As the Crimsonmane girl fled, her friends' cries for her to stop went unheard. The blast had erupted from the southeast corner of Howlett's shop, in the bustling town square. She did not slow her pace as she took a sharp right at the fork in the road. Three civil guard carriages, their sirens blaring, whizzed past her. They were too busy asking the girl to turn around and keep going until they vanished when took another turn at another intersection. They seemed to think of Alicia as another curious bum, and stupid enough to witness the furore instead of taking shelter somewhere. One potential victim that did not worth their time.
At the epicentre of the destruction, another food stall suffered more or less the same fate as Howlett's, only "luckier", because the building was still ablaze. The town square area was always crowded as a location for night recreation, so little wonder when the outburst occurred, many residents were scattered in jumble like lost sheep.
"Another magic abuse case, Bennett? About bloody time we take care of this kind of mess." asked a middle-aged man in his fifties approaching a group of elegant men. The local Trinketshore wizards. All of them wore a long suit and a brown fedora hat. But for that particular middle-aged lad, his fashion was inked dominantly in black.
The wizards were already aiming at the burning tavern with a short stick, like a twig. Apart from them, civil guard units also came for assistance, with humble firearms pointing the exit and their monochrome carriages served as blockades and aegis. They lacked a reeve that could compare to their counterpart head mage. That middle-aged man was their town's head wizard and their reeve.
"Sir Fergus! Yes, the perpetrator is Caleb Dune, aged 20, known to be a heavy drug addict. The perpetrator entered the restaurant and harassed the shop owner to give him food as his right as a 'wizard'. The restaurant was flooded with people coming out before suddenly exploding," replied one of the well-dressed people, who seemed to be Bennett in response to the middle-aged uncle's direct question.
"Any victims?"
"Sir, the culprit took an elderly woman captive in a burning tavern!"
"What!? An auld lass?"
"Exactly, sir! But there's something more urgent!"
"What's more urgent than a helpless auld hostage stuck in a burning flat?" Fargus raised his voice an octave.
"The explosion of the building earlier was purple. Eyewitnesses also said the perpetrator did not cast a spell but managed to emit raw energy with deep, purple glow."
"Naw. Don't tell me..."
"The perpetrator is not registered as an official mage. I'm afraid he is the victim of the consumption of Protos particle."
Fergus could only furrow his brow. The fact that Protos particle distribution had already begun to plague Trinketshore made him nervous, but also furious at the same time. Before long, a pair of silhouettes appeared. The closer they were to the entrance that was engulfed in flames, the clearer their stature became.
"Soldier! Standby!" Fergus ordered. The civil guards adjusted their postures to be more alert and stiff, the firearms held ready to blast whatever came out of that blazing pyre. The mages in suits had also taken aim at their wands, and their tips started to emit white dots of light.
The two figures came into view. The one person draped in absurd black skin, and cracks of purplish light garnished it like pus—his nerves, contaminated by black magic. His eyes were bulging with a purple glow. A menacing big grin was displayed at those who welcomed his presence.
The other sorry one was an old woman in her late seventies. Her neck was choking from being held by Caleb's hands like he was about to pluck the vocal cords out of her throat. Her mouth was a chasm of horror, as a foreign gas was flowing through inside. That puff was coming from the addict's other hand, which seemed to filter the air to prevent that poor, someone else's grandmother from suffocating in the flames. Her hand could only hold Caleb's wrist that held her throat, hoping the addict would not immediately break her windpipes. Resistance was futile.
"You there, nasty minger!" Fergus shouted loud enough without a loudspeaker. "We beg ye to release that woman! Isn't that rude to treat old folks like that?"
Caleb just growled, his uncontrollable drool seeping from between his teeth. "All I want... is a decent scran!" His voice was gruff. "And aw aff ye just kicked me out for thinking I was a cheap jakey instead of yer Trinketshore mage. Yer patron! Is this how ye treat a champion of Trinketshore, ye fucking bastards?"
"That minger's talking keech," murmured Fergus to his colleagues. "Are we the only ones available here? Where's Lord Donar?"
"Our Lord is on his duty in Camelot parliament in the capital, as usual," explained his other colleague.
"Huh, Divine Mercy! Why do I have to be the one negotiating with this nasty bastard? Yon hoachin lad, always bothers himself going back and forth from Trinketshore to Eidyn!"
Fergus braved to step over the civil guard carriages, then assumed a frontline position. Caleb did not seem to feel threatened, even though a wizard was a metre before him.
