by Zac Atie
“How could I?” Zaxxarius asked, looking around for the voice’s owner.
“I suppose nobody could like it the way I do.” The voice says. “I suppose this feels like... justice to me. Or perhaps I just like fire. Or dislike Ultimali and his kingdom.” The mention of Ultimali’s kingdom made Zaxxarius realise where he was. “This is... Blight’s claim, isn’t it?” Zaxxarius asked.
“Yes.” The voice says. “Yes, it is.”
“Why?” Zaxxarius asked. “Why have you chosen here as the appearance of your Magic Pool?”
“WHY?” The voice raged, and fire exploded in front of Zaxxarius. He covered his face with his arms, to shield him from the blast, but no harm came of the fire. An angry figure appeared in front of him. He had incredibly long, blonde hair, with a huge scar down his face, not like the semi-invisible one across Zaxxarius’ nose. No, this one was deep, and unmissable. It stretched from the top of his right eye, where half an insignia was, and stretched down across his nose in a diagonal line. The wound looked familiar, it was an Arcana wound. Zaxxarius had witnessed many of those on his journey here. “What happened to your face?” Zaxxarius asked. The figure laughed.
“Hahaha!” The man laughed. “You’re an odd child. There is destruction all around you, and you care about what happened to my face?”
“It’s just an odd scar, is all. It’s hard to believe anybody could survive that.” Zaxxarius said. “If, that wasn’t the thing that killed you.”
“Haha! A scar like this is a badge of honour!” The figure laughed. “It was nothing. By nothing, I mean it was Ultimali, that dog! That conspiring fool! That contemptible bastard!”
“Who are you?” Zaxxarius asked. “What happened?”
“I... Am Duty Elric, Overlord of Metholi, conqueror of Ultima.” Duty gloats. “Ultima was my greatest achievement... and my grave.”
“You invaded Ultima?” Zaxxarius asked. “Why?”
“Ultimali... killed my father.” Duty hissed. “He dragged him to Zolka, and made him open the Portal to Dominion, and then killed him! He let the Domini in here, against the Dragon’s command!”
“You’re Xelphan’s son...” Zaxxarius said. “But, what you said can’t be right. Xelphan asked Ultimali to take him to Zolka, so he could open the portal himself. He was his best friend, the only one that supported the idea. Sure, it may have been the wrong call, but-“
“Lies!” Duty roared. He shot towards Zaxxarius and placed his hands round his neck. Zaxxarius could feel no pain, but Duty was gripping. The laws of physics don’t apply in a Magic Pool. Zaxxarius was not breathing, so no discomfort was being caused to him, but he was mildly annoyed. “You all say the same thing! You know nothing! You’re all part of the same conspiracy! You all want me dead, and want my place as part of the Elrics! I’ll kill you, like I killed the residents of Ultima! I will rend you asunder!”
“Let me go.” Zaxxarius hissed. Duty didn’t move. Zaxxarius batted both his arms away, and head butted Duty. No pain was caused, of course, but it did knock Duty to the floor. Duty looked up, with evil eyes... then his eyes calmed, and he looked away. “You all want me dead... because you all wanted more from me.” Duty whimpered.
“I don’t understand what you’re saying.” Zaxxarius said.
“Xelphan was strong. He rose above all the houses, and became Overlord of Metholi. He killed many people to get there, and was a master of the Arcana. Nobody could beat his swordsmanship, and everyone was jealous. They grew to love his strength, and his leadership, and they would all follow him to the death.” Duty said. “But me? I... I was nothing. I couldn’t take down platoons by myself, nor could I inspire anybody like he did. I was a failure, and I was told all my life that I would carry on in Xelphan’s name. I was scared at the prospect... When I went to him at the Monolith, I asked him why he opened the Portal for the Domini, and he responded that ‘Everyone deserves a chance at life and glory, whoever they may be. You cannot judge them all the same. Even you deserve a chance, and whatever you do, make sure you do the right thing. Being remembered is not important... Live up to your name’.”
“He sounds like a reasonable man.” Zaxxarius said. “But, I don’t think he was talking about living up to the Elric name. I’d wager he meant your given name. Duty. And you tried to kill his best friend.”
