The Wielder of Death Magic

“Here rests the mighty adventurer who came close to claiming level 99 of the tower of Aris. On behalf of the people, we humbly thank the mighty Achilles, hero of the tower, for her service in making the tower a better place,” read the monolith. Igna stepped backward and narrowed, ‘-Achilles’ died. Ereena, what games are you playing...’ Another pulse hailed from the clamors of the market street. He rushed over, skipping over shady alleys and landing in the midst of a battlefield. Prices lunged from one tent to the other, merchants screamed – explosions of charismatic sellers gathered moths to flames else buyers to produce. Tan complexion, darker heads of hair – demi and non-humans, such were the crowd.

‘This energy,’ he ambled and soon exited the market street. A line of cluttered houses rose. Lines of clothes went from one roof to the next. The alleys tightened. The smell of rot permeated open drains – regardless, he marched until light in the distance. Cacophonous prison swapped for the tranquility of a forsaken back alley. Garbage bins lined the already narrow passage, it carried to a dead-end where the concrete walls changed for solid-brick walls. The latter climbed forth until a break – white against the reddish brown; a window from which waved a dirty cloth.

‘Energy’s potent here,’ wind shuddered, ethereal wings carried him over the mess and into the room. A palette of brown, red, gray, and black marked the interior. Cheap furnishing – broken down wood, a singular lightbulb around which flew flies, and a present but static sound of electricity. *click,* door opened to blond hair and fair skin. Deep blue pupils rose from their discouraging downward scan and rose, “-Igna?”

“Viola,” he returned, “-the energy was yours.” She stood strangely with hands on her heart and sweat-ridden brows.

“Why are you here?” she crudely returned, hastily brushing off the tightened grip around her chest, “-don’t you have a kingdom to care of?” a slight shuffle then a sudden drop, floor-boards creaked, “-go away,” she laid on her back and sighed, “-I need time to think.”

“No you don’t,” he pulled a stool and sat at her bedside, “-I need to know what happened!”

.....

“Caring now, are we?” she glanced away, “-man, this is very awkward and pathetic. I have nothing to say to you...”

“Explain, what have I done?”

“You’ll truly go to any lengths... should have expected that much from the Devil. Man, just leave already, I rather die alone than in your company.”

“Quit this melodramatic bullshit,” he slammed her mattress, “-Viola, for the love of God, tell me what happened?”

“Igna,” she rolled her head towards him and paused, “-do you have no shame?”

“No, I don’t. Tell me, I want to know!”

“First answer me this, why did you kill Achilles?”

“I-” the thought of someone’s death, ‘-might be someone I killed some time ago,’ but when the name said Achilles, Igna suddenly covered his mouth and gulped, “-what are you on about?”

“You killed her for your selfish gain, She did so much for us, she did so much when we needed help, why would you go and hurt her like that, why would you kill her, tell me, WHY!”

“I didn’t fucking kill her!” he thundered, “-VIOLA,” death’s aura escaped, “-tell me,” a sinister voice spoke, “-do you trust me?”

“...”

“...”

“No, of course, I don’t.”

“Then,” the expression blanked, “-I have no use for you either,” the fingers latched around her visage’s contours, “-I care for people around me, there’s a limit. Tell me, Viola, if you don’t want to speak, who am I supposed to consult?”

“There you go,” she exhaled and gripped his palm, “-I guess he was right, you’re nothing short of pathetic.”

‘Her fingers are weak,’ he blinked, the sincerer presence eroded, ‘-she’s sweaty, her temperature’s hot, the breathing’s heavy and the belly,’ the clouded vision cleared, “-Viola, are you expecting?”

“What the fuck?” she returned, “-of course not, you idiot. That’s a pillow.”

“There,” he rose his hands and smiled, “-there’s the snarky response I expected. Viola, you don’t have to answer what I’m about to say, perhaps it’s the truth, or perhaps it’s only the product of an overly imaginative mind. Was the one thee referred to as earlier an emissary or someone related to Lucifer or Artanos – did my killing of Achilles come from their mouth, is all of this proven or mere hearsay?”

“Asshole,” she slapped his hand and turned over, “-go away, this conversation is over. I’m done, Igna, you hear, I’m done,” the door slammed, and the opposite side of the house faced onto the guilds. Adventurers passed with little whispers; “-poor guy must have gotten rejected.”

“I’d feel bad if I were in his shoe.”

“Who knows, they say fighting brings those involved closer.”

“Sure, they do... closer to death,” laughter followed.

‘I don’t believe it,’ he walked away, ‘-Viola said no... what in the world happened? Does she hate me that much?’

A small window peered onto the street. Her silhouette merged with the shadows of the room, ‘-Igna, you monster, it’s best to face this trial on thy own. I’m only doing my job,’ she coughed, blood sprayed on her palms, ‘-don’t have much time before my other self comes to collect. The world’s changing, and you’re at the center of the change. Igna, don’t be discouraged, I know you’ll find the answer,’ she pulled onto her V-shape shirt, ‘-any mention of the truth and my soul gets captured by the curse...’ a darker presence loomed, “-was that enough,” narrowed Viola.

“I suppose it’ll do. Lord Artanos’ is pleased with thy involvement. We hope to count on thy assistance in the near future, dear reluctant associate.”

Bafflement carried the body to a nearby tavern. The smell of men, booze, and lust frequented the dirtied floorboards. Various tables leered at the well-dressed visitor; none spoke save the unwelcomed stares.

