“Bladi Empowerment: Adrenaline Overdrive!”
His muscles bulged, veins and nerves popped forward, and a red aura highlighted it all. Shouting a battle cry, he rushed Priestess again. She stood her ground and blocked his wild strikes; once, twice, thrice. Then he slipped past her guard and plunged his sword into her chest. She screamed and Perrault lunged.
Her chaotic fangs closed around his left shin, but he pulled it back just in time and kicked out. Perrault yelped and rolled before coming back to her feet and lunging a second time. With years of practice hunting wolf-like monsters, Basilard avoided her bites long enough to pull his sword free and backhand Priestess as he retreated.
Three steps back and then he struck again. The first injury was already closing up by the time his blade reached her a second time. By the time he pulled his sword from the second wound, the first was gone. Her moans told him that the pain from both was still present, so he pressed forward.
Her face was hidden, but her pain was visible and so was her desperation. Despite all her power and experience, she was not a warrior like he was. Seeing an opening, off he chopped her right arm at the shoulder. She backed away and threw mana bolts because she could no longer effectively wield her staff. He ducked or deflected them.
Once he adjusted for her increased power, it was doable for someone like him. Still avoiding and fending off Perrault, he advanced. An ancestral beam to her stomach bent her over and he raised his sword above her head.
“I can win!”
Suddenly, he was choking. The arm he cut off moments ago was dangling down his back and its hand squeezed his throat. It pulled him backwards until he returned to the starting point of the battle. Annala stood up and dusted herself off.
“Do not get ahead of yourself, Mr. Bladi,” she said. “I am not fighting seriously.”
Basilard reached for the hand and it tightened in response until he lowered his own. Perrault snapped at it and then made for his shin again.
“Perrault, stop!”
“ARF!”
“I know what he did, but it’s not permanent.” The hand released Basilard and soared back into her right shoulder socket. She grunted and hissed as the nerves and veins reconnected. “That sword couldn’t stop any elf from regenerating, least of all me.”
Basilard resumed attacking as soon as he got his breath back. She pointed at his sword and a beam of light disintegrated it. With her other hand, she punched him with her spirit. He bent over from the blow. Again without moving towards him, Priestess brought her knee up and Basilard reeled back as though struck in the forehead.
“You can’t hope to win, Mr. Bladi,” she said firmly. “You will eventually get tired, but I will not. You will eventually have to sleep, but I will not. Even if I had to do these things, my familiar could cover for me. Show him, Perrault.”
The wolf reared back and stood on her hind legs. They shifted into human legs and her forelegs into human arms. Her wolf’s head became human. She fashioned a habit to replace her fur. Now she could be Priestess’ twin. Her mistress passed her the staff and brought out her bow and quiver. Nocking an arrow, Priestess said, “Do you realize how many times I could have killed you by now?”
A magic circle appeared underneath her feet and glowed a deep blood red. It changed the arrowhead’s color from iron grey to red-black and generated two dozen energy copies of the arrow itself. They floated in reserve around Priestess.
“I designed this feature to kill Bladi. It was a thought experiment in case one of them attacked Eric. I never thought I’d have to use it against Eric’s mentor.”
Basilard stood up and assumed a front stance. “Make my day, schoolgirl.”
Priestess gripped her weapon tighter. “Please don’t make me do this.” Tears grew at the corners of her eyes. “I don’t want to kill you.”
Again, Basilard made his move while she spoke. He Chameleon Leapt towards her, hoping that momentary super speed would enable him to pass her. If he could just get behind her, then he knew he could stay ahead of her pursuit.
Unfortunately, Priestess could still see him perfectly. It was a benefit of having one’s senses heightened by Lady Chaos. She released the arrow and struck him in the stomach; she couldn’t bring herself to aim for his heart. The force of the arrow knocked him out of super speed and away from her. His bladi adrenaline technique wore off and he sank to his knees.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Bladi. I’m so sorry, but I can’t let you kill Eric.”
