Angelus wasn’t used to waking up to darkness, who was? Whenever you go to sleep at night you fully expect to wake up to sunlight hitting your face or someone waking you up. But the darkness that Angelus woke up to was different. It wasn’t the type of darkness that you see when it’s night and there was still some semblance of light. It was the type of darkness that you saw when the idea of light didn’t exist, it was a void.
Angelus tried to move, but he couldn’t feel anything. He couldn’t feel his arm, his legs, or anything else, he tried to take a deep breath, but he felt nothing. Angelus felt himself begin to panic, but he couldn’t even feel that, he didn’t have the heart to tell him. He tried to blink and release tears, but he couldn’t feel his eyes.
“I-I’m dead?” Angelus heard the words, but he didn’t feel them leave his mouth. He tried to look down and see the rest of his body, but he couldn’t tell if he was doing even that. In the void, there was no up, down, left or right, there was only darkness. Angelus always heard stories of the afterlife, how if you were a good person and did good things, your soul would live on in the afterlife with your loved ones. Angelus thought he was a good guy, he wasn’t perfect but he was a good guy. Sure he kept the coin that he watched fall from a man’s coin pouch, and he would steal the occasion kabab, and sure he would underpay Brutus from time to time when he didn’t have the coin. “Wow, I’m worse than I thought.”
Now faced with what could be his eternal damnation, Angelus began to think of all the wrongs that he had done in the world, worrying about being sent to damnation by Uwrath. How he was going to be left in this void until the end of time? The idea made him sad, he always imagined that he would live much longer than sixteen years old. There was so much that he wanted to do with his life that he never got the chance to. He wanted to go to the Academy, go on adventures, start a family, raise children, and die of old age. Not reach sixteen and die the moment he was judged. He never even got to see if he got a class.
“What about everyone else?” The thought hit him hard, he was scared, not of dying but if he left any kind of impression. Would anyone be sad if he was dead, he was probably paranoid and overthinking, but he didn’t want to be forgotten. He wanted to be remembered for a long time, whether it be through a storybook or through memory. With him dying so early, the latter was more likely to happen than the former. The only people that remembered him would be the people of Myrefall and maybe Brutus. But how would they remember him? Was it a good or bad memory? Do they know that he did care about them?
His thoughts were moving so fast that he didn’t even notice the robed figure that was walking up to him. The figure’s robes covered him well from head to toe and were black, nearly as black as the darkness that surrounded him. In his right hand, he held a long shepherd's crook and had an hourglass hanging on his left. Although Angelus didn’t see him, he heard him, the sound of his crook hitting the…ground?
“H-Hey! Who’s there?” Angelus called, but of course, the void didn’t answer him. He did whatever he could to look around, but it was like he was stuck in one spot. The taping of the crook was getting closer to him, but he couldn’t turn around and see what it was. He couldn’t tell if he was scared, but he wanted to know who or what was making that noise. “Oh no, is this going to be my punishment? This is all I’m going to hear for all of eternity, and never know what’s making that noise. I knew that scaring Annie by slamming on her window at night was too much, but it was so funny to watch her.”
his thoughts were interrupted when he felt himself being suddenly pulled by something. Feeling himself be turned around, he saw that he was being held by a robed man by the end of his crook. His eyes were drawn to the hooded man’s face, or where one should be, under the man’s hood was just a skull. By this point, all thoughts in Angelus’s he had come to a complete stop as never in his entire life had he seen an actual skull, only the fake ones made of glass that some people would use for decorations. The skull that was under the hood was chalk white and dry as sand, and the hands that held the crook were no different, he wasn’t a man, he was a skeleton. The figure did nothing as it looked at Angelus, it only stared at him with empty eye sockets. After a few seconds of starting, a glowing white orb flashed in the skull’s right eye.
“Hmmm.” The skeleton hummed, his voice seemed dry, like he had just finished drinking chalk. “Interesting, I didn’t expect to see a vessel so soon.”
“What?” Angelus thought, or he thought he did. The skeleton’s glowing eye fixed on him again before winking out.
