The Wielder of Death Magic

‘Amazing,’ planes trailed past with smoke, ‘-they’re ready for the event.’

“My name’s Misty, and I’ll be your host for tonight,” the cameras bombarded her face, she but smile and kept cool, “-its awesome to see so many agencies join and perform, I’m very excited. Without wasting time, the day will follow as such,” she gave introductions to each artist and skid backstage. The small crowd gained mass, from stage downward, a view of the entire area sent shivers, dots came, came, and came to join as one.

“Good introduction,” she slid down the handrail.

“The crowd is massive,” said she parting her hair, “-Lord Amsey, I never expected the event to pull in so many spectators.”

“It’s free after all,” he said, “-can’t let the second awakening be wasted.”

Further along, after the swarm of handymen and screaming managers, stood a rest area for the artists. In there, a curtain away from the changing room sat Vorn, Xius, S-Kiss, Aceline, and Igna. The conversation calmed by the pressure, they would perform later tonight.

.....

“I’m going to get a drink,” voiced Suga, “-come on Emi.”

“Guess it’s our queue to get ready,” winked the singer, “-catch you on stage, Kinless.”

“Later Igna,” waved Dei, the curtains parted to gasps from starstruck workers and relatively unknown idols.

“How is everyone doing?” wondered Amsey in the company of Julius.

“Good,” added the melancholic singer, Yuna. Her black and white straight long hair marred and swept the attention from her attire towards her face, “-feels weird to be back,” she said.

“I know,” answered Amsey, “-you girls were supposed to be the stars to Ansoft someday,” despairing over what-ifs held no merit, “-I’ll content with what’s remained.”

“Sorry about leaving,” said Enna, “-Ansoft took a deep plunge after our departure...”

“Don’t be guilty,” he held a hand, “-let’s leave it behind us,” her brown hair swayed to a stop, “-thank you.” Misunderstanding cleared, Igna left the crowd for a quieter place. The overdriven sound of guitar scratched the very core of the cloudy afternoon. He walked, unbothered by the surrounding, ‘-I have flashbacks. I met Dei in a similar situation, a broken lady who couldn’t play to save her life,’ the grassy ground was churned into mud by heavy tires. ‘I nearly forgot this is a park,’ the leveled plain abruptly ended at the start of a long dulled tree line. He continued to a solemnly parked truck. Caravans were scattered along the premises. ‘-No paint nor branding?’ The sound of heavy music split by a single note, ‘-what was that?’ the eyes opened fearfully, ‘-a violin?’ he inched close to the back. Workers unloaded instruments for the artists, the moment they saw Igna, an adverse reaction of fear pushed their glances away. Whispers carried inside, “-keep the violi-” Igna stared up to a man and a younger man bearing features from Iqeavea.

“I’m so sorry,” apologized the retainer.

‘No matter,’ said Igna by a simple gesture. The trancelike violinist, regardless of the overpowering music outside, slipped complementary notes to the current song. The subtle nuances of the pitch greatly altered the general feel. ‘This guy is something else,’ in the distance laid his guitar. Quick to plug the instrument, the handymen were bemused at the acceptance. The expression wrote the story clearly, insulted artists lashed on to the workers for allowing a stray to touch their instruments. Paying no heed, he leaned against a metal box and dialed the preferred setting. Few notes trickled onto the enigmatic player; the style was unorthodox. Igna’s shot broke the trance “-I’m sorry,” he said.

“Don’t be,” returned he, “-pick up the violin and play. Let’s jam.”

“I wish I could,” the sightly woeful stare befell the retainer, who, in turn, shook his head at the ground, “-it’s hard to play...”

“Play what you want,” said Igna, “-I’ll wait.”

Pressure from the relatively unknown guitarist stacked, “-fine, fine,” he gave, “-don’t complain if it sounds bad.” To his surprise, the boy began to play erratically, the prior addition to the bigger picture shrunk to one of a nervous kid.

