The Wielder of Death Magic

Chapter 301: Draebala

Flow of mana; the line from which every living being draws life. Tapped into its possibilities a few centuries ago – mages and magic users were all fascinated by said discovery. Made public, it grew to be the subject of many, many wars. Some were blessed with massive pools whilst others had the differing capability of controlling the flow. One constant remained, the mana in the Earth itself wasn’t to be used by an individual. Given that some mages now could pull mana from the atmosphere and cast spell – those feats were performed using Elemental Spirits. Acting as the catalyst, tis was were current magical advancement had come. Away from Hidros; dubbed the cursed continent, mages who were voided here were still and very much effective anywhere else. Weapons, guns, bullets, for those who could control their element to perfection, stopping those projectiles were a must. Evolving along with adventurers, battle-mages of the empire were strong. What has been seen as impossible was made possible.

In hopes of making mana-potions, the Alchemist Sect assigned many jobs to Staxius, the harder ones essential for the project. Complete, they could extract the life-essence, though vaguely. An idea that took a few months to put into paper then another few months into practice. The King of Arda founded a new Art. Unknown to its true potential and nature, the art was but a babe. Abled to control the flow of mana, in a restricted area – and adding skills transferred from Dark-Arts. Unlinked to the Death Element, he found a way to bypass the contract between mage and spirit. Another few experiments were in order, the trip to the will-be, mine; also helped in testing out the Arts. Having emphasized raw-strength, the basic nature of magic and how it worked eluded him. Stumbled into a pit, one where his power made him into a puppet; Staxius had to do but one thing – mastery of new art. Something that could help in controlling his ascension to Divinity. Daemonum Gladio spoke true, change came faster than usual.

[Divinity – First Boon: Host of a God]

Any god or being who transcends the realm of mortality and attains the rank of God, will inevitably, be granted a new body. One that Creation would craft from the ashes of the previous vessel, reborn as a phoenix.

Rested under the blossoming tree, the nap cut short by a gust of wind followed by a sharp pain in the legs. ‘What was that dream about?’ awake, the eyes took a few instants to focus. Greenery to emptiness, two realms flickered. Stood, ‘-Lizzie,’ he reached to pat her head.

“Hello again,” spoke a distorted voice, “-it’s me,” cold palms were felt on the back.

“What is this?” Lizzie who smiled, vanished into thin air, “-CREATION!”

.....

“No need to get so worked up,” smiled the entity, no air, nothing, he levitated with the planet as the backdrop. “I’m sorry I had to get you here,” walking towards the clockwork throne, “-I need a favor,” he sat.

‘What favor,’ enraged, the feet moved desperately to try and reach the throne to no avail. “What do you want?”

“Nothing major,” with a snap, a portal appeared that showed a destroyed landscape, “-as you know, I’m unable to destroy, therefore, I’ve called onto my partner,” it leaned with a smile. “I need you to head to Draebala, there’s someone you need to kill.”

“Draebala,” paused, “-I’ve heard of that before, tis familiar.”

“I won’t bother to recount its origin. Time there is faster than on Hidros, 1 hour is 15 minutes where you hail. Therefore, you’ve around 16 hours, since you need to get back in 4 hours. Kill with everything you have, partner, this is a job and a test at the same time. I’ll evaluate thine worthiness to be granted the vessel of a god. Go, you’re facing a low-tiered Goddess named Intherna; bye,” followed by a wave a child would give to his parent, a greenish mist teleported him to Draebala.

Reddened sky, two suns, a town laid to ruin. Charred corpse of farmers and villagers. ‘Brings back memories,’ annoyed, he walked from the once town-square. ‘I sense a powerful aura coming from the south,’ turned, a mountain range with a giant hole in the center became the backdrop. In front, two entities went head to head, fast, a glimpse of light, spells, and overwhelming killing intent. The power emanating created thunderclouds – each roared and bared its fang at regular intervals. Following a black path, one turned due to blood, at a crossway, a pile of bodies stood in the middle. Surrounding it, on forks, the dismembered heads of human children. Their bodies, rested with their legs crossed.

