The Wielder of Death Magic

Chapter 1025: Royal Theater of Arts and Culture

“Money, fame, prestige, respect, authority; driving force of many in the working field – lusted after dames only the minute percent could imagine. The ways of the court, the ways of those ruling entire nations, a playing field where only status and influence mattered – amidst the abundance of nobles, influential whether in religion, magiology, or plain wealth, one name reigned supreme. A royal family of influence far greater than the world had seen. A network spanning continents, pawns of noble blood, and unlimited strength and knowledge to push any invasion which may come – such a name, only written in novels, works of fiction, and works of cinema was present in the real world, the continent of Hidros, birthplace of the world’s first and only dominant power – the Haggards. Previous families ranging from dukedom to empires, none could rival the power this particular name held. Justice in their palms, the underworld in their pocket, the arms trade as their plaything, and knowledge as a mere fancy – none were able to rival their power – such was common knowledge. Don’t misunderstand – my words might come across as preachy and even biased, however, the facts speak for themselves. My judgment, my interpretation and my view on the Royal family are nothing save worthy of praise. Granted there are problems and issues, the educated populous know a world without problems doesn’t exist for if one were to remove the darkness, where would light shine? And so, we come to the opening of the Royal Theater of Arts and Culture – a project of two years in the making. Equipped with an amphitheater, open-air theater, an art gallery, a cinema, multiple restaurants, and infrastructure built over a man-made lake – the Royal Theater of Arts and Culture spanned a considerable size. To admire the past and ravel about the future, said the project was spearheaded by the joint force of Hidros and her allies. The King’s private collection, home to the world’s finest works of arts of renowned names lit the gallery halls in amber tints. Security was grand, personally ensured by the royal guards and Phantom. The opening act of the Royal Theater of arts will be broadcasted live, listeners, I’ll see you live,” the radio faded, Igna held his chin and peered with a melancholic frown. A line of expensive cars carried into a reserved area, “-it’s slipped your mind, didn’t it?” edged a snarky remark.

Car closed with a stout ‘-humph,’ Igna turned side-ways, keeping the same dead expression, “-to be completely honest, I did forget about this. How can I not be – we funded the project almost instantly and never saw a decline. No one complained and it went off without a hitch, it’s scary how organized the crafting guilds are.”

“I mean, we are in Lei – his majesty chooses to spend time at the castle as opposed to visit the area around.”

“Don’t you start,” he signaled for silence, “-where’s the inauguration?”

Flashes of light, a swarm of reporters, and the curious crowd drew at the entrance, “-my liege,” came Hauer, minister of Arts and Culture, “-please do us the honor.” A sword was brought onto a red cushion by a squire dressed in period clothing, he dropped on one knee and curled the other as if a curtsy (the olden ways of etiquette) thrusting the cushion way over his shoulders, “-thank you,” returned Igna courteously, answering tradition with a salute, ‘-old customs forgotten at the advent of the age of Arcanum. Is this for show or is the boy truly taught in the olden ways? I did hear about eccentric noble families adamantly asking the royal academy to revert courses to the olden age,’ he firmly gripped the bejeweled sheath and slid the blade from its home to a glass-like purity – the blade itself was enchanted by various symbols all to make the appearance of a gem as opposed to a weapon. Applauds thundered, the ribbon dropped and the ceremony ended with flashes and loud cheers.

“The Royal Theater of Arts and Culture finally laid open to the public – or so they thought. First honors are reserved for the royals and a limited guestlist. There is preferential treatment and by the looks of the crowd, only those interested in tradition are here,” an official dressed in a suit suddenly intruded upon the reporter’s work, “-Pardon me, ma’am,” he interjected politely, “-I must ask that the video does not portrait in a propagandaesque manner. We’re listening to the broadcast live, there is much unrest to brew if the incorrect words are uttered. I would therefore be honored to speak a few words on behalf of the theater, would that be alright?” the tone, the mannerism, and the politeness – the begrudged reporter handed her microphone to the dismay of the crew. “-To fellow viewers and listeners, on request of the staff, we would like to issue an apology. The theater has indeed been reserved for a chosen few and it’s within good reason. There is a level of discrimination and we’re fairly informed about how it projects. Even so, it’s within the public’s best interest not to be present for it’s a grand moment for the royal family. Consider this, would you like your loved one’s special moment to be shared across a sea of unknown threats or be enjoyed by those who wish only the best? The answer is clear. As remuneration for the show of preference – the entrance fee for the duration of the month will be absolved. Thank you for your patience,” he handed the microphone and left, “-seems like it’ll be free for the next month,” commented the reporter with an awkward shrug.

Lines guided onward towards the amphitheater – an orchestra was readied below the stage – leading the talented musicians was Syndra – Lizzie was spotted as the first violinist meanwhile the orchestra carried familiar faces. Bold red curtains shrouded the known to the unknown.

.....

“Ulgra makes her debut as a prime ballerina as Hidros embraces ballet as part of what makes the world coherent. Merging our musical prowess with the flexibility and prestige of ballet, astute move my liege.”

“Don’t praise me openly,” he shook his head and settled in a private area, “-we have eyes watching, I don’t want any disturbance.”

Unbeknownst to him, the cog of the misfortune of which had been only hampered by a spanner churned and recoiled, the cogs clicked and the mechanism reactivated, “-uncle,” came from behind, “-I’m here.”

“Cruse, I’m glad to see you’re here,” he side-glanced, “-and in a rough shape. What happened?”