“Listen here,” strummed Igna, “-follow my lead,” said he in sound. The chords progressed one after the other, the pressure faded, long and grimy screeches swapped to plucks of melody. A tipsy Xius stumbled onto the now-empty truck.

“Igna...” yawned Suga, “-come on, let’s jam,” a few shakes of the head dispersed the high, “-Dei, get on bass, Emi, get on drums,” he pointed to a small electric set. An impromptu practice session mildly defused into the oppressive performance. However, without warning, members of Vorn escaped and made for the truck. From two, it grew to over seven. Lack of instrument meant most had to wait outside. Emi swapped for Sheiwai, her hair tied into a ponytail, the instruments stopped. Four clicks set a fast tempo, *smash,* the truck exploded in sheer grit. Playing together wasn’t an easily achieved feat. The impromptu session would prove helpful later in the night.

Thirty minutes later, the handymen arrived to carry the instruments back. Contact information was exchanged with the prudish boy.

‘Already two,’ the surrounding path led into the ‘stall area’. Business boomed, shirts, accessories, and countless games were played and enjoyed. ‘Is that?’ a strange man’s outline caught his eye, ‘-a member of the Vermillion Familia,” he paused, ‘-what are they up too?’ the man vehemently stared over the crowd towards an upper area. ‘-Where is he?’ following the lead, “-I see, he’s a relay for the shooters,” the pinpoint location, a room at the Revirea on the 50th floor. Direct sight from the west onto the crowd.

A few hours later, the performances stopped for the entertainment of the crowd. Artists needed a break as did the countless participants. Thus, eating, guitar, and many more activities were organized. Winners went home with signed instruments, cash, or whatever was wished, depending on the request.

“A well-needed break,” said the last performers, “-the crowd is amazing,” they laughed.

After the games, another hour-long break served to calm and refocus. The main event would unfold, the crowd grew to greater lengths. ‘Time to perform,’ thought Igna, ‘-also about the time the terrorist make their move.’

“Gather around everyone,” hailed Julius, “-we’ll play for 2-3 hours. Everyone’s going to play, no spotlights, nothing, singers, take the show, Aceline, Yuna, and Emi, lead us to greater lengths. Guitarists; Kinless, Suga, and Nola, I’m expecting the greatest rifts humanly possible. Bassists; Morgaria D’hern Dei and drummer, Sheiwai, the groove is yours. Last but not least, Enna Vornia and Nerilina, you two will be our conductors. Tis an ensemble of Apexi’s greatest talents, let’s give them hell!”

“What about you?”

“I’ll be singing,” he stepped to tear off the jacket, “-don’t forget,” he winked, “-I’m a renowned singer.” Dusk loomed, the stage darkened, night arrived faster than expected. Differing clicks formed, ‘-look at them,’ wondered Igna at the back, ‘-excited and joyful for the performance. Do I really belong here,’ the guitar seemed to think otherwise. Short pink hair abruptly perturbed the thoughts, “-wake up,” she snapped.

“Come on man,” elbowed Suga, “-now’s the time to show the world what Kinless is made off.” The others climbed the stage in relative darkness, “-let’s have fun and enjoy. This is for us, for Apexi, let’s make Hidros proud,” the matured stare faced Aceline, “-for her sake,” he said, “-the Pride of Hidros must be revived.”

*Time for the main event!* screamed Misty, the lights flicked to a loud crash. Sheiwai saw blood. Yuna took the lead, she began soft and mellow, the piano and violin greatly accented her voice, four clicks followed to brisk nods, “-BEGIN!” the crowd jumped; the guitars and bass blew off. Dressed in a white shirt, black tie, and black pants, Kinless took on the classic look of an office worker. Midway across, Nola took a place in the rhythm section, Suga and Kinless locked into a shred contest. The rivalry spawned an alternate version of the same song; Emi supported Suga. Aceline supported Igna – Yuna ruled the upper echelon of the vocal range.

