Chapter 34: The Battle Magus

Throughout all Endramion, it was common knowledge that assassins were the bane of all mages. That’s what the orthodox magicians had believed throughout the past hundreds of years. They wrote an analysis about it, crafting how to counter the sneaky bastards with new spells. Unfortunately, not one of them had succeeded in doing so. A lot of mages still got killed. The death count, at one time, had even reached the point of killing the profession. The darn stiff-necked oldies ultimately paid the price as the quality of mages in Endramion continued to fall along with their numbers.

Of course, some people decided to thread their own path. One was Saria’s master who dedicated her life tending to plants. Too tired of battles – she pursued the path of gardening. And much to her astonishment, her dedication bore fruit and she became one of the few remaining archmages of Endramion. The old lady simply pursued what she loved and pushed it to its limit.

Her ways in magic had borne another fruit in the form of her apprentice - Saria. A curious little girl whose emerald-colored eyes glimmer at the sight of spells. The young girl had a passion for magic unlike any other. She loved to ask questions that were just out of this world, digging deep into the depths of magic.

Soon enough, the little girl grew in knowledge, stature, and power.

She created her path by simply relying on her dauntless curiosity especially in the field of alchemy. Not yet enough, she asked a lot of simple and seemingly obvious questions, among them was what orthodox mages loath, ‘Why can’t we train like a warrior?’

Though many mages pulled out theories and what-not from ages ago, not one was able to convince her. With curiosity, she’ll look at them, asking them with innocent eyes, “Why not? And by the way, you look too skinny.”

Since no one could convince her not to, she went and tried, asking her master for help. Waltzing to the south, she entered the biggest bastion against the war orcs. With the help of her master, she was able to train under one of the greatest spearmen of Endramion. Of course, it came with a price. She was forced to wear heavy anti-magic bracelets on her feet and hands, shackles used for shamanic orcs. She was forced to wear it for three years. Yet, the curious lady uttered no whines or complaints. Instead, she fell in love. Not with a man, not with magic, but with a white spear she found on the battlefield. She almost forgot that she was a respected magus. With the white spear in toe, she massacred a lot of war orcs, popping the heads of various orc chiefs, paving the tough brutes of the south to give her a tasteless title - ‘The Whacking Witch.’

It was a perfect title for the head-popper they said. She was even offered a high position in the bastion before her training ended. Nevertheless, she rejected it, explaining that she had to take care of something. And her world...was far bigger than the bastion.

After three years of apprenticeship, she finally returned. And in a mere year, she unexpectedly became the youngest archmage ever recorded in Endramion. At the tender age of 18, she had reached the ‘believed’ pinnacle of magic, a 7th rank, also titled - Archmage.

And the same archmage was now threading a melee against another ‘whacko’.

“This is it! This is it, Saria!” The assassin guild master roared, ecstasy drifting had turned the man into a maniac. His eyes turning bloodshot, a wretched smirk dwelling on his stained lips. A set of dark-colored twin daggers twirled in his hands, waltzing against a white-hued staff, sparks flew in the air with every collision of the black and white weapons. Despite the crazy actions of the ordinary-looking assassin, each of his swings seemed to have a single destination - the vitals. Soon, six shadows joined in, jumping into the prey. “Come on, let me kill you. It won’t hurt!”

“Don’t kid me, Alfonse! I damn know it hurts!” The archmage’s white-hued staff gyrated, flashing with speed and power, knocking away the rushing shadows again. Unlike normal mages who’ll find this exchange too brutish for their useless sophisticated taste, Saria found it quite exciting instead. A small grin dangled behind her serious frown. Its signs, hidden in her pearly white teeth.

One of the twin dark daggers swiveled, sneaking to cut off the hands holding the staff. While another trail of black shadow danced, aiming for the throat. The shadows had muffled any sounds. The malevolence burst forth from Alfonse's eyes. In the flicker of an eye, his revenge shall be accounted full.

