Ep 69. Hide Well, Hide True. (3)

Ep 69. Hide Well, Hide True. (3)

Ep 69. Hide Well, Hide True. (3)

Divinity was a loose term; being broken shards of one whole, one could even say it was ridiculous for each shard to contain equal amounts of the original’s essence.

And yet, Clyus couldn’t shake off the feeling that one was overly – extremely – unbalanced.

Another series of high-pitched shrieks rang out from the halls behind them; the building occasionally rumbled in unison. After each brief silence that followed, the shrieks would repeat all over again.

The elf meekly glanced over to his grinning friend. The deity of death was no longer bothering to check each room, instead leaving it to Gio to kill everyone in his stead.

“Felicir, I didn’t realize you were capable of controlling others.”

“...”

Instead of answering right away, Felicir glanced over to the far wall. He slowly came to a stop, his eyes fixed on an illustration of the Twelve.

The Reaper was always depicted as a faceless, hooded figure, holding a scythe in hand. Most other deities weren’t too accurate either; in fact, most of it was according to how mankind imagined them to be, of what little they knew of them.

“Unfair, isn’t it? That a divinity of death would grant one authority over life as well. One would think it better suits Aldrid.”

From the moment they’re born, all lives begin to die. No predecessor of his divinity had fully grasped at this truth.

Death was not a singular event, nor was it a state of being. In the Reaper’s eyes, what people referred to as life was merely a lengthy process of dying.

“Birth is a death sentence. We may wish to be immortal, but the truth is, no one is – not even us, Clyus.”

“...A rather despondent thought, that.”

“And our unfortunate reality.”

The Reaper shrugged towards his elven friend. Felicir considered the Twelve as divine more than anyone else – but paradoxically, he also knew better than anyone else that they would never truly transcend their mortality.

“We’ve spent the last thousand years shaping this star; it’s quite a decent world now. But in those years, have you spent any of them wondering how we’d die?”

“I do believe Aymeia came quite close to killing herself then and there. That could very well be our first precursor.”

Felicir snorted in amusement. Suicide was, in fact, quite a likely outcome for some of them – despite all the troubles he’d gone through to prevent such outcomes.

“I’ve worked tirelessly to hold ourselves together, Clyus. You may not believe it, but I truly did work hard to mediate our troubles and rid us of our worries. But how long will this continue?”

“...Forever, as far as I’m concerned.”

“Forever is a long time, my friend.”

Despite their respective divinities, not a single one of them could foresee their end. There was simply no telling how long the Twelve would continue to exist in their current manner – and Felicir was no exception.

If not today, then tomorrow. If not tomorrow, then sometime into the future.

If not his own hands, then someone else. If not someone else, then something else entirely.

Such a day would come. As long as he lived, then one day, death would inevitably claim its incarnation.

Several agents quickly cast fire-based spells that were launched into the enforcer’s wind prison. The fires were swallowed into the cyclone without resistance, turning the spell into a raging firestorm.

“Containment!”

Several other agents stepped forth, erecting barriers of water that kept the firestorm’s destruction contained in its location.

Ray watched the scene unfold with nary a blink. He didn’t even move an inch until he felt someone tap on his shoulders.

“Isn’t that a little too much?”

The angered enforcer turned around, scowling at the question.

“Do you not understand the gravity of the situation? We’re-“

Resting on his shoulder was the rear end of a black cane. Holding its handle was the white-haired elf he’d seen accompanying the winged figure from earlier – an individual who should’ve been trapped in the raging firestorm.

Ray widened his eyes, astonished by the assailant’s appearance behind him. What followed thereafter, only spanned out through a split second.

The enforcer couldn’t afford the luxury to be surprised. He’d immediately slapped the cane off his shoulder, reaching towards Clyus’ throat with his bare hands. He’d fully intended to grip it whole and let another spellcast burst the assailant’s head.

But instead of the deity’s throat, the enforcer’s momentum instead carried his hand into an open crack in the air between the two.

His arm sunk into a sizzling mass of liquid fire; his eyes could see a glimpse of flowing lava on the other side of the crack that had opened. When Ray pulled back his arm in scorching pain, nothing remained of his limb a few thin strands of molten bone.

Clyus’ expression crumpled at the hideous sight.

“Now that, looks rather painful.”

The enforcer gritted his teeth. He darted his gaze behind him to scream his next set of orders to his team.

However, not a single one remained standing. Every agent laid motionless on the ground, and standing amongst them was the winged figure from before, staring at the two elves with a benign smile.

“Well, aren’t you just perfect? I was just starting to wish there’d be someone else we could use.”

Felicir raised his hand towards the enforcer who was painfully holding onto his molten limb. Evil intents muddled his face, and Ray shut his eyes in anticipation of his coming death.

Instead, an alien sensation washed over his body. The enforcer felt his expression loosen. Despite the burning pain of his molten arm, his body no longer felt the need to hold onto the pain.

Ray blankly stared at the Reaper’s figure. When Felicir’s lips parted, he immediately realized what was going on.

“Go. Kill anyone you can find.”

‘Mental interference?! When did-‘

The ‘how’ didn’t matter – not when Ray’s limp body was already turning towards the gate, back towards the city. Just as he was told.

Felicir watched the enforcer take his leave. The deity let a soft smile curve his lips as they sang a comforting tune.

“Hide well, hide true...”

Hopefully, the winds would carry his voice towards the city – towards their target.

“...Death is coming for you.”