“That’s all? Don’t you care as to what will happen to billions of people?” “Not really. No.” He let go of Caspar’s hair and walked away. “Look at you.
Such an ignorant little rock bastard you are, eh? You shouldn’t worry. Your owner here, this rascal, has many secrets which will entertain you until I complete my objective.”
Balthazar stared at Caspar with confusion. He refused to meet the gargoyle’s inquisitive gaze. For the first time in his life, he felt like a coward. Manfred walked over to the pentacle and knelt down. He placed a feather on one of the stars as well as a tilted bone, a small circular compass, old and brutally tormented, and lastly, blood. He then set down a round talisman with a rune in the shape of a question mark in center of the pentagram. With chalk, he joined lines and symbols until it started to shine brightly. The feather had the essence of a Kuffle. The tilted bone had that of a
Forlock. The small circular compass belonged to an Ifrit. The blood had come from
the Marid.
As the ritual began, the cries commenced.
Sm
iling Blood
The caterwauling was immense as demons gathered in front of the mansion. There were snarls, yips, and whining amongst them. Heads swiveled toward the entrance. Long wings and hands holding swords and daggers were seen through the window. The angels had come. Caspar smiled and Balthazar grinned. Manfred’s smirk didn’t waver, but it shimmered with intensity and desperation.
“Nice move, Socrates, but your friends are going to be late.” “Not so late!” a voice cried.
Ivy appeared with her double-edged blade and sprinted toward the demons. With one shove, her sword plunged into demon flesh. Pure dark smoke erupted as the demon disintegrated. With another flick of her arm, she swung the hilt of her blade and sliced another demon’s head off. Snarls and bellows came forth from the ash demons.
Caspar plunged the S part of his cane into a demon. He kicked it away and watched as it flopped around the room before it came to rest in a corner. Balthazar threw multiple knives at the demon as he fell back and dissolved in ash and smoke. As they turned toward Manfred, they found that he’d finished the ritual.
Caspar shoved his cane against his wispy skin that caused him to fall to the ground. Manfred laughed heartily, pleased with himself. He picked him up by the collar, his dusty coat flapping behind him.
“How will I be able to reverse the ritual?”
“There is no way to reverse it, Caspar. You lost, again,” Manfred said, his teeth chattering as he chortled. “Did you ever figure out how I knew Capernaum was
a traitor? Ugh . . .” Blue spinning cords wrapped around his neck. “Didn’t you wonder how I knew about everything? Think about it.”
Caspar narrowed his eyes. His hold upon Manfred’s neck never wavered as his mind wandered. When he couldn’t find any suitable explanation, he tightened his fingers and cut off a part of his air flow. “You must have concocted a dirty plan of yours.”
“Wrong,” Manfred replied. “It was because I was able to get into your mind,” His body grew numb with surprise. For a moment, he thought he was
mistaken. That perhaps he’d heard what Manfred said was wrong. He pulled his hands off of Manfred’s neck.
Manfred’s face was red and blotchy as he coughed loudly. “Yes . . .” he hacked. “It is indeed shocking, eh? Hahaha.” He burst into laughter once more. “You might be wondering how can a cranky fellow like me is able to get in your mind. Well it’s simple, really. You just get in, sometimes. Not every time, mind you, but if you concentrate, well . . .”
He massaged his throat to bring the swelling down. “Once you know about a person’s subconscious, you are able to get inside his mind. I was able to do that. Just for...um...well, for five seconds, I guess. And those five seconds...Oh, Godddd! They were brilliant!”
Ivy and Balthazar were rooted in place as a profound wave of shock coursed through their bodies. Caspar’s face was alight with astonishment. Indirectly, he was the one who fed Manfred the information about Capernaum’s betrayal. All this time, he didn’t trust Capernaum, yet what he shouldn’t have trusted was himself.
