Hunting Day

Great Void, Vacuum River, some days later

“Send a message to Polus. Make sure he knows we're okay and that apart from a few monsters we didn't have any problems.”, from inside one of the dark Falconers tents, a woman without her turbans was talking to her falcon while eating a piece of dry bread.

Outside, morning had left its regards. Quickly, it stepped away for the soothing air of the midday to invade the land of death. Wind, dancing through the dunes, was a quiet spectator; waiting.

The woman, after putting her turbans on, got out of the tent with small steps, being careful not to trip on the haversack on the floor. She let free the falcon, which began flying towards Rmune.

“No clouds, as always... Oh, Oke! How ar-”

“Gaia...”, a fellow falconer of hers interrupted her. He was standing in the middle of the little settlement to observe something with other ten companions. “Come here?”

“... What is it, Oke?”, she joined him with confusion. “Is there something the... re...”

The last word trailed off as she saw her. Walking with her head low, the Empress of the Painful Pass, and holding a lifeless falconer body by the neck, dragging it to create an almost never-ending trail coming from East.

Gaia's eyes widened in horror. “Send every one of your falcons to Rmune.”, she said taking a step back, “Tell Polus... to send everything he can.”

Despite her order, no one moved until that horrifying woman lifted her head. The visage was veiled in dry blood and her eyes resembled the ones of a dead man walking – her irises and pupils were gone, leaving only a sea of white.

Her feral eyes and monstrous poise left everyone shocked. She let out a guttural shrieking before launching the body towards the falconers, hitting only one of them.

Before the unlucky guy could fall, the air exited from his lungs. The Goddess of Death was already in front of him and her left arm had morphed in a sharp and insect-like appendix, which stabbed through her prey with easiness.

The limp body fell but all the other falconers were already on the counteroffensive. Three of them jumped towards her, coordinating their attacks in a web of punches, kicks and close-ranged magic strikes. With otherworldly agility and reflexes, she managed to evade all of them before creating a few meters of space.

Two other enemies appeared behind her, ready to strike. She didn't move.

We can do it! We outnumber her anyw-

Squelch

“...”

The three in front and the two behind the Death Lady stood in place, blood gushed out of their bodies; it poured at her feet. She hadn't moved a finger, but the black pointy tentacles coming out of her back were the cause of that massacre. She retracted them and left the cadavers on the ash.

“We...”

Four other falconers jumped fearlessly towards that monster. Meanwhile, Gaia couldn't move. Tears started to prick in the corner of her eyes as she looked at the scene unfolding.

“... c-can't...”

The Goddess of Death didn't flinch nor gave any sign of directly countering that attack. But...

“... win!!!”

Squelch

Another time; the sound of flesh being teared. A barrage of dark rays shot out from around her body in all directions, piercing the four adversaries in vital organs and in the head.

Gaia wanted to let out a cry – one of help, full of fear mixed with anger. The panic made her unable to do so. She could only gasp as the beast lifted her head, showing her pink irises; they turned black, like the one thing she sows.

Half a hour later

She was still there. All the noises in the camp had disappeared. The face of the Goddess of Death was painted with new and fresh blood. She let her cruel grasp on Gaia's body.

“...”, she moved West, but someone's voice stopped her.

“I see you've resorted to cannibalism now!”, Efimorij teased, rising from the mount of dead corpses.

“And I've heard you got quite the beating... together with the Queen of Dragons.”

The falconer's clothes began disintegrating in violet particles, revealing his usual attire beneath, “Pft! Do you have a sharp tongue now? I thought you were more inclined to action rather than banter.”. He smiled confidently, passing a hand in his cream hair.

“... Why are you here? To fight?”, she lowered her head slightly, resulting more menacing from Efimorij's point if view.

He didn't flinch and instead let out an ironic whistle, “That's the Goddess of Death I know! And you're fairly recent too, so how much better can you get? I wonder!”

She gritted her teeth in frustration but still didn't give in to the Bishop's provocations.

