The Wielder of Death Magic

Chapter 965: Artanos, God of Knowledge

“Soul transmigration.”

“Correct, there’s no better place for her to live. Shadow Realm is safe, I can guarantee that much.”

“I guess that’s fine,” she exhaled, “-seems I was worried for naught. Aceline’s rebirth within a realm of silence and happiness.”

“Thank you, I’d have been stump between making a choice. This is for the best,” the frozen room eased, the tick of the second hand increased, the minute snapped and reality followed. Aceline’s body laid lifelessly, her soul passed – the body shortly matched; heart slowed and breathing halted – machines pulsed into flat. ‘May you live a peaceful life from here on,’ he took off her mask and caressed her mildly warm cheeks, “-until the day comes when you’re able to remember, enjoy the new life, Aceline, you deserve it, you deserve to rest and enjoy a new start. I’m glad,” a painful relief, an oxymoron feeling; washed over. A familiar scrape, the door opened. “I’m sorry,” shuffled a saddened Scott, “-I’m sorry I left.”

“No harm done,” returned Igna at her bedside, “-she passed,” two simple words. Scott’s heart dropped, ‘-she’s gone?’ mumbled a voiceless reply. Glances swapped from Igna to Aceline. Igna stopped and softly nodded, “-she’s gone, my friend, she’s gone.” The pain of loss suddenly hit like a truck.

“I never got to say goodbye.”

“Neither did I,” returned Igna, “-Aceline’s dead, again...”

.....

“Why,” Scott dropped, unable to stand, “-why did she have to be her?”

Igna turned on himself, “-I’ll call the doctor, stay with her, Scott, stay with her,” slid off the room door, the constant back and forth, a pendulum of dread or hope. A similar situation occurred in the distance, families slid the dreaded barrier, some begot a nice welcome, others, a sad and painful hello. Death wasn’t far, as was tragedy.

“Majesty?”

“Aceline’s dead,” the hectic nurses’ station paused, “-she passed a few minutes ago.”

“Aceline’s dead...” added the doctor with a tone of finality, “-I’m sorry about your loss, majesty,” regret swung the faces of attendants, alas, the call of duty forced the mask of brevity. “-She died peacefully,” said Igna, “-I know she did.”

“Understood,’ nodded the doctor, “-I will get the paperwork started. Please, take whatever measures they see fit for her last rites.”

“I will, thank you,” and so, Igna watched as the hospital carried out its duties. Many others received news of the dead. Before long, a cigarette lit solemnly underneath the shadow of the great white hospice.

*Puff,* ‘-yeah, the pain of losing someone. Never thought I’d experience it again. Didn’t expect you to come out so suddenly,” a little figure materialized above his shoulder.

“Neither did I,” he replied, “-Aceline’s our best friend and lover. She was always looking above the mundane rumble, an idealist by heart and a world changer by action. Look around, look at Rosespire, look at the greatness of the capital city, look at the posters, the advertisement, the advancement in technology, the airships, and most of all, look at the sense of safety it gives. It was possible because of a single person, Aceline – an idol we met during times of war. We’ll never forget her performance against the backdrop of Claireville Academy – her soft words and charming persona, what I’d do to see her again.”

“Enough reminiscing,” puffed Igna, “-I appreciate the nudge.”

“Don’t mention it, me, we’re one of the same, understand, me?”

“I do.”

A colder evening breeze swept the building. Droplets of rain rode upon the foggy gusts, shining silver under the lamp’s hue, “-guess it’s over,” he snuffed the cigarette, “-hello, éclair?”

“Majesty?”

“Aceline’s dead. She breathed her last breath a few moments ago. I want her body cremated, make the necessary arrangements – her final rites ought to be held at the castle.”

“The castle?”

“Yes, she’ll receive a royal’s ceremony.”

“Understood.”

Media locked on the news, and her passing lit a flame within the Arcanum. Fans from the world over grew to send their wishes. Her body was transferred. A large crowd gathered outside the castle gates. People carried candles, and Igna stood at the forefront of her casket. Black and white uniforms of suits and dresses. Guests present at the castle attended the event. General Minerva, an apostle of Athena, presided over the last rituals. One could say, by observing; that not many cries were heard. Whimpers and sniffles, soft whispers of their shock. Her death came without warning – a state of unrealism yet lived within the minds of many. News coverage spoke greatly on the matter. Wasn’t long before the compilation of her performances and dedicated broadcasts of her movies overwhelmed many networks. Forget Hidros, her death resounded around the world; people gathered in mass and walked in remembrance of the idol – she truly was the world’s first and only superstar.

As next of kin, Igna was invited to speak – final rites were finished. The king strode to stand over, “-Aceline’s one of the best people I’ve ever met. Everyone who knew her would say the same; her life story is etched into the annals of media history. Everyone’s heard of her name and at least heard one of her songs. She’s one of the best people I’ve ever met, I can’t stress it enough. Her passing was untimely, death is a part of the way of life. Still, I know she rests in a better place. The unification of the world using the power of song, such was her goal. I’m proud to say, Aceline, you did it. The world speaks thy name in prayer, they join hands to remember. If I were to speak honestly, I’m afraid I’d take the whole night. Instead, I’ll leave it at this; Aceline, you’ll always live through your music and movies. An artist never dies for their work lives the rest of eternity on their behalf,” he left under a veil of muffled cries. The throne room realized her passing to be the truth. Like waves who’d retreat after pushing up the beach – the heaviness of death sowed its seed. Crowd took turns in wishing their goodbyes. Many left flowers, others left notes, to each their own. The city streets awoke under a somber night sky. Her procession was nothing short of royalty. Her body was driven around, passing the likes of Lei, Juei, and Onel. Residents perched upon their balconies threw flowers. A rain of petals covered the dark transport. At midnight sharp, the procession reached a crematorium sided beside a church to venerate Tharis. Royal guards tightened a perimeter as fans grew anxious – many felt their faces against the rusted iron gates. “-Let us in,” they shouted, Igna, Julius, Scott, and Piers carried her coffin.

