The Wielder of Death Magic

Chapter 824: Rachel and Rahe

“Explain.”

The crowd watched in confusion, Rachel and her tongue made a grave impression, the maids narrowed their gossips into whispers, Johna, excited as he was confused, kept the head below eye-level onto the half-empty beer bottle.

“Explain?” returned Igna casually.

The twins stood face-to-face, the sister tittered on the edge of annoyance, the brother hid in her shadow, part of the preliminary reading of body-movements told many things, one glared its ugly face, abstention. He unwillingly and with faint movements, leaned away from Rachel who energetically leaned forward at Igna.

“Yes,” she flung her arms in the air, “-I was assaulted.”

“Is this supposed to be a joke?”

“Do I look like I’m joking?”

.....

“...” he pressed his lips, motioned as if he’d open the mouth, ‘-she’s doing it for a reason,’ went across the mind, ‘-I’m sure Aceline’s what she wants to know. Doesn’t matter,’ he reached for Johna, the man instinctively handed freshly opened bottles, “-if it’s about being the lady, it doesn’t concern you,” he handed the drinks, “-you’re here as guests, stay thy welcome and be mindful of the surroundings. Besides,” he sipped and pointed to Midne, “-you’ll find there are more people who understand the olden demonic language.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“Don’t take my word for it, Rahe. Please,” he poked the forced good-mannered brother, “-or is it an insult?”

“I see what you’re doing,” he drank, “-not taking the bait,” a few shuffles across the tenderly kept grass gave onto Midne’s workstation. “.... ... .. ..”

“Got it,” she shrugged, “-anything else?”

“You understood?”

“Do you think me a fool?” she laughed, “-take a seat and strap in, tonight’s going to be a wild one.”

‘Another person who understands us,’ he sat on the log seat, ‘-sister was right,’ aroma flew from plate to plate, a radiantly inviting aura drowned the backyard, the slow-cooking, the campfire, the tingle of alcohol and the starry-night. For all it’s worth, the place felt home. Under the same atmosphere, Rachel took Igna by the hands and pulled into the shade of a tree, “-explain.”

“Explain what?”

“Why are you being so nice, I don’t get it, are we not enemies?”

“No harm was done. I examined her body earlier,”

“-examined her body?”

“Rachel,” he lowered his tone, “-don’t take my words out of context. Nothing of said nature happened, I meant to say, I checked her physical state; the imprisonment’s spell will break on its own. The ancient language is suited for instantaneous death, and it got me thinking, why has it changed, looks to me someone or something went in time and rewrote part of history.”

“I need to know why.”

“Fine,” he sipped, “-let’s take a seat in the crowd,” he smiled, “-I’d rather talk openly than hide in the shadows. Besides,” he motioned amidst the gathered crowd, the vague spaces fell onto Rahe’s stern expression, “-the lad has a point.”

“You win,” they stepped forth, “-let’s talk.”

The lass expected to be seated next to the warm campfire, however, the tables turned when Igna took to the grill, tied his hair with a bandana, and cooked, an inferno erupted, to which he tamed it as if a snake charmer.

“When you said to hide in plain sight, I thought there.”

“No, someone’s got to make the food,” forearm to the nose, “-and it’s not going to cook itself. Here,” he served her on a paper plate, “-take a stool, we’ll cook and eat.”

“I’m standing, thank you.”

“You’re a pain,” he casually handed the readied meat to a line of flushed retainers, Midne began her long-winded speech on how the perfect cocktail is made, Rahe found himself charmed at her will and posturing.

“I’ll take it as a compliment,” she ate,”-delicious.”

“Tell me,” he drank and flipped, “-why take Kul, she has nothin-”

“No, before I talk, I want information. Let’s put it on record. If I talk, and you talk, I want us to be allies, else, no point in bonding,” her eyelashes scurried onto her brother, “-otherwise, you wouldn’t have taken the trouble of casting a translation spell onto everyone.”

“You’re a smart one,” he cheered, “-it’s my policy to not trust strangers since I don’t even trust the people closest to me. In lieu of actions shown in caring for Kul despite her being a captive, I’m willing to talk, make no mistake, I won’t trust you, nor will I ever consider trusting.”

“We don’t have anything to say.’

“Don’t blow off the conversation just yet,” he handed another drink, “-I’m willing to compromise, we’re both hiding our true intent, and I don’t mind secrets. My concern is simple, if I open, you must open – consider it a two-way street.”

“Trusting without actually trusting,” her head shook, “-I have no idea if you’re stupid, na?ve, or overly confident.”

“And I take it I made a good impression.”

“The food’s great,” she gave a half-smile and turned.

“No, no, no,” he caught her arm, “-I’m not letting you go,” they smiled.

“You’re alright,” she said, “-I’ll talk on one condition.”

“-that I go first,” he warmly handed snacks to the passing guests, “-let’s get started.”

“You’re real name, title, and origin.”

“The hardest question,” he lit a cigar, the meat diminished in quantity, feeding the gluttonous retainers was quite the jarring task, “-my name’s Igna Haggard, I’ve been reincarnated many times, before the name Igna Haggard, I went by Staxius Haggard, and before then, Alfred,” her expression altered, “-my title is Heir to Death, inheritor to Origin and Kronos’s will and Watcher of the Shadow Realm. For reasons, I’m cursed to never ascend to Godhood, meaning, the title of god will never be granted.”

“Wow,” she gulped, the food physically digested as did her mind, he’d dropped a claim so preposterous she stopped chewing, “-I don’t know what to say.”