All of a sudden, the white staff whipped akin to a dragon. A ripping sound trembled, catching the assassin off guard. The two daggers were forced to retreat and block. Alfonse knew full well that if he didn't, his head would pop. The wind crackled, followed by a shockwave, sending the shadow assassin flying.

The archmage grinned, staring at the dumbfounded man. “Instead, how bout’ I kill you!”

After being sent flying, the man simply flipped over. His eyes zeroing on his prey. Fury and exasperation intermixing in his gaze. Everything is wrong. Things weren't supposed to go like this. He had trained again and again just for this day. In annoyance, he blurted out, “Are you really a mage?!”

Initially, Alfonse had thought that she would be easier to kill without any magic. Even spending all of his money in buying the ‘Pixie Dust’. He never thought that with or without, it would still be a tall order to take her life. He had planned carefully against the lady before her. He even joined hands with the prime minister just to get this opportunity. Just to get his revenge. Even offering his service to the Empire and the Free Trade Union all for this one chance. A crimson line trickled from the sides of his lips, he grimaced at the thought of failing. If he failed this time, he knew he wouldn’t have any chance anymore. He’ll be hunted for sure.

‘Why! Why! Why!’ The ordinary-looking butler stared at the one who took his flame away, the loathsome being who he thought he had already surpassed. “No, not yet. For Minerva. I-I could do more.”

‘One chance, give me one chance. Oh, Minerva. Give me a chance!’ Alfonse thought, his shadows suddenly ran, skittering around Saria like a wheel. Not giving her any chance to take a breather, a few daggers would fly in the air only to be blocked by the white spear. The shadows were crushed and blasted from time to time. Only to reform again and again. As for him, he hid back in the shadows, bidding for time and a gamble.

‘One Chance.’ Repeating the words in his heart.

All of a sudden, his heart suddenly lurched. The wind in the whole castle froze. No, he felt it. The wind in all of Carmandy had stopped. All as if a monster had peered its eye from the skies. He could even see the flickering gaze of the sun receding, giving way to the dark clouds slithering above the whole Carmandy. Soon, a mad contest between thunder and lightning trembled, filling every nook and cranny of Carmandy.

Alfonse felt stunned. He gazed at his hands and glowered at them. Both his hands were shaking - in fear.

He tried sensing the source of his fear. What was it? Who was it? Why was it there? His profession had pushed his senses to reach a seemingly crazy level. The thin threads in his arms tingled, pointing at a direction he knew. From the place where the prime minister had sent the prince and the representative - the Dead Forest. He thought they would only catch the helper of Saria as well as the witch princess. But what the hell was happening? He shook his head and decided to ignore it. He turned at the lady he envied so much. He better her first.

Alfonse stared at the archmage and saw her frowning. Just like him, she had sensed the change in the air. Then, she paled. Her voice trembled, saying words he couldn’t understand. “A Spirit King is descending? A mana storm? W-Why, no, what is happening? No, it's familiar, V-Victoria?”

As soon as she said those words, the wind blew again. Not as a breeze. Not as a whisper. But like a mighty tempest.

Alfonse could also feel a mad fury akin to his in the whipping wind. The tempest was roaring, forming twisters and tornadoes from the heavens, bridging the earth and the sky.

Alfonse found that Saria had lost a bit of her focus. His eyes twinkled, it was his chance. He ordered the shadows to pounce altogether. A gamble. All he needed was a nice cut, and all of his plans would be done. He closed his eyes for a moment and calmed his nerves. He pulled a greenish-black blade from his dark clothes, readying his final card.

The six shadows stood in attention, gazing at the dumbfounded archmage. In a blink of an eye, the six rushed in wild abandon. No technique or defense in thought, dashing with nothing except pure speed. He hid his presence at the best of his abilities rushing along with the six.

The archmage was a bit startled after seeing the six shadows darting towards her in abandon. She immediately raised her white-hued staff, pushing her abilities to the limits. A thumping shockwave burst forth, echoing as she bashed the heads of the shadows.

