The Wielder of Death Magic

Chapter 394

Chapter 394: Duty

Parted at the entrance, Julius headed further into the capital. No cars, no escort, nothing, him and Emi walked. The sheer display of how people loved their idols and stars reflected on the outfits; some bore s, other the faces, wristbands to shoes, none was left untouched. Amidst said crowd of enthusiasts of which were mainly teenagers, Prince Julius walked at a slow, comforting pace. The lady could but cower behind him in fear, her traumatic past haunted ever so close. Some billboards or posters on shop windows often displayed the Feline Force stood before a captured villain with the caption, ‘-leave the trash to us.’ A single gaze had him brush aside the idiotic sentence.

“Why are you so far away?” asked he with a sudden stop.

“Sorry,” she bumped into him without realizing, the mind spaced out thinking of her sisters, “-aren’t you ashamed to be walking by my side?”

“Why would that be so?” the head tilted to show the attentive mind.

“B-because, y-your walking with me, me out of all people, me...” the face watched all but his.

“Shouldn’t be a problem,”

“Wait, no, we can’t,” she took a step back for the prince offered his arm.

.....

“Art thou so bold as to reject the advances from a prince?”

“I-I’m sorry,” arms locked, they continued along the pavement. One after the other, the crowd grew denser and thus arrived at one of the more popular shopping malls. Big with each floor taking one-hour at most to explore, her face shriveled in paranoia.

‘What if they’re watching me, what if the AHA is coming to kill me,’ a ghastly paleness engulfed her face.

“Snap out of it,” he tugged, “-I’m here, don’t worry. I’m the son of a hero of the war, if push comes to shove, I’ll fight our way out. Lady Emi, thy art in my care – hard a task as it may be, leave the troubles and focus on me.”

“S-sorry...” they resumed at a snail’s pace. Soft and gentle climbed the escalators to the upper floors. A shop stood hidden amidst a plethora of others. Obnoxious, the advertisement of the rest put it to shame, a quiet little salon for any race and gender.

“Welcome,” said a man stuck to his phone.

“Hello,”

“How can I help you today,” quick to set away from the device, he looked up to be left breathless.

“Good afternoon, Alex, I guess it was true, thy family did run a salon in Alphia.”

“J-J-Julius?”

“The one and only,” said the prince with a cheeky thumbs-up.

“I KNEW IT,” he vaulted over the counter for a tight embrace, “-it feels like ages!”

“I know,” replied the prince charmingly, “-I’m so glad you’re here.”

“After we graduated, the others were pretty hyped to continue studies with a prince, but then the news came.”

“Yeah, I apologize,” a sense of guilt had the cheery tone lowered.

“Don’t be, we understand the circumstances,” breathing deep, “-what can I do for you?”

“I have someone for you,” stepping aside, the lady came forth.

“I’m Emi Muko, nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you too,” replied the peculiarly dressed man. Dark skin complexion, green eyes, a pierced nose with curly hair. The outfit was as seen in fashion magazines.

“I’m Alex Ford,” he kissed her hands gently.

“Forgive my asking, but are you both friends?”

“Friends?” exchanging glances, “-obviously,” they slid to stick with one another. “We’re the best of friends.”

“G-great...” replied she unknown to how to respond.

“Still awkward,” coughed the prince as he walked away from the formation.

“I admit, well, what can I do for you?” said he returned to the counter.

“I want you to make her into a model.”

“Seriously,” an eyebrow raised for the request was unique, “-her outfit needs reworking, she’s got the height, skin and face structure. A bit of rework and I can make her into a superstar, why, what’s the need for such a thing?”

“It’s for my dad,” explained the prince, “-you know, king of Arda and that stuff.”

“Polygamy?” asked Alex taking a better look at Emi.

“God forbid,” laughter followed, “-I dare father to even try and look at another woman with a foul intent, mother will have him scolded.”

“Sounds harsh, here I thought the king being the almighty ruler of the battlefield, or so what the papers said.”

“The Argashield Federation propaganda, I can’t believe we survived and studied during the war, it feels like yesterday,” reminisced Julius.

“I know, the memories of when an army officer came to Claireville Academy, I was sure our class would have been drafted, remember when Alan broke into tears?”

“How can I forget; the tradition was to have students drafted in case the war grew harsh. I personally wanted to get involved but the Federation had other ideas. They said that students under twenty would not be allowed on the battlefield; strong demand from the king of Arda.”

“I suppose he didn’t want other kids to be at risk of growing up on a battlefield.”

“We won the war though,” laughed the Prince.

“That we did, Professor Sophie sure was excited about the outcome, rambling on about the king being her little brother or something.”

“It’s sort of true; I never told anyone, but Lady Sophie is somewhat of an Aunt to me. She does come by the castle once in a while – ok no, forget that, by once in a while I mean once a year.”

“Look at you,” said Alex in a smug manner.

“So, what can you do about her?”

“Bring her every day, I’ll start her treatment.”

“Good, then we’ll be off,” they soon exited to go inside the next room, an office at first glance.

“Good afternoon, how can I help?” asked a lady wearing a white coat.

“I have an appointment for Emi Muko,” said the prince.

“Yes, the doctor’s waiting, please, lady, follow me,” to which she complied. The door soon shut with the words, *Therapist,* on a frame. Muffled weeping came from under the door, the assistant sat as if it was normal.

“I’m back,” said he returned a few hours later.

“Welcome back, Julius,” said the king with a magical circle drawn in the living room.

