The Wielder of Death Magic

1116 Battle of the Academies [4]

“My lady!”

“Send the slaves.”

“Excuse me, my lady?”

“Send the slaves. The attackers will self-destruct upon having their fill. Leave the wounded and the incapable. Consider this our way of cleansing our army from weaklings. As the saying goes, an army is only as strong as its weakest link.”

“My lady, would it not-”

“I will hear no arguments. This is an order, I will have my authority respected, understood?”

Night’s darkness adorned the mountain. Something about the night in a forest brought a measure of grieving listlessness. Hard orders, ‘pour débarrassé,’1 the weak had strengthened morale. ‘Demons are paradoxically inclined. Show pity and they grow dull – push to cruelty, their innate nature against empathy – their self-serving will ought do the rest. Igna Haggard, I’m no fool either. I will fight for what I think is true – you don’t scare me. I belong to the Heavenly Convention. We’re allied. If death knocks, I will widen the door myself,’ pure fierceness and resolve of Cleopatra, the lovely lady clad in gold and blessed with grace, had her hands grasping a sword. A ceremonial testament to ancient demons.

The mountain approaches, “-whispers in the bushes,” said the Advisor, “-scouts have returned,” with a hint of anger, “-my lady,” the tone dropped to a whisper, “-we found survivors. Follow me,” he guided them through two-oxen driven carriages. An appalling look of envy, ‘-why do they look so anxious?’ torches flickered against the soldiers’ expressions. Moans and grunts, cries for pity and death overtook the howling forest. Impaled demons lined the path to the previous camp. Murky and reeking of iron – the cruel smell which one could test – burnt flesh, smoldering in the distant remnants of the camp. Tell-tell signs left awry, “-lack of footprints,” she stared about, ‘-must have come from the trees. They snuck behind, the heavy rain’s taken any warning signs.’

“Report,” said a returning scout, “-we’ve found dismembered limbs. There’s a tree blocking access.”

.....

“Where were they found?”

“Over the tree and seemed to head down.”

‘-Split the forces,’ she exhaled and turned to her troops – a long line of fighters and supplies reached far the eye could see, given the foliage and orbs of flame, signaling a few in the vague distance, “-take down the impaled and set up camp.” A nonchalant exhale paired with chatter led a few unfortunate victims of lost bets to restore the landscape, “-AHHHHH!” a scream caught them from the top, Cleopatra swung her head into said direction, the advisor dropped his jaw at the adjacent impaled – explosion and white flames – pink-mist where living once stood.

“AN AMBUSH!” she cried, “-DO NO TOUCH THE-”

Too late, the topography, a crafty layout made to drown sudden orders – took the lives of a hundred in mere seconds. A dark-green mist rushed down the mountain, those caught turned blue, choked on their own breath, and hurled blood – blisters inflated like dough and burst, throwing muck over those nearby. Once in contact, painful screams and the cycle repeats.

“I CHECKED THE FOREST, THERE SHOULDN’T BE ANYONE HERE!” he frantically looked at Cleopatra for answers, “-my lady?” he checked, and she was gone. A somber voice came from the top, “-demon of the council, alas time for death hath come. Be grateful,” said a devilish figure hovering above enemy, “-hear me,” he held Cleopatra by the nape, “-to those not succumbed to the Mistress of Plague’s malady, if thee wishes for survival – cure will be found within her,” veins along his hand glowed – power flowed into her nape, her body glowed in turn, veins along her visage and down to her legs, shimmering through her clothes, “-may I have a moment of your time,” said another, a half-pyramid rose, “-the name’s Asmodeus,” he courteously bowed, “-I’m a firm believer in leading by example. It is true a leader must safeguard their troops. Therefore,” chained pillars rose in the center, Cleopatra was harshly thrown on the top – her clothes were ripped, “-here comes the mist,” Igna pointed – the fear of impending doom had hearts beating out of chest, “-the only way to survive is to bond thy flesh with thy leader,” he reached into the crowd, the Hand of the Lamented pinched a random fighter and placed it on the pyramid, “have your fun,” said Asmodeus with a cold smirk, the pupils flashed pink, the demon’s conscious gaze faded, he reached behind Cleopatra, latter of which was straddled on all fours, and gripped, the harsh nailed dug into her waist, claps resounded – her screams followed, “-enough,” Igna threw the demon into the mist. It had no effect – the stage was set.

“IGNA!”

“Cleopatra,” he knelt, “-your forces are nothing but scapegoats. Elite members my foot. You will suffer, and be ravaged by thousands who are yet left standing. The mist won’t kill them, rather, it won’t after the first have had their go. I wish thee a pleasurable experience, Queen Cleopatra. Such is the price for going against me,” he leaned into her ears, “-since I can’t kill you, I’ll make sure you survive with a few scrapes. Don’t worry, the pyramid is a conduit for healing magic, the moment it senses thy death – pouf, regeneration. Of course, it’ll remend thy body for new guests. Lead by example, my pretty,” he grabbed her jaw, “-I forgot to mention,” pure lust had the demons in a flock at the bottom, they drooled, true beasts gave a chance at survival, “-any open orifices’ fair game. She won’t bite,” he looked at Asmodeus, the prince graciously looked at the crowd, “-MAY THE GAME BEGIN!” Demons crawled up the stairs, pushed, and fought for a chance at survival – the sense of doom amplified with the mist taking the lives of those who sat on the outskirts.

‘Wha-‘ the ground dropped, “-WHERE AM I?”

“Shut it else it let go.”

“Who are you?”

“Igna Haggard. Didn’t you hear the speech? Advisor, there are a few things I’d like to discuss.”

“What about Cleopatra…”

“Oh, she’ll live, let her have her fun. Of course, she’s being used as a conduit to heal her troops. A general must be honored to put her life in the life of her men. Isn’t that, right?’