"Okay, then, you listen to me, Mister Caleb! Caleb is your name, correct? I don't know where you got the rules from, but it doesn't matter if you're a fake wizard or the Queen of Great Camelot. If you want to eat at a restaurant, you ought to pay!"
"Look at me! You think I'm a fake wizard? I'm the only mage in Trinketshore—"
"Mister Caleb you delusional bastard, as you can see, you're not the only wizard here," Fergus pointed both his hands back to his glaring colleague wizards. "And you are not a real mage. You consumed a lethal substance that makes what divine-forsaken you are now and can kill you if you overuse it! You have a choice to control yourself, release that old lady, and surrender. Otherwise, our magic and bullets will bombard you with no hesitation! The Magisterium of Arcane Plane punishes severely those who abuse the power of magic!"
Meanwhile, Alicia arrived at the scene, taking cover behind an alleyway across from the city square park. From her vantage point, it seemed that the situation was under control, with most of the residents having already dispersed, but she could not be sure for how long. All that remained were a group of officers, the perpetrator, and a few onlookers who had nothing better to do than gawk at the spectacle. She could clearly hear the heated exchange between the reeve and the addict. The unease tense infected the lass as well, as if the negative energy permeated the air she breathed. But her curiosity kept her rooted to the spot.
Questions raced through her mind: Would they be able to capture the culprit? How would they deal with someone using black magic? Were there other people in the shop at the time of the explosion? Was the black mage's power greater than that of the civil guard and the wizards combined? These, and many other thoughts swirled in her overthinking mind that grazed her embossed nerve temples.
"Alicia!" someone yelled her name from behind. Alicia turned towards the sound only to see Nadine and Gilmore, out of breath.
"Alicia! Have you gone mad? Jist run straight tae the slaughterhouse?" Gilmore huffed at the thoughtless Alicia.
"I… I'm sorry. I can't. I cannae just ignore them, especially when so many people are screaming for help!"
"Why can't you just leave it to the officers? Look, the area is more or less empty, the folks may have been evacuated," said Nadine.
Alicia looked back at the arrest process. They were still arguing about who would succumb to whom, it seemed. "We don't know if that's entirely true. The mage seems to keep someone hostage, who knows if there's more inside that building? I need more time to look at it."
"Then, for the sake of Silent Divine, stay put!" Nadine's response had a tinge of anger in it. "Let them handle this, don't stick your oar in!"
"I wish I don't," Alicia briefly hoped. She was still unsettled about whether it was the time to take advantage of her new power or not.
On the other side, Fergus and Caleb Dune were still in a fairly tough negotiation process.
"I beg ye, Mister Caleb, release that old lady. She is powerless. Let her loose, and we will continue our conversation about your needs on peaceful terms. My men here won't lay you any harm. You have my promise! The more you buy time and cause damage—"
"Shut up!" shouted Caleb, cutting Fergus off. "Funny man, you are! You expect me to listen to you and release this old fart so I can take all the rapid shots you have, don't you? No, no, no. No, you listen to me, old fuck! I'm pure done in doing this and that for nothing, now ye aw listen to me! I'm stronger than you, you, and you, all of you! I'm the great magus of Trinketshore, I own this town! You will be my minions. Refuse, you will share the same fate as this pathetic, old boot!"
Caleb started down the steps with the crone. She could only groan in pain from his hand's strangulation. The air rushing into her mouth was her only guarantee of survival.
"Caleb, what are you doing? Listen! The more you complicate things, the tougher your punishment will be!"
"I'll give you an example of what would happen if you disobeyed me," Caleb's hand that was holding the lump of gas started to emit suspicious sparks of magical energy.
"Caleb Dune! In the name of Magisterium of Arcane Plane, this is your last warning! Release the woman, and turn yourself in!"
"Oh, I will release her, of-fi-cer... she's suffered long enough in this rotten hole. Might as well I send her to Hades!"
The wisp of gas, once a breath of life, transformed into a ravenous purple inferno and spread into the hapless crone's mouth. Her screams were a symphony of Tartarus, bellowed like a death wailing, tearing through the air until they were silenced by the fiery destruction of her vocal cords. The officers almost lost their grip on their wands as they recoiled in horror. That included Fergus. The most dared reeve in the front line, now retreated until his buttocks hit the carriage and he did not stop. Not to mention that the trio in the alley nearly lost their breath and heartbeat as they bore witness to the old lady's final moments. Alicia and Nadine covered their mouths with their hands, eyes wide. A life that could have been spent in peaceful serenity, now forever marred by the grotesque violence of the moment.
