The Wielder of Death Magic

Chapter 826

Chapter 826: Guardian Saint of the Southern Sect.

“Good day, lord Parker.”

“Good day, the interview was organized pretty fast.”

“We take pride in working fast,” the camera panned to a set, two formally dressed men sat face-to-face and slightly tilted at the camera. The topic of conversation wrote in bold on the background screen, ‘the United Nation of Alrosia,’ north, south, east, and west – look and there were people in mass talking on the sudden announcement. The debates were long and hard, and the vote, done through a physical medium, would be counted and announced on the 22nd of January.

“We’ve watched the clip indulgently; I’m surprised to see the emperor be sincere and earnest to his cause.”

“Sincere is a double-edged sword,” explained Parker, “-looking at the pros and cons, I see more advantages in my biased opinion. Love or hate, the Sultrians are the pride and joy of Alphia. They’ve cultivated the place from the ground to where we stand, I couldn’t be more grateful.”

“Let’s touch on the arguments against the alliance,” suggested the interviewer.

“What is there to say, the war’s been tugging hard on our resources. Young men and women have died, there was a report of the princess going missing. We’ve remained a peaceful nation for far too long, upon a war, regardless of the technology and military might, we were outfoxed and outgunned. The only real disadvantage is free trades from Hidros and Alphia, which I remind, have already been done in good faith by our Empress. Hidros is a war-torn nation by heart, they battle day and night, the newly crowned King nicknamed the Devil of Glenda, has once taken on an army of seven thousand and won.”

.....

“What about the people of Hidros themselves, are they not?”

“Don’t,” he interjected,”-those afraid to welcome new experiences are fools, we should embrace their way of life. Unlike us, the other races aren’t afraid to show their features – we, on the other hand, must hide our abilities and undergo surgery to fit into society. It’s not been a problem before and I don’t think it will, sadly, I can’t help question the word freedom.”

“On the subject of Hidros, what of the King? The coronation’s been closely scrutinized.”

“Does it matter? Queen Gallienne gave her word and will to the king, the princess married into his family – therefore, the throne is his no matter the blood ties.”

“Some argue the throne should have gone to Empress Eira, the firstborn of queen Gallienne.”

“-they are fools. The mantle of ruler of Hidros is a task not fit for the weak or common. Igna Haggard is special. There’s an article about his rise to fame in a strange land, his climb to an empire worth billions. All began from a cooking video, and now, he stands as the director to Raven.”

“No matter the ascension, the decision will come to the vote. The united nation of Alrosia may just be the turning point in Alphia’s legacy. Who knows what the opposing faction plans.”

Speakers cleanly spoke the television’s words; a loud crash rattled the outside corridor. Feet ran to the noise, *click,* “-Master,” said éclair behind whom maids hurried with towels, “-I’ve returned.”

“About time,” he said, “-close the door.”

“The study hasn’t changed,” commented the butler, “-the news,” unbuttoned his shirt and sat, “-I’m home at last.”

“Have something to drink,” said Igna, “-nothing else better to do.”

“Maybe,” he pulled his smartphone and tapped, “-this will interest you more.”

“The unnamed project,” he smiled, “-bringing this means we’re ready to launch?”

“We will be, pocket dimension’s been damaged from the various testing. I only returned after fixing the blunder. After its life, we will have a monopoly over the greatest asset the worlds not heard of.”

“What’s the status in Easel Run Gard?”

“The church’s backed away, the Empire’s yet to answer. I say things are going pretty nicely.”

“Don’t jinx it,” he coughed, “-don’t do it...” a jolt flashed the thoughts,”-éclair, we have trouble,” he stood, “-what if Easel Run Gard isn’t the real target. What if instead of attacking Sultria’s northern province, they took to the south, or worse, they’re in the city center. It’s unheard for the church to not retaliate.”

“You’re being paranoid.”