“...Yes.” Duty said. “People saw right away that I was paranoid, that I was a fool. I killed everybody, maids, servants, council members. Anyone that made any criticism. I... thought I was doing the right thing.”
“I...” Zaxxarius began. He didn’t know what to say. For some reason, he couldn’t hate Duty. It was probably because they were family. He didn’t know if he had any children, but if he did, it was likely due to those children that he was here. This allowed him to forgive anything that Duty had done... even if it did seem like even though they were centuries apart, Zaxxarius felt like the adult here.
“That was who I was when I became Overlord. I was a mad maniac who thought he was invincible. A god who would have no critics... I... It wasn’t my fault!” Duty yelled. “They told me I would be a great Overlord! That everything I did would be remembered, as I carried the name of my father on my back! It wasn’t my fault!”
“It was your fault.” Zaxxarius said. “You grew up among warriors and a great Overlord. You should have seen that Xelphan did not become great simply because of his heritage. He didn’t become great because he was following his father’s ideals, he had a mind of his own. Why wouldn’t he want you to have one for yourself?” Duty paused. The flames seemed to dim around him.
“I kill him every day.” Duty said. “Ultimali. A reason a Overlord is so envied is that he could have any Afterlife he pleases. He could re-live his life, and indulge in whatever pleasures he wants! As long as he does what the Monolith was intended... In my Afterlife, I raze Ultima, and kill everyone. Including him. I fight him till the death, and smash his skull with a rock! Every day... Constantly...”
“A waste.” Zaxxarius said. “You’re practically still alive. You can’t amend for what you’ve done now, but to continue it in your own private fantasy world is rather pathetic.”
“And what Overlord would you be?” Duty asked. “What would you aspire to do?” Zaxxarius dwelled on the thought for the moment. “I wouldn’t kill my own people.” Zaxxarius said. “I’d do what I thought was right, not in my father’s view, but my own. I’d defend my people, and lead us to a better future. I’d make sure justice is kept within my Kingdom. I don’t care about being famous, I hate celebrities, but I’d make sure that when I die, I die happy, knowing that I did my best, knowing that I died loved, whether it be by the people I fight for, or my friends and family... And I’d teach my kids how not to be an asshole.”
“Hah...” Duty said. “You seem to have been through quite a bit already... You’ve got a lot to contend with... Draynar and Sheol...”
“You know about what’s going on outside?” Zaxxarius asked.
“Only through you.” Duty said. “You have my blessing to continue your journey.” Duty stood to his feet. “Will you accept my skills and memories?”
“I will.” Zaxxarius said. “I’ll put them to as best use I can, so your life can have further meaning.” Duty gripped Zaxxarius’ shoulders, and he felt his Magic Pool go haywire. His head started to feel light, and that was not exactly normal for when you were passed out. He felt information flowing into his head. There were many unimportant memories that he did not care about, and some that made no sense, but he felt that he would come to understand most in time. Then, when Duty let go, the world began to go blank. Zaxxarius thought he was going to the next Overlord, but he realised that he was still in Ultima. But, not as himself. As Duty. He realised he was about to relive the final moments of his life.
