亚洲综合中美

“How could we have lost!” fired a wounded Zeus.

“My lord, there was nothing we could have done,” followed Lixbin, “-we mustn’t forget that man is the reincarnation of Alfred. Look at Qhildir,” they threw a foreign glance at a lounge chair, “-look at him, he’s wounded beyond repair. Inflicting such bodily harm on a high-deity, we must not act brazenly.”

“I know,” he gripped the chair’s arms, “-defeat tastes bad either way.”

Footsteps arrived from the side, “-speaking of defeat,” added Lixbin, “-we were able to hold off the invasion. Seems Artanos is no stranger to under-the-table deals. What are your orders, my lord?”

“Well, until Lucifer is ready to rule the Aapith nation, we keep to ourselves. Ready the chariot, we’re going to recruit gods from the alternate domain. As for Igna, he’ll remain in dimension Orin. Let Artanos decide what’s to become of that thorn.”

The messy hall cleared. Zeus’ blond hair was spotted nonchalantly gripping a maiden and pulling her into an empty chamber. Lixbin all but sighed and turned, facing the wounded Qhildir, ‘-Igna Haggard, you’re nothing compared to the man we scouted. How about some salt,’ a casual clap summoned a seductive outline of a noblewoman, “-you called, my lord?”

.....

“Cleopatra, go pay the mortal realm a visit. I’m sure you can find a way to bring back old memories?”

She smirked, “-with pleasure,” and disappeared in a mist gate.

‘Until again, you pest.’

Evening turned dead of night. screamed the haunting nocturnal melody. Forests screeched and tapped, the wind blew and whistled – leaves and twigs fell. The slow crackle of a fireplace warmed what little remained of consciousness. “Lord Death,” said a voice interrupting his firm stance through the window, “-why not head home?”

“What home?” he glanced over his shoulder, “-the Hall of Rebirth’s not a place for me to return. I left for good. Choosing a life of nothingness over the possibility of causing harm. Suppose even death is afraid of being eliminated. The nothingness, the emptiness – those thoughts bring a man on the verge between strength and cowardice. One wrong move, one wrong play and it’s over. How’s Igna?”

“He’s going okay,” she returned.

“What about you?”

“I feel fine,” she turned her wrist, “-nothing’s amiss. Feels better than ever, even my death elements returned.”

“Your element’s returned,” he exhaled, “-nothing’s that simple. Igna failed in many ways.”

“Sorry?”

“Don’t you understand... Viola, the sudden shift in time and space, the altered timeline. No matter the change, even if they were to travel in the past and change major events – the affected would be forced into a different line. In time, there’s no definite place of origin. As Kronos remarked, ‘-time’s nothing more than an illusion of decay.’ Higher beings are guilty of returning to the past – changing history and play, it’s nothing out of the ordinary. How the world changes depends on the perception of the residents. To them, their actions and way of thought, basically their lifetime, is the correct timeline. Couldn’t be farther from the truth. One word encompasses all; Redundancy. Granted, the very idea is convoluted, it has to be. One point splits into paths, the latter take on paths on their own and expand without intervention. Such is the way alternate universes, alternate worlds, and differing dimensions, are born. Bringing that explanation to how it affects the present – Achilles’ death opened a rupture to be exploited. She was a key figure in how Staxius established himself at the top.”

“Do you mean Igna’s not a king anymore?”

“No,” he added softly, “-that’s the strange thing. They killed Achilles without knowing her true origin. Staxius’ entourage consists of people who don’t exist.”

“I’m confused.”

“Don’t think of it literally, think of the reason. If you take something that never existed out of an equation, what remains is the unaltered solution. We swapped timelines, one where Achilles was bested in the tower. Therefore, nothing really changes for Igna, nothing changes for anyone, nothing save the death of Achilles as opposed to her survival.”

Undrar held a frown, “-in other words, Achilles’ dead, nothing more, nothing less?”

“Yeah,” he nodded, “-what are they trying to get is the true question.”

“Complicated thought experiments were never my forte. Lord Death, you should really return to the Hall of Rebirth.”

“I would, but I have duties elsewhere. Kronos and I managed to survive Artanos’ attacks. Keep it from Igna, we’re content on living the rest of eternity playing chess and drinking tea.”

“Lord Death,” she paused, “-you’re a lousy liar. Give my compliments to lord Kronos.”

“Whatever,” he shrugged, a portal opened, “-wait...” came a breathless cry, “-lord death,” Igna crawled to the other room, “-wait, wait,” he clambered against the table and coughed blood. “-I beg of you, please wait, teach.”

The portal closed, “-what is it, Igna?”

“Teach, I have a proposition,” he gulped, “-instead of a pocket dimension, why not join the Shadow Realm.”

Taken aback, Lord Death pulled away, “-and, what would I gain from joining your realm?”

A forced smile sliced the pain and glared, “-better tea and more entertainment.”

“My,” he chuckled, “-you are insane, you know that?”

“Teach, I hear loud and clear – the god of death and ruler of time wish to abstain from the heavenly matter.”

“Yes, you heard correctly.”

“Then join us,” he exhaled, “-join our faction.”

“I’ll think about it.”

“No,” the aura suddenly tightened, “-make a decision now Teach.”

“What’s the point of deciding,” another portal opened to a gray man dawning a white robe, “-long as we have entertainment, I’m happy to join.”