“Those five seconds...They showed me . . .” He pushed his blunt fingers against Caspar’s chest. “About your little demon friend and the fact that he’s going up
against us, his own stupid race. It was just so bad, so stupid, and so funny. It’s a shame, really.” He chuckled. “You gave me valuable information. Getting into your mind means knowing the tiny secrets you have. One of them slid past the wall you’d erected and I caught it. Now...now . . .” He stared at the pentacle. “You have lost. Again. It’s fun doing that, making you crazy. To portray you as a lunatic. Anyone can be crazy, Caspar Socrates. Anyone can be, if they have one bad day.”
The pentacle shone. Bright light glinted across the glass windows and blinded Caspar momentarily. Balthazar swept his hand over his eyes. Ivy covered her own in order to avoid the sudden glare.
Manfred’s eye glimmered. “It’s the beginning of the end.”
Caspar stepped forward and punched him in the face. Black goo spurted out of his nose.
Manfred smiled through broken teeth. “It’s history, Caspar. History is repeating itself. I won, you lost. It’s that simple. Our story – it’s just repeating. It’s coming to end and going back to the beginning. Our story hasn’t changed.”
“No. No. It’s not repeating. It’s ending. In this story, you die.” Caspar twisted the S. The cane turned into a shotel. In one smooth motion, he plunged the blade into Manfred’s chest. “It’s a gift from Death.”
Black liquid poured from Manfred’s mouth. He smiled and fell back onto the floor. His arms and legs were splayed in different directions. His sadistic smile was slightly frightening. As pupils faded, his smile remained in place. Caspar stared down at the corpse. Its deathly posture was quite unsettling.
“He’s dead,” Balthazar quietly said. “That’s good thing. Chaos is dead.”
Caspar’s hand quivered as he let go of the shotel and swiped it through his curly hair. Shock rippled through him. “No, no, no,” he murmured as he stepped back. Without warming, he dropped to the floor. His eyes grew pale.
“What happened?” Ivy asked as she knelt beside him and touched his cold, colorless cheeks. “What’s wrong? You killed Manfred. Now we have to . . .”
“No.” Caspar refused to meet Ivy’s inquisitive gaze. He stared at the smiling and unmoving corpse instead. “NO!” he yelled.
Ivy grew scared. “What is going on? Manfred is dead, Caspar. Why are you so shocked about it?”
Caspar looked up at Balthazar and Ivy. His unfamiliar scrutiny was unsettling. His lips had gone white and his bronze eyes boiled with despair.
“Because...He can never...die!” he breathed.
“But you said you were killing him!” Balthazar gasped, horrified. “I didn’t mean literally. I thought of bruising him, but he...he died.” “Why it is so shocking for you?”
“Evil can’t die. That is the point. Evil can never die.” Caspar pulled himself to his feet and dusted off his disheveled coat. He approached the corpse and examined it once more. “He’s actually dead.”
The ground started shaking. Cracks and fissures started to split the earth. Tripping and falling, Caspar did his best to regain his footing. He grabbed his satchel and his shotel and ordered the others to get out.
“Lucifer is rising.”
The trio pushed through the doors to find a battle taking place between the angels and demons. While the angels fought with their wings, spears, and blades, the demons utilized their bows and arrows to fight back. Long serpentine creatures
zigzagged through the crowd, trying to gnaw and chew at the Nephilims geared with heavy armor, swords, and daggers. A reddish tinge deepened the pink skies. A big purple cloud lit up the horizon like poison in the sky. Demons looked up and stopped fighting. Angels and Nephilims shivered with surprise.
“It’s the end,”
Ivy said in horror. “We couldn’t stop the end!”
Caspar tore down the field and plunged his blade into as many demons as possible, leaving them dumbfounded in the wake of such destruction. Balthazar was stunned and remained rooted in place. Tears streamed down Ivy’s cheeks as she moved forward and started slashing at the rubbery skinned, tattooed demons. Gems and orbs flew by as beams of light inched across the field.
Madness ensued. The battle had resumed. Demons were now more powerful. They jumped on the Nephilims backs and tore off their heads. Serpents dodged the blades and daggers, tearing at the angel’s bodies. Poisoned arrows stung the angel’s white, shiny feathers and their faces started to rot. Yet as quickly as it had begun, the cacophony started to ebb. The battle was coming to an end.