“Focus on finishing the bite, nothing’s more unbecoming a lady who talks with her mouth full,” her lips tightened and the jaws worked double, midway through swallowing, her eyes flashed open, her chest seemed to snap, “-no water, drink the booze.” Thᴇ link to the origin of this information rᴇsts in (f)ir(e).nᴇt

“I nearly died,” she coughed, “-thank you.”

“No problem, anything else?”

“Origin, Death and Time, I don’t believe it, the three strongest entities known throughout the dimensions have wavered their position of power to you. Pardon my saying, you look and smell weak...” magnifying glass of scrutiny looked head to toe, fingers to her chin and arms crossed, she took a thinker’s pose and narrowed her attention, “-you mentioned Origin opposed to Creation. Means there’s more thee knows than the common, even gods stand oblivious to Origin’s existence.”

“Well,” he pulled his sleeves, “-here’s the symbol of power. There’s also this,” he tapped his cheeks, “-the remnants of the symbol’s previous spot.”

“Wait a moment,’ she latched onto his forearm, “-these writings aren’t of this world. The demonic tongue has but one condition, aside from the predecessor, none is able to write in his words. We borrow from what was handed down the generations – these symbols and tells are original, these enhancements only King Alfred could write. By the first life,” she took a few steps back, “-are you saying?”

“Correct,” he pulled the other sleeve, “-I was rejected and sentenced to persecution before having an opportunity. I’m Alfred, the Cursed King, devourer of angels and harbinger of misfortune.”

“My liege,” she dropped into a full-body prostration, “-we’ve scoured worlds to worlds in search of thee.”

“Raise thy head, ” he thundered.

She obeyed, albeit shyly, “-majesty...”

“Drop it,” he smiled, “-Alfred was my title, I stand as Igna Haggard, nothing more, nothing less. Forgive what I said and stand.”

“-But.”

“Don’t,” he dropped to one knee and placed a hand on her shoulder, “-I don’t need respect nor do I need anything else. We mutually agreed to speak our minds.”

“Sorry,” she rose, “-was overwhelmed, I never thought we would ever meet.”

‘My suspicions were right, she’s from Aapith else related.’

“Guess it’s my turn,” she inhaled, “-my name’s Rachel, and I serve the true ruler of the Aapith Nation, the founder, Alfred. For millenniums, there’s been inner strife between two factions, one worshipping the tales of King Alfred, and the other, the revolutionist who base their beliefs on Lucifer’s teachings. The former faction’s lost power – tis to a point where the tale of Alfred’s been altered so the real values and teachings were lost. The Aapith is a nation similar to how this world is, demons are described as the embodiment of evil, so says the gods. My brother and I were ordered to jump worlds in search of anyone who knew the teachings of King Alfred, they need someone to take the fight to Lucifer. He’s blatantly insulted our true founder and is on a campaign to rid the nation of believers in King Alfred. When I said dungeon, I mean my world, since it’s grown into a testing ground for the followers of Lucifer. Day in and day out, they leap into our domain and slaughter, pillage, and ravish in the destruction. I wish I could stand to their might... the words of power dwindle and I fear the worse. Before you ask how I know whether my story is right or wrong, you have to understand this, before King Alfred sacrificed himself to Lord Death, a secretive contract was made to ensure his teachings would never disappear. The statuette of Milosa, the voice of truth, chronicler of the founder, took a stand at the palace – on every full moon, she recounts the stories. Knowing Lucifer, you understand such an item would stand against his fight to power. Therein began the first war of demons against demons, his side won, we were forced into subjugation and Milosa was sentenced to the never-ending abysmally purge, a furnace of humanity’s dirtiest thoughts and wishes, a cursed well of raw malice. It’s been said, on full-moons, whispers can be heard from the depths of the abyss, Milosa speaks true. My brother and I were unfortunate to be born in a noble family of a high demon. During the war, we were taken hostage and forced near the cursed well, the raw emotions lashed to burn my arms, my brother went mad, he tore his eyes and pierced his eardrums, I tried to hold him without luck... I wanted to tear my sight from the horror, in the end, the soft whispers of Milosa gave us light, my brother was healed and I was granted the following words of power – Ene, Lewip, Straq, translating into Resilience, Immortality, and strength. I fought my way out, the resistance help us and the inhabitants escaped into a pocket dimension. The rest is the tale of how we grew into angel and god slayers, we’re the strongest fighters the resistance have. They knew full well if we went away, the attacks would grow stronger, still, they told us to flee and live a fulfilling life for them, most of all, they say to believe in the founder, believe the herald of lamentation would return to his rightful place, the throne of the Aapith Nation. We spent centuries living in many worlds until a disturbance in this world, Hades invaded and we followed. We watched battles after battles and landed on Kul, a Demonlord of unknown Origin. Her abilities are beyond what we imagined without ever being tied to the blood of the demons. She’s as strong as high-ranking demons with the same scent to what I remembered from Milosa,” she exhaled, “-our story in a nutshell.”

“A nutshell?” he wiped his forehead, “-Rachel, I’m glad you told me what happened. Sadly, I can’t help.”

“Can’t help?”

“The reason they asked for you both to run was to safeguard the legacy of Alfred, the domains already destroyed by now, Lucifer is powerful, even more now that he’s done the unforgivable, the agreement to merge selves with a god. The majority of the world worships him, the power of belief trumps most, and the devotees are an army of faithful. Sorry to say, I can’t help.”