It didn’t take long for the helicopter to descend from the mountain range and into the city. It was late into the night, yet a restlessness prevailed through the region. Buses lined the streets as people awaited evacuation. Those who had cars flooded towards the highway in a rush, only to be impeded by others with the same mind, until their escape ground to a crawl.

“Sir Feng, wake up! Sir Feng, we’ve arrived.”

Muchen snapped his eyes open and promptly cleared his fatigue with a spell as the pilot shook him. Looking around the hubbub of activity, he was startled.

“Have you got any news, comrade?”

“It’s a disaster, sir. Most transportation is down, and the highways are blocked. Casualties unknown so far, but the downed infrastructure makes it all but impossible for the government to assess damages.”

“I see. Take me down at the tower. My wife is likely stranded in the penthouse still.”

“Copy that. I’ll stand by for evacuation. I heard the second wave of earthquakes will hit harder soon.”

Bracing himself against the rotor winds, he made his way inside from the roof entry. His eyes flickered with impatience, and he wove a large area perception spell to assess the structural integrity of his home and search for life signatures.

Heaving a major sigh at the vibrant traces of aura two floors below him, Muchen was assured his wife was fine and finally allowed himself to breathe more freely.

Returning the pilot’s window, he leaned in to shout, “Keep your engine on, I’ll get my wife and be out in five minutes.”

“I can come help if you need, sir.”

“It’s fine, I’m not that old.”

Leaving the pilot with a rueful smile, the man couldn’t help but pause and think about the silly argument he’d had with his wife earlier this morning, and how meaningless it was in retrospect.

(( SCRR! ))

It was at this moment that a grating noise assailed him from all sides. Seemingly out of nowhere, the windows screeched in protest before bursting into pieces. The entire skyscraper shook violently, just about throwing the man off his feet if it weren’t for his training.

The ground shook. The buildings shook. The sky shook, too.

It seemed as though the earth itself sighed, because in the next moment all hell broke loose. Like thin folding paper, the majestic towering building broke from the middle and tilted — set for imminent collapse.

As the downtown skyscraper was dethroned from its height, Muchen fell from the sky along with the decelerating heli, its blades still spinning rapidly towards him. Muchen couldn’t help but curse loudly, before gesturing wildly with his hands.

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Time once again ground to a halt, before slowly lapsing back into the past like an old record. The buildings rebuilt themselves to perfect condition, brick by brick. The blades of the helicopter that nearly severed him reverted as well, and the machine landed back on the pristine helipad. Even the pilot’s awareness was returned to moment when they landed.

“I can come help if you need, sir.”

“Curse you, heavens!”

After letting out an uncharacteristically rancorous bellow at the sky. Mutchen sat himself down, not bothering to reply to pilot as he found himself once more coughing blood.

It was far too much for his body to handle at this point. The heavens wouldn’t let him tamper their plans for much longer without cost it seemed. Yet, he couldn’t care less, for his family was all but within reach.

“Wǒ zhàohuàn dàdì zhī líng..”

A guttural chant sounded out, somehow deafening even the rotors nearby. The pilot sat in a daze, watching the director mumble out strange noises that seemed to reverberate across the city.

“Sir..?”

Observing the enfolding spectacle with a dubious look, the pilot worryingly removed his seat straps, concluding the old man lost his marbles. He eventually decided to assist the old man, lest he throws himself off the building.

Luckily, the spell was fairly short and he didn’t interrupt the man in time, otherwise their lives would be forfeit.

“Ràng lóng rùshuì!” the magus finished incanting just as the earthquake was about to topple the city anew.

The world stilled.

Nothing seemed to happen, despite the odious chant.

“I did it…”

Yet, Muchen seemed very happy with the outcome. He let out a relieved sigh as he collapsed on his back, tar-black blood leaking from his eyes and nostrils.

“Sir!”

The pilot swarmed out and shook the frail old body, only to find it still and cold. The heavens took their toll at last.

The price for repeated disobedience — death.

Such was magic. Mystical, endless power flowing at one’s fingertips, yet at the same time elusive and out of reach. Battling a major natural disaster all by his lonesome, Muchen was undoubtedly a hero.

Yet, no one would sing him praises, for no one would know. The innate skepticism of humanity would never allow for such a superhero to exist. It was unnatural, therefore their Kismet dictates it cannot be real.

Their scientific driven minds perceive the world through a single frame, and what they see forms their reality. Despite having access to a much greater spectrum, Muchen had to force his own reality views against theirs.

That is the essence of magic. He stilled the earth with his will, calming the seismic activity in the entire region. Yet, this very act put him at odds with what the rest of the city ‘believed’ to be an unavoidable disaster.

Once upon a time, magic was vibrant and all-encompassing. Yet, steered from the shadows by religious fanatics and zealots, the masses gradually shunned its embrace and settled entirely on science and technology. They built a frame of doubt and limited their own imagination.

Humanity would only accept what they themselves defined as ‘real’, and thanks to their overwhelming population, it dwarfed what all others thought of it. A Kismet was born from the subconscious will of seven billion creatures, and perhaps even The Creator would have to give up in the face of proving humanity wrong.

Nowadays, to cast large scale magic was to rebel against the Kismet — the will of the world. More often than not, the mage lost. Among eastern magi, this was termed as Karma. Each of their actions against the acknowledged status quo would result in backlash from the world, effectively putting a shackle on their willfulness and ensuring their powers could never bloom freely.

From minor headaches, to internal injuries and broken bones; be it burns or cancerous tumors — Karmic Judgement could come in all forms. Sometimes, one would simply lose their mind as their souls were torn to shreds. In extreme cases, such as it was with Muchen, the price he had to pay to save the city he grew in was far too much to bear, even for him.

An untimely, final farewell.