When she thought, everything was already alright. A thin flickering shadow blurred in front of her eyes. It was Alfonse. Madness had filled his eyes, death or life was his gamble. The two black daggers swiftly hacked towards Saria’s neck.

Clang. Clang.

Yet, it had missed its mark, impeded by the white staff. Alfonse's face turned scarlet, a tinge of lunacy dimmed his eyes. He cackled like a wild man, his lips moving quickly, deciding to give up his two daggers, leaving them hanging mid-air. They had done their work after leaving a crack on those unblemished white staff. Instead of retreating, Alfonse lunged straight at Saria.

Though he had no talent in magic, he still remembered the only spell he was able to do. The only spell he learned from his old mentor. The same one he killed. Like a child, he smiled. Then, he mumbled, [Black Fog]!

A small dark cloud covered his whole body, blocking Saria’s sight for a little moment. He gazed upward and saw a towering white-hued staff about to bust his head. Still, he pushed through. The thin dark-green dagger appeared in his hands. Putting all his remaining strength for one last slash, Alfonse grinned.

Pop! The infamous assassin’s whole head exploded into smithereens, dented up to his nose, leaving only his grinning mouth.

The dark-green dagger continued to strike, cutting a thin flesh on Saria’s left arm. That was the end of the monster of the assassin's guild. He died a gruesome death.

Alfonse's body flopped to the ground, deader than dead. His last smirk still gripping his lips. Soon, his body twitched as if it was getting electrocuted, stopping only after a few seconds.

As for the archmage, she glanced at the smirking dead man, and then to the cracked white-staff. She sighed, muttering something, “Till’ the end, I still can't understand you. That bitch has only been using you. Is it worth it?”

She closed her eyes and let out a tired laugh. However, her smile suddenly receded. She turned towards the direction of the dead forest, rushing towards her troublesome niece. The Pixie Powder was still in full effect, it would take at least a day to remove its effect. Thus, she was forced to dash out like a warrior. Well, technically, she was both a mage and a warrior.

Soon, she arrived at the tall gate of Carmandy. Her body suddenly shook, mouth gaping wide open. The sight offered no better words other than a massive catastrophe. A massive crimson pillar akin to a sword fell mightily towards the rushing one, two, three, four... She stopped counting the swirling winds and decided to simply call it tornadoes instead. The twisting winds hand-collected a bunch of monsters in their toe. Saria saw the following; a bone dragon; a lich; a horde of roaming undead; a treant; and all other crazy stuff.

Soon, the dark clouds were cleaved in half as the twisting winds pulverized the gigantic crimson sword into dust. All of a sudden, a violet light exploded. The crimson sword vanished in thin air, leaving the swirling winds. After losing its target, it receded to the skies, hiding back into the clouds. The sunlight peeked again, sweating rainbows after the bloodbath it had witnessed.

Saria quivered for a moment, failing to digest what she just saw. She remembered the silly young girl and rushed ahead after assuring it was safe. She jumped into the air, sending a blast of air behind her feet.

And she found her, a violet light creeping into her feet. When Saria was about to move forward, she suddenly staggered as if weakness had eaten her bones. Even her lips refused to follow her, with difficulty the archmage uttered, “Victoria! What happened here?"

Soon enough, Saria fell to her knees. Her strength slowly starting to leave her. She felt a bit dizzy all of a sudden. Her eyes caught sight of her left hand, it was slowly turning into the color of octopus ink. A dark tattoo slithering into her arms. Her mind turned empty as soon as she remembered the smirk of Alfonse.

"Saria! Saria! Damn it, open. Open for me!" The lady in the barrier roared at the top of her lungs. Bashing the shield until her two hands bled. "Hell! Open up you terrible shitty barrier!"

"No. No. No! Not now!" Victoria grimaced, her voice trembling in frustration.

Saria saw her clawing the barrier till a few of her fingernails broke. She wanted to tell her to stop but her voice just wouldn’t come out.

And in a flutter of an eye, the lady in the violet cage vanished into thin air. As for the archmage… she fell to the ground…all alone.

ChronicleCrawler

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