Efimorij observed her reaction satisfied, “As of why I am here, it's because Richec and Yuminin are on a little mission...”

The Goddess raised an eyebrow as he seemed to not have finished his sentence. She quickly glanced to both her sides before frowning with a mix of frustration and worry, “You are the worst...”

“Wouldn't say that about my brother, Goddess of Death.”, a voice as soft as silk came from behind her, all with a sinister calm.

“Oh, come on! Cuzmo, you flatter me by calling me brother.”, Efimorij joked, cupping his cheeks with his hands and faking to be embarrassed.

He responded by just laughing. The Goddess of Death turned with that same frown. “The Second Bishop of the Oblivion Flame... you're here too.”, she mumbled.

His attire resembled Efimorij's one, but much more simple – with a single black tint. On the gray belt he had a sheath, curved like no other which could be found in the whole world. His most unique feature was surely the white silk band covering both his eyes, giving a clear hint of his blindness. “I am. But I assure you: we aren't here to fight at all.”

“And for what then? Why would two powerful individuals bother me?”

“Slowing you down, Goddess. It's that simple.”, Efimorij said with sarcasm. “You're killing and drinking these people's blood for a reason, aren't you?”

“...”

Cuzmo took the word once again, his short brown hair grazed by the wind. “As much as we don't fear Gods, we still have to be wary of our enemies... and that's why we already killed all the Falconers on the banks of this river.”

“... !!!”, her eyes widened. A cold sweat of pure hatred and frustration painted her forehead as her visage showed only blind fury.

“But I guess we missed one! Haven't we, brother?”

“You can say that, ehehehe!”

The Death Goddess patience had enough and she looked at the blind Bishop. “Stop laughing, you psychopath!!!”, she raised her hand, sending many sharp and black magic slashes at him.

Cuzmo smiled and waited until the first of them was at arm's length. Quickly, he unsheathed a simple metal and shiny curved sword and deflected all those hits in a fraction of a second, only using one hand to handle his weapon. The Goddess of Death clenched her fist and the last slash turned, now accelerating perpendicular to the blade. The sword snapped as the attack passed through.

I got him!

A purplish tentacle rose from his left shoulder, taking the broken piece of the blade and reattaching it to the rest of the weapon before Cuzmo brought it back to parry the hit – all in ridiculously small amount of time.

“Good try, Goddess! But this is why you always set your blade at an arm's distance from your body.”, he said chuckling. “Now I suggest you go away. It's us two versus you.”

“I agree with that!”, Efimorij intervened, “And I'm an intelligent guy.”

The Goddess didn't say anything. She suppressed her rage by biting her lips as she lowered her head, “You will all regret your arrogance! Fools.”

Both enemies smirked. She walked away slowly, heading South until she wasn't visible anymore.

“Bleh, she's really insufferable.”

Cuzmo nodded in approval and then turned towards his companion, “What are Richec and Yuminin doing anyway?”

“They're going to Rmune to meet Kael. That's why we slowed down the Goddess of Death, since she's headed there too.”

“Many powerful beings are going there... it did not happen in years, after all.”

Efimorij walked to him, “You're right. The presence of that guy has shaken the whole place up; so much that Rigel asked to take care of him.”

Cuzmo was surprised by the mention. “She was interested in him? That means he's very special, isn't he?”

Efimorij let out an ironic laugh, “Yes, I hope you won't have to fight him all alone. He's a monster, even if I encountered him only one time.”

“Then how do you know his name?”

“Eh?”

“You said his name, brother. Kael, wasn't it?”

“Ah, yes. I was surprised at first, to be sincere. Back then, when I fought him, as the voice were whispering around me, one in particular told me that the guy I had in front of me was Kael of Nara. Unfortunately, unlike the others, that voice vanished quicker than it appeared. Surely it belonged to a strong and ancient fighter, such it was firm.”

Cuzmo listened carefully. “I see... what do we do now?”

“Now we go home. Rigel will want to hear everything.”

The blind Bishop paused. “What if she sends us to Rmune with the other two?”