“And you’re conscious.” The skeleton almost gasped, its jaw bone was moving and the words were coming out, but just didn’t look right to Angelus. None of what was happening to him felt right, he was just about to find out if he received a class or not and when it was over, he died. Now he was left in this void with a skeleton with black robes, a crook in his arms, and what looked like an hourglass hanging off his side. Angelus’s mind came to a stop once again when he saw the hourglass, his mind realizing something.
“Uwrath” His voice was so soft that even he could barely hear it.
“What was that?” The skeleton leaned in. “I couldn’t hear you boy, repeat yourself.”
“Uwrath.” He repeated, he was sure that if he had eyes, they would be with both fear and awe. “You’re Uwrath, the god of death.”
“Yes, I am.” The god chuckled, actually chuckled, at Angelus’s realization. “Tell me what gave it away.”
“The crook and the hourglass,” Angelus replied, trying to point at both, but forgetting that he had no fingers to do so. “They are your symbols, the crook to guide the souls and the hourglass to show the time a life has.” Uwrath turned away, looking at both of his tools, as though he didn’t know he had them.
“Really?” Uwrath raised a brow, or it's what Angelus thought he was doing. That's how you recognized me?”
“Yes.”
“Not the dark robes or the fact that I’m a skeleton?”
“No one knows what you look like sir,” Angelus answered, trying to see if he could move out of the crook, he couldn’t. “No one has seen you and live to tell anyone. Most assume that you are only seen by those who are dead.”
“Hmmm.” the god hummed, bringing Angelus closer and putting a bone finger to his chin. “If only those who are dead can see me, then what does that say about you?”
“I-I don’t know sir, I would assume dead.” Angelus sounded dejected, even to himself. Uwrath didn't say anything, what he did do was raise his free hand and then a hole in the darkness opened up. Looking to the hole, Angelus felt his eyes widen when he looked into the hole. He saw everyone in his family: Claudia, Oliva, Donavin, Annie, and the kids. All of them were surrounding a bed, a bed that he was occupying.
In the bed, he looked like he already had one foot in the grave. His skin was pale, his eyes were sunken, and he looked like he was barely breathing. It made him shiver to see his own body like this, it looked so weak, so fragile, and with his family surrounding him, it looked like they were already mourning him.
“So I am dead,” Angelus stated, he wanted to turn away, but he couldn’t, he still didn’t know how to move. “Or, at least I’m going to.”
This wasn’t how he wanted to die, he wanted to die with the family that he loved surrounding him as he passed from old age, that or die protecting something important to him. But to die like this, looking like a corpse before he even truly died.
“Yes, you might die.” Uwrath nodded towards his words. “But you might also live.” Angelus’s head shot up at the god's words.
“Really!” Angelus asked, almost not wanting to believe it. But the god once again nodded his head.
“Yes, what you are going through is a common occurrence when so much mana has entered the body. I believe that the doctors of your world call this a…mana overflow.” Uwrath explained, finally unhooking the crook. Angelus looked to Uwrath, and the god understood what he wanted. “A mana overflow is a common occurrence for people who get their classes. During the process, the amount of mana that is absorbed in your body corresponds to the amount that the class needs in order to awaken. From the few ceremonies that I was able to watch, it looks like most only experience dizziness or nausea. But your case is…different.”
Angelus listened to Uwrath as he explained, thinking that it was nice of a god to know what happens with humans. But he was also distracted by what he said.
“I’m sorry to interrupt, but did you say that this happens to people that get classes?” Angelus didn't want to get his hopes up, just in case, he had heard the god wrong. He didn’t want to experience his hopes being crushed once again, especially with classes.
“Yes, this happens only to those that absorb a large amount of mana. Though not the only way, it usually happens when one receives a class.” Angelus started to feel excited, so excited that he forgot the situation he was in. He actually got one, he got a class. The dream of every kid was to get a class when they were of age, a dream that everyone had, yet was so hard to achieve. He wanted to know what class he got, to see if he had a fighter, support, or crafter class. He was hoping that it was a fighter class. He tried to figure out how to access it, the one thing that would confirm he got a class.
“Come on, come on,” Angelus mumbled, remembering the Tales of the Hurricane, how it had appeared before him after he had met Summanus. He kept thinking the words but it didn’t appear, so he looked up to Uwrath in confusion. “It’s not popping up?”
