Chapter 505: Sunfall

The interview ended in due time. A small crowd of curious adventurous students etched ever so close to the faculty office. The reporters stood to stride out the office. Lia paused to gesture at Chef Leko. A gentle push had him follow behind. The empty seat was soon filled by photographers moving close. Flashes blinded the eyes, they gave subtle instructions on how to smile, how to act, and how to pause. A subtle photoshoot to promote the next issue. The live-steam ended with many viewers peaking at 5,043 reaching the end. 

Snippets of the interview soon traveled around social media. Many, prominently 'girls' were quoting, sharing, and reposting said clips. A certain one where he'd casually lift the long hair eventually garnered 'trending' status. Most of the traffic occurred on Thwan where users often quote other users. One thing led to the other, a certain profile on Hwan (used to post and share pictures) linked to Igna's personal account. A profile relatively quiet holding about a few dozen followers and two pictures. One of Azure's pass, and the other of another landscape. More than he'd enjoy, the pictures were liked by hundreds of people to rest at around seven-hundred. 

"Igna," tinkled Éclair, "-looks like you're back in the spotlight." By that, he meant the cult-like following. There came in to play the video of him cooking with Lady Yuki. By all accounts, Igna, not to exaggerate, is handsome, very much so. A man who'd many ladies wouldn't disagree to speak and engage in conversation. Not to discriminate, boys playing for the other team might have been interested as well. As means to tease, live-footage of what circulated the Arcanum scrolled along with the display.

"Medusa's prodigy is so cute," said one linking to the interview.

"The way he speaks, I love his voice," said another using a heart-eyes sticker.

"I can't believe he's been cooking for so short a time."

"Look at this guy," said another in caps, "-thinks he's great and all, what's to see about him. All there I see is some guy doing an interview, what's this platform coming up too." Said quote was requoted by another user saying, "-what do you see, all I see is you overusing see. Obviously below average dudes will feel uneasy at that man's persona." Thus, a war flamed in the comment section of the pinned quote, an argument of young boys and girls spread onto multiple paragraphs.

"Igna Haggard," quoted another, "-we finally have a name to pin with the face."

"I've found the Hwan account," said they sharing his username. Cunningness over the Arcanum wasn't really a thing to consider until now, the phone vibrated constantly per follower. 

"Using Kinless as the username and Igna Haggard is sort of dumb on your part," mocked Éclair. "-Not to mention you're being followed by Prince Julius Arnet Haggard who boasts over 3.2 million followers on Hwan and 7 million on Thwan."

"The follower count is impressive. I did feel a little honored to have such a person follow me back."

"Well, well," said Éclair, "-you might be Arcanum famous soon." The bootleg shoot ended. Lighting and cameras were loaded into black-bags. 

Giggling at the sudden experience, "-excuse me," called a man dressed smartly. The face was generic as far as one could describe, the general smile of an office-worker. Short hair and a clean-shaven jaw. 

"Can I help you?" returned Igna smiling.

"Yes, yes," said he, "-My name's Yone, I'm part of the team that manages Weekly Digest's social media. Could you please sign this form and input your social media information, we'll need it for promotion."

"Alright," he stared at the page blankly. 

"Nothing out of place," said Éclair, "-the paper is clean. Go sign and let's go." Leaned over the table, few assistants briefly stared at the rather inviting posture. A clear of the throat by one of the supervisors resumed the flow of work. Items were taken out and soon the office returned to normal. No sign of any interview was there. A fake fireplace video played over in the corner. Thing was, the television was nailed onto the wall, so it served no purpose than to only give a non-realistic ambiance. 'Chalk it up to the Chef's whims,' thought Igna. The date showed the 27th of January, night came upon the privilege academy. 

'What's my bike doing here?' 

"Like it?" inquired Éclair, "-I had it brought over from the Academy. Figured you'd enjoy the road-trip."

"Like it?" skipping a few stairs and nearly kissing the tarmac, the interviewer left as they came, silent and uninteresting. Leko stood onto the walkway by his secretary. "Igna," he voiced without looking.

"Yes chef," clutching the helmet between the torso and arms, "-did I miss something?"

"Are you going somewhere?" evening dawned in rosy-purple. The clouds were scattered upon the casted backdrop of the setting sun. Patches of white close and far, the distance daunted one's perception. The more he'd stare up, the more apparent the curvature of the planet seemed. Images of a snow globe, a trapped cage for the pleasures of someone's desk. Beyond it lays the presence of a higher being. He who controls the fate of the 'reality' many knew and loved. A moment of reflection, a moment of psychology, time seemed to skip, Leko walked blurrily. The figure transposed onto the road, splashes of white, splashes of dark, distorted colors, at the center came to a twirl, *thud.* 'Not now,' sharp canines pushed against the inner-cheeks. 'I need to go, like now,' the more he waited, the heavier became the breathing, a pinching headache, and parched lips. 

"Igna, are you ok?" inquired Leko holding the shoulder.

"Yes, I'm fine," putting the helmet, '-can't let him see me like this.' The visor dropped brusquely.

"Are you sure, Igna?"

"Yes, I'm sure," a turn of the key, the engine roared followed by the wheels spinning until it faced the exit. The aggression created ruckus and left tire-tracks on asphalt. 'What's wrong with him?' thought Leko.

