White Sand: 8 Hours Past

The sounds of eerie screeches outside drew the guards’ attention to the door.

“What was that?”

“Coming from the lower gardens. Let’s go check it. There’s nothing here.”

They waited for the most of the footsteps to fade before breaking their cover, then left the shed. But as they were heading back to the dark side of the mansion side entrance they were blocked but an unidentifiable person.

“I warned you to stay away. Now you will face the consequences of your disobedience.” The words spoken from a strange and raspy voice resounded in their ears through a Voice Resonance Spell to disturb their thoughts and internal virya.

“Parasite Magia: Neutralize!” 669 pulled out his staff and twirled it about the air to activate the organic particles around him to his magic.

“DIÁLDI.” The person’s voice sliced through the space before them, to interrupt 669’s spell casting. Their voice had been level, above a whisper yet powerful to break through the virya distribution and rewound space. So, the spell was blocked before being activated.

“By Zallayl! Word Power.” 669 voice trembled.

“Get away!” 777 bellowed as he clumsily yanked 669 into an escape away from the approaching person.

Word Power was a terrifying magic that defied Tesha’s prohibition laws and those set in everyone’s blood by the Majestic Peace Order. The men were feeling their body wobble as they turned and drunkenly sprinted toward the dense hedge maze, seeking to take cover.

“GORATU.”

669 screamed out his curses when he felt his body being manipulated by magic, so he was moving like a clock hand being rewound backwards. 777 and 689 were soon back at the spot before the unidentifiable person who was inching steadily toward them. They were feeling the magic through every fiber of their being, like their veins being pulled. The pain was too much they could only stay on their knees: their magic and virya was draining fast. If they didn’t so something they would die.

777 held one hand limply before his eyes: it wavered in his view, but there was no choice. He fumbled for his dagger and went to slice his palm open.

“Oh no you doubt.” The voice cackled.

777 yelped when the dagger was knocked for his hand with a magic force: to land a few paces from his eyes and just out of his reach.

“Face it. You are too weak. Now the question is do I let you die now or die later.”

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669 was plastered to the ground, feeling too weak to move from the magic force draining away his power. But damn if he was going to let some unknown person claim his life. He had a friend to prove innocent!

“I… will…” He forced against the pressures of the power. Falling down but using everything he had to push himself up. “... Not…. DIE!”

With his remaining strength his hand flicked toward 777’s dagger, using the rest of his virya to push it in the man’s hand.

777 grabbed the dagger and sliced his palm to spill his blood. “Blood Vermilion: Cleansing.”

Walls of fire surrounded them and moved at a rapid pace for the unidentifiable person to imprison them.

777 bellowed with a war cry as he felt cosmic power rush through his body to restore his magic. He wobbled to his feet and moved his blood about the air to form an attack hex array before him: muttered a minor spell that set the blood array on fire.

A magnificent bird soared out of the burning array, flexing its orange-red fiery plumage until it was the only light within their space.

“Very good.” The person chuckled as they danced around the fireballs that the bird was tossing at them with their wings.

The word power disruptions were being negated every time a fireball landed on the ground. The men felt a decent portion of their energies restored, so they could fight.

“Parasite Magia: Neutralize!” 669 bellowed as he twirled his staff. He concentrated the spell to his staff, lacing smoky, black virya to the metal. Then rushed for the identifiable person with his attack.

The person countered with a longsword at the same speed to match and increasing their strength and speed the more they spared. But every time they were struck by 669’s staff, their magic and strength waned a little.

However, this didn’t slow or reduce the impacts of the other person’s attacks. They recovered faster and came harder.

“Very good! You do not disappoint!” The person maniacally laughed as they raised the longsword over 669’s head to land a damaging blow.

“Blood Vermilion: Sword!” 777 yelled out.

A flaming orange sword countered the downward longsword blow, so 669 felt the flame’s icy touch to his skin. He evade-rolled out of the way and rose to attack the person from a different again. 777 entered the fray with a bronze longsword laced with this fire mage.

The three men fought a battled fueled with relentless determination, but the unidentifiable person’s attacks were weaker and their movements more sluggish. It was clear that the henchmen were slowly gaining the upper ground and overpowering them. This only made 669 go harder and moving his staff in brutal slashes and stabs, to eventually knocking the person on their head.

Something broke off the person, so features could be distinguished on them. 669 gasped when he glimpsed the side profile of a man that looked like him. Before he could get a better look, the man activated a spell that made him vanish from their view.

He cursed foully then looked down when he saw a silver lotus disc on the ground near his boot: used his magic to lift it off the ground and before his eyes. On the back was a number 5 before Marcus Poirot’s name. 669 came to a conclusion that the discs were writ targets.

“So we let Marcus’s killer get away. Damn it!” He huffed as he bagged the disc in his pouch.

777 dispelled his magic, which had taken almost all over his energy. He sprawled on his back to stare up at the starless portion of the sky.

“It’s this way!” Guards voices cried out from the distance behind him.

“777 get up, we have to go!”

The men got up and raced inside the mansion to hide.