Smoke rose up a chimney, casting a disorganized trail up the sky, “-per ancient teachings, we’ll leave one behind.”

“Let me,” voiced Igna, “-Scott, please, allow me the honor of watching her last moments.”

The flushed man maintained a woeful disposition, “-as you wish,” he nodded, “-I’ve not the stomach,” he covered his mouth, “-the pain’s too much, I can’t.”

“Be careful,” said Julius, “-don’t break just yet.”

“Come on,” added Piers, “-you’re not alone,” they held Scott by the shoulder.

“Understood, his majesty shall remain behind.”

Time passed, “-you and me,” he sat and peered through a glass window, “-slow burning of a lifeless body. Nothing changes once flame takes a hold of a person. Same old sight, same old scent. Undrar raised a point earlier, why would a curse only affect Aceline? the nature of the attack, there seemed no greater motive than to cause chaos. And still, the entities fought viciously, others died by similar methods. Aceline was the only one targeted by Artanos’ curse. I get it,’ the fist clenched, “-Artanos wasn’t targeting her, he wanted me, he wanted the Shadow Realm. It’s become personal – taking Aceline’s life to reach me, how wise, how wise for the god of Knowledge, a bumbling idiot without prospects. ‘ attention turned to a message, “-Igna, there’s something you need to know about the attack. I chose silence over truth, I needed to investigate things on my end. Tis a point where I’m stumped – we’re on the precipice of battle, the targeted field will either be here or Draebala, such my conclusion, ‘To the guardian of Nexsolium; have a taste of my power. My army of clockwork warriors won’t die so easily. Heed my words, Qhildir will pay – Lucifer shall rise, and thy world destroyed. Relay this to Alfred, he’ll die and lose everything again,’ such the message I received. Brother, I’m afraid our enemy’s no king from the mortal realm – our fight’s moved to the heavens. Artanos is a high-tier god who wields tremendous power, one could say you and him art the same. He wasn’t born a god, rather, made one from the bond of a titan and angel – a wielder of two symbols of power. He’s not all talk – the clockwork army is in a way similar to your Puppet army. Be ready for what’s to come, Igna – we won’t know until he strikes.”

‘A battle against a god?’ he paused, ‘-interesting. I always knew we’d face the heavens someday. Artanos,’ Alfred’s memories opened, ‘-a man of unrivaled combat prowess. He’s strong, very strong – stronger than Lucifer and wiser than Athena in some respects, a superior version to us currently.’

A golden white circle slit reality, ‘-a portal?’ long legs stepped through, a tall man of pure black hair, yellow eyes drowned in a sea of black, sharp chin, sharper jawline and an outfit deemed worthy of a gentleman. Golden earnings matched the eyes, “-dimension Orin,” he scanned, “-I see my coordinates were right, the poor ol’ thing had to die.”

“Artanos,” said Igna.

“My,” he smiled, “-I see someone’s wise.”

“Coming from the god of knowledge, I’ll take the compliment.”

“I love it,” he stepped forward, “-such a cynical gaze, makes my heart leap a flutter.”

“...”

“Why am I here?” he asked rhetorically, “-well, I thought I’d meet you first – heard a lot about the mysterious man of Orin, my old rival; reincarnation of Alfred. Alas, I was wrong – the powers of the death reaper no longer beat, I don’t sense the death element. Weak,” he narrowed, “-no scent to speak of, no power to call on, what a shame, truly it is a shame.”

“Suppose weakness’ one of my many traits.”

“Ah!” he exclaimed, “-I love the sarcasm. At least the personality is quite entertaining. Tell me, Igna, where’s Kronos’ sickle?”

“Pardon?”

“Don’t play dumb,” waves of energy emanated, “-what I hate the most are people who lie.”

“As for me,” Igna strode into Artanos’s face, “-I hate presumptuous pricks. God of Knowledge or the wielder of a whores’ mouth, I’ll kill anyone who stands in my way.”

“Is that so?” they butted heads, and a clash of energy rattled the ground, “-I like you,” he winked.

“Same,” returned Igna, “-you’re interesting.”

The auras dwindled mutually, “-man, it’s been a while since I met someone so strange. Tell me, are you truly a human?”

“No, I’m simply, Igna Haggard.”

“Well, Igna Haggard, the first impression’s great. As a sign of respect, why not tell me where Kronos’ sickle resides?”

“I’d have to kill you once I did.”

“Now, now, don’t get ahead of yourself,” he vanished and drew a dagger. “Too bad,” Igna held Artanos’ wrist with one hand and drew Tharis with the other.

“My, you’re formidable,” the grip ease, “-I digress,” he nonchalantly vanished to the previous position, Igna easily followed the movement, “-now that the test’s over, care to speak on why thee asks such a bold question?”

“My intentions are simple, to return glory to the Titans, and also, I own Lucifer a favor.”

“Titan’s have invaded Draebala, I suppose thou art the leader?”

“Correct,” he smiled, “-consider me the supreme god of Titans or G.O.T for short.”

“One vowel from G.O.A.T.”

“Greatest of all time?” he smiled, “-sadly, that title goes to only one, my love, my life, Gophy.”

“Artanos, what say we keep the battle between those above heavens confined to a true battlefield, Draebala.”

“Never had intentions to lay siege over the mortal realm. It’s a waste of time to crush ants. It was a pleasure, Igna. I hope the nature of our relationship remains diplomatic, even during times of war. Best get to work, Draebala’s not for the faint of hearts.”

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