*Breaking News, an unknown monster has gone rogue in the city center, the heroes are rushing as we speak,* trucks were flung, people killed, and mass hysteria, *class-A warning, the AHA has issued a class-A level threat. Evacuate to the shelters, evacuate, I repeat, evacuate.*

“I let my guard down,” he stood, “-the wielder of a scythe. I assumed she ran, obviously not,” he side-glanced the screen, “-look, it’s her, the hood doesn’t hide much.”

The Class-A level threat stormed onto the street; elite heroes flew to the area of devastation. Smoke pillars marked her past location, the monster promenaded in the middle of the streets, a turn of her weapon cleanly sliced cars and buildings. Nothing seemed to affect the range or level of attack.

“Stop right there,” cried a muscular outline dressed in a super suit, “-enough damage,” the badge read, First Class B-rank.

“A hero,” said the unusually childish voice, “-are you this continent’s adventurers?”

“No,” the guard heightened, “-I’m not an adventurer. Just someone who’s fighting for the weak,” a push cracked the pavement, the cloaked outline twirled, the hood drop with a sneer, “-may God bless thy soul,” the weapon, a little on the tall-side with chains on the blade and handle, dipped to be stopped singlehandedly.

“The weapon’s not a great match,” said the hero.

“Oh,” before another word said, he punched and sent her flying, “-NICE, NICE,” she grinned, “-you’re strong.”

‘She blocked my attack at the last second by pulling on the handle. She’s unharmed,’ no thought for concern, the hero dove into the fray, each attack built into the heavier strike, her movements greatened, the strides became leaps. The sidesteps and counters were so graceful it gave the appearance of her having wings, nimble moves didn’t hide the force behind her strikes. The long-winded attacks gave space to dodge and close the distance, to which, she’d leap and keep a relative range, ‘-I’m getting nowhere,’ he gritted, ‘-my stamina’s running low,’ the visage drained in color, the paleness began to show on his forearm, “-what have you done?”‘

“Death by a thousand strike,” she laughed, “-anyone who touches my weapon is instantly struck by my god’s might. No one save his grandness and I, are allowed to come close, let alone allowed weaklings to damage his property.”

“It doesn’t’ matter,” he coughed, “-long as I stand, I’ll fight.”

“I’m sorry,” the air around her feet swayed into a murderous wind. She pulled onto the chain hanging down the blade, it dropped to show a needle, “-sadly,” she took the latter and tapped the weapon, a flash of light pierced his legs.

‘What hap-‘ he looked, “-MY LEGS.”

“WHAT!” she exclaimed happily, “-CAN’T TAKE MY LORD’S BLESSING?” the legs were cleanly amputated, blood drained without stop – arriving heroes leaped into battle, she tapped the silver-handle, flashes took the fighter’s arms and legs, vital spots, name it, and they dropped. The onslaught began, and ire of murderous folly veered the attention at one of the shelters, law enforcement rushed onto the scene. High-caliber weapons were pulled from the armored vehicles and fired; tiny explosions destroyed the area around save her spot. An invisible barrier deflected projectiles, heroes coordinated with law enforcement, the guns stopped firing and the ground fighters ran into her deadly embrace. She nonchalantly tapped and slaughtered the heroes, “-FIRE!” screamed across the intercoms,” -SHE’S GOT BENITH.”

An unfortunate soul got held by the neck and used as a meat shield, “-resilient,” she commented, the organs spilled.

“There is life behind those empty eyes of yours,” he smirked, crimson-colored pupils flamed in a deluge of fuzzy dark mist.

“A NIGHTWALKER,” she leaped backward, “-SPAWN OF THE DEVIL.”

“Sorry to say,” the previously maimed figure burst through the fog, sharpened his claws, and fought.

“There’s a First-Class A hero for you,” commented the lower-ranked fighters, a perimeter drew around the block, helicopters circled and gave live information, a feed displayed the duo going head-to-head, she inflicted mortal wounds and he simply shrugged the attack by regenerating the limbs. “I’m not so sure about the fight.”

“What’s the matter, boss?” whispered within a mobile command center, or from what was seen outside looking in, an ice-cream truck.

