The Wielder of Death Magic

Chapter 117: The Start

The panting lessened; their faces remained shocked. Avon and Achilles watched though hesitance to ask what happened loomed overhead. It felt awkward and disrespectful. Rushing inside the room was instinctual, a cry from a friend. A cry that anyone would answer for unless said person wasn’t of any importance. Staxius’s dazed state remained, the ability to recognize the people standing near the door disappeared. The pain; one that plagued even after the symbol finished engraving itself – had fully muted his senses. This went beyond what Dark-arts could muffle, that artificial element helped. It helped when the user got injured, the pain wasn’t a concern. A stab felt like a mosquito bite, thus the reason for the calm and composed demeanor. Injuries and pain were foreign until now, it ached. He wailed and yelled; the only thing to come out was but the shortness of air.

“Master,” Achilles had enough, she tried speaking out. “Wait,” Avon interrupted, he feebly sensed what went on. “-he needs to be alone; we can’t do anything to help. The pain he feels this instant is all the accumulated deaths up till now.” The spirit took the hero by hand and both left. What he said was true, the pain Staxius felt wasn’t of the symbol. It was all the time he previously got mortally wounded, all the pain from then and to now, it all rushed him. Calm and collected could be further from the truth, Staxius gritted, the eyes cried of blood. The voice silenced, the aura fluctuating, nothing could be done except to wait. Time went on, Staxius wailed the whole night. The body turned into a wreck. The mental strength needed to keep his sanity could not be described.

The night turned today, the birds chirped, the trees bristled. The air fresh and soothing, he who suffered all night, awoke. The window to the chambers opened, the soft light entered along with the breeze. He stood with the gaze of a changed man. A gaze that could freeze over the planet. The normal emotionless stare had evolved, it no longer required him to make a physical effort. It set in fully, the man had suffered so much that the prospect of feeling anything began to fade. The return of a state where nothing could bother him was a threat. No love, no compassion and no sympathy, Staxius had stepped into that world once more.

*Knock, knock,* the door opened, “good morning,” Achilles tiptoed inside. Avon didn’t care for after the hero walked in, he barged in. The noise it made rattled the first floor. “Keep it down,” whispers from fellow neighbors could be heard. “A lovely day isn’t it,” Staxius turned around. The companions stood in shock, it felt different. “...” Achilles was left speechless while Avon tried to think of a question. “I haven’t felt this way in ages,” Staxius spoke, it was directed at himself. Strange was the way in which he stared at the hands and feet. It looked as if someone else had taken reign over that body.

“Are you Staxius Haggard?” Avon questioned with piercing eyes. “Obviously,” the trance-like state broke, “-are you insinuating that I’m an imposter?” Staxius jumped the gun; something felt off about him. “Worry not,” he sighed, “-the pain I felt last night, the suffering I’ve just been through. I’ve experienced it, death in its full glory. How it ailed me, how much did I cry? My poor pillow has been basked in my own bloodied tears,’ a few light taps on the face, Staxius’s aura changed back to normal.

“Are you sure that you’re alright?” Avon asked again, the anxiousness could not be shaken. “I’m fine,” the tone returned to normal, the gaze remained ice-cold. But within, a faint warmth was felt. “Let’s go have breakfast,” Staxius walked. Before leaving the room, he placed his hands on both Avon’s and Achilles’s shoulders. “Don’t worry, I haven’t changed. Last night revealed a lot of things, things that are now precious lessons. So, I’ll just ask that this subject should not be addressed any further. Do me this favor, it’s a request and not an order,” the tone serious, both gulped. “No problem,” and the day began.

Back at Claireville academy, the campus awoke early. Preparation for the tournament was to be made by all. Classes were canceled, it was a free day for many students. However, many chose to stay and help. The faculty appreciated the effort, this event was to decide who would represent the school in the inter-magical tournament. Not in one versus one to find the next prodigy, but the two versus two – a subgenre. Although not that flashy nor popular, seeing Eira and some big names participating – it grew to be an event anticipated by many.

.....

“Wake up,” a pair of soft and light hands gently touched. “You’re going to be late,” the voice tried hard to raise in pitch but fell short. It sounded adorable, “in a second,” Eira replied with a yawn. Her eyes wide open, “today’s the big day,” she mumbled. Ysmay smiled as if confirming what she said. “You best get ready; time is of the essence. The director seeks to see you as soon as possible. It’s something about a weapon arriving.” The moment the word weapon rolled off Ysmay’s tongue, Eira jumped out of bed and ran. “Wait for me,” she followed behind. “Wait up,” the entrance to the dormitory came in sight, Ysmay’s voice could barely be heard. “If you go to the office looking like that it will make a dent in your family’s reputation.” Eira heard it, her friend had a point. Sadly, it didn’t suffice for she kept on running. “STANK BREATH,” Ysmay shouted, not that loud but it reached her ears. Instantly she stopped, Eira turned and stared with a look of resentment. “Stank breath...” she mumbled, “really?” she backtracked. “Does my breath smell that bad?” Eira came close purposefully and blew on Ysmay’s face. “Yes, you best take a shower,” she pinched her nose and replied.

Reluctant, Eira went back and got properly dressed. Meanwhile, Staxius and his crew left Rosespire. The car went into overdrive, their estimated arrival was to be in two hours or less. ‘Last night was complete hell, I’ve never felt such pain before. Being the heir to that god isn’t easy. Not to mention this symbol on my face looks... normal I guess.’ Staxius went through a lot, the feelings he felt towards Shanna and Eira and all his friends nearly died down. It rendered the mind numb, however, a single memory kept said feelings alive. The day he met Eira and the day he met Xula; everything else became void. They had no significant meaning; it came as a surprise that even the memories of his father could not hold a candle up to the new ones. He felt relieved but confused – for so long he hated having emotions. But when the opportunity arose to lose it all and turn into the ultimate killer – the choice became obvious. It was for naught; emotions became integral in the quest to become the strongest.

