Eternal Undying Chronicles

Continue your journey with empire

Alicarde flew through the night sky, his movements unsteady. Despite the many battles he had fought, the art of flying still eluded him.

The mental strain was immense, and his control was flimsy at best. Crushing objects with gravity or making them weightless were basic techniques for him, but flying was an entirely different challenge.

It demanded a delicate balance—one he hadn't yet mastered.

He landed on a nearby building not far from Anne's place, the impact causing a slight tremor on the rooftop. Adjusting the sword strapped to his back, he walked to the edge of the building, his eyes scanning the city below.

The real problem with flying wasn't just becoming weightless; it was the need to navigate himself while maintaining the right amount of inertia and centrifugal force.

He had to account for various factors, his velocity, the gravitational pull of the earth, air resistance, and his own body's momentum. [Flux Field], the ability that allowed him to manipulate gravity within a certain radius, required precise calculations.

For instance, if he were attacked by bullets from one direction, he could easily stop them all, as they came from the same side and were uniform in size. But when objects of different sizes and speeds attacked from various directions, it became exponentially more difficult to focus and control.

Moreover, his ability demanded intense concentration, and the more he pushed his limits, the more his head throbbed with pain.

There was also a limited radius to his control, if he exceeded it, he could wield great destruction, but the strain on his mind and body would be just as severe.

Alicarde sighed, his breath visible in the cool night air. Today had been a strange day. He had gone out with the intention of creating a bloodbath but had left without killing anyone.

'Thinking about it, the same thing happened with the Night Shades,' he mused.

"They kidnapped someone close to me, despite resolving myself to kill them, I did nothing, and we just talked. If I had a penny for every time that happened, I'd have two pennies—which isn't a lot, but it's weird that it happened twice."

He recalled how he had accidentally shown Anne the breathing exercises to feel magic energy. He was certain she would try it, but he wasn't worried. Aptitude and patience were crucial, and Anne didn't seem to have much magical aptitude.

Most humans took weeks, even months, to feel their mana. Alicarde himself had taken a few days, but that was only after his death had boosted his mana potential to unnatural levels.

'There's no way she's going to get it. She'll probably just give up after trying a little bit,' he muttered, almost convincing himself.

As he stood on the building, gazing at the city below, a faint magic power flowed from a mark on his body. He soon heard the voice of the Witch, Malefica, echoing through his mind.

"Where are you?"

"On a building, somewhere."

"We have work to do. Our target today is with Vito Carmine. We still haven't located them or any Strigoi, and we're not even close to finding out why Zagarath needs so many humans."

"Yeah, I guess. At this point, I feel bad for my earlier rampage."

"It's fine. What's done is done."

"Wow, you're being awfully open-minded these days. You'd normally give me a lecture."

"That wouldn't help now, would it? Speaking of which, how was your day off? Was it good?"

"Madam therapist, I don't think this is the time to ask me that. We still have a job to do."

"Then why were you out in the day, making a ruckus?" Malefica asked, her curiosity piqued.

"That was personal business," Alicarde replied curtly.

"Personal business involved the police and one burned building. Good to see you finally got the hang of the Inferno spell," Malefica said, her tone cold.

"I did, but I really want to reach the level of learning voiceless magic. Memorization is annoying, and my enemies won't give me a chance to chant in peace."

"Then reach a higher level. Magic has limitless possibilities, just like the imagination has no limits," Malefica said, sounding every bit the professor she was.

"Actually, the imagination has limits," Alicarde retorted.

"It doesn't," Malefica insisted.

"Oh, is that so? Why don't you try imagining a new color? Or better yet, what do blind people see?" Alicarde challenged.

Malefica was quiet.

"Yeah, that's what I thought, Malefica darling," Alicarde said smugly.

"Darling? You're getting more brazen with me with each passing day. Speaking of which, have you completed your punishment? Clearly, asking you to transcribe lectures was not punishment enough. I was even kind enough to extend the deadline," Malefica said coldly.

"Hey, are you threatening me, you big-breasted witch? If you are, then guess what—we aren't in a classroom, and right now, I am not a student. That won't work. In fact, you should be grateful someone actually paid you enough mind to compliment your tits," Alicarde said irritably.

"You… you…" Malefica stammered in rage.

"Yeah, that's right, you thousand-year-old spinster… me… me," Alicarde said, relishing her reaction.

"You really want to get expelled?" Malefica said in her cold, imperious voice.

"DO… YOU… HAVE… ANY… PROOF?" Alicarde said slowly, with an edge of mockery.

Malefica was silent. Their entire conversation was mental, so no one around him heard a word. Alicarde could imagine her seething in her house.

"Yeah, that's what I thought," Alicarde said, his tone triumphant.

"I… I am not a spinster," Malefica said in a low tone.

'Really, that's what she's worried about?' Alicarde thought, not sure if it would reach her since they were communicating telepathically.

