The Wielder of Death Magic

He walked; the solemn sound of his shoes resounded akin to a tiny blade sharpening a dulled wooden stick. ‘Slice, slice,’ rather, ‘clop, clop,’ he placed her body on the altar, a gruesome sight – left side of her person was charred and of pinkish-fleshy color, there was no recovering from said injury, her waist barely held her legs, they were the same as an exposed wire, dangling and without support. Light from the beautifully arranged stain-glass shone numerous hues upon her body.

A step backward allowed for a greater view on her condition, he breathed, inhaled, and exhaled, ‘-she’s not dead, not fully, Alta’s clinically dead – a reversible state of self.’

*I summon thee, blessed chest of Creation, Box of Alche,* the golden-rimmed godly ranked item hovered consciously. The keylocks spawned scarily recognizable pareidolia, in form of a dead man’s skull. The cover yanked open and hurled various items, many of which were scrolls, *snap,* the box imploded save the items, ‘-an ancient ranked healing scroll,’ he gripped the scribble of paper, ‘-I forgot about these, there was a time when I thought I could make a fortune off these,’ he held it to the light and ease the grip, it fluttered consciously above her body, ‘-expanding Rantiam’s sucked the mana dry, and the absence of my death element’s mana, there’s no way I can heal her using magic. Perhaps I should have used the scroll on the fatally wounded, those with a chance to live opposed to Alta, I’m taking a gamble here,’ the shoulder slouched from a sudden outbreak, ‘-wise up, Igna – save her, save the ones who matter,’ *snap,* the scroll flashed open and cast shadows outside the chapel.

“Sustained wounds art be forgotten,” he ordered, the domain handled the smaller details. The slit open arms and barely standing legs regenerated, the scroll’s properties took effect after the injuries were sealed.

‘Should suffice,’ he hopped to the alter and tapped her forehead. A gray-colored mass enveloped her body, color returned to her flesh, her eyes shot open, and blinked curiously.

“M-master?” the lashes fluttered; her facial muscles went through a variety of motions as if her mind was rediscovering her body. She clambered herself upright and turned to have her foot resting on the cold stone ground, “-where am I?”

.....

“The chapel,” he said, “-glad to see you, Alta,” he held a helping hand.

“No, this isn’t right,” she ignored the gesture and jumped, “-what of the town,” she pushed for the entrance.

“Hold it.”

“Master?” she turned, “-are you stopping me?”

“Obviously,” he took a turn and sat on the altar, “-the town’s under my control, I’ve expanded my domain. The safety of the survivors has been handled, there’s no cause for concern.”

Her legs shook mildly, “-what of the town-wall, we were attacked...”

“I know,” he smiled, “-I should have planned for aerial countermeasures. No, worse than that, I should have been in Glenda sooner.”

She took his words by heart, any hurry to check on the outside subsided by an ominously alluring look within her master’s crimson pupils, ‘-the smile felt empty and frightening. Does he know who’s responsible?’

“Take a seat,” he said, “-shall we catch up on state affairs?”

“Right now?” she observed her rather tempting outfit, “-pardon the shameful appearance, it seems my clothes didn’t heal, no shoes for that matter.”

“More the reason to stop and breathe,” *clap,* a new outfit wove into reality, it built itself and hovered into her arm, “-clothes and shoes, thank you, my lord.”

“Glenda was attacked by the Cobalt Unit, I have strong reason to believe they are tied to Elendor or the Empire, who are one of the same. Something’s very convenient, before Glenda’s attack, a harbor under control of Phantom was attacked and ransacked – we received the news from a dead man’s last transmission. I don’t know the specifics of how they could have invaded, no matter, what’s of interest is the nature of the attack and who attacked, the medium was a missile – a precise location needs coordinates, basically, they must have snuck past Noctis’ Hallow. Excellent timing, the clan leaders weren’t present. The events are highly premediated, which gives rise to a simple line of thinking, the various attacks were done simultaneously as part of a bigger objective. With said line of thinking, we can discard luck and randomness, which, makes it so much simpler to decrypt and identify.”

Alta watched and listened, ‘-master’s fingers,’ she observed, ‘-he’s made the body movements readable...’

“Master, are you nervous?” she inquired.

“You mean my fingers?”

“Yes...” ‘-feels like I shouldn’t have asked.’

“Tis nothing, I like to have it tap on hard surfaces, straying the opposition’s judgment is a great way to win in negotiations. We’re getting off track,” he stopped and shot a cold stare at the mural above, “-we lost the fight before having a rebuttal.”