Basilard nodded and his eyes rolled to the back of his head. He fell forwards and she cried. Perrault poked him with the staff to confirm that he was truly unconscious. Then she raised it to smash his skull in.
“I said don’t!”
“But, mistress, he’s already dead. I’m just making sure.”
“Don’t.”
Perrault dropped her arm and let it dangle. “Fine.”
Above Basilard’s body, a spinning foot appeared. A humanoid figure became more solid with each rotation. Finally, The Trickster came out of his pirouette and curtsied.
“Thanks, Granddaughter.” He knelt to lift Basilard onto his shoulders. It was not the carry of a fireman and victim but a hunter and his fallen prey. “I needed a comatose Basilard to make my plan work.” He sniffed Basilard’s blood. “You even used the anti-bladi arrow. Fantastic!”
“You mean he’s alive?! Great!...but the arrow...the poison...he...and then Eric will—”
Tasio put a hand over her mouth to silence her. She obeyed without complaint.
“I’m doing this to help Basilard and Zettai. What did the Bard of Avalon say about me?”
“Suburb, ‘though this be madness, there is method in it.’ I trust you, Grandfather.”
“You really shouldn’t; Overturner of Fortune and Ambivalent Saboteur, you know?”
Disheartened, Priestess looked away. “Right, of course. I forgot.”
Tasio moved his hand to lift her chin. Smiling kindly, he said, “Eric is still safe and he will remain safe. I trust you can make this happen.”
The trickster god vanished with his prey/client and reappeared in a Dragon’s Lair tunnel. Aaloon was good but not good enough to keep him out, and there was a hole specifically for him anyway. It was cooler here than the volcano tunnel and dustier too. There was even a dust mind present. Brother Neuro was on his way up and holding out his scythe like a dowsing rod.
“Hello, Brother Neuro,” Tasio said, “your query is being guarded by The Dragoness. If you wanted to die young, then you should have heeded Basilard’s plea.”
Neuro halted out of respect for the deity. “I’m not surprised you know about that, Trickster King. Is that him over your shoulder?”
Tasio dumped the comatose Basilard. The arrow was still in him and it made him look sickly and splotchy.
“So?” Neuro asked.
“This man’s state is due to Gruffle’s corruption,” Tasio said.
“He’s new; he will become accustomed to Lord Death’s mercy.”
“This isn’t about mercy. This is about abusing power to make death painful and tragic.”
“What is the accusation and where is the proof of it?”
“The accusation is coercing a mortal to do his killing for him and the proof of it is here.”
Tasio brought out the necrotic contract scroll and handed it to Neuro. As the boy read it, his skin became even whiter than normal.
“As I’m sure you are aware, being a model mortal death priest and all,” Tasio twirled string on his finger, “reapers are forbidden from hiring mortals to kill someone. If they want to end a life, they have to do it by their own hand and their own spirit. Furthermore, they must receive approval for such killings in order to ensure that they do not interfere with their boss’ design. Finally, for a wish reaper to do so is a more severe crime because of the nature of Final Wish; if someone else could do it, then why do they need to stick around?”
At the bottom of the contract, Neuro re-read and re-scann
ed and re-traced the reaper signature to determine if it was genuine. With trembling hands, he rolled it up.
“Anything else?”
“As a matter of fact, yes! He cursed an entire clan, with three or four exceptions, with slow and decaying death in order to coerce this man,” he nudged Basilard with a foot, “to sign the contract in your hands. I don’t have proof of this, so feel free to disbelieve me on this part.”
Neuro handed the scroll back to Tasio. “What do you expect me to do about it?”
“What I always expect of you and everyone else at all times and under all circumstances,” Tasio said. “Namely that you exercise your free will and demonstrate what you believe in with your actions.”
With that, he disappeared and left Basilard to bleed on the floor. Neuro examined the man and gulped. The terms of the contract compelled both sides to fulfill their end of the bargain, and as a side effect of this compulsion, Basilard was forbidden to die. Here he lay, in pain so great it should kill him and yet he remained alive.
“Rule Number One of Reaper Lore:” Neuro whispered, “as reapers are facilitators, a reaper who interferes with the flow of souls,” he gulped again, “is illegitimate.”
