The Wielder of Death Magic

Chapter 763: Death vs Death

“Jen, Jen, Jen, you’re here, finally,” various colored uniforms leaped into a chaotic scene. Transport halted at the Azure wall. Elevators scaled along the walls were overcrowded, hysteria gave raise to panic, none thought to stop, fight of flight permeated. On sad occasions, the mildly injured would reach the bottom with greater injuries.

“Lieutenant Mello,” she answered his pants with sternness, “-what’s the situation?”

“We were under attack,” he exclaimed, “-I hate work,” murmured, “-and I hate people dying more,” he glanced temporarily at medical camps at the foot of the barrier, “-I’ve gotten reports monsters are attacking the wall, not the adventurer.”

“How about the stronger fighters?” she pulled up a tablet, an assistant rushed over, “-Lieutenant, we need thee to coordinate with the other outposts.”

“Understood,” he frantically nodded, “-Jen, I’ll leave the first aid and evac to you.”

“Yes sir,” she threw a salute, the lazy but competent leader ran into a group of small rectangles. She averted her gaze, firming on the greater picture, to which, a massive shadow cast onto the ground, ‘-a wolf,’ she gazed, it leaped over.

“Elevator to the top,” cried a mundane worker.

.....

“HELP US!” screamed from the side, “-HELP US!” the group bundled against the stern platform railing of the lift, a young adult was spotted packed at the rim, he choked, none realized the issue till they reach down, the youngster fell meanwhile she headed up a private shaft. A horde of military-grade boot trampled the man, breaking bones, cracking ribs.

“ASLIA,” exclaimed a bloodcurdling scream, the crowd paid no heed, “-MOVE YOUR FILTHY FEET,” it said – the ground turned muddy, hinges on the edifice broke. At last, Jen threw her focused gaze downward, there, a barrier erected around a lady and a young man, the latter had sustained wounds far beyond what she thought. Her eyes carried to the workers up top, there, people pushed and fought, each tried their hardest to make way for their team.

‘Anarchy,’ she arrived, ‘-oh my god,’ her heart sank, the situation was far more troublesome than ever before, her boots scurried to the opposing edge and gave onto the never-ending sight of monsters, ‘-is that an army?’ she clenched her shirt.

“Jen, over here,” said familiar voices.

“Lingling, Goldie,” she exhaled, “-what’s the status?”

“We’re helping in the evacuation, tis total anarchy, the medical camps are overloaded,” they bore wall-guardian uniforms, “-we need to stop the chaos...”

“Easier said than done,” a look down east, along the wall, showed many uninjured fighters desperately trying to jump.

“Form a triage,” she said, “-use force if we have to,” a radio pulled from her shoulder pad, “-orders to all Wall-Guardians, I was given command by Lieutenant Mello to handle evacuation. We’re on black alert, those uninjured are to be stationed as guards. Refuse access to the uninjured, I repeat, refuse access.”

“Jen, no dice,” said a team from below, “-we can’t really look through them...”

“Yes, you can, make it happen, form a tier list, rookies are the priority,” a flip of the knob, “-command, Jen speaking, are the speakers ready?”

“Ready to be used,” said an operator.

“Put me through,” white noise blasted, momentarily halting the frenzy, “-Hear me, adventurers, we’ve moved into code black. Anyone who leaves the battlefield uninjured will be forced to abandon their title of adventurers. Wounded and rookies are to be given priority. The situation is dire, if we don’t stand against the monsters, the wall is at risk of falling. I repeat, we’re on code black. Back up is on their way, hold out as long as you can.”

“Watch them be washed by fear, such a pitiful and unentertaining sight,” said a robed undead skeleton. The silk fabric glowed, God-tier enchantments radiated, the aura and symbols visible to the naked eye. In one hand hovered a hexagonal golden staff, the other had tiny swarming books, “-you there, pitiable fool who’d brazenly rush onto death, I must command thy vigor.”

“F-fight f-for y-your lives,” said a stranger with a silvery tag, “-run while y-you can,” being forced into jarred rock tore into the skin, he bled, the visage grew pale, life in the eyes faded.

“Lord Exia,” said a human, no strange facial features nor tails, it stood calmly, not him, everyone else was human. Symbols of various types shimmered in-between their eyebrows, “-why waste breath on such weakling,” he glared, the green pupils tightened, “-prostate thineself to our master!” the words visibly transmitted, the shockwave buckled their knees.