Song after song, the feeling changed, depending on what tone, the musicians would swap around for a better sound. Live broadcasts gathered in the hundreds of thousands of views. Nola and Kinless played back-to-back, pink hair fluttered beside white. Aceline and Suga interlocked, rivals of old were reunited. *Crash,* silence stole the breaths away.

“Viper’s Lair,” screamed Sheiwai, “-let’s play it.”

“Are you sure?” returned Dei.

“Try us,” refuted a confident Enna, “-let’s do it.”

“As you wish,” the tie loosened, “-come on Suga,” they leaped atop a speaker.

*VIPER’S LAIR!” screamed Emi.

“GO!” the tempo went beyond the original.

‘Crazy chick,’ gulped Suga, “-better match her!”

Time, 19:56, “-pop’s performing,” said an excited Saniata.

“He knows how to play,” returned Vanesa, “-éclair, are we going home soon?”

“Yes, very soon,” he said, ‘-they’re on the move,’ rifles were aimed at the crowd.

‘Here they come,’ the song reached the grueling lead, ‘-Ansoft’s end.’ *BANG, BANG,* gunfire disrupted the melody, *Bang Bang,* confusion set ablaze. The shooters went full-automatic, *Mana Control: Wind Variant – Feathered Wall,* screamed Igna over the microphone, “-EVERYONE, GET DOWN!” Magic didn’t work, the bullet straightly cut through, ‘-they were fully prepared for mages.’

“What’s happening?” turned the confused performers, the mass of people shuddered.

“We’re being shot at,” said Igna, “-get backstage.”

Panic overtook any sense of reason, people dropped, blood-soaked wounded begged to be ignored. Each their own, a heavy mass of terror swung left and right, and ultimately made easier targets. The projectile also made for the stage, ‘-anti-magic,’ snarled Igna, “-we need to run,” a stray slowed inches from Aceline’s head, *Blood-Arts: Crimson Threads,* the bullet split, he bled profusely from the thumb, “-too far,” he glared and leaped into the pit, *Spatial Arts: Wormhole.* The frightened onlookers watched the dirtied white shirt conjure spells, “-calm down everyone,” said Aceline, “-if there are any shooters out there, please, aim at me instead of the people,” her hands pressed in prayer, “-please, take my life in exchange for theirs.” A portal reopened atop the stage from which Igna dropped, “-contact the officials,” the lights darkened. Guards rushed into the scene; gunfire remained constant. An injured Igna was hurled to the changing room, the vestment was lined with holes and blood, “éclair,” he gasped.

“What do we do...” cried Nola, “-people are being killed... are we going to die?”

‘Anti-magic,’ coughed he, ‘-damn it, this is some high-level curse.’

“Take Igna to the hospital, we’re evacuating,” the worried plea faded, ‘-I underestimated the scale of the attack. They’re intent on wiping the arena.’

“We can’t move him,” fired a manager, “-the traffic is jammed, we can’t reach the hospital in time.”

“I’ll be fine,” he stood, “-contact the heroes, the enemies using anti-magic.” Vorn and the likes were silent, waves of confused workers ran out the back, “-leave this to us.” Lodged bullets fell, the injuries healed, ‘-I died and reawaken stronger. The element is truly fueling the shadow realm.’

“Everyone,” panted a security officer, “-the heroes have detected a large mass coming towards the park. They can’t intercept it in time.”

“Such foolishness,” the aura dropped, “-Julius, keep the artists in check.” To which he took charge of the evacuation, Igna’s white shirt disappeared in two steps.

‘Enough damage has been caused, you’re not winning this fight,’ teleported on a nearby hotel’s roof. *Come forth, fallen heroes,* black smoke conjured the three.

“How may we be of service?” the gust smacked harshly.

“Destroy the projectile,” vaguely pointing at the missile, “-show them the Shadow Realm’s strength.”

“As you wish,” they echoed. *Combined Spell: Three Dragon Whirlwind,* a ring formed to strangle the jarring object, *-be vanquished.*