The Wielder of Death Magic

“Excited about the next game?”

“East Dragons are playing the Red Deiz.”

“I can’t wait to see their rising new player, Sleo. He’s a beast at controlling the ball – his magic imbued shots are unstoppable.”

He switched from one to another, “-babe, I want to get food, let’s move.”

“Hold on, the match will start soon, can’t we wait a few minutes more?”

“No, if we stay, we’re never going to leave.”

.....

“Fine, how about fast food, they have some nice fried rice...”

“No, we had them yesterday, not today. Babe, I want good food, not an excuse to stay and watch the games.”

“You win, but you know, I’d like to have my night compensated.”

“You sly dog, we live together. I’ll wear that outfit.”

“Oh yes please, I love you,” a mild twitch of the cheeks guided the regard forward with goals of crossing the finish line, else, the northern entrance.

‘They’ve forgotten the event, most of them have moved on,’ the destination narrowed through a gathered crowd. The same lady of before, the officer, stood at the same height and blasted the same loudspeaker, “-walk and not run. Traffic resume shortly.” Under stress, a rather crude emotion harbored from Origin’s meddling, Igna swapped his bicolored pupils for a deeper crimson, the shakiness of his step and clouded thought relieved, ‘-better,’ he stared forth, ‘-no emotions, rational and logic.’

By the time it came to cross the road, the released influx of cars had conquered the roads, major waves of spectators were at a moderate size. Igna waited in earnest with arms crossed. A lady stood beside him with two children. A toddler in her arms and a kid of around six years old at her feet, the boy held a paper plane. The traffic sped indifferent of the sidelines.

*Tap,* a mild touch pulled his attention from the top to his leg, the same child had used his legs as an obstacle for an imaginary plane crash. The boy looked up, the warm pupils casually grinned, the hands involuntarily moved to pat the boy’s bowl cut and extensively straight long hair. The lady glanced at the child, then Igna, and smiled.

A strong gust blew, carrying dust, leaves, and the paper plane. The boy pulled out the lady’s hand and leaped onto the street, time played in slow motion, a speeding supercar roared into sight, barely seeing the child and slamming the breaks, it screeched a tad too late, the bonnet had reached the boy, ‘-honestly,’ Igna dove, caught the boy, pulled his legs to avoid clipping the vehicle, ‘-the driver’s an idiot,’ the secondary lane hadn’t been accounted, a strongly shaped truck(on track to hit them) slammed the breaks. ‘-my abilities aren’t for protecting people,’ *Mana Control: Elemental Variant – Spectral Dislocation,* the elements lit atop his fingers, ‘-car, halt,’ said the mind, the elements reacted, a wind barrier blasted against the car, aiding to stabilize the momentum and pushing away from the crowd, water and earth mixed into a muddy substance covering the street and turned friction into naught. A wall of rock rose to guide the car off a path of a massacre. Besides him, the deafening sound of horns menacingly approached, *Mana Control: Purgatory Flame Variant – Rendonl’s Gate,* same to when a trampoline stretched under a person’s weight, the gate did so but horizontally, the momentum carried from the vehicle into the flexible bundle of ambers and flames.

*AHHH,* cacophony spawned trouble, the bystanders watched, many screamed. Through their eyes, the car met the boy and he was gone, Igna’s action barely hit the five-second mark. Steam from intense energy rose; traffic stopped, he knelt with one hand against the stopped truck and another shielding the boy, “-are you alright, sport?”

“Mister,” he looked with a terrified expression, “-I-I-I-I.”

“Don’t worry, everything’s fine,” he patted the boy’s head and stood, carrying him in his arms.

“GET OUT RICH ASSHOLE!” cried from the side – the stronger part of the crowd ran towards the car, the street steamed from the culmination of spells, the mud and rock slowly faded into smoke.

“Hey,” a loud door clanged, “-you good?” worried the truck driver.

“I’m fine,” he said. Sirens veered the corner, the lady of before fell onto her knees, her face and hands frighteningly shook. The assumption was the boy had died; the focus was on the supercar. A looming figure arrived from the street, “-MOMMY,” the boy ran to her side, “-MOMMY!”

‘Mom? She looks about twenty-one, must have started early.’

“Teno,” she cried, “-Teno, Teno, Teno, you’re alive,” she tightly embraced the boy and wept, the child matched her mother.

“Move back people,” said a familiar high-pitched voice. Law enforcement arrived, a perimeter blocked the crossing, more and more people whelmed by the cacophonous outroar, “-you, in the nice grey suit, what happened?”

“Pardon me?” he returned her intonation firmly. Short red hair, square glasses, chubby cheeks while she stood a little shorter to average; her body filled the uniform too perfectly, it seemed to strain, yet her motions were flexible and non-restricted, velvety shaped eyelashes fluttered to an intense stare.

“Must I repeat my question?” the tone echoed and pulled the crowd’s attention. An ambulance arrived at the same time, the driver and mother were kept on sight for a close examination.

“Yes and in a more dignified manner,” he strongly returned.

“The suit, the way of speech, you’re a noble, aren’t you?”

“And, should it matter?” he fired, “-I only voiced so due to the incompetence of the law enforcement. Why would the idea of leaving the area be remotely justifiable when there are people en masse.”