“Uncle, I’m sorry but there is something of grave importance I must relay,” the age of childish freedom had brought the expression a relative level of openness – under the somber lighting, Cruse’ highlighted features: cheeks, nose, and forehead only brightened, as for the shadows deepened – merging contours against the background. Igna glanced éclair and stood, tapping his shoulder on the way out, “-I’ll be back, praise on Ulgra for me.”

They walked, “-Cruse, the uniform’s worse than before, is there something I must know... are you being bullied?”

“Yeah...”

“And?”

“Don’t worry about it,” he walked with hands in pocket, “-bullying’s a part of a teenager’s life, it’s what the Arcanum says anyway. Forget about my life here, Death Reaper, I speak to thee as the Viper of Misfortune, there is much to be wary of,” they climbed a tower and shortly arrived at a viewing point spanning the whole of Rosespire and beyond.

“Tell me, what’s got you bothered?”

“This,” he leaned off the rail and sighed, “-we’re no longer alone in the mortal world. The Heavenly realm has decided to move. Righteous fellows are often the grimmest and heartless of the bunch. I worry the day isn’t far when the balance in itself is shaken... I have a feeling of impending doom weighing on my heart, I don’t know if it’s me or something else.”

“A revelation?”

“Revelation?” the serpent narrowed.

“Revelation,” firmed Igna, “-I had a dream of chaos, I had the vision of my loved ones being burnt in the holy flame, I had the picture of everything I built crumbling into pieces. Were you not playing a trick on me?”

“No,” returned seriously, “-once I give my word there are no takebacks. I’m grateful for the life you gave... the revelation is something we must take into account. Nothing good ever comes from these visions, especially not if it’s synchronicity.”

“You don’t mean?” and thus came the hammer of fate, *BOOOOM,* an explosion tore through the building as if someone had punched a hole, ‘-what the fu-?’ Igna reacted quickly and leaped, spreading wings into a hover – everything crashed in seconds, there was nothing to be done, “REALM-”

“Don’t!” echoed Cruse, “-they’re here,” he gulped, “-the heavenly vanguard,” angels dressed in golden armor descended from the heavens with spears, swords, and holy bows in possession, “-if you use a domain they’ll know and instantly locate the Shadow Realm’s core.”

“Wielder of Death Magic, the inheritor of Death, Time, and Origin, allow me the honor of a self-introduction, the name’s Earlsa, daughter of Qhildir, a demi-god in service to the supreme god,” sunken facial features – a stature only described as sticks and bones hidden under a cloak and prefaced by loud golden eyebrows, “-you are to come with us to the heavenly realm.” He ignored the angels and landed – panic and screams ensued, the scene played in slow motion, and the amphitheater was taken for everything it had. Wounded were carried over the rubbles, traces of concentrated mana and the smell of foul-play lingered, ‘-éclair... Elixia... Ulgra... Lizzie...’

“IGNA HAGGARD!” the demi-goddess darted forth intent on slaughter,

*CLANG!* the yard buckled and cracked; Vengeance rose his murderous gaze behind the sheathed Orenmir. Earlsa flapped to gain distance – the same happened with Igna, priority was those inside the mass of dust and debris, a beautiful structure laid in bare remains. Vengence’s deep aura sufficed – the angels gathered in a semi-circle, “-we shall wait,” they landed, “-after all, the destruction is our doing, we might as well ravish the hard work.”

“Vengeance, the situation’s dire, we need to get the devil out of here. They’ve attacked and only means one thing, the Eipea Empire is ready for war. I’ll check on Igna, you hold them,” the invisible figure skipped across. Sirens and emergency broadcasts hit the nearby stations – ambulances, firetrucks, and even the military were deployed, “-a terrorist attack,” echoed many official channels. The epicenter of the explosion, the stage, was nowhere to be seen. Broken instruments showed signs of the dead, the horrified screams of the departed lingered – a loud neigh and gallops jumped dimensions, “-Igna,” the reaper of souls landed on her feet, “-looks like a lot of people have died,” her armor changed into one resembling her title of dragon.

“Death,” he spotted a stray slab and sat, “-it comes suddenly, what am I to do?” the lack of emotional response came across suspiciously. Undrar stepped one level below and rose her gaze at Igna, “-look at me, are you okay in there?”

“What can I say?” he sighed, “-look,” he pointed at the mangled remains of Syndra’s red-outfit, “-she’s dead. Over there you have Lizzie... those caught in the middle were vaporized instantly... they’re dead, she’s dead, my dear niece is gone. Ulgra... Ulgra,” he pressed his forehead, “-why did it have to happen now, why now!”

“M-master,” éclair mumbled, the gruesome sight of exposed innards matched the state of the area, “-it’s over,” he coughed, “-my daughter’s dead... I don’t think I can, I don’t think I might,” he fell forward into an exposed metal rod which impaled through the mouth and out the back. A desperate Elixia laughed frantically, “-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA,” then turned, her burnt expression crumbled as her knees gave and fell. Those at a relatively safe distance were burnt by the holy light. ‘Standing at the top makes one lonely,’ he stood and placed a hand on Undrar’s shoulder, “-guide them to the hall of rebirth.”

“Devil, don’t fight!”

“Serpent, it’s done,” emotionless regard washed over, “-enough playing the nice guy, if they want a devil, I’ll give them one.”

One thought went through Undrar’s mind, ‘-Staxius...’

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