The inferno's insatiable hunger for slaughter had not been yet sated. Caleb still minded his twisted skin so he withdrew his hand and left the old woman, alone, to her fiery demise. The purple flames consumed her writhed being from the inside out, melting her flesh, reducing her to nothing but a smouldering, stinking heap.
The stench of burning and decay spread throughout the streets like pestilence.
A nauseating reminder of Protos particle, the origins of black magic.
Never had Trinketshore experienced this before, and judging by the expressions on the wizards present, fear and revulsion mixed together on their twisted countenances, they lacked such experiences to face the full brunt of this dark power head-on.
Seeing the heartbreaking corpse made Fergus almost vomit. As he turned his gaze back to Caleb Dune, laughing hysterically, his anger maddened. He launched his wand onwards.
"Omen Lucem!"
A blinding dot of light flashed at the end of the stick, enlarged, and shot toward Caleb Dune, sending him flying backward. His back hit a few stairs.
"Shoot!" A command that stirred the nerves of the wizards and the civil guards together to slay the addict. Barrages of white rays of light and metallic bullets hurled through his entire being. Caleb just floundered every time the shot exposed him, but one thing was sure; he was still fully conscious. And he would rage. Everyone would pay for leaving his ultimatum unheeded.
Caleb braced himself and rose. All those piercing magic and hot leads failed to create holes. White light waves? A lead bullet covered in steel? They thought the combination of the two could wipe out the black "mage" without a trace. Their mistake was grave. Caleb stretched his arms out before him. A shock wave with a purple aura was unleashed from both of his hands, pulverising all the troops in one fell swoop! The same blast as the tavern explosion earlier. The carriages were tossed and overturned, some even falling on them. Some of the men survived, others disintegrated.
That was it. Just like that. The survivors had fallen stupor. Fergus in half-conscious vision caught Caleb in dim form walking, but he could still clearly hear the addict's hysterical laughter and cursing.
"Seriously? Are these the Trinketshore wizards?" Caleb burst out laughing. "I've changed my mind. I dinnae need yer acknowledgment. Ye pals are absolute rank to admit me as yer champion. I'll melt you one by one like that old fart over there, and I'll be the one and only Trinketshore wizard." Caleb pointed his hand at Fergus with a grin. "Starting with you, big mouth." []
As the Crimsonmane girl fled, her friends' cries for her to stop went unheard. The blast had erupted from the southeast corner of Howlett's shop, in the bustling town square. She did not slow her pace as she took a sharp right at the fork in the road. Three civil guard carriages, their sirens blaring, whizzed past her. They were too busy asking the girl to turn around and keep going until they vanished when took another turn at another intersection. They seemed to think of Alicia as another curious bum, and stupid enough to witness the furore instead of taking shelter somewhere. One potential victim that did not worth their time.
At the epicentre of the destruction, another food stall suffered more or less the same fate as Howlett's, only "luckier", because the building was still ablaze. The town square area was always crowded as a location for night recreation, so little wonder when the outburst occurred, many residents were scattered in jumble like lost sheep.
"Another magic abuse case, Bennett? About bloody time we take care of this kind of mess." asked a middle-aged man in his fifties approaching a group of elegant men. The local Trinketshore wizards. All of them wore a long suit and a brown fedora hat. But for that particular middle-aged lad, his fashion was inked dominantly in black.
The wizards were already aiming at the burning tavern with a short stick, like a twig. Apart from them, civil guard units also came for assistance, with humble firearms pointing the exit and their monochrome carriages served as blockades and aegis. They lacked a reeve that could compare to their counterpart head mage. That middle-aged man was their town's head wizard and their reeve.
"Sir Fergus! Yes, the perpetrator is Caleb Dune, aged 20, known to be a heavy drug addict. The perpetrator entered the restaurant and harassed the shop owner to give him food as his right as a 'wizard'. The restaurant was flooded with people coming out before suddenly exploding," replied one of the well-dressed people, who seemed to be Bennett in response to the middle-aged uncle's direct question.
"Any victims?"
"Sir, the culprit took an elderly woman captive in a burning tavern!"
"What!? An auld lass?"
"Exactly, sir! But there's something more urgent!"
"What's more urgent than a helpless auld hostage stuck in a burning flat?" Fargus raised his voice an octave.
"The explosion of the building earlier was purple. Eyewitnesses also said the perpetrator did not cast a spell but managed to emit raw energy with deep, purple glow."
"Naw. Don't tell me..."
"The perpetrator is not registered as an official mage. I'm afraid he is the victim of the consumption of Protos particle."