"Director, please, come this way," said the assistant.

Plain to the sight, Igna rode farther and faster. Each beat had vision impaired, the thirst forced bestial instincts. "Éclair, help me."

"Don't worry," said he, "-turn right at the next junction. Darkness soon shrouded the land; the roads were scenic at day but haunting at night. A local map showed a singular caravan parked deep in a trailer park. Spots of forests were dotted about despite the sunnier climate. What followed next came straight from a horror movie. Igna dropped onto the couple in the middle of their loving bond. The craving for blood and the groans couldn't but enhance the appetite. The smell of humans, their sweat, their feelings, the tiny tinges of blood from the passionate lovemaking. Rather than the front door, he dropped from the top; breaking into the sleeping area. Not a second went to waste, *Blood-Arts: Extria,* the ability to control any living being's blood at a subjected distance. He reversed their blood-flow at such speeds their heart exploded. A painless death, the liquid levitated to form orbs. *Blood-Arts: Bloody Mary,* the bodies crushed and turned into dark-shiny apples. Although the powers of the Death-Reaper were dormant – even as the Death Element slept, being a nightwalker and paired to the memories unlocked strength acquired in the past life. By the end, like a child wiping the ketchup filled mouth against sleeves, Igna did the same. 

"Two lives sacrificed for my hunger," sat on the bed, "-how different am I from the vampire Kul killed. He had to make means-ends, can't really blame him, I've done the same thing. Not the first time either. The more I eat, the more I drink, the stronger I feel the blood coursing within. Waking the Death Element at this stage isn't important. I don't have to walk the bloodied path I've trodden. Politics, ruling a country, making a name for myself, I've done it all. If push comes to shove, I can defend myself. What a bad joke, I still carry a sword in this day and age."

"You going to reminisce all night, or are we making a move?" interrupted Éclair.

"You right," he dusted the clothes, "-who cares anyway. I feel guilty for killing, but not that much. This feeling is completely new, I can't help but shake," exiting down the front door, the bike turned to automatically return at his side. "What about the evidence?" 

"Not to worry," he accelerated, "-I have a backup plan." The blinking map showed a fast-approaching projectile. *BOOOM,* a flash accompanied by a shockwave, the suddenness nearly had him fall. The fiery explosion reflected off the visor. The immediate forest suffered no damage, what remained of the truck flamed vividly. Keeping still, the image felt pretty, as vile as it sounded, the beauty of burning trash soothed the prior shaking. 

Date: Thursday 28th of January, the town of Sunfall rose prematurely. A single room in an inn on the outskirt of town. Looking from above, the layout of the town was a jagged half-moon facing the sea. Most of it came because of the slopes leading into a bridge that crossed into the 'beachier' side of Plaustan. By no means was Sunfall close to the sea. Maybe a three-hour drive using the roads or 2 hours per tram. A quick cold-shower had the mind refreshed. 

"Thank you for your stay," said the lady at the counter. 

"Thank you for my nightly request."

"Don't worry, sir, we have many more situations like these."

"Glad to hear it," a cheap room gave into dried-uncleaned dirt paths. One thing was certain, the vibrance of colors here was much more than the pupils were accustomed to. Coming to town was all but an escape. Deep down, even after slaying, the couple beat a nervousness of expectation. The interview dropped to overflow the cup. Putting the helmet, modest families walk to and fro in shorts and slippers. The flowery-style open buttoned shirt seemed to be a favorite. Time showed 09:30. '-A lonesome guy on a trip to god knows where. My bank account should have taken a hit by hiring Xenon. It still displays 10 million Exa.'

"The allowance is monthly. Lady Courtney is adamant about having your account stuck at ten-million. Clawing away at that fortune isn't going to do much for the ever-growing Phantom. We own about 4 Billion in assets, which are known to the public. Underneath the amount goes into double digits." 

"I said I didn't want to take part in the politics," voiced he toggling the bike.

"Surely," laughed Éclair, "-it's not hard to see the interest. Master Staxius, you may fool the world – but you don't fool me. I've known it for the longest time, else, why would I, a spirit ordered by the God of Death, to serve a mere child."

"Fine," taking a right, they drove into town. The buildings were pretty standard; clean and out of budget for some but most common and affordable. The clothes were simple, not that good o' quality. A massive shopping complex arrived in stride. The name, Consu, was written onto a roundabout. Either one turns towards the complex or away and towards the bridge. Igna took the latter, why go into the complex, why, without none to bring gifts for, it would be pointless and borderline sad. Blocks of buildings emptied to a slope over which sprawled a vast land of green merging into the blue. The bridge came after multiple curves. 

"On the topic of Phantom," voiced Éclair, "-Lady Elvira sure made good on her promise. She's enjoying the conform of being a noble-nightwalker. Serene came to welcome her into the Blood-kings faction a few years ago. Since then, business only grew profitable. We supply weapons, direct wars to favor our trade – smuggle drugs into other continents. Alphia hosts more of our customers."

"There's no way to have you shut up, is there?" said he distantly.

"No, even if it doesn't directly affect you, it affects the world around. Might I add," the tone felt inviting, "-I have updates on the whole Cimier business, the unfinished task of Shadow."