Steeling himself, he lifted Basilard and continued on his way. Through the lumpy, dusty, and irregular tunnels, he walked until he arrived at the top floor. The door of the Dragon’s Head carried an emblem of four weapons intersecting behind a shield, with a dragon’s claw around it. Laying Basilard down gently, he knocked four times, paused, and then another four times.
“Who is it?” Ridley asked.
“Brother Neuro from the Brotherhood of Death branch of Memento Mori. I scheduled an urgent meeting with you via Mia Bladi.”
The door opened and The Dragoness stood in the doorway. She didn’t look threatening, but Neuro still felt a chill. Immortals always gave him the creeps because they existed outside of his god’s general jurisdiction. He had no idea how to interact with them.
“Yes, that is urgent.”
She lifted Basilard into her arms as if he were an infant and jerked her head into her office. Neuro followed her and saw his quarry. Zettai Bladi sat in one of Ridley’s guest chairs reading a book. Discreetly checking the Dragoness’ condition, he found her occupied both physically and magically by checking Basilard’s condition. This was his chance.
Gripping his scythe in both hands, Neuro lunged forward and brought it down on the unaware child. His blade cleaved through her body with ease. Spinning smoothly, he brought up one hand to his face to pray for her safe journey into Lord Death’s care. Then the two halves of the Zettai illusion vanished. Before he could do more than widen his eyes in surprise, a magic circle appeared beneath his feet.
Invisible forces pulled him to his hands and knees. Then a second circle activated above his head and yanked his scythe from his grasp.
“You’re one hundred years too young to fool me, boy.”
Ridley said this without looking at him. After all, she was healing her subordinate. Instead, the real Zettai came out of hiding to point and laugh at him. He couldn’t even lift his head to Evil Eye her into suffocation.
“Zettai, be a dear and call Noisop,” Ridley said. This time, she faced whom she spoke to. “I don’t recognize this poison.”
Immediately, Zettai stopped laughing and dashed to the desk to use the guild’s intercom. Minutes later, the guild’s stocky poison master knocked on the door and then entered with his boss’ permission. The first thing he did was offer Zettai something wrapped in foil.
Zettai scowled. “Dad told me not to take candy from strangers.”
“I’m not a stranger; I work with your dad all time.”
Her scowl deepened. “He told me you’d say that.”
Noisop shrugged. “Oh well. More for me.” He unwrapped it and tossed it into his mouth.
“You mean it wasn’t experimental poison?!”
“Of course it wasn’t! I don’t poison the kids of my co-workers. Even I have standards.” He pulled out a second one. “Do you want one after all?”
Zettai accepted it, said “thank you,” and unwrapped it. Just before she put it in her mouth, Noisop spoke up again.
“That one might be poison.”
Zettai’s face puffed up in anger and she stepped on Noisop’s foot. He chuckled.
“Noisop, if you are done having fun...”
“Yes, Dragoness, I am. Sorry.”
Noisop waved his mechanical staff over Basilard and sampled blood with the sterilized syringe. A minute passed and then the staff “dinged.” Noisop’s face lit up.
“An anti-Bladi poison! Intriguing stuff. You don’t mind if I bottle a bit, do you? For purely academic purposes, I assure you.”
Ridley shrugged. Zettai objected.
“There could only be one use for such a thing. My relatives may be dogmatic monsters, but Dad wouldn’t wish this fate on them.”
“On the contrary, Miss Zettai,” Neuro said, “Noisop would be doing him a favor.”
“W-what do you mean?” Zettai asked.
“Just hours ago, he declared to the whole clan that anyone who did not agree with him will die for it.”
“That’s not true!”
“The Bladi Council sent a video of his heretical and familicidal speech to Momento Mori and Momento Mori informed me. They told me where to find you so I could save their lives,” finally mustering the strength to do so, he lifted his head and blared Evil Eye, “by taking yours!”
Zettai stepped back. “W...wha...” She swallowed. “What are you talking about?”