‘A warm fireplace, two chairs – a tree house?’ a few minutes had passed, ‘-why did he leave me alone?’ the advisor sat where he was placed. The firewood crackled, the atrocities of the battlefield seemed a distant memory, ‘-the window’s wide open. Could I survive if I leap?’ invisible daggers dug into his back, ‘-don’t think I’ll survive. I’m being watched,’ a room in Lilith’s tree gathered the cozy feelings associated with log cabins. Often called homely, quaint, or else, the starting block for grizzly murders and intrigue-ridden stories. Footstep came at the door, the handle clicked and a man with white hair entered, ‘-a sword on the hip, he’s wearing a uniform and exudes a lot of presence. I don’t detect mana… can power really be broadcasted using one’s image alone?’ a cynical resting frown begot the prisoner, “-am I going to die?”

Igna casually went to a door opposing the fireplace, it opened into the great outside – a view upon the shadows of the mountains, shades of increasing opaqueness formed what little they saw. Orbs often broke the dark veil, Igna lit a cigarette, puffed, then leaned against the doorframe, “-Adjudicator, who are you really?”

“…”

“No answer. You’re part of Cleopatra’s army, yet, there’s a strangeness to the aura. Armies have strategists at hand, helping to analyze the situation of the battle. You, on the other hand, are worthless,” he turned and puffed, “-no sense of foresight,” he walked towards the Advisor, “-still, Cleopatra was forced to keep you at her side. She was a monarch, out of all, I’m sure she understands the truth behind a leader’s success and entourage. Why would she keep you…” he went past, grabbed a chair, slammed it so as it turned away from the Advisor, and then, after a puff, straddled the seat, “-it doesn’t make sense.”

“I won’t talk, it’s the last thing I’ll do,” Igna gave a cold gaze like the opinion didn’t matter, “-for a general, you’re conceited. The overconfidence is going to be your downfall,” the Advisor quipped.

“My, you’re brave,” he leaned, “-suppose a sensible conversation isn’t in the plans. For a moment, I thought you’d be an asset – be realistic, changing sides… alas, let bygones be bygones,” Igna rose his hands and stretched his fingers, *Blood-Arts: Crimson Threads,* crystal lines dug into the Advisor’s brain – the dark-red color begot a black and white hue, a pixelated pattern went from Advisor to Igna, ‘-as I expected, the man’s a guard from the Council. He’s under orders to kill Cleopatra if makes a move against the agreed treaty. Memphe, her goal’s been foreign until now. She’s made a deal with Leviathan – to hand over the Academy’s darkest kept secret, the Tomes of Control. The roots of deception run deep. Advisor,” he smiled, yellow shrouded in black emerged, the skin of concealment shed, ‘-he’s a member of Artanos’ army. Artanos’ influence has reached into the Council. It’d make sense why they’d use Cleopatra to lead the council forces. Fortunately, this one seems to be under liberty – the only order given was to supervise Cleopatra. Memphe’s going to double-cross Leviathan and side with the Heavenly Convention. Ragno is a land made of a majority of fallen-angel, it would be right for her to seek the aid of the gods. They must have promised her the academy’s prosperity as a haven for angels, to restore its reputation… Satan and Leviathan’s forces will be hard to fight. Henry Grant and Zalem Odd, renowned demons from the warring days,’ he pulled the control threads – the advisors’ shot into consciousness, “-What happened?”

“Nothing much,” Igna stood, watching over the mountain – puffs of smokes followed, “-tell me, what will you choose, life or death?”

‘Did I pass out?’ he scratched his head, ‘-I don’t remember anything… what happened?’

“What will it be?”

“Like I have a choice in my fate. I’m a prisoner of war, I don’t care what happens to me.”

“Fair,” he flipped, “-when day breaks, I’ll send you back to Cleopatra’s side. She’ll need someone to hold her hand after tonight.”

Igna strolled down the corridor – the princes of hell watched enviously, as did the students who bravely asked for Elixia’s insight. They returned ten minutes after Cleopatra’s torture, the grand hall of Lilith’s fortress carried long tables supported by a stone ground. Branches arched in and out of the structure, “-Igna,” Lilith held a seat behind the grand hall, in a smaller, more comfortable room, “-how’s the battle?”

“Getting there,” he nodded.

“Have Vanesa return home, Beelzebub too, the boy’s up to no good again.”

“What happened?”

“He’s torturing soldiers at the academy.”

“Let the boy have his fun. I’m going to bed – send for me if anything changes,” a spiral staircase led to an equally quaint room, a single bed, a windowless opening into the starry night carrying a relaxing floral scent.

He laid, ‘-this nostalgic feeling, it calls to me memories of Shanna Islegust. The days of the past were simpler, I didn’t have the power I required, however, the simple days of coming home to my lovely wife, to her complaints of me working too hard on matters of state. Calling treason as it came, leading Arda into a magical revolution. The province’s no longer the same – perhaps I changed it for the worse. I wanted results and, in the end, ignored much of what was needed.’ Fenrir and Elize kept watching Above his room. Looking in the distance for danger, “-who are you anyway?”

“Fenrir, and you?”

“Elize.”

“You sure are a conversationalist, Elize.”

“Same to you,” they growled and hissed, as for downstairs, Lilith gathered his sons and daughters, “-Mammon and Asmodeus will keep watch tonight. Everyone else, go to sleep.”

“Understood, mother.”

Thus, the veil of night carried until dawn. The sun shimmered brightly but had its rays diffused in the thick mountain mist. Cleopatra’s screams dulled, and most of the demons were lifeless upon the ground, ‘-Igna…’ she shivered, ‘-I’ll have my revenge, I swear….’