Fergus could only furrow his brow. The fact that Protos particle distribution had already begun to plague Trinketshore made him nervous, but also furious at the same time. Before long, a pair of silhouettes appeared. The closer they were to the entrance that was engulfed in flames, the clearer their stature became.
"Soldier! Standby!" Fergus ordered. The civil guards adjusted their postures to be more alert and stiff, the firearms held ready to blast whatever came out of that blazing pyre. The mages in suits had also taken aim at their wands, and their tips started to emit white dots of light.
The two figures came into view. The one person draped in absurd black skin, and cracks of purplish light garnished it like pus—his nerves, contaminated by black magic. His eyes were bulging with a purple glow. A menacing big grin was displayed at those who welcomed his presence.
The other sorry one was an old woman in her late seventies. Her neck was choking from being held by Caleb's hands like he was about to pluck the vocal cords out of her throat. Her mouth was a chasm of horror, as a foreign gas was flowing through inside. That puff was coming from the addict's other hand, which seemed to filter the air to prevent that poor, someone else's grandmother from suffocating in the flames. Her hand could only hold Caleb's wrist that held her throat, hoping the addict would not immediately break her windpipes. Resistance was futile.
"You there, nasty minger!" Fergus shouted loud enough without a loudspeaker. "We beg ye to release that woman! Isn't that rude to treat old folks like that?"
Caleb just growled, his uncontrollable drool seeping from between his teeth. "All I want... is a decent scran!" His voice was gruff. "And aw aff ye just kicked me out for thinking I was a cheap jakey instead of yer Trinketshore mage. Yer patron! Is this how ye treat a champion of Trinketshore, ye fucking bastards?"
"That minger's talking keech," murmured Fergus to his colleagues. "Are we the only ones available here? Where's Lord Donar?"
"Our Lord is on his duty in Camelot parliament in the capital, as usual," explained his other colleague.
"Huh, Divine Mercy! Why do I have to be the one negotiating with this nasty bastard? Yon hoachin lad, always bothers himself going back and forth from Trinketshore to Eidyn!"
Fergus braved to step over the civil guard carriages, then assumed a frontline position. Caleb did not seem to feel threatened, even though a wizard was a metre before him.
"Okay, then, you listen to me, Mister Caleb! Caleb is your name, correct? I don't know where you got the rules from, but it doesn't matter if you're a fake wizard or the Queen of Great Camelot. If you want to eat at a restaurant, you ought to pay!"
"Look at me! You think I'm a fake wizard? I'm the only mage in Trinketshore—"
"Mister Caleb you delusional bastard, as you can see, you're not the only wizard here," Fergus pointed both his hands back to his glaring colleague wizards. "And you are not a real mage. You consumed a lethal substance that makes what divine-forsaken you are now and can kill you if you overuse it! You have a choice to control yourself, release that old lady, and surrender. Otherwise, our magic and bullets will bombard you with no hesitation! The Magisterium of Arcane Plane punishes severely those who abuse the power of magic!"
Meanwhile, Alicia arrived at the scene, taking cover behind an alleyway across from the city square park. From her vantage point, it seemed that the situation was under control, with most of the residents having already dispersed, but she could not be sure for how long. All that remained were a group of officers, the perpetrator, and a few onlookers who had nothing better to do than gawk at the spectacle. She could clearly hear the heated exchange between the reeve and the addict. The unease tense infected the lass as well, as if the negative energy permeated the air she breathed. But her curiosity kept her rooted to the spot.
Questions raced through her mind: Would they be able to capture the culprit? How would they deal with someone using black magic? Were there other people in the shop at the time of the explosion? Was the black mage's power greater than that of the civil guard and the wizards combined? These, and many other thoughts swirled in her overthinking mind that grazed her embossed nerve temples.
"Alicia!" someone yelled her name from behind. Alicia turned towards the sound only to see Nadine and Gilmore, out of breath.
"Alicia! Have you gone mad? Jist run straight tae the slaughterhouse?" Gilmore huffed at the thoughtless Alicia.
"I… I'm sorry. I can't. I cannae just ignore them, especially when so many people are screaming for help!"
"Why can't you just leave it to the officers? Look, the area is more or less empty, the folks may have been evacuated," said Nadine.
Alicia looked back at the arrest process. They were still arguing about who would succumb to whom, it seemed. "We don't know if that's entirely true. The mage seems to keep someone hostage, who knows if there's more inside that building? I need more time to look at it."
