebala, kill or be killed,” firmed Formle, “-follow me,” he waved, “-let us take the capital.”

And so, news of Zya’s ultimate fall under Inux’s mighty military spread across the continent. The invaders, the titans – regardless of what news or information obtained prior, turned to naught.

“Liars,” said Starix stood upon the city walls, “-everyone’s a liar. Zya was supposed to be an easy target, if not for Penoix’ involvement, who knows how long our forces would have lasted a siege. One thing’s for certain, the Shadow Realm’s army won’t be defeated ever again. I’m tired of being the good guy, I’m tired of listening those around me before making my decision. It’s time I strive to achieve my goals and be of use to my master.”

“Starix, you’ve changed,” added a slower Yuria, “-what’s happened?”

“The mortal realm,” he said, throwing his head to the clouds, “-it’s nothing like here. I prefer the sheer grit and strength of might. The moral realm’s a headache-inducing playing field. No one reveals their ace, no one, even if one’s about to lose, they’d never show their hand. I mean, what’s the point of having a massive army or world-destroying weapons if one isn’t going to use them? I don’t get it. sometimes, I get the feeling that our master, Igna, isn’t the mastermind we think he is, I truly think the man’s an insane character. He’s no thinker,” he paused, “-he’s a gambler.”

“Then again,” footsteps followed, “-who are we to judge.”

“Portal’s been created,” said Yuria, “-look, lord Formle’s made the circle to Inux.”

“Let’s pay Plu Oden a visit.”

The mayor, out on a relaxing stroll around the not-so-relaxing cityscape, arrived at a destitute alley. He exhaled a cloud of breath. Destitute lines of uncared shops, broken down windows replaced by wooden planks, “-a truly appalling sight,” he followed, lowering his head as to not draw attention. Little of the populous left to wander the street cowered in side alleys, hidden behind garbage bins.

“Fuck you looking at?” fired another rougher sounding man, “-outta here,” a crash of a bottle led into whimpers of a lady in a dirtied green dress, “-fuck this town,” he tore into the lady, “-keep it quiet, whore!” the garbage can swayed heavily.

“Disgusting,” Plu averted his gaze to a bunch of cowering children – the lady in the green dress held a timid smile, almost as if to reassure the kids.

“Scum,” a glimpse, nothing. Blood and morsels of innards splattered onto the opposite wall, “-no matter how rough it gets, Inux won’t become a den for the filthy,” narrowed Formle, “-as for you, lady,” he grabbed her by the throat and pressed, “-no one’s going to fall for the innocent act. ”

“That’s her,” firmed Cora, “-the fraudsters.”

“Goodbye,” he pressed, her body imploded, “-no mess this time,” he clapped his hand clean, “-what about the kids?”

“What’s the mayor thinking?”

‘The Devil’s minion,’ he gulped, ‘-no matter how I try to figure out their objectives, nothing comes to mind. I wonder if they’re truly what they say they are.’

“Have news sent to the Eipea Empire,” narrowed Starix who leaned against a wall pensively, “-Zya’s free for the taking.”