The Virtues' Magecraft

Page 43: The God Crystal

Arnold wiped off his bloody hands with a smile as he finished speaking. His smile was met with a concerned stare from Hector Hild. His eyes weren't fixed on the bloodied cloth but rather locked with Arnold's golden eyes.

"...What?" the Vice-Commander asked.

"That's all I have to do?" he asked, before he let out a sharp breath and ruffled his curly black hair. "Dude..."

Arnold smiled. "Yep," he said.

The boy groaned in response. "No offense, Arnold, but... Doesn't it seem a bit... I don't know, dumb? Like stupid? Idiotic, even?"

Arnold's smirk plainly remained on his face. "Does it matter?" he asked in return. "It may be simple, but it'll work, I'll promise you that. After all... You're the key to this, Hector."

Hector swallowed his dry saliva. "Fine," he said, already throwing on a jet-black sweater. Unlike the common uniform, but just like Atlas', Hector's uniform was almost completely black.

Just like Alexander, he wore cargo pants and fingerless gloves. He was someone prepared for battle. His belt was dressed under compartments and pouches with combat-grade gear and compressed shifter weapons.

But most oddly of all was his simple, black sweater that he wore atop everything else. It wasn't made of a weapon-proof or magic-resistant material, but plain cotton. Smooth and soft, simple and black. Hector dressed for comfort, even if that comfort would rob him of safety in what was to come.

And so, he grabbed the hood that sat underneath that sweater and swung it over his head. "I'm the key, huh?" he asked Arnold as he turned away. "Let's get it done, then. Take me there, Atlas."

A hollow circle of darkness appeared in front of him. The smooth shadow rang out, only for a second until Hector passed through, before shutting behind him.

Hector tightened the harness that held his sword to his belt as he faced forward into a dimly lit corridor of stone. "It's time to hunt," he said with a smile.

- - - - -

Alexander crashed into the ground just after he jumped through a Connection. But hey, he had already gotten used to that kind of thing happening.

"I take it you found it?" he asked, his face still in the ground before he pushed himself up.

"Yep. Wait, why are your clothes so dirty?" Anastasia asked, pointing out the different colors of dirt and dust scattered around his black clothes. Alexander wasn't focused on that, however. Instead, his eyes were fixed on the pale blue fluid that drenched his hands.

"There was this... huge lizard beast thing. I had to fight it. I stabbed it in the neck, but I don't know if it died or not. So now I'm out of a sword," he mumbled, lightly chuckling as he stared at his empty hands. "But that's life."

"So that's... Vanaheim lizard blood?"

"Yeah, pretty much." After wiping his hands on his pants, Alexander looked up.

With that single sight, unease grew in his mind, nausea in his gut, and disgust in his heart. The God Crystal was a chunk of rock. It didn't have a mind of its own. Only the energy of anti-magic.

And that energy was so profoundly wicked and disgusting, Alexander felt rage build up inside of him. He let out a breath, his exhale quickly lighting up in the sun's glow as he took a step forward.