"Is that so? I see. Then throughout your thousand years, you must have had many men and lots of children," Alicarde said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

"No, I have not. I don't have any children, and I have never been with anyone."

If Alicarde had any tact, he would have stopped his verbal assault. Alas, he did not take Anne's advice to think thrice.

"Then that makes you a spinster. Imagine being older than my grandma and still being single. Guess no man wants you… fine, I'll take the fall and marry you. No need to thank me," Alicarde said, his voice filled with mock pity.

"You will die," Malefica said calmly.

Alicarde paused, realizing he might have crossed the line.

"Ahhrg… I am immortal," he retorted, trying to maintain his bravado.

Malefica was quiet, her tone had changed subtly.

"You will die," she repeated, her voice now very serious.

"Although if you want to marry me, I welcome the idea—as long as you are prepared to die."

Alicarde fell silent, sensing the shift in her demeanor. However, he didn't want to show weakness.

"Sure then, fine by me… I'll happily call you my darling wif—" He stopped, his eyes narrowing under the hood as he spotted something moving between the buildings below.

"What… cat got your tongue, you insolent man?" Malefica asked, her voice laced with cold mockery.

"I see a Strigoi," Alicarde said, his voice carrying a cold edge. His eyes glowed violet under the hood, focusing on the shadowy figure leaping from building to building.

Alicarde leaped toward the next building, his heart glazed over with a cold, unshakable killing intent. Each step he took was powered by the burning need for slaughter.

As he zoomed toward the distant creature, his mind was singularly focused on one thing—ending its life. He pushed off from the building's ledge, his body a blur in the night as he launched himself across the gap.

His sharp gauntlets dug deep into the brick frame of the next building, scraping against the stone with a metallic screech as he used the momentum to throw himself higher, propelling his body upward with supernatural agility.

His muscles strained with each leap, his body twisting mid-air to adjust his trajectory in the blink of an eye. He vaulted over pipes and air vents, his boots barely brushing the surfaces before he sprang to the next obstacle. His speed was relentless, fueled by his predatory focus.

Each movement was precise, honed by countless hours of practice. His boots gripped the rooftop edges with deadly accuracy, allowing him to shift direction fluidly. His vestments billowed behind him like a dark, living shadow as he bounded from one rooftop to the next, a blur of darkness against the pale moonlight.

Every leap was calculated, his sharp gauntlets carving into the building's surface as sparks flew in his wake. He was a force of nature, unstoppable in his pursuit.

"Stop! Stop now!" Malefica's voice screamed in his mind, cutting through his bloodlust like a blade.

Alicarde ground to a halt, his gauntlets scraping against the building's edge as he landed, the friction causing a shower of sparks to cascade down the wall. His heart pounded, the sudden stop clashing with the primal urge coursing through him—one driven by an unquenchable thirst for blood.

"What now?" he asked coldly, his voice laced with irritation. His violet eyes glowed faintly under the hood, betraying his frustration.

"Don't kill it. We need to follow it. Use the mark to share visual perception with me," Malefica's voice cut through the bloodlust like a sharp blade, her tone calm but firm.

Alicarde let out a low growl, his jaw tightening.

"Hmm... fine," he muttered, begrudgingly allowing the mark to link his vision with hers.

A pulse of energy rippled from the sigil on his body, confirming the connection. His annoyance simmered beneath the surface, but he swallowed it, redirecting his focus to the target ahead.

The Strigoi was bounding from building to building, moving with an almost frantic urgency. Its pale, leathery skin clung tightly to a skeletal frame, and its elongated limbs ended in sickle-like claws that gleamed ominously under the moonlight.

Jagged teeth jutted out from a twisted snarl, its beady eyes darting around for any sign of threat.

But it hadn't noticed him. Clad in black, Alicarde blended seamlessly with the shadows of the city, his presence like that of a phantom.

The creature's grotesque legs bent at impossible angles, allowing it to cover enormous distances with each leap. As it moved, Alicarde's sharp gaze caught sight of the unconscious woman it carried in its claws.

Her limp body swayed violently with each movement, but it was the bulge of her belly that made Alicarde's stomach knot—a pregnant woman.

His eyes narrowed dangerously, and the flames of rage licked at the edges of his mind.

"Follow it," Malefica's voice echoed in his head, her calmness at odds with his boiling anger.

"You might finally get your chance to fight Zagarath again. Isn't that what you've wanted all this time?"

Zagarath. The mere mention of his name stoked the fire even further. Alicarde's hands clenched, the memory of their last encounter still fresh, still raw.

"Then be a good boy, don't cause a ruckus, and follow the Strigoi. And try your best to save any civilian victims. Our goal is to find out what Zagarath is planning—anything could be a clue."

He gritted his teeth, biting back the retort that threatened to escape. The desire to kill was strong, but he couldn't deny the truth in her words. Zagarath was the endgame, and any reckless move now could ruin everything.

"I'll follow."

The hunt was on. But this time, he would play the long game. He would wait. And when the moment came, he would strike with lethal precision.