Efimorij smiled faintly, “Then I'll ask to go first!”

“Ehehe, you need your share of fun time after all.”

Fortune District, Falconer's Base, late evening of the same day

“It's a pleasure to meet you!”, Polus said joyfully to Ascarin, Mala and Olivia. “I know our place isn't the most comfortable, but we don't want to attract attention. There are many enemies in this city.”

The refugee wasn't in fact all that comfortable. It was an old and worn house, but big enough to lodge at least fifteen spacious rooms thanks to its extension on two floors. The walls were of a polished dull stone from where different magic candles hanged, lighting the zones which the sunlight coming from the windows couldn't reach.

Ascarin placed a cup of tea on the little table. He took a seat on a couch next to Mala, “I understand... thank you for looking after Kael. We were very worried for him.”

Polus was puzzled, “Well, I can't say we looked after him. Right?”. He turned to Meku, Vera, Kele and Joran, who just unanimously nodded to confirm. “But going to more important matters: are you really here to search for the Null?”

“Y-yes, we are. This was the reason we got here.”, Olivia said, standing behind the couch right next to Mala, who smiled in approval.

“And in what way did your search has brought you here?”, Joran spoke up with a diffident tone, sitting next to Polus.

Ascarin answered. “Signs. Or to be more precise... disturbances.”

“...”, Kele crossed his arms and talked from behind Joran's back. “And what are, or were, those disturbances you talk about?”

“Unusual winds coming from the East and sudden energy spikes located right here in the Great Void. And I picked them up by myself just a month ago.”, Ascarin raised his hands as if to justify himself. “We're to search, not to fight surely. We just found ourselves inside a series of battles caused by who knows why.”

“And if it wasn't for Kael's presence, I think we would've died the first day we got here.”, Mala added, with a little abashment.

Olivia smiled warmly in her direction, “I agree.”

Polus reflected on Ascarin's words, “We have never seen or heard about sudden energy spikes in this place. Are you sure no one else back in your land has picked those signals up?”

He shook his head. “Not that we know of, at least...”

There was a moment of silence before Meku, who had only listened up to that moment, spoke. “Rmune is impossibly big and so old that many think half its history has been lost to time... I believe it could even be the center of the world, but if such a powerful object has to be in a place...”, he looked at Polus through the two turbans, then back at Ascarin, “... then it has to be Dis.”

Everyone looked down, moved on their seats or began to fidget at the mention of that name.

“What place is it?”, Olivia asked.

Polus patted his knee strong enough to avoid anyone from speaking. He slowly raised his head and looked at the three people in front of him, “I cannot tell you yet... even my companions and I know little of it. Still, its reputation knows a place of dread in the hearts of Rmune's people.”, he slightly squinted his eyes towards Ascarin. “And as for who can tell us something about the Curse I've talked you about and Dis, Kael is on his way to free him from the Prophets.”

He got up with a pace that made his actions feel the one of a ritual. He turned towards the stairs and walked towards them.

“I almost feel bad for the Prophets.”, he added while stretching his arms, “Getting raided by Kael in the middle of the night isn't exactly a pleasant experience!”

Rmune, edge of the Prophets' District, that same night

The moon was nearly at its peak, lighting the walls that separated the Fortune and Prophets' District enough to highlight a black figure covered in a cloak. He walked along the perimeter with a sure step until he came near the position of a high palace. Its pale blue roof, now drowned in the darkness of the night, was still very low compared to the walls.

Polus told me the prison is not too far from the border... there are many night guards.

“It's gonna be packed with prophets, Kael. They aren't weak at all. The other day I thought we would've won against both them and the Black Monks, but they held off very well. At least we got rid of those annoying Monks thanks to them... you're gonna be alone in enemy territory and the prison is not very close, so I advise you to take a stealthy approach. Still, it's your hunt; if you decide to blow everything up, I won't complain.”

Pft... he thought I would've listened to him. I'm not here to play around.

