Magic of Shadow and Secrets

Chapter 8

Chapter 8

The tundra terrain was not his strong suit. It was a dry, barren land. But at the same time it was frigid and extremely windy. The declining temperatures forced him to wear a parka, which was frustrating. He did not like sleeved clothing—he didn't like shirts at all. Why did his adversary have to go to a frozen wasteland? There was nothing for miles, let alone magikers.

The sooner I track down that arrogant fucker, the sooner I can return.

His travels had led him from Qorba to Hizakaar. Before him were white-tipped mountain peaks. The famous Scholar kingdom lived in said mountains. What seemed like an ingenious tactic of being isolated and out of reach of enemies, the man saw them as cowards. Rumors said that Hizakaar didn't even have a military. In his opinion, they were complete morons.

The man sprinted across the dry grass of the field, his parka beginning to slip off his bare shoulders. He had picked up the pace because he had unwanted company on his tail.

Bolverkr.

Servants of the Green Wizard. The man's ears flicked backwards in annoyance. And are completely stupid creatures. They were merely uglier versions of their master. Who is also a stupid creature. The tracker wasn't afraid, for he had no reason to be. The Bolverkr behind him were merely a message. The Green Wizard finally acknowledged him as a threat.

I always was one, bastard.

The man was eager for a reunion, hoping to show off his improvement in magic. The creatures of darkness were fast, but the man was faster. Yes, come closer. He sneered. Let me bleed you dry.

His fingers twitched delightfully as his magic latched on one of the creatures. The Green Wizard had to pay a price when creating so many slaves. Flesh and blood. These servants were full of it. The man turned around fully, running backwards to face his opponents. But the truth was, they were more inconveniences than obstacles. Obstacles were somewhat challenging, but inconveniences were just annoying.

He could feel the pulse in their wrists, every throbbing vein. Even their shriveled heartbeats were detected by the man. The man couldn't wait to peel them apart, layer by layer. The creature he latched onto froze in place. All the man had to do was gently squeeze and the monster exploded like a blood-filled balloon.

The Green Wizard donated a lot of blood this time. A fruitless attempt.

The other two howled mournfully at their fallen compatriot and continued to chase. The man decided to rid himself of another one, then play with the last....

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"That was hardly any fun." He tsked in his baritone of a voice. He stuck his bottom lip out in a pout. He was covered in green blood, blood of corruption. He crouched over his prey. The Bolverkr lay on the ground lifelessly, merely a pile of dry flesh and shredded bones. The man, who hadn't eaten in a few weeks, tried to see how the clone tasted. It tasted how it looked; disgusting and corrupted.

The man wiped his green stained lips in disgust. The blood didn't even taste metallic. It was unforgivable. Damn Wizard ruined blood for me. Almost. At least that child from a few weeks ago would fill him up for another day or two.

Child.

He was no longer thinking of his victim, but of someone else. They'd be all grown up now. He would begin to dream what they would now look like. Did they go from adorable to hot and mature? Were they now some badass that ruled supreme and murdered anyone who looked at them the wrong way?

The man would sing their name at night despite himself. To anyone nearby, he was clearly mad. They weren't wrong. He would always have conversations with himself.

I've already gathered enough intel. But there were too many unanswered questions. Why Hizakaar? They didn't have any magikers. If they did, the scholars would just experiment on them.

He decided to return to his home base in Qorba. In his pocket, dried juverb berries hid. He took one out, preparing himself. He took a deep breath and swallowed it. While the berry had no taste, the spell that used them was a painful one. That was why the man tried not to use it as much as possible. He drew a symbol on the grassy floor, then stood on top of it, muttering the spell.

Suddenly, it felt as if his insides were exploding. His blood curdled and his limbs felt as if they were being pulled apart. The man gritted his teeth and seethed. Transportation magic was a pain, but very effective. He was now off the mainland and in Qorba.

Qorba was a nation fighting within itself. Tyrants ruled the different provinces and the once famous empire was slowly falling into a state of collapse and extinction. Qorba consists mostly of islands and dormant volcanoes. It was disturbingly hot and humid to those who weren't born there.

The man avoided the main streets of the Province Vollate, finding solace in the dark alleys. He passed by a father beating his son. The son had spotted the man and begged for help, but he only barked a laugh and continued on.

He wasn't a hero, never would be. There was never any fun or freedom for those with too much responsibility. It's a cycle. Those people who rely too much on heroes never learn to protect themselves. Then when they are in trouble, the heroes save them because they can't save themselves. Heroes just make people weak and reliant.

The man went into the whorehouse at the end of the alley. He wasn't a frequent patron, but he only came because he got bored easily. As he entered, one of the men that served drinks spotted him and frowned. The man was immediately shooed out, recalling what happened during his last visit. Oh right. Those four whores I made disappear. But it was hardly his fault they all died. They weren't even attractive.

Well, in truth, no one was 'attractive' in his eyes...Unless the Green Wizard's head was delivered to him on a silver platter, he might make an exception.

He gratefully threw off his parka and ripped it to shreds as the humidity hit him. Suddenly, he found himself retching—today just wasn't a good day for him. He began to cough terribly, green blood poured from his lips. In the pile of vomit at his feet was a scroll bound in a leather case. He really does have a sick sense of humor.

Pulling the scroll out of its case, he opened it up.

My Old Friend,

We initiated the next phase of our plan.

So soon? The man thought with a scoff.

After the information you had given us previously, we decided to accelerate our progress. We have successfully found five candidates. We even followed your suggestion about having the practicals held in Chyte's Wood. It was a necessary risk. Progress with them has been steady, but they are quite stubborn students. I may have to pull you out of your station if things continue to backtrack.

The most likely candidate is Zyler Zadro, he was the top of his classes every year and is a powerful Azulchemist. However, there is also Xeviero Tsudan. I believe the two of you have met briefly once. He rivals young Zadro in Azulchemy, but his personality and attitude are...difficult.

There is some untapped potential in West Burns, but he can hardly call upon his magic. What he does is a mix between Azulchemy and Genochemy. Perhaps when you return from the field, you can help identify what he is. While Romelle Varga is not a candidate, she is probably the most competent student in the group. She has a positive attitude and great strength. She'll make a difference for the female magikers, I just know it.

...I know I promised I'd send Saiyah to the Stile Isles when classes ended. I know you don't want to involve her anymore with you - know - who...but she's different. You know this as well. She is not a Legend...but something else. She may be our only hope against Him. Perhaps I should have sent her away because she's only a child. But it's too late.

She knows about me.