A blank canvas can never be called artistic unless a stroke of a brush brings it to life. The same applies to the brush, for without a canvas it’s but a piece of equipment. Needless to say, there’s always a third party involved. Paint, without it, neither could stand a chance. Thus, a canvas, brush, and paint have to work together to make imagination into reality. The canvas was Staxius, the brush was the people around him and the paint was the emotions they transferred as well as what they brought to the table. Strength and knowledge was the final masterpiece, that was how he thought. Without neither one of them – the fog of cluelessness would always loom overhead. Staxius learned to accept that he was human – and openly embraced the emotions. That could be seen as childish and commonsense, but Staxius wasn’t normal. The things witnessed in war, the amount of evil experience – in no way was he calm.

A few hours passed, Staxius arrived at the packed campus. People came from all over, it was as if a festival. All looked joyful; most were adventurers. Seeing mages in action was a spectacle to be witnessed by oneself. Amidst the chaos, white hair caught his eyes, It was Eira, she headed to the director’s office. They both met up and went inside. On the table, without any conversations, Josiah laid a great sword. Black and blue in color, with the handle of an emerald hue – her face flushed. She fell in love at the sight of such a beast. Staxius cheered her on, Josiah joked. They spoke for a little, preparations were still underway.

“Alright, I’d like to tell you a bit about who is to fight in today’s tournament.” Josiah interrupted the father and daughter bonding time. “Before you say anything, Staxius, this isn’t an advantage. Everyone knows who is to fight today, but I’m sure that you don’t. Therefore, let me enlighten you,” a piece of paper was placed on the table.

“Look here,” Josiah pointed, “first we have you both. Then it’s followed by Huon Symkyn and Isott Rosalinda. In third place, we have a bunch of adventurers; Azer and Paige. They didn’t want to give out information. Next, Carle and Austin, fourth-year students and lastly, Selova and Beth – also fourth years,” he ended and waited for Staxius to reply.

“Nothing can really be said about their name. No one really stands out. But I must ask about Goliath. What about him? wasn’t he supposed to participate.” That was the work of reasoning. An exhibition match between Eira and Goliath should have had a rematch planned. What better way than the two-versus-two tournament.

“Sadly not, Goliath isn’t to fight today,” the reply quick and simple, Staxius dropped the subject.

“Azer, Paige, Huon, Rosalinda, Carle, Austin, Selova and Beth. Those are our enemies and formidable ones at that. The last four are nearly ready to be made into sorcerers. Their battle prowess isn’t something to be trifled with. Azer and Paige are adventurers, which means that their skill level may be weak but their strength can never be underestimated. Lastly, Huon and Rosalinda, the duo who have been a pain since my admission. I don’t think they’ll be much threat. I mean, father did show them the meaning of true strength,” she chuckled. “Enough chit-chat, we are headed off to prepare. May you enjoy this tournament as much as I will,” Staxius rubbed his hands and smiled. “Good luck to you both,” Josiah closed the door as they headed out.

The excitement around the whole school made all envious. The fights were highly anticipated. Staxius and Eira walked around, merchants and traders had come for opportunities could be found anywhere. Avon and Achilles took off ages ago, they requested to be left to their own self – Staxius accepted.

“Do you see all this,” the stadium came into view, “this is all for you, Eira,” he said softly. “You will be the light that shines today. I’m not one for standing out, I’ll support you however way I can. And honestly, if I were to go all out, that place would crumble into pieces and I’m not overexaggerating,” the tone felt sincere and honest. “Did something happen?” Eira asked. “Not really, just tired that’s all,” he dodged the question. “I still can’t believe how much you’ve grown,” Staxius changed the subject. “I still can’t believe that my father is nearly my age,” she pulled out her tongue. He laughed, “in fairness, that is true. But seriously, I want you to shine as best as you can. Make my dream come true, win that bloody tournament.”

Time went on, lines began to form. The tournament was to be started soon. Staxius and Eira stood in the changing room. They were given special black and blue uniforms to wear. Enchanted and enhanced by magic, small protection to minimize the risk of a fatality. Eira’s great sword looked as tall as Staxius, that girl looked like Adelana. Nonchalantly she juggled the blade from one hand to another. “Showing off is bad,” he added just to tease her. “Stop it,” she pouted and continued to juggle.

“What about me then,” Staxius asked, a slight tap revealed the steel sword. “That’s not a very imposing weapon now is it?” she stopped and stared. “Yeah I guess so,” he unsheathed the blade, an enormous feeling of dread and hatred overwhelmed the room. It suffocated her, “SHEATHE IT,” she yelled, he did as told with a look of confusion. “What the hell was that?” her breathing erratic. “A steel sword?” he answered without knowing what just happened. “That’s no ordinary sword, FATHER,” she gave up, Staxius had always been that way. “And you called me a showoff while you just unleashed hell in this room. That sword isn’t ordinary, it feels cursed and alive – how can you even wield that thing.”

“It’s simple really. I just don’t have the time to go out and buy a new sword. I’ve kind of have a crush on this blade. Every time I take it out it makes me want to end everyone I see. I like that feeling, the ever-flowing bloodlust, it makes me blissful,” he smirked.

“I’ll just assume you’re joking about that,” Eira replied with a cautious tone.

*Participants, may you all head for the entrance,* the intercoms spoke, the battle was to start.