Ivy found an injured Ryun and they hugged. Ryun seemed brutally wounded, strings of arrows lining his battle gear. His face was caked with dirt and several small cuts scored his skin. Never once did his smile disappear.
“Where were you?” he asked. “I tried to stop Manfred.” “And?”
“He died.” “That’s good.”
“No!” A demon tore in her direction with agile swiftness. She lowered her back and thrust her blade into its belly before tossing the body aside. “The ritual has been completed.”
Ryun’s smile evaporated. The ground shook harder. Caspar was lost. Two demons appeared behind him. It was difficult. He was a mortal. He was known to use several useful tactics in battle. Face to face dueling was easy for him. This...this was too much for him. He was useless. The demon talons were stronger than an elephant’s paw. Nevertheless, he gave things his all. He shoved the shotel down one of the demon’s throats.
Another demon came at him, but his trajectory was intercepted. Balthazar clutched the field between his hands. Mud flew and the atmosphere turned grayish. Caspar felt suffocated, though he somehow managed to smile.
***
“I think we have lost,” Ryun replied as he drew Ivy’s attention. “We can’t lose,” she said, refusing to believe the worst.
“We have. I am going to die.” He drew her attention to the large gash across his chest. “I am feeling weak.”
“No, no!” She pulled him within her arms, her black eyes staring deeply into
his.
“I just...Uhhh!” He clutched the wound. “I just want to say I’ve liked you. From the first moment I saw you, though I was afraid to tell you. But now this . . .” A bruise started to form around the fleshy gouge. “I don’t care. I just wanted to say this.”
Tears poured down her face, her lips quivering as she tried to support Ryun against her. Gently, she laced her fingers through his blond hair. “Isn’t it too late to say this?”
“I am dying, Ivy. I don’t want to die without telling you what I’ve always wanted to say. I would regret this. Not here, but in death.”
“You are an idiot,” she said as she gave him a watery smile.
His smile was sad and weak. His face was pale. The intensity within his blue sparkling eyes produced an emotion within her that she couldn’t control. “I am sorry.” He coughed up blood. “Promise me one thing, Ivy.”
“You are not dying!”
“No, no.” He curled her cheeks within the palms of his hands and held on tight. He needed her to listen closely to what he was going to say. “Promise me...Swear to me...That you will find a way to defeat Lucifer. Find a way to defeat the God-damned bastard!”
“I . . .” The words melted within her throat. She was unsure of what to say. Her friend – her crush, was dying in her arms.
“Promise me!” he yelled and coughed once more. “All right!” she conceded. “I – I will.”
“Good!”
Ivy bent down to press her mouth against his lips and kissed him thoroughly. He kissed her back, his hands sliding into her red streaked hair. Slowly, his hands loosened their grip and dropped to the ground. She felt as if she was kissing a block of ice. She pulled herself back, startled to find him lying there with his eyes closed and lips parted. No breath slid past his lips. He was dead.
“You can’t,” she whispered. “You can’t!”
An ice cold hand grabbed her from behind. Her face was completely wet with tears. ‘It’s all right. It’s all right,’ someone was saying. The words came at her as if from a distance. All sensation had somehow dimmed.
“Look at me,” someone demanded. She turned to find cat-like green eyes staring back at her. “You have to get out.”
“Where were you, Death?” she asked as she jumped to her feet with Death’s support. She glanced around to find angels, demons, Nephilims, and ultra-demons fighting. “Where the hell were you?”
“It was my siblings. They...they were the ones who gave forth the information about the ritual. I went to meet them.”
“We needed your help here.”
“I can’t do anything, Ivy.” Death’s face was pale. His glossy black hair contrasted sharply to it. “I can’t do it. I just reap and count souls. I don’t kill anyone. But you can. You can and you will. You go now and find Caspar and Balthazar and get out. Lucifer is coming from Purgatory. He’s not far. I’ll go and try to delay him, but you go now. Just go!”
