Chapter 476: 24th December

Name:The Wielder Of Death Magic Author:
'I'm home,' the climb up the elevator over the many times became a mundane task. Same as brushing one's teeth, taking a bath, or walking – there remained no space for excitement. When building the elevator shaft, architects must have thought the clearness of the exterior would make the ride pleasant. It did do justice, for the first few times. Afterward, the view became naught but mundane. Same to an awesome music track, after a few repeats, it turned to naught.

'The apartment feels lonesome,' once dim, a step inside and the lights toggled by Éclair. Windows opened, the door shut, everything automated. 'Mother hasn't been home for two months,' thought he laying the helmet on an adjacent coat-hanger. 'I wonder what she's up to?' a shower, browsing the Arcanum over a warm cup of coffee before the giant television screen, news broadcasted the Winter Festival. Advertisements littered the channel. 

"We've got a special interview with Emi Muko of Xius," the camera panned to a lovely lady wearing a short skirt and revealing top. The outfit reminisced those of cheerleaders – a branding had '-Lona,' sowed on the sleeves. 

'Xius?' putting the phone face-down, the lady's face seemed familiar. Her group consisted of another lady and a man. The latter didn't seem bothered by the interview. A mustache and goatee, tattoos over the arms and neck – he screamed of being a badass guitarist. The former, a shyer version of the man with plain attire. '-I've heard of them before.'

"Lady Muko, we're all proud to host you here on our modest channel."

"It's no problem," said she beaming with a contagious smile, her body movement as well as the expression was refined and cute at the same time. She'd chuckle like a kid then reply like a diplomat.

"Are the rumors about you performing the last day of the Festival true?"

"Yes."

"Will it not be a small stage for the world-renowned Xius?" 

'What's wrong with that reporter?' thought Igna, '-this feels like an interrogation as opposed to an interview. Got to hand it to the idol, she's handling the passive-aggressiveness perfectly.'

"No stage is big nor small. Sugar here agrees," she turned to the handsome man.

"It's true," he nodded, "-as long as there's a guitar, a microphone, a bass, and drums, we'll jam till we can't speak anymore," exclaimed he. 

"O-oh, ok," the reporter quickly shuffled through her papers.

'Getting flustered?' grinned Igna.

"Back to you, lady Muko – we've heard rumors about you dating a noble, is that true?"

"Johana," smiled the idol, "-Xius came here for an interview on the coming Winter Festival, right?" the prior smile suddenly changed to one murderous and vindictive, "-personal life doesn't matter."

"I apologize," the words choked by the darkened expression, '-cut to commercial,' her wandering gaze floated off the camera and to the back. The channel soon flashed with prior performances of Xius. 

'Awesome. If they're performing the last day, it might be worthwhile.' *vrr, vrr,* '-huh?' he turned over the phone, '-notifications from Jen and Leonard.' A press had their social media come onto the feed, they posted a typical couple's picture. 'Look at them,' he shook his head with a slight grin, '-first time seeing them post a picture like this.' The lights soon turned off and the night continued the rule over the landscape. 

Meanwhile, at the Goldberg's mansion, Leonard stood holding a look of dejection. Footsteps approached, "-you ok?" asked Lampard.

"No…" he clutched his hair in dismissal, "-it can't be possible," a cracked phone laid on the floor, the revealing picture of him and Jen kissing flickered on and off. 

"Dude, pull yourself together," said Lampard shaking his shoulder, "-come on, wake the hell up!"

"YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND," the voice echoed down the hall until a closed-door with escaping feeble lights. Whimpers could be heard faintly, though, the shouting muted the cries of woe. "I TOLD HER TO NOT POST ON MY ACCOUNT, SHE'S DAMNED STUPID," a slam on the decorative cupboard wiggled the glass-cups into falling. 

"Why is it so important?" the cups crashed onto the floor.

"Lampard, sorry, I can't," he twirled aimlessly, "-I can't, my mind doesn't think anymore," the arms exploded with ups and downs.

"DUDE, WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?" 

"LAMPARD, SHUT THE FUCK UP!" the echoed dulled the hallway.

"Fine," he turned, "-suit yourself," *SLAM*

"Lampard?" said Rena cuddling Jen who cried onto her lap, "-why is he getting so angry about that photo?"

"I can't believe the nerve on that guy," he bolted for the window, "-I'm trying to help and he just pushes me away. What the hell? Like, COME ON."

"I don't get it either," whimpered Jen, "-after we've done everything together," she sniffled, "-a measly picture had him nearly slapping me… I don't get it."

"Jen, did he hurt you?" asked Rena strongly, "-if so…"

"Don't."

"Lampard, let go of my shoulders."

"Leonard might come across smug sometimes," shadows hid his gaze, "-he'll never hit a woman. That bastard is a respectable man, the picture must have more riding than we expect. If only we knew what it was…" he wandered again to the window. 'Isn't that?'

"Something the matter?" breathed Rena deeply.

"Come over here, he's on the phone," to which she jumped to eavesdrop below, the voice was faint but audible. 

"Hello," he paced about with frustration.

"Hello, Leonard, are you well?"

"Yes, mother, it's been a long time since we've spoken."

"Son, can you explain the picture of you kissing another girl?" her pitch came like sharpened daggers, "-Is this something I or your father agreed upon? The Adventuring Academy was supposed to make you strong, not weak by the fake promise of love. Do you know what's best if this relation continues? As part of the main-family branch, you must marry into prestige and wealth. Son, I'm willing to look away if the relationship is broken, sullying our family name is a burden one mustn't bear, else the whole nobility stands to be badmouthed." 