“What can I get you?”

“Strongest stuff you have,” he returned unexpressively, “-I’ll also take a room and some of your produce.”

“Is that so,” the barkeeper lowered his stance, “-a gentlemen like yourself ought to be served our finer produce. Head to the back room, I’ll have someone come to escort his majesty.”

‘Hold on,’ he locked onto the barkeeper where an affirming gaze confirmed the speculation, ‘-a spy’s retreat for work within Plaustan. Man, color me impressed.’ He passed the curtains into a clearer room. A twist toggled a passage on the side.

Neon lights sparkled in the distance, and the passage closed shortly after, ‘-guess there’s no turning back,’ he walked hands in pocket, his mind ever-so weary of the situation. The lights read, ‘-Twin Jellyfish Bar.’

“What a pleasant surprise,” he entered a somber-lit lounge. Deep music played, performers held the stage, and the stacked bar served drinks and narcotics. Bodyguards hauled a deceased man out of the premises, “-get that weak ass fuck out of’ here,” exclaimed the bartender. The performers nodded at the dead man and continue dancing.

“What can I get you,” fired the bartender, “-you look new, tell me sir, what do you want?”

“Best drinks and a nice place to think.”

“Right, that’ll cost a pretty penny.”

“Money’s no issue,” he fired nonchalantly, “-also, if you have any virgins around, do send them to my room, okay?”

“My,” the bartender greatened his smile, “-you are just the type of man who we like to serve,” thus, a waiter came for escort. Drinks and snacks arrived in stride – the rented room was large and exclusive, rivaling even that of a five-star hotel. He sat on the soft mattress and dug his face into his palms, ‘-what am I even doing...’

*Knock, knock,* the door opened to a line of unusually younger-looking ladies, “-have your fill,” said the bartender, locking the door behind. The afraid expression and downward-facing stares, “-for fuck sakes,” he said aloud, “-girls, what’s the youngest age?”

“Fourteen,” said a skinner one.

“Oldest?”

“Fifteen,” added, they all bore demi-human features.

“Damn,” he laid on his back, “-this is pathetic... well, what’s done is done,” bravado returned, “-line up,” he ordered – soft cries and moans followed – jars of blood filled, “-good,” he said having finished draining their blood, “-you girls can go.”

“Are you s-s-s-s-sure?”

“Hey, believe me, I know this type of business’s frequent around the world. Sad to hear but the world’s a filthy place. I require the blood of a virgin to quench my thirst. You’ll forget this ever happen,” he sipped and sat, “-how about this, offer me your soul and I’ll grant each one of you a wish.”

When it came down to it, the stories matched. Sold by parents to slave brokers. Illegal trafficking of demi-humans – prostitution, Igna could but bat an eye for his family was also involved in such a trade. They all shared the same wish – they wanted death, having never experienced anything more than feelings of desperation and helplessness, they knelt facing the wall, “-and so it shall be,” he snapped, *Blood-Arts: Extria,* blood flow reversed and instantly exploded their hearts. A painless death, “-innocence,” he chuckled. “What a joke,” *snap,* white flames charred the corpses into ash.

Narcotics slowly drifted the mind out of the always speculative prison. ‘What am I even doing,’ he wallowed in selfish enjoyment as the minutes turned hours. The door exploded to men dressed in uniform, “-Igna Haggard, you’re coming with us!”

“My lady, I think we have the wrong room. There’s no trace of anyone save that man on the bed. He looks to have drinked himself to sleep.”

“Impossible, I swear the bartender said this room was home to a deviant.”

“Well, doesn’t look like it.”

“Show me the security tape,” they ordered. The film played and showed nothing out of the ordinary, “-my lady, it seems we might get the wrong person.”

“Regardless, we’re taking him in for further interrogation,” the bed no longer held the man in question, “-what in the world?”

“You asked for me?” a somber voice spoke behind the crowd, “-I must object to the grave error of imposing on my relaxing time. Tell me, why are members of Thunderstain here?”

“King Igna Haggard, you’re coming with us.”

“Fine,” he shrugged, “-long as I have something to drink during the ride. Also,” he glared, “-if anyone tries anything, I’ll make sure death comes painfully. Now then, that’s settled, shall we?”

Seemed the journey wouldn’t be so long – a simple elevator shaft sufficed. Thunderstain headquarters sparked in a sort of futuristic décor. The multiple footsteps echoed rhythmically. ‘-You owe me one,’ read the interface.

‘I know,’ replied Igna, ‘-thank you, Elixia,’ they continued walking, ‘-seems the data was accurate. If I want to find the truth of what’s happened, I need to have access to information. Who better than the guardians of Plaustan. I wonder how the leader’s fairing.’

The main office came into view, a few comments were exchanged and the room opens accommodate only the king and rather younger-looking lady, “-pleasure to make your acquaintance, King Igna.”

“And you are?”

“Rose Edelina, a nightwalker associated with the Sabbath clan. Welcome to Thunderstain, the peacekeepers of Plaustan.”

“True leaders of Plaustan, I’m pleased to finally meet the elusive shadow protectors.”

“The title’s not that great, more of a hassle. So, tell me, majesty, why would you come here?”

‘She took the bait. Guess playing the pathetic king had its merit. Rose Edelina, you haven’t changed from so many decades ago – I do wonder what you think about my appearance. Surely the similarity with Staxius must have struck a nerve.’