“Kronos,” a disappointed facepalm came from lord Death, “-guess we’ll accept the invitation.” Portals opened, and Kronos and Lord Death joined the Shadow Realm. The welcome ceremony prefaced by Intherna would be quite the fiery celebration. The moment the auras snuffed, Igna dropped from the table and fell harshly, ‘-my head,’ it rang, ‘-it pains.’

“Igna.”

“Undrar,” he forced himself against the wall, “-head on home. The soul and body need time to understand each other. I’ll be fine, trust me, just go away.”

“Is this resentment from what Viola did?”

“No,” he said, “-nothing like that. I- I’m just, I need to rest. The lonelier the plain the better.”

Horse neighs imploded, the current Death Reaper straddled her steed and narrowed, “-Igna, next time you’re in trouble, say the word, I’ll come running.”

“Thank you,” he smiled, “-I appreciate it.”

Silence befell the cabin, he pulled himself to the fireplace and laid on his back. A thunderstorm brewed, “-Serpent, you there?” a slithering entity crossed the corner of his eyes and climbed on his chest, “-yeah, I’m here.”

“Good, let’s have a conversation tomorrow.”

“Okay?”

Meanwhile at the palace, “-éCLAIR!” the prime minister’s office barged.

“It’s midnight,” came a yawn, “-what’s the matter?”

“The master,” she echoed, “-I don’t feel his presence anymore, neither the mana nor the location.”

“Give it a rest,” he rolled over and forced his head into the pillows, “-the king is whimsical. Give it time, he’ll return as if nothing happened.”

A heavy fog gripped the next day. Igna’s consciousness opened to the same wooden roof, ‘-guess I’m alive,’ he sat upright and scanned, ‘-body feels great and my heart,’ palm on the chest, ‘-the death elements returned, my mana’s full, I feel amazing.’

A shadow flashed, “-who’s there?”

“Me,” returned telepathically, “-come join for breakfast.”

‘The serpent.’ Face to face against the entity, “-who are you?”

“I don’t have a name; I have an origin and an untold story. Care to listen?”

Igna looked outside and refocused, “-please.”

“I don’t have a name. My first memory came during a war. Titans and gods fought, blood was spilled and the Death Reaper flew over the battlefield. He took anyone and everyone, those who crossed his might those who went against his will, nothing was out of the question. My purpose, as had been burnt into my mind, was to remain at his side. I soon realized my presence had more than a pleasant surprise. That Death Reaper suffered fates worse than death. He watched as the demons slaughtered those, he deemed close – the built legacy came crashing down. Once he died, I was teleported to the next heir, and the same here, I watched as the man lost everything. It went on for who knows how long – that abundance of freedom allowed me to think. No one ever suspected my existence – neither gods nor demons could ever see or call to me. They never had the power to beyond the veil. I was caged, unable to speak or act – my only purpose was to cause ruin. A hiss or a simple misguided thought could bring havoc to anyone I saw as boring. Then, it happened – I joined the entourage of Lord Death. He’s a man I respect. He understood the curse and knew there laid a greater force behind it. He and I built a connection. And so, I willingly forced myself not to inflict pain. He gave me no reason to do so, the man’s not power-hungry and only did the best when was required of him. Our time spent together went on for a long time, and I cherished every moment. Thus, came time for the inheritance, a young boy was chosen – Staxius Haggard. He was far smarter and preferred leading from the shadows, the way he uses the element and tried to circumvent my curse... I had to teach him a lesson. I acted, again and again, and he rebuilt again and again, the more I fought, the stronger he grew, I was scared and felt useless. People around him died, he paid no heed, acted strong for the sake of appearances, and continue to battle against misfortune. He died – forcing me into limbo and reincarnated into you. I couldn’t attach myself as there was no element to be had – he’d found a way to hamper my powers. Nevertheless, I fought and eventually did affect your life. It would be lived shortly as the pull of Lord Death’s element forced my departure. I couldn’t do anything, so I watched.”

“Seems your backstory’s not that interesting.”

“Yeah, it shouldn’t be interesting. I’m. I don’t know, I’m something tasked with spreading the seed of misfortune to those tainted by greed. Suppose I’m the guardian to the Death Reapers, the cultivator.”

“Well, Curse of Misfortune, it seems we have a problem.”

“What problem?”

“You’re the reason why so much’s happened to me. What does one do when they’re face to face against the one responsible...” the torso leaned over, “-you take out the root of the problem. A simple snap of the figure and the existence could be wiped. Good as that would feel, I rather not incur your wrath. Death Reapers are incomplete – the weapon’s lost. Stories of how and when it was lost are muddied – there’s nothing to be had.”

“Right, that farmer’s tool,” it stared emptily, “-I was born from the scythe.”

“Huh?”

“My creator, at least I think he’s my creator, saw the potential and created a limiter. The weapon won’t ever be wielded for the very core itself have been crushed.”

“I’m confused, what about the other story?”

“Who knows. An object of fantasy. The weapon won’t ever be wielded.”

“You’re wrong, I did wield Daemonum Gladio... Staxius did, he was blessed with the weapon of the Death Reaper.”

“Cursed,” it returned, “-Daemonum Gladio’s a cheap imitation, a plague that restricts the power of one who’s too entuned with the element.”

“What’s the point,” he slammed the table, “-Death Reapers are strong but forced to suffer because they’re strong. We’re cheated by ourselves, forced to act and watch...”

“Such is the paradox of Death,” it hissed, “-Devil, how about a contract?”