The Bridge underneath Duty’s feet was made of stone, which is unusual and usually unbeneficial, but it was excellent craftsmanship. Built by the Orina, a reminder of their tribal days, where everything was built out
of stone. His father had told him of those days, once, when the portal was erected in Pontaron. Xelphan was there, overlooking the Marvel as the Overlords of Pontaron was erecting the Portal. He personally supplied the Magic to the Overlords and walked through the portal as a missionary. The Orina used to make huge stone swords, stone axes, and stone war hammers. Their strength allowed them to obliterate their foes. It was apparently quite the spectacle, when the Orina saw them. They spread wild tales of how they were sorcerers and witches, and hunts for them were made, out of fear and stupid speculation. They were right, of course, but they had not come to eat their children and make their wives bear horrid beasts in their wombs. They were there under terms of peace. After 2 years, they left an Evolution package with the smartest of the Orina, and left. They came back a decade later to see improvement around the portal site. Then, they were accepted. Duty huffed at the recollection of the events he had made in his head. “Father...” He whispered to himself. “I'm here... to avenge you. So why do I feel like you wouldn’t approve?” Soldiers close to him overheard this, and looked ahead so not to make eye contact. Overlords were inherently powerful, and Duty was crazy. This made him extremely dangerous, and scary at the same time. Most soldiers did not even want to be there, fighting for him, as he was as likely to kill you as to talk to you. Whispering to himself was about the least scary thing he had been up to, among the past years. The gates of Ultima finally gave in, and a loud crash erupted as the battering ram broke through the shields erected by the Sorcerers on the other side. Combat was still in progress on the high walls of Ultima, as Duty had sent some of his soldiers to climb the wall with magic. Of course, most of them got cast down into the deep moat with Magic, but that had ceased to happen when eventually, the seventh wave of Cazrians made it on top of the wall. There, the Cazrians rained down arrows from their Arcanum bows and cut down many of the opposition waiting on the other side of the gate. Such is the power of the Metholian Army. As the gates swung open, the Cazrians raced through the gate, slaying the exhausted sorcerers on the other end. Ultima was a peaceful kingdom, wanting to live only in harmony. Festivals were rampant in this place, and it was a kingdom where only fun had a place. This, and the fact Ultimali was such an admirable and strong Sorcerer, was the main reason that this place had so many residents, and expanded fast. It was full of people who did not want war, which meant it was full of people who were defenceless against Duty’s onslaught. The thought of Ultima’s residents dying and screaming like Orina was hilarious to Duty, and exciting. He indulged himself in the massacre, killing anyone who he could see, who got in his way. Sometimes, perhaps his own men. The fighting died down, and the Metholian army was confused as all they saw was the elderly, women, harmless men, and children to greet them. The Army stood there, watching Duty, hoping he’s give them some sort of moralistic order. They were a highly religious kingdom, and they had always fought with honour. But this? They were killing their own countrymen. Ultima might be an independent kingdom, but most of the residents came here from Metholi. Why was this happening?
Duty was too busy killing to notice his army had stopped the slaughter. He had killed too many to count. As the man who he had punctured the throat of fell to the ground, he turned to his next victim. A little boy, cowering in fear, so scared that he could not move. Duty approached the boy, smiling wickedly, fiddling with his Arcana as he approached. As he came within reach of the boy, the army watched him in horror as he ignited his weapon. “Wait!” A feminine voice shouted. “Please, no!” Someone came running from the right of Duty. He watched in amusement as she fell to her knees when she reached him. “Please, I beg of you! Not this child, he’s done nothing! He’s innocent! Take me instead, please, I’ll do anything!”
“Anything, you say?” Duty said wickedly. “Anything?”
“Y-yes... Anything...” The woman pleaded. He pondered what humiliating act that he would do, so he could laugh and gloat as she did it. He looked back at his men, hoping for some idea to come to his head. The men and women of the Metholian army, skilled in many areas and endured many wars, looked at the ground in dismay, not wanting to look him in the eyes. They were ashamed to follow this man, but Duty did not care. He only cared if they dared to speak out, but looking at them, he doubted any of them would. He turned back to the pleading woman. “My shoes are awfully bloody, don’t you think?” He asked her. “E-Err... Yes, your grace...” She whimpered, in confusion.
“I like mutts, don’t you?” Duty asked. “Only creatures that can love, I say.”
“Y-Yes... y-your grace.” She whispered.
“Be a good mutt, and lick the muck off the boots.” Duty said. “Go on, now, unless you’d like me to add the child’s blood to them.” The woman immediately began to lick the boots. “Drink it. Don't stain the grass!” He roars. She shudders as she gulps down the blood from both of his boots, then looks up, shaken and disturbed. “Will you let us go now?” She whimpers, crying.
“You’ve insulted wolves all over Cazria.” Duty laughed. “You deserve to DIE!” He swipes at her neck with his Arcana, and her head goes flying off her shoulders, rolling across the grass. The body slumps, and the blood from the neck squirts onto his boots. “Going to have to find a new mutt. Hahaha!” He laughs, evilly. Then he turns to the child. “You’re too small to be a mutt. Ah well, I suppose you’ll just have to share the fate of the lady over there.” He chuckled. Then his Arcana raises.
