The Virtues' Magecraft

Page 38: Proclamation of the Weak

Liam stared at Kafka's still body. Despite the blood he had just coughed up, Liam's opponent was still breathing. That was unfortunate. And so, Liam clenched his jaw and moved towards him.

"Earlier..." Liam spoke, his throat dry, his voice raspy. "You said I was inferior to you, right?"

During their battle, Liam had broken a few bones. His shattered forearm swung to the side as he walked, just as he had to drag his crushed ankle across the ground.

"Remind me... What the hell even caused our fight?" Liam asked, grabbing Kafka by his bloodied shirt and raising him from the ground.

Kafka slowly began opening his eyes. "You..."

"Oh, right," Liam said, a thin smile creeping onto his lips. "You started this. You're a joke, y'know."

Liam continued. "All that talk, all that magic, and now look. You lost, just because some kid got serious. Because some 'inferior being' got serious." And from there, his smile widened, just as his voice grew louder. "I bet you feel sorry for yourself! How does it feel?! How does it feel to be such a massive failure?!" he shouted.

He let go of Kafka's limp, broken body. Kafka crashed down onto the ground once again, coughing from the impact.

"Oh, well," Liam muttered. He turned away. 'I need to get going,' he reminded himself, forcing himself to disregard the mounting pain he was enduring. And with that thought, he smiled to himself again, still walking through the forest.

'How the hell does Alexander endure this pain all the time?' he asked himself.

Kafka cleared his throat, just as Liam was a few meters away.

"Liam Bernard!" he called. The sound of cracking and clunking echoed. "That's your name. Right?"

Liam slowly turned to see Kafka standing upright. 'Of fucking course,' Liam thought. The soul has control over the body, as he said. So if the bastard has control over the soul, he can't be injured regularly.

"Why can't you see it, Liam Bernard?!" Kafka shouted. "You and me... We're the same!"

Liam spat out a sigh. Kafka brought up the same revolting topic once again. "We're not the same, asshole."

"Yes, we are. We're brothers of the soul."

"We're not."

"I mean this in a literal sense!" he cried out. "You and me... are brothers! Connected by our very souls! How elegant! It's perfect! Perfect, I tell you!" he screeched, saliva spewing from his mouth as he spoke, gripping the side of his chest in anguish.

His arms began to glow with the slight orange hue of his magic energy. "Call me your brother again and your head's coming off," Liam said, his hands enlarging and growing with claws once again, even from his crushed forearm.

"But it's true, Liam Bernard! I felt it with your very attack! With your very energy!"

Liam took a labored step forward, wincing as he pivoted on his crushed foot. "That's it," he said, gritting his teeth.

It was then that a black circle appeared behind Kafka.

A man clad in a black uniform passed through, his head drooped over and his hands dug into his pockets. He had pale skin and hair as dark as his clothing. Liam guessed he was no more than 25 years old. Even so, he already knew of this man. He knew of his power. This man... was the Titan of Space. Atlas.

As Atlas ruffled his shaggy black hair, he smiled and began to look up. And as he looked up, his eyes met Liam's. For a second, they glistened with a blood-orange glow.