Torva Messor

Chapter 6: The Reaper Killer

Nature has a strange way of working. When things interact with one another constantly, even without knowing they are, they change. As magic flows through everything, there is no true way to kill off the mages. Even the normals have magic that flows through them but it does not build and produce in them. That is why they cannot use it as we do. With that being said, however. Even if two normals birthed a child, it absolutely has a chance to become a mage. Magic will continue to flow. It will continue to infect the world as it grows. Mages will eventually exist again.

I discovered this while living on the mainland for years. I would feel mages on the mainland, growing and thriving among the normals. I knew the island was too far away for normal mages to get here, meaning they were born here at some point. Yet also as often as I felt their presence, I also lacked any feeling of any mages at all. I had always presumed they were in hiding. Most were, but not all.

There was one mage in particular, one that disturbed me. He was ungodly. Not in his powers, but in what he had gone through to obtain them. I found myself one day feeling a strange mage approaching me, but in a sense, I felt drawn to him. I knew where he was long before I detected his energy. It was an odd sickening feeling. Even if the mage did nothing wrong I wanted him dead to lay to rest this feeling.

He rode in a car with multiple other soldiers, yet when he got out of the car, they did not move to support him. I stood on the roof above him, waiting for him. He was a mage, I would gauge what kind. Looking at him, he seemed physically strong, I expect nothing less of a soldier from the mainland. He had an oddity on his face, however. He had the letter "I" printed into his left temple. He was the first of something, or number one at something. He looked up at me and I could feel magic dwelling within him. I pushed my scythe off my shoulder and held it at my side, staring down at him.

He tried to make himself fly a few times before he actually managed to get a wind under him that could get him off the ground. So he could use it. He was just God-awful at it. I could probably beat him with a half-baked swing if I wanted to. When he finally landed on the roof next to me, he was winded and tired. He did his best to hide it, but he was clearly breathing heavily.

"Who are you? What are you?" I asked him, examining him both with my eyes and energy. His magic wasn't like others I've felt. Magic was a part of the person with its own desire and will. Yet his felt like there were several.

"I'm the man who's destined to kill you and rid the mainland of powerful mages." He said boldly between breaths. I couldn't help but laugh.

"You? Kill me? You could barely manage to float up here a moment ago." I point my scythe down where he stood near the car and where he is now.

"With each failed attempt I will grow stronger and smarter in this world of magic you mages live in." He definitely talked a big talk. The way he worded things was weird, however. He spoke as if he were an outsider to magic and its abilities.

"Attempt? Do you really think I'd let you walk away from this?" I turned and faced him now, and he visibly tensed up.

"Whether I live from this or not is irrelevant. I will return. Far stronger. Far smarter. Eventually one day I will return and you will be the one that dies." Whether he lives or not? What is he? An immortal? A clone? What is his deal?

"Take your time coming back again then. You've much to work on." With one smooth slash, my scythe cut through his neck, and his head fell from his shoulders. His body slumped to the ground with a thud. The band of soldiers he traveled with retreated to their cars, and drove away. By the time they were out of sight, the mage I killed was lifeless, empty, a hollow shell. He was not immortal. He died as any man should. So how could he ever return to face me?