The Wielder of Death Magic

Chapter 760: ‘Have you ever had regrets?’

‘Have you ever had regrets?’

“Send the lift, the adventurers are back,” said the intercoms.

“Right on it,” answered a short-haired lady, a flick brought an elevator. The view from where she stood was one to not forget. Tired men and women stumbled, some barely grazed the ledge and dove into a prone.

“Safety at last,” they said, team members healed and comforted one another – Wall Guardians helped in first aid. A medical tent of greenish color rested beside a private lift headed into the ‘safe’ part.

“Wall guardian, here’s my report,” said a boy with half of the visage covered in blood, “-our party leader was mauled by a dire wolf,” no expression, the shock had overwhelmed the innocent mind.

‘Another one,’ she took a notepad and wrote, ‘-death counts have been low.’

“I’ll inform the guild, take care of yourself now,” she politely smiled, the defeated figure returned to a click of equally wounded members.

.....

‘Regrets,’ she exhaled and stared at her right arm, ‘-I have plenty of them.’

“We’ll handle the retrieval today. You’re off the clock,” spoke a commanding officer. Platforms private to guardians lowered, bow around her shoulder and arrows strapped to her waist, she hopped, made for a tram headed for Meke. ‘-Regrets,’ dressed in army uniform, ‘-such a painful word to say,’ evening drew curtains on a sunny day, a somber-blueish hue rose upon the continent, stars made their entrance, the nightlife of Meke, prominently from the adventurers, roared into action. A cold shiver pierced fabric and glazed her hairs, an apartment complex of somewhat moderate comfort rose in-between the residential districts. Stairs rose into an outdoor alley of many doors. Occasionally, screams of arguing couples snuck outside, she paid no heed – thoughts were on the phone, ‘-he’s released a new casefile.’ The lock clicked, she pushed into the tight dark entryway, the stuffy air choked her breath. Her fingers lazily took off the tightly fitted heels, which soon were thrown haphazardly to the side. Her leggings made contact against the wooden floor – each step left an imprint.

‘Dinner,’ she stumbled into the kitchen, fixed dinner for two, jumped into the shower, ate said meal, and made for her room, the sliding window pushed upward. Night fully settled as for her, she sat with one foot pulled onto the office chair and the other on the floor, a warm cup of milk steamed, a page had, *The Royal Conspiracy* written in bold, ‘-the Goldbergs are involved,’ her eyes widened. ‘Right, Leonard’s busy dealing with his mother,’ she sipped, faced the open sky, ‘-Regrets,’ her chair rolled so as to look upon the street below. Friends walked, laughed, and teased one another, ‘-the days at the academy were fun, very fun. I enjoyed it so much I’d wish to relive the event again. Our groups fallen apart, I was responsible for pushing him away,’ she stared her arm, ‘-regardless, he did his best to help, meanwhile, I refuted his involvement, why would...’

*Click,* “-I’m home,” echoed from the entrance.

“Welcome back,” she returned, “-how was your day?” she shuffled into the living room.

“Tiring,” returned an exhausted visage, “-are you still thinking about them?” he snuck inside with shoes in hand.

“Leave them behind,” she glared, “-don’t bring your smelly shoes in our room.”

“Force of habit,” he scratched his head and chuckled, “-how was your day, Jen?”

“Pretty normal, the death count’s been lower. I heard the Goldberg Guild’s been gathering members – you sent a kid to his death today, come on.”

“It was beyond my abilities,” he exhaled, unbuttoned his shirt, and turned the television, “-the shareholders want our members to gain strength. The academy gave us the green light, figured I’d use ’em.”

“Use them,” she brought a cup of water, “-that’s all you think about, don’t you.”

“Don’t be like that,” he winked, they sat and watched the evening news, “-we know my job’s a nasty one. Long as our home is cozy and amorous, I’ll do what is needed. Tis the vow we exchanged, didn’t we?” they kissed, fingers interlocked; silvery wedding bangs gleamed against the show.

*Message from Lieutenant Mello,* rang in the early morning hours, “-what is up, Jen, it’s your favorite lieutenant. You’ve begged for time off, I managed to find a sucker to handle your guardian duties, tis the holiday season, monster activities lowered. I can afford maybe a week of leave on the condition you are to rush to work if ever things are dire. I said, maybe, in any case, today you’re free to stay home. Tell Leonard we’ll invoice him the payments for the monster drops later, happy sleeping.”

“Who was that?” asked a grumpy voice.

“Mello,” she muffled into her pillow, “-I’ve got the week off. By the way, it’s 05:00, don’t you have to work?”

“OH GOD!” he jumped and left, “-I’ll prepare breakfast, sleep in.”

“Yeah, yeah... have a good day.”

‘Jen’s the strongest woman I’ve ever met,’ quick to shave the stuffy chin, ‘-it’s my responsibility to give her the best life I possibly can,’ memories of their unrecognized marriage came to mind, the harsh words from his mother – a forceful abdication from the family, ‘-leaves a bitter taste till this day,’ he hurried into the kitchen, cooked then hurried to work, ‘-another grueling day,’ date showed the 10th of December, a few hours before Igna made for Oriaon.

‘Guess we’re here,’ he thought, the laptop closed, ‘-Trading hub is an understatement, the amount of presence I feel within the town sends a haunting sense of doom. Count Stark isn’t one to be trifled with lightly, he attached a personal message to the public case file, “-Lord Igna Haggard, I base my assumptions on speculation and deduction. The Haggard’s are involved in the killings, the trail’s very much clean, even if I were to accuse thee, there’s no point, the law can’t catch a Phantom, can they? Tis a lovely game of cat and mouse we are playing, thee have the home-field advantage, therefore, I digress for now. Then again, my deductions are prone to be wrong at times.”