Kael crossed his arms – as he recalled Kele's words – and lowered his gaze before stepping off. He began his free fall; the wind roared past him with a deafening force. Despite this, he perfectly controlled his body and when he was near the ground, he faced the roof head first and reinforced his body with mana.

He crashed through it, piercing like a bullet through all the floors – tearing them down completely one by one.

Kael reached the ground floor; a cozy tavern with five prophets in. They didn't have the time to react, as he pulled out his spear. He extended it with a plasma blade and sliced every one of them with a circular slash.

A strain of silence was interrupted by the alarmed voice of a large group of people. Kael took the cloak off his shoulders and made his spear disappear, leaving only the falconer uniform without the turbans on. He walked out of the building onto the wide cobbled street, illuminated by floating magic lanterns and looked to the left; then to the right. There, twelve prophets had gathered to see what caused that chaos. Their clothes were sumptuous; each one of them was wearing a forest green tunic with a sharp high collar, ornamental silver buttons arranged on two parallel lines and strap going up from the right pectoral to the left side of the collar. The uniform ended in a pleated skirt, divided by the rest of the tunic by a wide black belt with a metal buckle shaped like a crescent moon. To complete the outfit, they were wearing black military trousers paired with boots of the same color.

“He's a falconer!”, one of them shouted.

“Why is he here alone?”

“Is he stupid? Coming here at night and alone! Does he have a death wish?”

“Ehehehe, maybe he has!”

“He could've gone crazy, who knows?”

They all laughed and walked towards Kael.

“Look, look! He is very pale considering he's a falconer and he ain't got those usual fluent black hair!”

“Yeah... and look! He's doing nothing.”

“He is not moving an inch. What's his problem?”

That same prophet, a middle aged man with a rough and short beard, got in front of him and smirked.

“Are you frozen in fear, kid?”, his tone was acid and sarcastic. “Or are you lost?”

Kael – who up to that moment had stood still watching the whole group in front of him like a statue – shifted his gray eyes to face the man.

“Neither.”

With a quick movement, he caught his head in his hands. He violently smashed his knee with the prophet's face, who couldn't react in time and recoiled back while his nose gushed blood.

“Bastard!”, the three companions behind him tried to move first.

Kael bent his knees. His falconer uniform disappeared in blue hexagonal particles, revealing the true one underneath with his spear secured on the back. He grabbed the red handle and swung it, slashing all four of them.

He quickly got rid of another enemy by kicking him with both his feet in the air. After landing, while also having his back turned towards them, he put his hands on the ground and parted his legs, hitting two others with enough force to render them unconscious.

One prophet tried to attack him, but it was vain. Kael turned immediately and stabbed him in the ribs with the Fertitas – which appeared in his hands in an instant – and shot a slender ray of plasma through the head of another.

In the frenzy and confusion, the last three stood still.

“...”

Kael shifted his eyes as two tried to advance together towards him. He used mana to accelerate his body and leap in front of the first enemy. He caught him off guard and slashed him across the chest. He faced the second and created a burst of wind from his left hand, pushing him back before cutting him at the height of the abdomen with a lighting extension of the Fertitas.

“Ugh... A-ah... W-what are you?”, the last prophet stepped back, with his eyes wide in horror.

The Fertitas disappeared from Kael's hand. “Just passing by... Anyway, is that powerful guy still in your district's prison?”

The guy jumped from the fear, but he immediately understood the subject of that question, “Yes, h-he's still there!”

Without saying a word, Kael began to walk on the street. “You're lucky you're still alive! Don't mind calling for help, I'll just kill anything you send on me. It's better if you get some sleep.”, this way, he dismissed his last enemy and kept on going with his pursuit.

After two hours and a half, Kael had covered quite the distance. This time he resorted to a stealthier approach, dealing with minor groups of enemies while still avoiding the bigger ones. He was constantly heading for the center of the district, searching for a large square where – according to Polus – the prison was located.

He was walking down a dark street. The air was becoming really gelid. He felt a great number of voices coming from the same road towards him. He glanced around quickly and spotted a tavern with the lights still on. Without hesitating, he used magic to create a fake prophets' uniform and wore it before entering.