“He didn’t tell you?” Neuro asked. “You have five death violations stacked against you for your actions in Ceiha. They are poisoning your relatives. At this moment, many are bedridden. Basilard himself will eventually succumb. It’s all because you selfishly clung to life when your time had come. It’s your fault!”
“I...I...”
Memories ran through her mind: dying from Mr. 15’s choker, reviving afterward, summoning a reaper, Reno Grade shouting how she should be dead, and then using Reno Grade’s hand to return her soul to her body. She bowed her head. “...Didn’t know...”
“Now that you do, accept your fate with grace.”
Ridley snapped her fingers and the magic circle imprisoning Neuro glowed brighter. He screamed as energy ran through him and arched off him. It only cut off for Ridley to grab his chin and force him to look into her Evil Eye. The ancient fear of dragons tore at his mind. When she blinked and released him, he shook all over.
“But, Dragoness, it’s ”
“Not your fault. This boy neglected to mention something important. Didn’t you?”
Neuro turned his head away. Ridley forced it back.
“Would you rather die by my hand for attempting to murder a death violator or by your own hand in forgiving one? Which one better demonstrates Lord Death’s mercy?”
Neuro stared defiantly. Ridley stared sternly back.
“Well? Which is it? What does your doctrine preach? Are you remorseless executioners or compassionate guides?”
“I DON’T KNOW!”
Tears accompanied these words. Ridley released his chin and it dropped to his chest.
“I was born during the Reno Grade era. I asked my teacher why he did not match what I was taught about reapers and all he said was ‘probationary reaper.’ I asked other teachers, my upperclassmen, and even requested an audience with the local bishop. All of them apologized for Reno Grade’s behavior and rationalized it. I accepted this until I met him in Ceiha. You remember, don’t you?”
Zettai nodded. Being chased by the ghoulish creature had been the scariest part of her life. Only living in constant fear at the Bladi main compound came close.
“He attacked me, a Fellow of the Scythe, for exposing his illegal and selfish operations. A dust-minded reaper is a contradiction!”
By now, he was bawling. Far from a full-fledged priest, he looked like a lost child.
“
Then Gruffle replaced him. Far from cleaning up his act, he is worse! He perverts the institution of Final Wish for suffering and corruption! Reno Grade was not a fluke. What if more reapers are like that? What if I turn into that? What if my life is a lie and my dream is a sham?”
“You’re not making any sense, kid,” Ridley said. “If you’re worried about becoming an evil god, then practicing mercy and compassion should do the trick.”
Neuro shook his head. “I considered that, but there are reapers who have violated Lord Death’s laws that way as well. They became too merciful and too compassionate. They allowed everyone a Final Wish, prevented their deaths in their place, and even revived someone with kon stolen from other sources. They obstructed the flow of souls, upended the natural progression of life and death, and caused a different kind of suffering.”
Ridley leaned back. “So it’s a delicate balance.”
“Yes, it is. As much I dislike living in a meat sack, I feel I have more to learn about the balance before I ascend.”
“Dragon dung,” Ridley said. “You’re procrastinating. Do you know how many guild members I’ve seen put off promotions or higher-ranking missions to ‘prepare themselves’? Trickster, I protested becoming Dragoness. You know what you need?”
“What?”
“An example. This one kid joined my guild not believing he could do what we do, but when the time came for his Proof of Skill, he passed it with flying colors. He also wet himself at the idea of undertaking a “C” rank mission, and yet Basilard’s report described him as invaluable to the mission’s success and the team’s safety. He was drafted to take part in a contest catering to high society mages and sailed through it despite believing he didn’t belong there. Now I hear he’s shedding mortality and thinks it’s a hassle.”
“In short, ‘quit bitching and do it’?” Neuro asked.
Ridley nodded.
“There is wisdom in your words...but...I...it shames me to say this, but...I can’t bring myself to end my own life.”
Ridley grabbed him by the scruff of his neck and lifted him out of her containment spell. Pointing at her second containment array, she summoned his scythe. It hovered just outside of her hand.
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