“Your grace!” Duty’s general shouts from the crowd. Duty was enraged, and thought about the horrible ways in which to kill the man, when he realised it wasn’t criticism. It was a warning. A bolt of air smashed into Duty’s side, and he was knocked far to his left. The small boy looked at where the bolt of air had come from, and his eyes widened. He raced for the man. Duty got up, angry and furious, when he saw who was standing before him. Ultimali, and the child was hiding behind him. His hair was black, and long, adorned with bangles. He had two, large, red jewels hanging from his ears, and his robes were the finest material in Cazria, decorated with the most rare of jewels. Simply selling that robe would likely result in having enough Tix to buy a mansion! He was beautiful. Only his small petit goatee gave away that he was a male. “Duty, Son of Xelphan, Overlord of Metholi, Second in the Elric line.” Ultimali said, in a deep, mystical voice. “Why have you done this? What have you become?”
“You!” Duty roared, truly angry. “You killed my father!”
“Foolish talk.” Ultimali hissed. “You know not what you speak of.”
“Don't lie to me!” Duty roared.
“You’re but a child. Your father would be furious with your actions.” Ultimali said, sighing and shaking his head. “What a waste.”
“I don’t care!” He roared back at him. “THIS IS JUSTICE!”
“This is foolishness.” Ultimali retorted. “I will give you one chance. Preserve what little honour you have yet to take from the Elric name, and the Army of Metholi, and go home.” Duty stared at Ultimali for a while, and Ultimali did not break the gaze. His Aura was off the charts. How did he not notice Ultimali coming? Was he that insane?
“No.” Duty said. “I won’t feel better till you’re dead! I can’t go on till you’re dead!”
“Stop.” Ultimali said, eyes closed with disgust. “You look so much like him. I can’t bear to look at you like the wretch you are.” That last sentence was the last straw for Duty.
“YOU BASTARD!” He roared. “4th company, KILL HIM!” Nobody moved. “Are you all fools!?”
“You’ve taken enough from them.” Ultimali said.
“I'm ordering you! I'm your Overlord!” Duty screams. “5th, 6th,7th platoon! All of you! Kill him, NOW!” Nobody moved still. “If you want to live, go home to your families. Grieve for the lives you’ve taken. Repent for what you’ve done.” Ultimali said. “There’s still value to be had from your life.” Right now, to the Metholian Army, to each and every one of them, Ultimali sounded more like a Overlord than Duty ever could. Most of the
company captains ordered their soldiers to turn and leave, and they did so. “Where are you going!?” Duty screamed. “COME BACK!” The soldiers did not turn back. However, not all of them left. The last platoon, 11th company, stood still. Their captain turned to them. “If any of you wish to leave, do so now.” The captain said. “You will likely not have another chance.” Those words made most of the men and women leave, turning their back on Duty and their captain. “Captain Rickol.” Ultimali said. “I had guessed that you’d have been the first to turn and leave, as you’ve been serving under Xelphan since the beginning of his reign as Overlord. Yet, here you are. Why?”
“Duty. You’re a fool.” Rickol said to Duty, making him bare his teeth. “But, you’re Xelphan’s son. I cannot turn my back and let you throw away your life in such a manner. I owe that much to Xelphan, for refusing to accompany him on his Journey to Dominion. But, this is wrong. You must know this. Ultimali would never kill Xelphan, you know that! You were there at the dining tables, when they had feasts! You grew up, witnessing their friendship! Please, I beg of you... reconsider this act of suicide. I’ll only ask once.” Rickol said.
“Consider carefully on Rickol’s words, Duty.” Ultimali said. “There will be no turning back once this battle starts.” But Duty was still angry at the criticism. He did not hear a word Rickol said, nor did he care. He cared only about himself, and what he wanted. “I AM YOUR OVERLORD!” He screams. “YOU WILL NOT INSULT ME! KILL HIM, NOW!” He orders Rickol, pointing his Arcana at Ultimali.