“Don’t forget,” a voice whispered, “-you are to perform the duties of a Death Reaper.”

‘I’ve sixteen hours, should be plenty of time,’ nauseating and hard to stare.

*Souls who’ve been lost and are bound to this world for perpetual suffering, heed my call. I, the god of death, grant thee salvation. Follow mine voice, tis the place where the dead are reborn, tis the place where wrongdoers are to be purged – in my name, those who are to be judged, will be judged, and those who are to be saved, will be saved.* Stood with two orbs, one golden and the other dark-crimson, the screech of souls resounded from all around town. The fallen bodies stood, the ethereal form; devoid of life, they walked slowly. The children stood from their crossed-legged posture; headless, turned, grabbed onto their head – then reattached the missing part. *To be purged or to be saved, I shall stand as the judge: Judgement.* In order, the spirits were swallowed to the differing orbs according to his will. No prejudice, no malice, the only thing that counted was for the soul to want a chance at rebirth. A chance to start again; upon offering the boon of rebirth, most tried to grasp onto the Crimson-Orb.

“End our suffering, we wish not to be reborn in this decrepit land, I WANT TO BE FORGOTTEN AND NEVER WAKE,” begged a younger man.

“Thou have to accomplish yet,” refuted back in a deep tone, “-prove thine worth before giving into failure. I despise fools who know not the importance of life,” forcefully, the soul was swallowed into the golden orb.

‘Each soul I sent to the afterlife, the more my magical element warms up, this feeling, tis bliss.’ Relishing every moment, the population of 30,043 – all perished in the godforsaken land of Draebala, were given chance at a new life. Taking two hours, the fight that happened whilst caring for the people, continued.

*Burnt eternally in my domain, I, Staxius Haggard, the god of death, call forth the flame that purges gods and demons alike. Set ablaze for I’ve ordered so; Abyssal Wrath.* If left unchecked, the corpse would rot, spread diseases, plague, and much more into the wild. Lit a blaze, the town suddenly brightened in a cold-white flame, bodies turned to ash – it hovered till the wind dispersed it onto the desert-like surrounding.

“Excuse me,” instantaneously,”-who are you?” asked a childish voice followed by moans.

“No one particular,” glancing back, a child with a short black-laced dress, darker knee-high leggings, high-heels with a staff in hand. Her right foot rested on someone’s head. The latter was dug into the stone path, her heels had pierced right into the man’s skull.

*Judgement,* a white flame burnt the corpse – as for the soul, it was trapped into the Box of Souls. A talent inherited to the god of death only; same as his cursed sword which trapped souls; attaining divinity, he could now trap all he wanted without a medium.

“How rude,” glaring through her straight-long black-hair, “-do you know who I am?” chuckle turned into laughter. Her eyes burnt vividly, with a smirk that would make many cower, a thirst for violence, despite her petite figure; a sickening deathly aura oozed.

“Not really,” unimpressed, the face and voice remained nonchalant.

“Now that pisses me off,” she jumped back, “-how can you live on Draebala and not know the Goddess of Flame: Intherna, ha-” trying to follow up with a laugh, her breath cut short.

“So, you’re the low-tiered goddess,” dashed, without hesitance, the large hands went around her neck and squeezed. “I should probably introduce myself,” the hand rose, she desperately struggled, “-I’m Staxius Haggard,” giving a smile, the grip tightened.

“P-please l-let me g-go,” she begged, “-ha,” the voice changed, from panic, she seemed relaxed. “I’m a good actress, aren’t I?” kicking his chest, she jumped away with a backflip. “And you’re dead,” she bowed as if completing her piece.

“I doubt that,” dusting off clothes, “-you managed to ruin my shirt,” no injuries – magical barrier was summoned at the last instant. “Shall we dance?” emotionless, his gaze lit her eyes.

“Yes please,” holding out her hand, the fallen staff flew over as if a magnet. Chants in a differing tongue soon masked the gust of winds, *FLAME,* numerous fire-balls were conjured around him.

