The Wielder of Death Magic

Chapter 730: True Demonlord [61] [Finale: Part 2]

Combine half a dog and a goat’s head, the body bore a buffed torso, four arms, legs parted evenly into eight limbs, each exhale brought greenish fumes over the already decrepit singular landscape. Floor one till floor fifteen, the scape never once changed, barren land kept inside a humongous huge area, tall ceiling and longer crusted ground.

“Human,” escaped from the beast’s mouth, or what would be called its mouth, on closer look, the latter was naught but a slit in the tangled mess of an evolution, “-why persist. The battle is lost,” an army of similarly shaped ghouls broke through the walls and ground, the pressure increased ten-fold.

The man in question shot a discerning glare forward, a mixture of hatred and hot boiling anger stood against the mess of a physical form. Extremities of the fingers were nulled, pale skin burnt, unable to regenerate, displaying a sight akin to molten magma, albeit, redder in the constitution. No words escaped his mouth for it to be used in heavy pants, uttering word seemed battle itself. Burnt fingers soon clenched the blade, ‘-kill,’ mumbled.

“Attack,” said the beast, pointing, “-tear him to bits.”

Perception over reality could be farther from the truth. The bellowing mindlessness of inside, showed heftily on the inability to properly stand nor talk, gleamed from the freehand, a tiny speck of white diffused to encircle his position.

Groans leaped, famished and deprave, onto death. The scarlet gems briefly flashed forward, slashing the impatient. Kill-zone went into effect, the body subconsciously adjusted.

“What’s a few attacks,” cackled from the side, “-death will come,” the beast faced upward. An enormous mass, boulder in appearance, bearing smooth edges, impacted the ground instantly. Tremors permeated, vestiges of the smaller beasts blazed into ash, smoke rose to encompass the area. Scattered footsteps rhythmically traversed the now fog fill wasteland. *Cough, cough,* ‘-kill, I must kill.’

.....

“Still alive?” thundered the greater demon, “-human, your strong-willed,” one of its legs rose, “-no matter,” needle-like resemblance gleaned, “-death to the weak,” it dropped like a guillotine, short to stop at Igna’s eyeball. Lower half of his body was crushed, the intensity of the fire tore remainder of the upper half, skin turned through to bones, flesh only existing in a darkened state around his face, of which being a hallowed display. “-A painful death awaits, pitiable human,” the pin slowly touched and impaled into the very face, “-I relish in the dread of another,” hastily pulling out, the assault volleyed incessantly. “-suffer, suffer, suffer.”

‘Death, I’m dead, too weak to continue. Leaving the reins to my anger was a bad idea. I can’t save mother, I can’t save anyone, who was I kidding,’ the sharpened needle kept assaulting, he watched, unable to blink, till the light faded into darkness. ‘-No feeling my legs, my hands are done, my body’s at its limit. An object of war, how fucking childish, did I really think giving to my urges would suffice to fight in another’s realm. Pathetic, even by my own standards, I’ve fallen low. My powers are to kill, not protect, and definitely not assaulting a supreme being, how conceited can someone be. Mantia, expanded domains, shadow realms, who gave me the right to think I will be on equal standing to them. This is pointless,’ life drained, the internal mana reserves exhausted, *-Nevermore – Release,* nothing, the pressure of the realm pressed with Igna in the middle, the body dropped, the assault stopped, “-foolish human, dying in such a place. Suppose the trip to the underworld hastened. Stay here a while,” it faced to the center, “-the boulder shall mark thy grave. Making way to my floor without adequate protection is commendable, rest for the afterlife will be most restless.”

“Oh, there we have it,” snickered Zagreus perched atop the skeletal remains of a tree, “-Igna Haggard’s dead.”

“No,” she fired, “-he’s immortal, there’s no way to kill!”

“Wrong, Persephone, do you think we daft, for the love of what’s right, take a look around, the realm is under our control. Since Lord Death’s assault, off guard, as we were, countless years have gone into the construction of the realm, the anti-god tower. Mana’s stiffened, the aura’s akin diving, it increases infinitely until the attacker implodes. He had no chance,” he said proudly, “-he thought he could rescue you,” they locked eyes, he spat in disgust, “-father would have been better off never meeting you. Why,” he emphasized, “-WHY,” the glare scanned up and down, “-why did he fall for something so ungracious and ugly.”

‘The connection is ruptured,’ she exhaled, ‘-Lord death,’ helplessly bound to the chains, her messy short hair stared vaguely to the tower, ‘-I failed too, your heir’s death, unable to reach forth, unable to act. Perhaps it’s time for me to bid my farewells,’ her melancholic eyelashes fluttered to her right arm, ‘-if I separate my soul from the weapon, it should return to Igna to then truly activate his powers.’

“Not going to happen,” returned Zagreus, “-lord Death, conniving as he is eccentric, forgot to mention, the weapon Daemonum Gladio is little more of a shell. The Death Reaper’s lost its scythe long ago, the curse of misfortune, always forced to face death and chaos, fake. Convoluted lies to hide the truth, the price he paid was the very sanity and welfare of the future death reapers. I’ve seen it time and time again, wielders of death magic are foolish creatures – some able to use their minds, others manifesting the true might of the element – the truest embodiment of death. Alas, the shell which is Igna Haggard?” the head shot back mockingly, “-worthless.”

“Is he here?” a portal manifested. Preciously cared for in appearance landed in a burst of light. Feathers and dandelions periodically manifested to then fade.

“Lord Lucifer, I welcome thee to the Underworld. Hell and us must bear many o’ things common.”

“Zagreus,” a gentle smile fired towards Courtney, “-a job well done, Zeus wasn’t informed of our deal, was he?”