“Sir, causing a scene won’t benefit our predicament,” she pulled onto a notepad, “-we need to understand what has happened.”

“Inspector Mai, I’ve looked over the security footage, the boy jumped onto the street when the lights were green.”

“I see,” she wrote a few words and shuffled to the ambulance, “-sir, I think it’d best for you to leave,” she said.

‘The way she brushes me off,’ he firmed his stead and followed, “-I’d think again if I were you,” he overtook her pace, making straight for the ambulance. Paramedics worked efficiently.

“How’s the boy,” he inquired, whilst the mother and children were inside the van, away from the public’s view.

“There was blood on his head, we thought a head wound, turns out he’s unharmed.”

“Oh, that blood,” he casually took off the suit-jacket, “-must be mine,” the right arm took the resultant momentum from the sudden stop, it cracked bone and tore skin.

“Take a seat, please,” they said pointing inside, “-we’ll heal the wound.”

“Not necessary,” he replied, “-what of the driver?”

“It’s not my fault,” dissipated into their area, “-the kid just jumped in front of my car, I don’t know how I stopped.”

“Sir, I beg of you, let us examine your wounds,” opposed to words, Igna took off the shirt, leaving half of the torso exposed, *Mana Control: Healing Element Variant: Restoration,* a nasty wound rejuvenated, “-I said there was no reason to fret.”

The visibly troubled inspector passed Igna, rolled her eyes, and made for the driver. The family was given the green light.

“Thank you for saving my child,” she said, “-I should have been careful.”

“No need for gratitude,” he casually dressed, “-so happened I was in the vicinity. I have children myself; I know the fear of watching them be harmed.” All’s well that ends well, the very active crowd demanded answers – many statements later, the driver in the company of the officer surrounded the ambulance. The boy suddenly fell unconscious, the sirens roared, “-out the way, this is an emergency!” cried the driver.

“Not until I’ve had my share of things to say,” fired the man, “-where’s the lady, pull her out, I need to speak my mind,” ire-filled his frown.

“What’s happening out there?” cried from within.

“No idea, the police won’t let us pass,” replied the driver. The mother held the son’s arms tightly, the fear of losing a close one had drowned outside noise, “-for the love of God,” cried a medic, “-what’s the problem?” he leaned out a window.

“Politics my friend,” said a random officer, “-turns out the car owner’s the son of a noble who serves the council of her majesty the queen. *Beep beep,* “-out the way already.”

“No, she will have to pay for my car, I’m not at fault.”

‘These people,’ sighed Igna, ‘-I thought I’d walk home and have a nice nap,’ the imposing figure approached the scene, “-best the ambulance is left alone.”

“And who the hell are you?” fired the young noble, the officer smirked.

“A bystander,” he said, “-tell me, boy,” he pulled a pistol, “-what moves faster, my bullet or the officers?”

“Idiot,” laughed the investigator,”-threatening an officer from performing her duty is a serious offense. Are you willing to go to jail,” she laughed, the young noble breathed a chuckle.

“LET THEM GO!” blew a gale, “-LET THEM GO!” the crowd chanted; the barricade forced open by a few onlookers. The ambulance sped, leaving the scene in disarray – the rectangular glasses strode to grab Igna’s collar, “-DO YOU UNDERSTAND THE SEVERITY OF THE SITUATION?”

“What?” he nonchalantly undid her grip.

“WHO THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?” he followed her example and grabbed his collar, “-My name’s Theo Denlord, of the Denlord Dynasty, my father’s a Count in her royal majesty’s court. I’ll make sure that the family pays, the mother isn’t getting off easy. Because of her, my new car is scratched, there’s a bump, that fucking kid had to jump into traffic!”

“I’ll write the statement with this in mind,” said the officer, “-those who aided will be persecuted by the law,” addressed boldly at the crowd.

“Say something.’

“No way I’m getting involved in a noble’s case, hell no.”

“Yeah, I get you, too bad we commoners can’t do anything in the greater picture.”

“We better leave,” vigor and passion of the injustice quelled any sliver of revolution, two of the strongest entities present in the kingdom had strongly given their word. Nobles make the law and the police enforce said laws, hand in hand, untouchable by the common masses. Then again, Igna casually grabbed Theo’s wrist and pulled, cracks gave into stomach-churning screams, “-LET ME GO!”

“Keep it up,” said the officer, “-the grave’s only grown deeper.”

“Foolish,” he laughed and firmed the grip, the wrist snapped, pained forced the noble to kneel “-do you know who I am?” he brazenly kicked the noble onto the floor, twisting his leather shoe into his cheeks. Cigar lit, he puffed and randomly kicked the man’s stomach, “-those at the top can do what they want to the weak,” he addressed the crowd, “-are my actions evil, or justified?” he kicked and stormed onto the noble’s knee, destroying the joint, “-for one to so easily dismiss the life of a child in favor of his car, disgusting,” he spat, and focused onto the elbows, slowly crushing his bone, “-justice must be dealt personally. Here’s a lesson,” he extinguished the cigar onto the man’s open eye, “-be careful who thee messes with.”