A little bell rang on top of the creaking door as Kael stepped in. Fifteen foes on the tables and counter of the ground floor and five more on top of the railings of the first floor. Everyone looked at him and saluted him with a nod; then the silence disappeared as they began talking again. He walked towards an empty table and sat on one of the chairs, keeping an eye on the windows which gave him a view of the street outside.

People around him were laughing, talking in that softly illuminated place. Some where playing with cards, some others were drinking at the counter.

“They lost contact with the guards on the West tower, right on the border with the Fortune District.”

“Really? I didn't hear about it. Are there any news?”

“No, not for now... I have a bad feeling though.”

“Ahhh, don't worry about it! Look, it's your turn now.”

Kael listened to this conversation as the patrol passed in front of the windows and started walking far from the building. He got up from his seat and walked to the counter, right next to the four guys leaning on it. The tavern keeper walked towards him smiling.

“Hi, never seen you down here. You are from the North of the District?”

“... Yes. I was selected to be a guard at the central prison.”, he answered confidently.

“Central prison? Ehehehe, that's a fancy way to call it. Anyway, you might be lost. The Grand Prison is a few kilometers ahead going up this street.”, he said indicating the way from which Kael had came. “You can make it surely for tomorrow morning shift.”

“Hmm...”

“Wait?”, a nearby prophet, who had heard the conversation from the table, made them turn around, “Didn't the new guard come three days ago?”

Kael looked him for a while as silence fell in the tavern – as if everyone was listening at that point. He smiled without a trace of nervousness, “Such a coincidence, isn't it?”

His fake uniform disappeared and he unsheathed the Fertitas in the blink of an eye, striking first the tavern keeper and then the guy in front of him. Immediately after, a shower of metal projectiles poured on Kael from all the other prophets in the building. He extended his arms and created a sphere of wind around his body, stopping the bullets midair and shooting them back towards them. As they repaired behind the tables and railing, he noticed the four guys near him at the counter rushing. Kael turned completely and hit the first one with a lateral high kick in the face; as soon as he landed with his right foot, he used a little quantity of mana and redirected it towards his legs.

“Chanted Spell, Wind Ring: Steps of Divine Grace.”

As if he was teleporting, his whole figure flashed and passed between the other three hostiles. They quickly fell to the floor as their bodies were fatally wounded by several wind slashes. He faced right and began deflecting the flurry of projectile coming at him from the top and the front. As soon as five were killed by their own bolts of metal, Kael took advantage of a moment where all his enemies had to stop shooting and accelerated towards the last four prophets on the ground floor, slashing them in a frenzy of elegant strokes.

He began walking up the stairs while redirecting the attacks nonstop through the ceiling and towards the five enemies on the first floor.

Two were left as he reached the landing. They were terrified and kept stepping back, until the first one decided to shoot another metal projectile. Kael stepped forward while simultaneously bending down to avoid it, he got back up and used a surge of wind from his open hand to push the prophet off the railing before stabbing the last one.

He sighed and looked down at the ground floor, gazing with curiosity at the enemy down there.

“Get out before this place becomes ash!”

“Huh... W-wait...”

He just opened the window that brought to the roof, lit the wooden walls on fire and left in the nightlight outside of the district, smiling to himself with content.

Too easy...

Grand Prison of the Prophets, some kilometers away, an hour later

The great cell on the subterranean level of the prison was filthy, obscure and noisy. Filled with the laments of prisoners, weak and all cloaked by large and ruined cloths.

Before the stairs – which led to the upper floors – there was a chamber; only two heavily armed prophets were in it, guarding an object on a marble pedestal, encased in a glass dome. Its appearance resembled the one of a pointy rock, from which various pentagonal green particles were coming out and fading out in the vacuum of the enclosure.

Behind them, a long and narrow corridor divided that place and the containment from which voices never stopped.

“Ngh...”, a rawboned man crawled slowly on the dusty floor. “Help us... good man. Help our souls and our bodies...”, he tried to reach a hand toward a seated man, who, all covered by a white cloak, was looking down at his feet.