‘Now this is new,’ he thought.

“BURN,” a rain of fire-balls befell Staxius. Not finished, she conjured another spell, this time, elementals of lava, raged forth – their movement was as fast as sound. In addition to the onslaught, she continued calling forth divine tiered magic.

‘Low-tier gods are strong,’ unable to counter the magic, the body was bombarded by her attacks. Fast precise without opening for the opponent to strike, forced to kneel, the body crumbled under her power. ‘I’m going to enjoy this,’ the onslaught continued, ‘-I’ve not felt this desperate in a while.’

“ARE YOU DONE?” she yelled.

‘There,’ an opening, sprouting wings, he bolted out of the rampage, grabbed her neck, turned, used his knee to kick her off-balance, did a flip, and smashed her head into the ground. Blood dripped from his nose, it fell onto her black hair, *BURN,* a surge of fire raged from out the floor. “AHHHH,” skin, muscles, all tore from the body, despite the pain, the grip held strong.

“Die already,” emotionless, her voice changed, the flame intensified ten-fold, “-a skeleton doesn’t have the strength to fight me,” teleported behind, what remained was an emptied carcass. “I must agree that the first and last move you made was unexpected, you were pretty strong,” taking a stance to kick, “-however, you melted like the rest of them,” *bang,* her body jumped back. The skeleton returned the power as if rubber.

“Now that’s new,” she commented and approached. *Thump,* the ground rumbled, *thump,* again, “-earthquake?” she asked. *THUMP,* ‘-Draebala is awesome,’ a greenish light burst open, “-how are you, little kid,” the skeleton stood, a white glow emanated from the eye socket. ‘I’m going to have fun,’ a black mist twirled, *Daemonum Gladio,* healed with the ancient-sword in hand, “-it’s been a long time, hasn’t it, STAXIUS,” laughed the sword.

“Very long time,” the feeling of bliss couldn’t be described, *Unleash Aura: Divination.* Golden veins went around the body, “-let’s dance, low-tiered goddess,” dashed, she parried the first stroke.

“I’ve no idea what happened, but you’ve grown a little strong,” her laughter echoed, strike after strike, she blocked, parried, and even hit his head to mock the hasty attacks. “FUCK OFF,” an upward swing due to annoyance carved the ground in half; it opened a canyon. ‘Daemonum Gladio, I appreciate you coming to my help,’ came to a standstill, ‘-the way I am, I can’t fight alongside, let alone control thee.’

“Who said anything about you controlling me,” turned into a puppet, the wielder became the weapon, “-WATCH,” he laughed. Sharper and precise, he jumped back into the fight, the sword went rogue. Unshackled herself, the goddess fought with smiles, strong against strong. One by one, the symbols of power activated.

‘Maybe I am nothing but an illusion,’ watched in third-person, Staxius waited as Daemonum Gladio took the reins. Utilizing the power of Nike to it’s fullest, the Goddess soon fell to the power that surged after each blow.

“Come on already,” a whisper came forth, “-you are Daemonum Gladio, and Daemonum Gladio is you. Death Reaper, you’re one of the same. What you see is an untamed version of thyself. Awaken and prove that you’re worthy of the mantle.”

‘I’m worthy?’ the ethereal body grabbed onto the physical body.

“I’ve grown tired of the game, you puny weakling,” spat, her hair changed from black to glowing-red, *God Seal: Unlock,* a sphere shot outwards, it destroyed everything in its wake.

*Huff, puff,* blown away by her power, the blade was thrust into the ground to stop the momentum. Her aura kept on increasing; it tore off the surrounding which formed into a spiral. “Let’s do this together,” Staxius took control, “-Daemonum Gladio, let’s fight as one.”

“This is so clichéd,” fired back the sword, “-but you know what,” from the sword, a spirit rose forth, “-I love clichés,” same face, same hair, with a female voice. “You’re me as a girl,” laughed Staxius.

“A lady,” she winked.