“No,” her head shook vehemently, “-I don’t believe my master’s lost. No, my pride won’t allow it.”

“Alta, look at the circumstances, we had no information, much less a clue to what was going on. The attack on Apexi, Phantom, Glenda, Dorchester, and the Federation, they’re all linked by a single thread, the Haggard’s. The battle’s over, no use arguing over the matter, I humbly accept the defeat. Whoever it was, has already accomplished its goal, there I say, even if we refute... it’ll be the same as collecting water with a strainer, pointless. I admire their fa?on de faire1, a decisive blow, no opening nor exploits. Bears similarities to a sucker punch.”

“Ok, ok, a moment, master,” she broke his monologue, “-I don’t want to hear any more about the fa?on de faire or whatever, wasn’t there a point to the whole precise location?”

“It went over my head. I noticed a fleet of ships North of Arda earlier, they’re the same people who’ve attacked the harbor and made their way here. Mobilizing such a fleet requires money and direct order. Enough about the attack, it’s resolved. What’s the status on the state?”

“The King of Elves is highly antagonistic; he sent his troops to the border under the pretense of an exercise. The man cares not to hide the blatant maliciousness,” her thoughts kept going to the defeat of her master, “-please tell me,” she yarned for a solution, “-tell me master... you’ll win, right?”

“I’m glad,” he hopped to and placed a hand on her shoulder, “-the reluctance to accept thy master’s defeat is a sign of thy loyalty. For that, I’m greatly appreciative.”

“I’m the one who’s grateful.”

“The sentiment is appreciated... I fear if the reluctance blinds thy judgment, ‘twould be a shame, I rather you accept my defeat and learn from what methods were employed instead of rejecting the ordeal. A wise man learns from defeat more than he learns from winning.”

‘Amazing,’ she smiled, ‘-I serve a truly intelligent master. I was a fool.’

“I see the body’s recovered enough. Let us move to the marketplace,” he grabbed her hand and teleported.

“Where’s the explosion?” she inquired; “-I vaguely saw it after being blasted away.”

“Fixed,” he said, *Conjured from the powers of which rules the law of nature, summoned to aid, mine quest art be left alone. Reality is as I dictate, matters affected by my words ought be reflected in the outside world. Realm Retraction Shadow Realm Variant – Aronot.*

The energy was diluted with Igna at the center. The hemisphere retracted, the reality of the expanded domain remained, the desperate cobblestone streets swept under a collective sigh of exasperation.

“MY DAUGHTER, YOU’RE SAFE.”

“FATHER.”

“MOTHER,” the cheers were mesmerizing and satisfying. Igna nonchalantly leaned against the edifice (a square pillar atop which held the representation of the planet, a globe) dropped on his bottom and had one foot on the next, after which he lit a cigar beneath a humbling shadow. The townsfolk flocked to him and groveled, forehead firm against the dirt street, they bowed in prayer to their savior.

*Puff,* he remained silent.

“Hear me, people of Glenda,” spoke Alta, “-thy ruler has returned to undo the wrong which has been laid upon us. We know there’s no law in war, the king of elves has violated the rights of our people, mankind which is defined as the collection of all races regardless of pedigree and age. They’ve taken our people into slavery... I wish I could help, the damning political climate is highly disfavorable for us. Residents of Glenda, thee knows about my policy to always be upfront and honest, therefore, I say this, our Count was bested. The war was fought on an intercontinental level, the situation is as follows. There is a high probability we’ll be facing the elven army soon. Reforms to solve the influx of refugees and food problem have strayed us from the path of warfare, I had hoped Arda to ally in unison for the betterment of our already war-torn province. Alas, unruly factions wish to ruin what little remains, and I, Stewardess Alta, retainer of the House of Haggard, refuse to allow any leeway!” a magical orb transmitted the market-square across the villages and fleeting citizens. Igna just about reached halfway on the cigar, he inhaled one last time and pushed himself before Alta, the remainder squandered under his feet. “-Glenda’s maintained a policy of non-aggression, we went on goodwill and trust, choosing to grant our people freedom from the darkness. What are we repaid with, deception and an unsolicited attack? Enough is enough,” dark diabolic energy clawed down his back, “-the reason we don’t have an army is simple. You have me, the Devil of Glenda. I’ll be damned to let my people’s flame for vengeance to be left unheard. Hear me well, my people, I, Count of Glenda, hereby declare war on the entirety of Arda, those unwilling to be under my rule will be crushed. Make no mistake, I’m coming to kill,” he glared and broke the recorder with a simple smirk.