“Look at her attacks, she’s fighting on the defensive. Each landed attack tears off his limbs or shatters the bones, we’re talking about a Count-Ranked nightwalker. Their race specializes in killing, Benith made the climb from zero to hero in a few months. He’s on his way to the top...”

“Those are good things, right?” countless screens displayed the battle and coverage.

“No, he’s being pushed back. Worst of all, the other a-rank heroes are on a mission around the continent. We’ve drawn the short-straw, long as tis a battle of attrition, I’m betting my money on Benith. Notify law enforcement, we may need to call the military.”

‘The more I fight,’ he dodged, ‘-the more my blood gets pumping. I’d love a battle like this,’ the arms flung out its socket, he leaped, caught the member, forced it into place, and continued, ‘-each strike she gives I feel weaker and vulnerable. Is this fear?’ the ambitious strikes hampered, the movements lessened to favor defense, ‘-I feel death closing on my body. What is she?’

“FOCUSING ON DEFENSE?” she stopped and sprang, used the momentum to carry her weight through the weapon and take half of his torso, he pulled at the last minute and stood with a gaping hole, the wound didn’t heal nor did it show signs of stopping, “-fear is what feeds my baby,” she grinned, “-now that you’ve displayed weakness, I’m going to take your life, miserable undying fiend, you’re not fit for this world.”

A loud screech bellowed in the distance, her delivering him to the lord of death stopped, the vampire crouched on one knee, unable to stand or fight, the eyes refused to stare at the opponent.

“-Where’s the army?”

“BOSS, don’t take it out on us.”

“Are you stupid?” he slammed the control terminal, “-BENITH IS ABOUT TO DIE, WE NEED TO SAVE HIM.”

“Report from the military, they’re unable to help. Enemies’ ships have been sighted to the west; the naval forces are gathering as we speak to go on offense.”

“Thirty second out,” said éclair over the intercoms.

“Why the pricklish tone, something the matter?” they flew.

“No comments on my new drone?”

“It looks terrifying awesome,” the cityscape passed till the location.

“Good luck, master,” a press toggled a magical circle, the passenger instantly teleported outside the jet with its velocity, ‘-perfect,’ he dove towards the battlezone, wings sprouted at the last moment, *crack,* the road buckled.

“Holy Mother,” said the uninvited guest, “-one second late and I’d be dead,” he clambered out the massive hole, “-Benith, are you well?” regenerations activated slowly.

“Igna?” he blinked, “-I should have known,” a peaceful smile broke the frown, “-take care of my mess, I’ll return the favor later.”

“Take your time.”

To his side bellowed a tornado of anger, “-are you?”

“I am,” he replied, “-pleasure to make thy acquaintance, Guardian Saint Jusa of the Southern Sect, the gothic executioner.”

“Gothic...”

“My bad, I added the gothic part,” said he in jest, “-they said you were a gothic brat who wears short Victorian-black dresses and spiderweb leggings. Sounds to me you’re more suited to satisfy the kinks of the depraved.”

*Woosh,* the weapon teleported at his face, he dipped, palmed her side, and sent the lass a few meters away, “-you,” she glared, “-who are you?”

“Didn’t Oat say?” he scratched his head and crossed the arms, “-the name’s Igna Haggard, I was the one who defeated their invasion into Arda. I heard stories, mostly about the underhanded flashes.”

“I see what you’re doing,” she settled and gripped her trusted ally, “-trying to rile me to give in to the threats. Not going to work.”

“No, I only said you’re a close-door exhibitionist. Let’s stop the games. Why’s a guardian saint here?”

“I had a divine revelation, my lord said to cause chaos at the heart of Alphia.”

“Well then,” he tapped the belt, Orenmir materialized, “-shall we dance?”

“You love to battle, don’t you,” she licked her lips, “-I’ll show you,” she vanished and appeared above with the edge millimeter from his head, *Mana Control: Wind Element Variant – Cocoon.*