"Mother, please," he pleaded, "-I was going to tell you, time was an issue. Please, listen to me, I do really love her!" the call ended without another word said. Upright to slumped on all fours, Leonard's composure broke with tears rolling onto the stone-path.

"Did you hear?" said Rena, "-things mustn't be good. I hope he can resolve this soon." 

The next day came, the entire sound system blasted tunes from the morning radio. Éclair had the habit of waking the whole house instead of a single person. Rubbing the eyes listlessly, the curtains parted automatically. A view onto the mansion filled suburb covered by walls of greenery. Over yonder after Juei, the sun sneakily rose from the gentle-hills of Coria. A well-known monster-slaying spots ranging from Tier-10 to Tier-7. A chasm at the summit hidden by dense forest led into an underground dungeon. None knows how or when it appeared, what was known is monsters there were weak – that is, until floor 5. After that, any deeper and the difficulty increased shockingly with semi-boss class monsters acting as guardians. 'The leveling ground of novices,' thought he turning away, '-why am I remembering it all of a sudden?' 

Down the stairs towards the rest area holding a yawn, a silhouette of a lady passed out on the couch, "-lady mother," he rushed to see her peaceful sleep. Bloodstains were few and many, the heels were separated, one on the table, the other on the television. 'I better not wake her.' 

'There,' covered by a blanket, she wrapped herself into a more comfortable posture. 'Better make breakfast, I'll get lunch ready while I'm at it.' The door closed for the sake of her sleep. 

"Don't forget to wear the lenses."

"I haven't forgotten," sighed he, "-give me a break," the phone brought the contacts from seemingly out of nowhere. "Done," the room rescanned to highlight multiple items. Recipe for the lunch listed in bullet-points. 'The Winter Festival is upon us,' thought he as news played over the earring. Éclair made it certain to never skip out on the happenings of the world. He'd condense and regurgitate the information. Out of playfulness, he'd read the headlines and updates as if a real morning talk-show. The obnoxious laughing track after an unfunny joke made it unbearable. 'Another person murdered by a monster,' thought he on the way to work, '-the death count's increased. That's why Coria remain stuck to my mind earlier, Éclair's been throwing the same thing on repeat every day. The cases keep on increasing, they say the guild's going to do something… there's yet to be a response.'

During the holiday's the Adventuring Academy had few tales of instructors giving special tasks to students for extra credits and money. The experience garnered would better help in future rank promotions. On the 24th of December, a message went round to the year one students. 

"Attention, students of the Adventuring Academy – the director has assigned an optional task of aiding the expedition into Coria's Dungeon. Students who show up and participate will be eligible for an early rank-promotion. You have three days until the teams have been chosen. Those who make it early will go with the advance squads. On that, good luck – the task has been given to other fields, meaning, anyone can participate."

'They spring this on us now?" wondered Igna arriving at the town-square, '-who will be dumb enough to take the invitation. An early rank-promotion, what a joke.' 

"Hey, Igna, ready for the festival?" hailed the same guard of a few months ago.

"Hey, officer," he nodded, "-security sure is tight this time of year."

"Yeah," he gave a long gasp, "-heard you'll be working the whole of the event. Must be hard."

"Not really," he scratched his head, "-you have it way worse than me."

"I guess," they laughed, "-I'll drop by when my shift is over, take care."

"You too, officer." Time showed 09:00, preparations were still underway, the stage in particular, drums played, musicians tested the equipment and technical staff worked tirelessly to have it perfected. Around the square to avoid the reading stalls, "-hey, Igna, good morning," waved Emma dressed in her cooks' outfit with stripes of blue.

"Chef Emma," he nodded, "-it all starts in one-hour."

"Yeah," whispered Emmy over his shoulder, "-aren't you excited?" 

"Chef EMMY!" nearly dropping the bike, "-please, I've asked of you to not scare me like that."

"You three going to keep messing around or?" came the harsher Chef Igona, "-Igna, put the bike away and start chopping. I don't care if you got the afternoon shift, we need to prep the ingredients!"

"Yes, Chef."

The morning couldn't be said to do Leonard favors. The phone call of last night paired with the message of the morning had him in limbo. Jen tried her hardest to have an answer. He'd but avoid her under the pretense of work. Lampard and Rena stood idly for they had snuck a listen of last night's conversation. 

"This goes beyond what I'd imagine," sighed Rena sprawled over the grassy yard.

"I know, being a noble is hard. Shouldn't we tell Jen?"

"No. It's something he has to do, alone. By the way, what do you make of this message?" 

*SLAM* "LEONARD, I'VE HAD ENOUGH," screamed Jen barging into the bath.

"Take it easy," said he under the shower.

"What did I do wrong?" 

"What did you do wrong?" he walked out the showers, "-DO YOU HAVE THE NERVE TO ASK ME THAT?" the door slammed shut.

"YES, I can't deal with it, tell me right now."

"Fine. My parents found out we were dating because of the picture you uploaded. There's a reason I told you to keep it private, but you never listen, do you…"

"Is this my fault now, why should I keep my relation private, don't I have the right to do anything?"

"There you go again," he kicked the door menacingly, "-your relation, not ours, not us, you make it about you, and YOU alone. Frankly, I've had enough. Even if I tell you what happened, there's no way you'll understand."

"OH, I'M THE ONE WHO'S AT FAULT? What of you, why do you keep it secret, why can't I be open about who I loved. I'm done with your insecurities, goodbye," she darted down the hallway.

"IT'S ALL YOUR FAULT!" screamed he.

'All my fault, screw you,' the front-gates opened without a sound.