CHAPTER 23 : UMBRAL TRESPASSER

It then hit Harux. Something pungent was in the air. A sensation that is neither discernibly terrible or noticeable was born. A distinctly odd smell, it was the type to set the soul in a state of unease while simultaneously leaving it bewildered at what it was.

His blade, which vibrated with a small intensity, gave way to further suspicion.

With a few more sniffs of the air, Harux confirmed the effectiveness of his nose. Now certain that it was in fact the reveal of a brand new substance entirely.

Wanting to confirm his suspicion, he made a dekko at Tommy. He wasn’t sure what to expect, but he didn’t need to, for what he saw was more than enough proof of something sinister.

A dark shadowy figure now seeped from the eyes of the fallen boy. Composed of black miasma and a vertical eye slit the size of a head. Undoubtedly a threat, it had begun to escape. Whatever it was, Harux had a feeling that it was malevolent. Spell ready to fire, he steadied his aim.

But before his incantation for spellcraft could leave his throat, an interjection is made.

Spear in hand, it was Jaiga that would do the job. Whistling through the air, Harux was bewildered at the sheer speed she moved at. Even him, who had eyes with capabilities nothing short of felines could barely discern her movement.

“Ah, mistress is at it again.” To her who bore witness to it countless times, Charlotte held the faintest of delights in the fact that she was the only one to have had a grasp on what it was her employer was about to do.

Knowledge of how her weapon worked would indicate the separation of it into two parts, the first the exhibition of pure power in the form of nature being crushed by sound itself. As air and snow both compressed into the shape of a cone, the second which came only an instant after, a flash of light at the scene of impact.

Thud, the spear flew like a bullet.

It seemed that whatever it was, that it would not be granted the privilege of getting away. In the subsequent launch of her attack, she closed the distance to it. Pinned to the ground by her holy polearm, her magic flared.

“Licht Erfallt.”

White radiant shine flared within the palm of her hand.

An Evocation spell exclusive to her order, brilliant light converged. The will and faith of her devotion in justice called, the magic employed was nothing fancy. A spell that holds conceptual advantage over all that was dark. It was one that enchanted whatever weapons she had, which in this case was her fists.

But that was all she needed.

With her gauntlet she pummeled the creature without remorse. One strike, then the other, her will did not relent. While there was no blood, there was an excruciating struggle. Part of the demon's body vanished with each blow, its eye shifted from side to side as it bore the brunt of her fists.

More than enough evidence of its power.

“Licht Birmarcht.” With it weakened, her right hand is raised toward the sky. A moment after, several miniature spears of lights spawned.

Collapsed upon the shadow’s body, it binded it within a prison of white luminensence.

Struggle as it might, the spears that surrounded it, felt like hot iron. Even without the network known as a ‘nervous system’ the demon still felt pain. As the attack is one that is directed towards its soul, the sensation of pain was akin to having your body be torn apart on a molecular level.

Penance dished out, her duty to the civic order was finished. With a triumphant turn, she turned to the friend she had left behind. Already taken care of, she smiled as she witnessed an act of compassion.

Lucius in the midst of preparing a spell, held a fistfull of mud in one hand, and a scoop of blood and snow in the other.

Though magic is dependent on the user's innate magical vessels, spells that have roots in predetermined concepts like gods or beliefs often have more power. As the origin of magic lies within the consciousness of people and their predisposed beliefs, it is natural that ingrained rituals with myth or renown attached to it have more influence.

In this case, Lucius, through imitation, drew upon the myth of Xin. A classic myth, Xin called upon a storm of snow, and with their flakes, healed flesh and bruises alike as snow mixed with blood. An extremely archaic spell, it is one that has since faded into obscurity, and vanished from all but a fews spell compendium. Alas, this was but a result of un-peer reviewed data, as the mage who published the spell in the book ‘The Book of Healing’ failed to mention one thing.

And that was that the soldiers who had tread upon that battlefield were born of clay.

Thus requiring an additional material, it was only in his mothers old book of spells did he find out what it was.

A azure hue in the back of his eyes, Lucius began. First, he patted the mud into Tommy’s wounds, covering any missing parts with mud. And second, he took the snow that he had gathered in a cup, and tossed its contents onto it.

With a final breath, he chanted the incantation.

‘O cuela lat elatis.’ In the tongue of ‘Faerin’ which belonged to the Elves, Lucius felt what remained of his magical vessels surge.

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As if a signal calling for help had been received, the collective unconscious upon which he drew the spell from was relayed back to him. Then, through molding that information within his own magical vessels, was he finally able to affect the boy in front of him.

Within moments, the mud which was once brown began to turn a fleshy pink.

The mud of the earth, which had amalgamated with the snow, had connected itself to Tommy’s body as seamlessly as velcro to cotton. As a few droplets of sweat began to tumble down his forehead, Lucius continued. Given that the spell is one that required the continuous output of mana, over a single instance, Lucius remained in his position.

“Woah, you know healing magic?” Harux inquired, observing the millionaire/exo-suit user/mage and now healer with fascination.

The blood having ceased its flow to his heart, Lucius knew that whatever external wound that was cured was no indication of the wellbeing of its host. For in spite of all the trouble Tommy had caused him, Lucius was in want of his assistance.