"Then, for the sake of Silent Divine, stay put!" Nadine's response had a tinge of anger in it. "Let them handle this, don't stick your oar in!"
"I wish I don't," Alicia briefly hoped. She was still unsettled about whether it was the time to take advantage of her new power or not.
On the other side, Fergus and Caleb Dune were still in a fairly tough negotiation process.
"I beg ye, Mister Caleb, release that old lady. She is powerless. Let her loose, and we will continue our conversation about your needs on peaceful terms. My men here won't lay you any harm. You have my promise! The more you buy time and cause damage—"
"Shut up!" shouted Caleb, cutting Fergus off. "Funny man, you are! You expect me to listen to you and release this old fart so I can take all the rapid shots you have, don't you? No, no, no. No, you listen to me, old fuck! I'm pure done in doing this and that for nothing, now ye aw listen to me! I'm stronger than you, you, and you, all of you! I'm the great magus of Trinketshore, I own this town! You will be my minions. Refuse, you will share the same fate as this pathetic, old boot!"
Caleb started down the steps with the crone. She could only groan in pain from his hand's strangulation. The air rushing into her mouth was her only guarantee of survival.
"Caleb, what are you doing? Listen! The more you complicate things, the tougher your punishment will be!"
"I'll give you an example of what would happen if you disobeyed me," Caleb's hand that was holding the lump of gas started to emit suspicious sparks of magical energy.
"Caleb Dune! In the name of Magisterium of Arcane Plane, this is your last warning! Release the woman, and turn yourself in!"
"Oh, I will release her, of-fi-cer... she's suffered long enough in this rotten hole. Might as well I send her to Hades!"
The wisp of gas, once a breath of life, transformed into a ravenous purple inferno and spread into the hapless crone's mouth. Her screams were a symphony of Tartarus, bellowed like a death wailing, tearing through the air until they were silenced by the fiery destruction of her vocal cords. The officers almost lost their grip on their wands as they recoiled in horror. That included Fergus. The most dared reeve in the front line, now retreated until his buttocks hit the carriage and he did not stop. Not to mention that the trio in the alley nearly lost their breath and heartbeat as they bore witness to the old lady's final moments. Alicia and Nadine covered their mouths with their hands, eyes wide. A life that could have been spent in peaceful serenity, now forever marred by the grotesque violence of the moment.
The inferno's insatiable hunger for slaughter had not been yet sated. Caleb still minded his twisted skin so he withdrew his hand and left the old woman, alone, to her fiery demise. The purple flames consumed her writhed being from the inside out, melting her flesh, reducing her to nothing but a smouldering, stinking heap.
The stench of burning and decay spread throughout the streets like pestilence.
A nauseating reminder of Protos particle, the origins of black magic.
Never had Trinketshore experienced this before, and judging by the expressions on the wizards present, fear and revulsion mixed together on their twisted countenances, they lacked such experiences to face the full brunt of this dark power head-on.
Seeing the heartbreaking corpse made Fergus almost vomit. As he turned his gaze back to Caleb Dune, laughing hysterically, his anger maddened. He launched his wand onwards.
"Omen Lucem!"
A blinding dot of light flashed at the end of the stick, enlarged, and shot toward Caleb Dune, sending him flying backward. His back hit a few stairs.
"Shoot!" A command that stirred the nerves of the wizards and the civil guards together to slay the addict. Barrages of white rays of light and metallic bullets hurled through his entire being. Caleb just floundered every time the shot exposed him, but one thing was sure; he was still fully conscious. And he would rage. Everyone would pay for leaving his ultimatum unheeded.
Caleb braced himself and rose. All those piercing magic and hot leads failed to create holes. White light waves? A lead bullet covered in steel? They thought the combination of the two could wipe out the black "mage" without a trace. Their mistake was grave. Caleb stretched his arms out before him. A shock wave with a purple aura was unleashed from both of his hands, pulverising all the troops in one fell swoop! The same blast as the tavern explosion earlier. The carriages were tossed and overturned, some even falling on them. Some of the men survived, others disintegrated.
That was it. Just like that. The survivors had fallen stupor. Fergus in half-conscious vision caught Caleb in dim form walking, but he could still clearly hear the addict's hysterical laughter and cursing.
"Seriously? Are these the Trinketshore wizards?" Caleb burst out laughing. "I've changed my mind. I dinnae need yer acknowledgment. Ye pals are absolute rank to admit me as yer champion. I'll melt you one by one like that old fart over there, and I'll be the one and only Trinketshore wizard." Caleb pointed his hand at Fergus with a grin. "Starting with you, big mouth." []