‘Law can’t catch a Phantom,’ hung in his mind, line after line exited the plane, ‘-he’s a threat, I knew it. Such a shrewd personage, he knows how to play the cards dealt. Send an assassin and tis blatantly announcing the affiliation and confirmation of the D.G’s existence. ‘I know of the real people, and for my own safety, will remain silent’ a scheming sentence, I applaud thee, lord Stark.’

“Master?”

“Fenrir?”

“Are you well?” she held and lifted his chin, “-Igna, we’re in Oriaon.” Consciousness returned to a massive terminal of high ceiling in which were various floors, trains, cars, name it, and the means of transit was available. Most wore workers’ uniforms, those who worked in import and export. Outlines shuffled to and fro, Fenrir’s blue hair firmed his attention, “-I dozed off,” he said, “-We should head for Meke. Apparently, my contact waits there, it would have been easier to fly...”

“Seriously?” she hung on his words; “-the journey’s nice, very relaxing. I get to take in the world from a new perspective,” she spun towards the crowd, “-look at them,” she said, “-the architecture, the people, and the hustle, it’s awesome,” she spoke true, the bronze color, emphasis on metal structures, gave an industrial feel. In comparison to Rotherham’s terminal, the difference was night and day, where one side had dignity and finesse, the other had brute strength and tenacity, not to implicate either to be better

“Right,” he grabbed her arms and pulled.

“Why are you pushing?”

“Look around,” he muffled, “-you screamed the last word... people are looking,” thus, he faded into the crowd till the station for Meke.

‘Dwarves,’ he observed under a tall clock, ‘-rare of them to take interest in affairs outside Arda.’

“I’ve brought food,” said Fenrir, “-after lunch hour makes me peckish.”

He took no heed to her comment and waited, the train arrived and off they went. ‘-Murder in the Riverwood train,’ washed over his self, ‘-I must admit, murder was very fun to resolve,’ first-class wrote in the décor and attention to detail. The scenery unfolded into a various array of trees, farmlands, and occasional stops at villages.

“Who are we meeting?”

“Don’t talk with your mouth full,” he remarked.

“Whatever,” she fought through the bites, “-where are we going anyway?”

“To take care of a request from my stewardess, Vesper.”

“Who’s she?”

Elbows rested against the ledge, “-the one who handles the monster kingdom on my behalf,” voiced across nonchalantly, the train went past closely arranged poles, in turn, projecting shadows on the monotonous reply.

“The Monster Kingdom?” her ears perked, “-explain...”

“Was it not in the report?” they entered a tunnel, “-I, Igna Haggard, I’m the Watcher of the Shadow Realm, the dimension we visited earlier. It currently holds the domain of Scifer, the Godslayer. Long story short, I have control over, Time, Death, and Origin’s knowledge, the former, time, is one I haven’t yet mastered. I remember using the ability when Intherna was injured, ‘twould be best if I never use it again.’

“Never change, do you,” she smiled, “-the grandness of what was spoken doesn’t one bother thee, does it.”

“And, should I change it?”

“No, I never implicated it to be bad,” she gazed outward, the train reemerged, “-the responsibility must be great. It doesn’t sit right with me, how can a simple human, cursed and barred from ever becoming a god, hold such power?”

“No idea,” he shrugged, “-and honestly, until I have to face off against gods, which I doubt will ever happen, the issue’s best left unanswered.”

“You’re bored, aren’t you,” her eyes narrowed, the voice sharp and canines sharper, “-be pushed to the wind’s whim, tread along a path of no end nor definite goal. Are you sure about this path, heading down said road will be painful, not for you, but the people around?”

“If it’s about me moving according to my whim.”

“-Don’t make excuses,” she moved closer, “-Igna, you’re running away, aren’t you?”

“Running away?” he glared back, “-how dare you!”

“Don’t shout at me,” she smirked, “-I know Staxius and I know you, there’s a key difference, though the two are the same, he was someone who’d charge headfirst into a problem, never caring to prepare, making plans on the spot. You are a lesser version of him, easily influenced by emotions, taking the easy roads, avoiding the face the fact of thy weakness. You’re scared to call on the powers, scared they’ll be misrepresented, and call upon the gods to strike thee down. The lost must have wane...”

“-Enough!” he thundered, “-I get it,” returned a slightly tamer tone, “-I’m scared, are you satisfied? Yes, maybe I am running away, maybe I am looking at the Shadow Realm as an excuse to not fight, maybe I don’t want to get my hands bloody. I know firsthand how much I suffered, how painful it was to take in the curses, fight with a body that bordered the line of death. Do you think I enjoyed that life?” a red tint shimmered through his pupils, “-when the day comes, and when it will come, I’ll find my answers then. For now, the gods,” he gulped, “-the demons, Eipea and Aapith are entities I can’t afford to antagonize. I’m weak, and even if I were to unleash the Shadow Realm, the residents will be exposed, tis a line I won’t cross, a line I can’t cross.”

“Was the change for the better or worse?” she shrugged and resettled, “-who can tell really, I-”

“I’m sorry,” he exhaled, “-and you’re right, I’m not him, not the man who built an empire on his own. I’m just a pretender.”

Silence infused the remainder of the voyage; a deep voice shortly announced the arrival at Meke. The momentum halted, he stood, the doors parted, Fenrir followed, ‘-why did I have to say all those things?’ he waited outside the transit, facing a horde of impatient travelers.

“Don’t dwell on the past,” said the curt voice, “-guess I got carried away, sorry about that,” her ears and tail lowered.

“I’m fine,” he fist-bumped her shoulder, “-don’t worry about it.”

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