“What are you up to?” the door locked with a malefic presence. Staxius returned with the issue of the crypt solved.

“Getting ready to have a divine soul transmuted into a new vessel.”

“I don’t see the vessel,” commented the prince.

“Fate works in strange ways.”

“Oh... I understand now,” memories of the prior conversation about using the power of Creation, “-fine, I shall do so, is there a reference I can use?”

“Here,” a miniature version of the puppet stood on the floor, “-make it, I’ll have the other procedures readied.

“Should I cast a barrier?”

“No, I’ve taken care of it already; sit back and watch,” a dark-sphere was quick to contain the penthouse, invisible to the naked eye, none knew of what was to happen.

*Summon forth: Box of Alche,*

*Summon forth: Box of Soul,* they materialize to hover on his right and left side.

‘Let’s begin,’ he thought.

*Death Element: Unleash Aura.*

*Deep slumber, deep rest, awaken for the chance at retribution. Gate of which stands before mine way, open for thy master has come: Nevermore – Hell’s Gate.* The five gates activated, the triangle lit vividly with his appearance changing.

*Span across the ages, fear is what held peace, fear is what caused War, fear is the root of evil. I, the harbinger of the ultimate fear, have come to spread and reclaim what is mine of right: Nevermore – Terror Gate.* The pressure increased creating a breeze.

*Unbound by the laws of Heaven to Hell; unshackle mine power: Nevermore – Annihilation Gate.* A loud thump echoed round the room, three gates unlocked, triggering more would create an unbalance in the happenings of the continent.

*O’ goddess forgotten by the ages, o’ goddess who spread victory and peace over the souls of true warriors. I, humble vessel for thy Symbol, plea to have a sliver of thy strength.*

“I hear thy plea, child,” the wings wrapped itself on the forehead, the goddess answered his request with love.

“Now, create the vessel.”

“On it,” said the prince conjuring an infinity symbol. It spun fast creating a circle from which came the puppet-body fit for a divine soul. Erupting with power, the hard task began with Staxius taking to sculpt the inner-workings for an empty vessel. *Blood Arts: Crimson Threads,* a conductor leading an army of needles, the process continued till late at night.

‘I’m done,’ *Soul bound to forever be under my service, come forth for thy master demands it.* palm against the vessel, *Soul Transmigration,* a blinding flash lit the penthouse to break into the night sky. One could have mistaken it for an explosion.

*Shackle mine strength: Nevermore – Full Restraint.* the heavy load of the always evolving element showed itself in the heaviest headache. The forehead seemed to pulse with each heartbeat, a feeling of nausea had him squinting, yet, to keep up the appearance, the king appeared unbothered.

“Did it work?”

“Give it a moment, the soul needs to settle and awaken.”

Bland and uninteresting, the puppet soon changed, the pigmentation of the skin complexion, the facial features, it all transformed to fit the host.

“What is this p-place, where am I?” light-brown eyes stared as hungrily as a vulture to he who stood before her. A diadem held her medium black-hair from hiding the well-built face. A handsome woman by whatever angle one could watch.

.....

“What is thy dominion?” inquired she in authority. No response came from he who stood, the man was well over her height. Her face, her eyes mainly, was reminiscent of a cat.

“Answer me, damned insolent fool,” quick on her step, her hand wound to slap.

“How dare thee,” *snap,* her hand stopped shy of the cheek, “-how dare thee try and hit he who owns thee,” said Staxius in the cruelest way possible.

“Owns me?” she tried to fight to no avail, the body was stuck in place. “Don’t you know who I am?”

“No, matter of fact I don’t,” came a less than pleased voice, “-one of the rare teachings from my mother said to never hit a woman,” *Smack,* she crashed against the barrier from a single flick, “-I’m sorry to say, it only applies to humans, not otherworldly beings.

“DON’T YOU DARE DISRESPECT ME,”

“Silence,” a simple gesture had a needle stick her tongue to her pallet, whimpers of excruciating pain ensued, “-how dare thee,” *smack,* he kicked, “-who are you to try an order me around.”

*CLAP,* the injuries healed, her consciousness returned, “-w-w-who are you?”

“Ladies first,” he gave a helping hand.

“No need,” she discarded the offer, “-I’m Cleopatra VII Thea Philopator, Queen of Eduipt.”

“And I’m the God of Death; Blood-King of Arda, Staxius Haggard.”

“Arda, I’ve never heard of such a kingdom before.”

“Tis a new world, majesty, or should I say, commoner. Cleopatra, the King of Eduipt has been ransacked by invaders, thy people are killed, women raped, and lovers betrayed. Thy soul came to me as a gift, I know not the reason and I care not. I have but one question, are you useful?”

“Eduipt is ruined,” the shock had her on all-fours with tears.

“W-why,” she asked, “-why was I given chance at a new life?”

“Thou art mistaken,” he smiled, “-tis, not a new life- thou art bound to mine soul.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning you are to do my bidding; I’m obliged to keep you around since another deity requested so of me. Queen Cleopatra, I know of thy achievements – a femme fatale best describes thee, enigmatic, well-versed, and talented in the matters of state.” Her cries continued; the news was too heavy a burden to bear.

“Drop the charade...” said the King coldly, “-a good actress, I’ll give you that, but, tis not going to work against me.

“Right,” she sat on her knees with her thighs exposed rather seductively. The face turned from woe to inviting and playful.

“Good luck,” walked Julius, “-the man of which thee tries to manipulate isn’t going down that easy.”