‘Strong,’ he kept an expressionless mien, matching the man’s energy, ‘-Fenrir’s unbothered.’

“You dare stand against us?”

“Can we quit with the theatrics,” fired Igna, “-the words of power are good and all,” he stepped forward, leaned, touch the suffering adventurers, *Ancient Magic, Spatial-Arts: Disruption.*

*Gasp,* “-air,” they coughed, “-we can breathe,” six in total rose from the spell, “-thank you,” they said in either word or gestures.

“You’re strong, aren’t you,” said he who was called Exia, the empty sockets burnt in a white-blaze, “-tell me, what’s thine name.”

“Isn’t it common courtesy to give one’s own name first?” said an equally imposing voice, ‘-Fenrir, priority is to save the fighters. Vengeance can only do so much against the growing army,’ without intel to what happened behind, the expansive chessboard in the mind moved – multiple outcomes read as if prophecies, one of them shone in bright yellow, ‘-division.’

“One falls, two rises,” said reports, “-we kill five, ten attacks,” a transcript went across the lens, ‘-I was right,’ time slowed mildly, ‘-we’re against an angel of death. No scrap that, we’re against death, the white flames, the abyssal wrath. An endless number of worlds must have given birth to multiple wielders of death, I don’t know if he has the death element.’

“Ha,” he exhaled, “-BAHAHAHA,” the ground rumbled, “-YOU DARE ASK MY NAME?” Five of the eight humans teleported, knives, spells, name it, and they were inches from his skin, ready to impale and rip his life and heart out, “-fool, only the strong have the honor of making demands. From where I stand, thou art but a lowly human with powers.”

“Make one wrong move and you’re dead,” said a lady boasting purple-colored hair and matching makeup.

“Poor boy, about to die for nothing,” said a cross between man and woman, in all aspects, the tone was a forced feminine voice by a man. A bald cut painted pink, judging a person’s preference was never Igna’s forte.

“I smell something strong within you,” said a smaller boy bearing black hair and a large nose.

“Can this be over already,” added a taller, handsome man in a suit and long glossy hair knotted in a ponytail.

“Don’t hog all the fun,” said a higher-pitched voice, both her index pressed against her filled cheeks, “-I kill him first,” the makeup, dirty and lazy, the hair, tied in a pigtail, swayed against the wind.

“Am I supposed to be scared?” he pushed through the weapons, “-empty threats aren’t much to make me want to give up, you know,” he smirked. A flash of lightning gleamed, *CLASH,* rang across the battlefield, “-attacking a person from behind is very rude behavior,” said he blocking the tall handsome man’s upward stroke singlehandedly, “-maybe next time,” he pulled, chipped the sword out the attacker’s hand and sheathed the previously hidden Orenmir, “-now then,” a murderous gaze rose, “-please return to thy master, dogs.”

“HALT!” thundered the leader, “-very well,” the attackers teleported behind their master, “-I am, Exia Longeth, God of Death and ruler of the afterlife.”

“Is that right?” ‘Formidable opponent. Can’t say I’m happy about the battle – if not for the kill zone, I’d have had my head decapitated. Time spent in Draebala’s come in nicely, my body’s light and my sword seep with rage.”

“My name’s Igna Haggard.”

“Alexia, tell me, how is the man’s swordsmanship.”

“Adequate, my lord,” he bowed, “-please forgive me for not striking down my enemy.”

“It is forgiven,” he said, “-tell me, Igna Haggard, why have you come to battle?”

“I was curious,” he smiled, “-there are many things in this world that can’t be explained. When my companion said Draebala, I knew there was more to the little charade.”

“Mind thy tongue, human,” fired a ghoul of a lady wearing a crimson-stained veil and torn wedding dress, “-one more word and I’ll rip thee to shred,” her nails sharpened into claws.

“Do I take the assault on the Azure wall to be a declaration of war?”

“Why, boy,” said the leader, “-are you in a position to halt my assault,” he laughed maniacally, “-look behind, my army of undead will always double their power. Tis my boon, any undead I raise is blessed with immortality – kill one and two takes its place. Hydra’s curse,” he grasped the staff, “-the talk has been fun. Time to bid thee farewell,” it rose to the sky, lightning cackle without warning, *Alteration of dimension: Realm of Death,* the clouds thickened into black, the ground solidified, cracks formed under which flowed a peaceful white flame.

