Ep 68. Hide Well, Hide True. (2)
Ray stormed into Iris’ office, carrying another pile of documents in hand. Angered steps carried him across the room before the enforcer would throw the pile of papers at his coworker’s face.
Dozens of reports fluttered about in the air as Ray let out an angered outburst.
“Enforcer Alpid, this can’t possibly be someone’s joke! We have to go!”
“I’m not going.”
“IRIS!”
“Shut up! I’m not going!”
When Iris slammed her fists into the table in an equally angered manner, Ray could only stare back at his coworker in confusion.
‘What’s wrong with her?’
Normally, she would’ve been the first one gone. Reported deaths of students and staff at a schooling facility? This regulation-paranoid woman would fly out the door.
But strangely enough, the red-haired enforcer remained in her office. She was refusing to even get up for this case.
Ray let out an exasperated sigh.
“What’s your problem, Iris? Am I missing something here? Don’t tell me you’re suddenly afraid of dying?”
“…I’m not afraid of dying, Ray.”
She wasn’t afraid of dying. Or, more precisely, hardly anything in the world could kill her.
Not that it was really helping her case against her furious coworker.
“Then what the hell’s wrong with you today?!”
“…”
‘…He’s here. It’s definitely him.’
Iris gripped her fists tighter. Her nails dug into her bleeding palms, but her head was too occupied with other thoughts to even notice.
Felicir rarely killed others in slow and painful manners; he could hardly be bothered. If there was someone he needed to kill within Partivine, the deity of death would’ve killed the entire city in a heartbeat.
Doubtlessly, the only reason he was going through the trouble of terrorizing civilians bit by bit was because he didn’t want his sister to accidentally die in his onslaught.
‘…Is there even a ‘correct’ choice?’
She could head there right now.
She could fulfill her role as Iris Alpid, as an enforcer of the Mage Association. She could at least attempt to apprehend the city’s terrorists, and die an honorable death in her line of duty.
She could fulfill her role as Felicis, as the deity of mana who aided mankind in overcoming their hardships. If she openly opposed her brother to protect this city, then she could at least put a temporary stop to the massacre. She’d still likely die, and the rest of the star may enter another bloody conflict over the ownership of her divinity, but it was still a choice nevertheless.
Lastly, she could fulfill her role as the Reaper’s little sister. If she but showed face and clung to his side, everyone else could die painlessly instead of suffering the Reaper’s onslaught in searching for his dear sister.
Or perhaps there was another choice altogether – one that she was failing to see.
Iris couldn’t even make out what it was that she wanted to do herself; if she could, she wanted to look to a higher entity for guidance. Just like how numerous mages would pray to her, she, too, wanted to pray to someone.
Unfortunately, no higher entity existed above the Twelve. At least, not in the last thousand years.
Until…
‘…Serenis.’
Not long ago, an exhilarating sense of relief had washed over the contemplating enforcer.
To her, the dragonlord’s appearance had been nothing short of a miracle – even more so when she discovered that Serenis’ goal was to rid the star of the Twelve. She’d hastily thought that her centuries of prayers had finally been answered.
Perhaps, after a thousand years of the Reaper’s oppression, someone had finally decided that it was enough. Perhaps that someone had sent the dragonlord to Iris so they could work out a solution together, and free her from the cursed role of being a deity.
Or maybe all of that was just her own wishful thinking.
As each report rapidly increased in estimated deaths, her miracle was slowly shattering apart.
✧ ✧ ✧
Clyus reluctantly returned the cane to the headmaster. The mage dutifully accepted it with a soulless expression, immediately turning afterwards to face Felicir.
The elf watched the two with an uneasy gaze. He couldn’t even begin to make out what was going on behind the Reaper’s unnerving grin.
Finally, Felicir’s lips parted once again.
“Gio, was it? Whatever should I make you do for challenging a divinity?”
“…”
“Ah, I know. How about you do the work in my stead? A rather lofty punishment for attempting to murder a deity, isn’t it? Unlike me, you won’t even have to worry about harming my sister. No mage could threaten the deity of mana herself.”
No response came from the headmaster; none were permitted. Felicir pointed down the corridor, urging his newfound toy onwards.
“Go.”
Gio’s body visibly shook in resistance. But tremble as they may, his legs soon turned him around, forcibly carrying the archmage down the corridor in slow, broken steps.
‘…What’s happening?’
His steps came to a stop next to another classroom’s wall. The cane he held lightly touched on the surface.
‘…Run.’
A sizzling black light began to glow from the head of his cane. Hundreds of ice picks crystallized into being above his head at the same time, each the size of a small nail.
‘Run!’
The black light then began to spread rapidly, enveloping the entire surface. The wall soon melted away in the liquifying black light, revealing a classroom of students and their instructor crouched beneath their desks. They were maintaining a deathly silence in place.
It was all according to institute regulations: under prominent threats, all students and instructors were to remain still and silent indoors until the danger was properly handled by security.
“…”
There couldn’t possibly be anything worse they could do in this situation. But now, it was too late to tell anyone to do otherwise.
Everyone in the classroom stared at their headmaster in confusion. Some of the students seemed relieved at the sight of their familiar headmaster; some were alarmed at the numerous pieces of ice over the archmage’s head. The instructor, too, was just as confused as her students.
“…Headmaster?”
‘RUN!!!’
The headmaster’s tongue refused to speak his thoughts. Instead, one of the ice nails flew forth, burying itself into the instructor’s neck.
“…Ah-“
Before any blood could even spill out from the small wound, the buried ice burst into numerous frozen pillars, stretching in every direction from within the instructor’s body; their flesh spilt over the classroom’s interior, a bloodied ice sculpt replacing where their head had once been.
The headless body sank to the floor, spewing a river of blood from its torn neck.
Several students screamed, and several more frantically fled towards the door. Unfortunately for them, several hundred nails of ice were still at the ready, each one beginning to fly across the air towards the panicking students.
Gio helplessly watched his own spell unfold.
Each nail found their mark – every single one, without fail. Every crunching noise silenced another scream with an explosion of red, but the headmaster couldn’t turn away, nor close his eyes – not until there was no one left to scream.
Bits of torn flesh covered the interior. Bloodied pillars of ice decorated every corner of the lecture hall, each sculpt once a living student.
Felicir slowly clapped his hands. To him, it was nothing short of a splendid performance art: a classroom of students turned into a brilliant frozen garden, artistically painted with crimson streaks.
When the death deity approached Gio, the headmaster’s eyes painfully trembled. Despite his desperate wishes to turn away, Felicir was denying such comforts.
“The road to atonement isn’t easy to walk, is it?”
‘…Stop this.’
Felicir gestured over to the remaining length of the corridor. He tapped on the mage’s back, beaming a genuine grin of encouragement before walking on ahead with Clyus.
“But I’m sure you can do it. I’ll be waiting at the end.”
‘Stop this. Stop this! STOP!’
A few minutes passed until the two deities disappeared from sight. When they were gone, Gio’s legs once again began to walk down the empty hallway – towards the next classroom in sight.
And he would, again. And again. And again.
Until he would eventually reach the atonement that awaited him at the end.