Ivy regarded him for several minutes. She wouldn’t hesitate to go against his will. With one last hard look at Ryun’s corpse as it lay on the rugged ground, she made bolted.
***
Caspar and Balthazar stood side by side, back to back, defending themselves. In a battle, it is not about brains, but rather muscles. Caspar’s mortal strength wasn’t capable of fighting so many demons at once. There were far too many. His body
ached and his heart pounded. He could hear the snarls and gnarls of the demons clustered around them. Their rubber-like skins tried to crack his head open to eat his brains. All he could do was use his shotel to defend himself.
Capernaum was nowhere to be seen. Where was he? Was he fighting angels or was he fighting demons? He was a demon, but he was on the side of the angels. And the angels? They flew like flocks of pigeons against a big creature with a serpent head and poisonous fangs jutting out of its mouth as it flicked its slimy tongue. Some had their wings chopped and fell down with burnt arrows pierced into their sides. Nephilims, easily recognizable because of their battle gear and lustrous eyes, were quick and defensive, but at the same time, they weaker than most of the demons.
He could see everything. Even the long blotted field of graves. They were infinite, stretching toward the horizon and meeting at the centre of this land. The Land of Souls was the apotheosis of all cemeteries. Graves dotted the burnt patchy grass growing like a wildfire. The oak trees stood with their branches and twigs crooked and broken as if they didn’t want this war, as if they wanted peace and harmony.
As he surveyed his surroundings, he caught sight of a girl. She wasn’t looking at him, the only human on the battlefield. She walked as if it was her family lawn, as if she were trying to find her mommy. She was small, almost five-years-old, wearing a scarlet-colored coat that was too heavy and too big for her. She held the collars up to sustain its weight. For a child, she had an innocent face with blue eyes and black hair. Her skin was fair like a finely whipped cream. The red coat was spattered with mud as she walked.
Why was the girl in middle of a field? What was she doing? Was it a figment of his imagination? Was the girl even real? Or was she a part of his subconscious, one he was not familiar with? What was she trying to do?
The questions came easily, full of normal, indifferent words with no subtle meaning. Yet the answers to those questions were the crux of trouble.
There was something was different about the girl. Something he could not explain. She seemed normal as she walked quietly in the midst of battle, but her demeanor was inexplicable. As she knelt beside a blossoming dark blue plant, something clicked in Caspar’s mind.
Dread was written clearly upon her face. No smile. No laugh. Just a sour expression of unhappiness and misery. She touched the p
lant and it slowly died, shriveling back into the ground as if it didn’t like the touch of her small hands. She stared at it with sadness, waiting for it to spring back to life. She wanted to apologize, to touch and form a truce with it. Most of all, she didn’t want war or battle. She didn’t want anything but a truce and peace.
The girl intrigued Caspar, by trying to find the meaning of his illusion. Yet he began to wonder if it was an actual illusion. He wasn’t sure if what he was saw was real. Whatever it was, he knew could find a little meaning in what he’d just witnessed. There was a bit of truth behind the girl and her tenderness with the plant itself.
He spasmed and slid out of the hallucination. Understanding rippled down his spine as ribbons of blood slowly trickled down his cheek. His knee hit the ground, sliding across the mud. His eyes opened wide. The girl was not there. Nor was the plant. Instead, the scene before him was one of battle and darkness.
Soft whispers spoke into his ears. Like hymns, they started to sing; slow, deep voices that were almost threatening. He could hear the hard beating of his heart. It felt as if it were trying to explode from within his chest, to rip out the skin and escape from all this torment. His fingers grew numb, as if all the blood had drained out of them.
His face smashed into the ground, a pool of red blood seeping out of his head. His hands fisted the mud with uncertainty. His eyes opened and closed, the image before him gradually blurring. His vision became hazy and small dots formed in front of him. Despite all that, there was one thing that made him exceptional.
Caspar was smiling as he lay within his bed.
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