As the man's hand fell, the other caught it gently before letting it rest on the ground. “Don't fret, mournful. Him, is coming to save us. The death he feeds upon, as his ancestor once negated it.”, his voice was deep and soothing; he punctuated every word with deep meaning. “Recall: such is our Fate, to overcome it all; even It.”

He posed a hand on his head.

A loud bang echoed from above, making all the prisoners jump – except for the man in the white drape. Sounds of fighting and screams came from above before interrupting all together. They were replaced by heavy footsteps descending down the stairs.

Even the seated man, always calm in his voice, swallowed nervously, but tried to hide it to the other shaking prisoners.

She told me he's powerful, but still... something feels off. I need to keep my cool.

The two chamber guards' chatter of preoccupation grew until they were silenced by the relentless attack of Kael. He then moved in the corridor, lighting up the magic lantern as soon as he got in front of the great cell.

He scanned it, frowning with disgust at the conditions of those prisoners.

“Beasts... treating them like beasts.”, he muttered under his breath.

His eyes were caught by that so out of place white clothing covering one of them.

“... you, the one with the white cloak. Who are you?”

That man waited, rose to his feet and lowered the hood, revealing his fine and young facial traits. The dim lights of the prison accentuated the shining emerald eyes, leaving his orange hair more darkened. His smile was calm and reassuring, exuding an unshown power.

“What prodigy has come to save me! She, you know, talked about you to me.”

What's with his calmness?

Kael responded confused, “She?”

“My kind has always overseen for powers like you. Oh, but their intentions were hollow like the abyss of abysses. Now they're only ruins.”

Eh... What is he even saying? And why is he not answering my question...

“W-what do you mean?”, he asked, now even more dazed than before.

The guy gasped and chuckled, “My bad, I have been too direct.”, he cleared his throat, “My name is Plato. I'm the last Philosopher alive in this city. Who sent you here have already told you about us, haven't they?”

“No, not really.”

“Are you for real?”, he replied baffled, almost annoyed. “That's a darn shame...”

Is he being informal now?

“So, will you tell me or not?”

“Uhf, follow me.”, Plato took Kael from his sleeve and led him to the chamber before the cell. “Do me a favor...”, he said, pointing at the stone in that glass dome, “... destroy it.”

“Huh? Why should I?”, Kael protested, still confused about his encounter.

“Do you wanna know who I am?”

He gritted his teeth but then reluctantly agreed, “Tch, fine.”, the Fertitas appeared straight in his hand, cutting through the glass and the stone like butter not even a second after.

Plato was taken aback by the quickness and the cleanness of that swing, but soon rejoiced at the sight of the destroyed rock. It fell on the floor and as soon as it hit it, a vortex of small pentagonal green emerald particles rose and disappeared quickly into the philosopher's body.

What was that?

Kael was left even more amazed when, after just a few seconds, a pair of candid and feathery wings came out of his back. He looked at his expression with amusement.

“Surprised, huh?”, he sat down the cold floor, resting his head on the wall. “Exhausting, it has been long since I've last used my powers after all... and I bet I owe you an explanation now.”

Kael just nodded, not being able to speak.

Plato smile grew bigger, “Good for you I feel like explaining it. Anyway, we philosophers are one of the oldest populations in Rmune. Being considered one of the groups that founded the city back during the dawn of human civilization, we have quite the reputation. Our emerald green eyes are our indistinguishable marks and an epitome of power. The wings that you see on my back are a bit harder to explain, but I'll get to the point... I am an Angel.”

“Ahh!? An angel??? The ones from the myths?”

“Ehehehe. No, not at all! Those creatures who serves gods don't exist, unfortunately. The real Angels come from a far-away land where they used to worship an unknown God a long time ago. That same Divinity, even before the first stone of this city could be placed, gifted my people a fraction of her blood. Despite this, we're not semi-gods... the blood is too diluted, but still very strong.”

Kael raised an eyebrow, “An unknown... God?”