“No, no,” returned a confident laugh, “-my word is more important than anything. The current heir to death lays trapped in the tower. I had a look, the symbols of power have merged into a singular entity, one bound to him alone, the only way to extract is to either steal the soul or merge with him. I recommend the former, the boy is repulsive, to say the least.”

He walked to Persephone, “-how entertaining,” the back hunched in deeper observation, “-if the death element is unable to be transferred, there’s no point in following my plan. I honestly don’t care,” he grabbed her chin and pressed, “-other paths opened to acquire greater strength. Do with them what thee may, the man’s no threat, death is no threat. Second most powerful entity, how laughable. Zagreus, our deal ends here, do what thee wishes, I’ll fulfill the part of our agreement,” an army of marked angels hovered into sight wearing rags and chained by a black orb, “-offsprings of goddesses we impregnated. Most of ’em turned to be boys; therefore, I won’t take the blame. They are easy on the eyes, no difference save what’s under the rags. The powers are my guarantee. Off I go, take care.”

“Hahahahaha,” head into his palms, “-I’ve done it,” a dozen childlike characters knelt on Courtney’s platform, “-the holy power of the angel’s mine to control. Look at them, WATCH PERSEPHONE, tis true power!”

“WHAT HAVE YOU DONE, making a deal with the devil?”

“Disgusting,” the laughter died the moment her voice carried into his head, “-the deal’s out the picture, I’ve gained what I wanted. Hear me, slaves, for today forth, I shall be thy true ruler, obey my every word, else, I’ll slit and deflower thy angelic purity. A fallen angel is often very strong,” the statement sent shivers, “-I’ll have other, let say, adventurous companions who’d want to experiment. Persephone, I sentence thee to a life of misery in the depths of the underworld,” *snap,* four muscular figures summoned, “-don’t worry,” the singular pillar swapped into a rectangle, “-I’ve summoned the best torturers we have. The pain will be constant,” her hands and legs were bound and spread across, “-suffer and despair, the lady who wronged my father, may light never shine upon thee,” a neigh echoed into standard screams. The captured angels watched woefully, any attempts to speak triggered a shot of mind-breaking pain.

“Don’t speak,” she mumbled, the torturers began to test the equipment, *tsst,* boiling hot mark burnt onto her chest, she gritted, “-close y-your e-eyes. I-I-I’ll be f-fine,” the hooded silhouettes bent atop, giggles escaped, ‘-Igna, I’m sorry.’ *AHHHHHHHHHH!* machine churned, lava flowed to her ‘bed’. They stabbed, poured mercury into her ears, and focused on a human’s most sensitive parts and skins. Excruciating pain shot in waves; her torture began under the innocent angels’ gaze.

“Enough rest,” spoke from within, “-Igna, wake up, my other-self. I apologize for letting the emotions run wild, I wanted to assess the current state of mind, in conclusion, you’re still the only one who I’d trust. Wake up, there’s much ground to cover,” the face regenerated first, arms, bones coated in ligaments, clambered from the pillar, a reddish goo channeled to the remainder of the bottom half, ‘-while thee regenerate, I’ll recount the story of why Death abandoned his weapon for the sake of another. War of gods and demons had a short but lasting peace. In those times, the gods had a world they called their own, similar to the one you live in. Their life occurred in the blandness of ways, they found love, made children, and basked in the sun’s gentle heat. Trust terror rose when a certain being, a product of a god and demon, rose to prominence. Conflicts were commonplace, the same children were sent to fight for the greater good, and in those harsh days, the one you call, Master, the current Lord of Death, reincarnated as the vessel. He single-handedly won wars before the reincarnation, the latter being forced upon him by Creation for the strength elapsed and had forced balance of power. Tis not of importance, nor will it ever be, what you need to know is lord Death was reincarnated and was the reason for the war’s resumption. Demons led by the titan demon god, Extronious, attacked and laid waste to the heavenly realm, killing his loved ones in the process. Around said time, Persephone was also born, and became close to lord Death, a brother, sister relation grew. Years of peace, we speak in centuries, laid on the verge of collapse – the death of he who he loved swallowed the world whole and killed everyone and everything. Most survived, the war resumed tenfold. The reputation of World Breaker shunned his stature before the gods. In the end, unable to get revenge, the man vanished into the multiverse, training, studying, and growing to be strong. Around said time, a wandering kindling of a demon, named Lucifer, barely escaped from the holy army and fell onto the hermit’s home. The hermit, obvious as it is being Lord Death. One by one, Lucifer’s siblings were natured and cared for till Extronious reappeared in another domain. Aided by the titan god, Kronos, they fought and eradicated the titan demon god, efficiently dealing a massive blow to the titans. Sometime in the century of battle, Persephone was abducted by Hades to halt the godly army, there, Lord Death singlehandedly invaded the Underworld, yielded his weapon to save the only family left. The tale of Lord Death is one I can’t chronically recount, neither will it make sense nor does it affect the current state. The woven tapestry of fate will always loosen and weave into an altered image. When Lord Death returned to a shared domain, he found himself surrounded and helpless – to protect the seven-demon child and Persephone; a forbidden spell, requiring his death, was utilized to wipe the memories of his existence from the lower masses. Destiny altered – Persephone transmuted into Daemonum Gladio and spend her life in relative peace. The man you call mentor is a hero through and through, the reputation of world ender and a merciless killer is true, the pain drove him to ruthlessness, and here, Igna Haggard, my other self, stands a crossway of similar proportions. What will you do?’

‘Simple,’ clambered to a stand, ‘-do what my whims dictate.’

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