Thump. Suddenly he felt Tommy’s heart beat again. At first a faint pulse, it rapidly grew in pace and strength. Thump, thump. And in a minute's time, had even steadied itself to be consistent, albeit below the standard. Thump, thump, thump. Vision returned to Tommy. As his once sleepy eyes opened up, the first sight he saw was Lucius’s own shining blue eyes.

Huh… What is he doing? As he felt his wounds close and his strength return, he wondered for what dastardly reasons he was being kept alive for, and why it could not be Jaiga in his place.

“Why are you helping me?” Tommy mumbled, displeased at the situation he found himself in.

“Wha-? I was just beating up my opponent?” Harux said, frankly surprised at the suggestion that his actions were to help Tommy.

Closing his eyes in agitation, Tommy is too lazy to rebuke Harux.

Jaiga standing at the sidelines, simply gave a warm smile. She would leave them to settle their matters for now, for as much as she would love to just run up and embrace the poor soul, the need to assure the continued imprisonment of the shadow took priority.

“I suppose everyone deserves a second chance,” Lucius answered, his eyes now turned to their usual dark green.

With an offer of his hand, he presented it to Tommy.

Tommy, while ever so slightly astounded, took it.

As the two began to parley between the both of them, Morgana who now saw a most opportune moment with the catilipillars gone, manifested a dagger in her hand. Out of occasion and good will, she freed herself and Tommy’s goons.

The crude hooligans set to work, they began to bow and apologize.

Making confessions of their supposed innocence they begged for forgiveness while prostrating on the ground. Morgana, who could only respond with a content smile, accepted their apologies.

Crude sophisters and hypocrites ready to indulge in stories of their freedom from guilt, looked towards Morgana. Without the faintest of ideas over her nature, they could not believe her compassionate response.

“Don’t worry, I know it’s not your fault.” She would reply, which accompanied with an earnest smile, and pat on the shoulder, had earned their trust and undying appreciation.

While they now understood that Morgana had forgiven them, they still had doubts over the others.

Tommy’s once proud gang members and interim now encircled the former combatants. Unsure of the reaction or judgement Tommy would impose on them, they felt a degree of consternation. Having been preoccupied with taking photos of Lucius and sharing videos of the battle with each other, they were only now coming to face some degree of guilt for their inaction.

Addendum, they also understood that the frailty of Tommy’s current body and mind was no reason to withhold from fear, as such have been healed in a matter of a very short period of time.

Additional students that were not part of said group, had then intervened. Barged in, they broke the formation of Tommy’s crew while disrupting the peace that had been. Only hoping to get in on the latest scoop, they were seemingly without any pity or emotion. After all, they too wished to know what the continuation of the events would have been, and its dramatic conclusion.

The thoughts in which they expressed bordered on some form of schadenfreude or apathy, they had been desensitized long prior.

“Very well then,” Tommy declared. Understanding the need to wrap things up, he wiped off what remained of the snow on his clothes and breathed.

“From here on out you can consider me your ally, rest assured I will no longer pose any threat to any of you.”

Gasps circled around the group. They could not believe what they just heard. What an unexpected turn of events this was! Violence as they would have it, although amusing as it was, had probably been a bit too frequent as of late. So, had Tommy faced a paradigm shift? With all that he had done and enacted, the arrogant makeshift boy king now tried to pose as a non threat?

‘Twas preposterous!

A raised eyebrow, Lucius could not help but have some uncertainty on the situation at hand, his opinion shared with the others. Though he wished for a peaceful conclusion, the way Tommy spoke and carried himself, seemed a bit too friendly. At best, he had expected a snide remark and a turn of his head, and at worse, another fight.

Like a deer caught in headlights, Tommy was forced to make another choice.

Affirming his will and desire, he expressed his inner thoughts.

“With that said, starting today I shall disband this little gang of mine. So all of you!” Tommy called out, his arms open to indicate who exactly he was speaking too. “Are dismissed.”

What were once faces of skepticism now turned into that of sheer disbelief.

The foundation of the ‘Order of Tommy’, their almighty amazing charismatic leader, had just called for their disbandment?

Befuddled, confused, and caught in a whirlwind of perplexion, they began to crowd him.

Thrusting forward questions as they would a pointed blade, Tommy en guarde, deflected each one of them with a simple wave of his hand. Immersed in his fantasy, that was what he hoped at least. In actuality, his polemic against the matters of his authority was by no means that powerful. Somewhat half-hearted even, they still did not truly believe the words they had heard.

Subjected to the many queries of a kindred spirit throughout his life, Lucius did feel a certain sense of sensibility for Tommy. Pity in his heart, Lucius figured that Tommy would learn the hard way, as he had himself.

At their questions and pressure, Tommy soon understood that the possibility of a complete dismissal of his group to be an impossibility. Though he is unable to convince them completely, he is able to find a middle ground. One straddled between the lines of keeping them satisfied, and the prevention of his own progress as an individual.

A speech in mind, he delivered it with great intensity.

Composed of the fact that from now on, he would only surround himself with ilk of equal level, and as such, had no time to settle for mediocrity (that were his goons). It was a sentiment he hoped would not only keep them away, but also help them advance and become better versions of themselves.

Walking over to Lucius he whispered a few words into his ear before leaving. Needless to say, the next release of the School Newspaper would prove to be a hit.