‘Now’s your chance,’ he said to Fenrir.

“Die!” the jewel pointed at Igna, a giant beam exploded, disintegrating all in sight. He sidestepped, snapped under Fenrir’s feet, *Spatial-Arts: Worm Hole.*

“No escape for you,” said Exia, the monstrous beam curved directly, ‘-shit,’ the fingers drew a symbol, and the spell hit, the ground broke several meters into the white flames.

“-He’s dead,” commented one.

“Yes, our Lord used his weakest attack; no way someone of such a blatantly annoying sneer is to survive.”

“Fools,” said the ghastly wedding outfit woman, “-the beast lady and adventurers are gone.”

“No matter,” said Exia, “-Igna Haggard will be remembered as one who put his comrade’s life before his own. I honor such an act, we must pay respect to valiant fighters,” the group hurdled before their master, a square erected through the flames upon which rose a throne of bones, “-if our master wishes,” they knelt and bowed, “-then we shall respect the warrior.”

“Don’t count me out the fight yet,” clambered through the debris.

“Impossible,” said he who had spoken words of power, “-YOU SHOULD BE DEAD!”

“By all means, I should be,” he stood with a broken arm and burnt clothes, “-I always hate my outfits being destroyed during the battle.”

*GONG,* the staff plummeted on the metallic square, “-WHO ARE YOU!” roared, blowing trees and turning the ground asunder.

“No one particularly important,” the arm healed, “-tell me, Lord Exia, as he who claims to be death, have thee ever died?” ᴜᴘᴅᴀᴛᴇ ꜰʀᴏᴍ Noᴠel Fɪre.net - ɴovᴇlbin

“PREPOSTEROUS,” he stomped to the edge of the cube, “-DEATH NEVER DIES, TIS UNFATHOMABLE.”

“On the contrary,” he smirked, “-death is a privilege only death can enjoy.”

“How didn’t the Azure Flame burn you!” echoed a servant.

“Why would the flame burn their master,” a trail of white-clawed up his legs and to his shoulder, “-don’t think death is but thy title.” *Knowledge known to only the watcher, I, master and inheritor of Origin, beckon thee; Mantia -Library of the all-knowing; Realm Expansion.* A mosaic burst washed the threatening kingdom of the death motionless, the fires burnt in single frames, all seemed to be inside a painting.

“DON’T TAKE ME FOR A FOOL,” he thrust the staff downward, an implosion separated the realms into two hemispheres. Their borders charged against one another, flickering electricity and discharge of raw energy “-THE REALM OF DEATH HAS NO EQUAL,” the sky – blacked-out canvas, riddled with God-tier spells; lightning, fire, water, wind, every element sore. “-DIE!” Ragnar?k, the mystical end to space-time materialized on the horizon, a battle of unprecedented nature had the continent tremble – seas ashore of Alphia and the Wracia Empire raged with waves.

‘I’ve done it,’ he laughed and immediately covered his mouth, ‘-this guy is strong, super strong, I feel like a pebble against a mountain. I could let the spell destroy the continent; how badly will the devastation affect me?’ he watched; arms crossed in a toothache pose.

“Lord Exia, the man seems to have surrendered.”

“We show no mercy, this realm will be ours.”

“Is it wise to go to such lengths?”

“Have you not seen my realm being equaled in strength by another, TIS UNACCEPTABLE, I’M STRONG, THE STRONGEST, I WILL NOT LET ANYONE ELSE HAVE THE TITLE!”

Igna rose an open palm to the sky, “-Hear me, o’ my goddesses, guardians who humbly watch over I, Igna Haggard. I’m earnestly lost, I admit defeat, I have not the strength to rival such a foe,” the fist clenched into a mist darker than black, “-if thee have a sliver of compassion, please, I request thy assistance.”

The aura sunk, an equally devastative barrier rose underneath the coming Armageddon, “-I’ve said it time and time again,” familiar figures graciously ambled into the overworld, “-the incantations are a bit too awkward to respond,” said Gophy, her long black hair struck instant fear in the surrounding area.

“Don’t leave the heavy lifting to me,” complained Miira, *-Urn of the Devourer,* a god-like artifact summoned alongside the spell, “-eat.” A spiral-turned tornado rose to swallow the incoming projectiles.

“What mess have you gotten into,” materialized Intherna bearing the Phoenix cape.

“We get to play for once,” said a seductive voice, *World Tree.* a