“I assume you mean your status screen.” Uwrath guessed, and Angelus nodded. A status screen would explain almost everything that he needed to understand for his class. It would say what class he got, his stats, his abilities, and whether or not he needed a weapon for his class. He needed to know what he could become. “That is because I have yet to permit you to use your class, Angelus.”
“Permit me?” Angelus repeated a question in his tone. “Why would you need to permit me, is my class one of your classes?”
Uwrath wasn’t known for giving any classes, and no one knew why. The other six gods along with the minor gods had classes to give. But As far as everyone knew, Uwrath didn’t have any classes. No fighter, support, crafter, or even utility and before then it looked like he didn’t have any plans to make a class. The priests would say that Uwrath didn’t make any classes because to do so means that he would have to interact with his direct opposite, life. The only part of life that Uwrath could interact with was souls, but even then it was only to guide them. That was why he had his crook so that he wouldn’t have to touch them. But if Uwrath gave him a class, that would mean that as far as anyone knew, he would be the first person to ever receive a class from the god of death. Angelus looked up to Uwrath, waiting to hear his answer.
“Yes,” He sighed as he answered his question. Even though he had no facial expressions, Angelus could tell that he was reluctant to answer. “Your class is one that I have made, the first class that I have ever made.”
“What class is it?” Angelus sounded excited, and he didn’t even know what class he had. But Angelus felt that it had to be a fighter class. Uwrath was the god of death, after all, it would be hard to imagine a class that didn’t revolve around the idea of killing. That was another aspect of the main gods, while not always the case, the gods seem to have some type of theme or concept that their classes revolved around. One of the concepts would be the positive aspects of their element, and the other would be the negative aspects. For the goddess of Earth, Terra, her aspect would be the growth and nurturing of plant life, but the destructive force of natural disasters can cause.
Uwrath didn’t answer him but did turn his back and walk. With Angelus still in his crook, he had no choice but to follow him. With a wave of his skeletal hand, Angelus saw a ripple in the darkness, before it was all broken away. Angelus could only stare at the amazing sight that he saw.
Once again, he was surrounded by darkness, but it wasn’t just the darkness. There were specks of light all over, like little flames. They were the same color, a dark shade of blue where the edges of the flame were transparent. And there were so many of them that Angelus had a hard time finding a space that was empty. Upon closer inspection, Angelus saw that all of these lights looked and moved like fire. Every so often they would flicker in a nonexistent wind, with embers following in the same direction. Uwrath was still next to Angelus and guided him with his crook, letting him take in the sight. To Angelus, he has never seen so many colors before, not in clothes, not in nature, it reminded him of the night sky. With specks of light surrounded by the vast emptiness of space, this was probably the closes image to a star that Angelus was ever going to get. It looked so beautiful, almost as if it was alive.
“They are quite a sight aren’t they?” Uwrath said more than asked Angelus, he could only nod.
“They are.” He wanted to reach out and try and touch them, but with no hands, that was impossible. So Angelus settle for only staring at them, watching the embers as they left the fire. “What are they.”
“They are souls,” Uwrath said, his tone was soft, like how a grandfather talking about his grandchildren.
“These are souls.” He gasped, now looking at the colors with new meaning. As far as he knew, no one alive has ever seen what a soul looks like. Angelus had always imagined that souls would look like the person that they belonged to. Even with no eyes, Angelus could tell that Uwrath was looking at them fondly. He thought it was actually quite ironic, that the god of death could look at any form of life with such kindness. In Cyris, the people thought of Uwrath as a dark, cold, and imposing god that thought of life as nothing more than a job that needed to be done. But the god that he saw before him seemed to be the opposite, he talked about these souls as if they were made by him. It made Angelus release some of the tension that he had after seeing Uwrath. But all that tension returned when Uwrath turned to him, his tone turning deadly. “And they will be your test to see if you’re worthy of my class.” Angelus then felt cold, the beauty of the world that surrounded him suddenly lost to him.
“A test.” Angelus never heard about tests, not when it came to classes. Not even Zepher, and he had a champion class. Again, Angelus felt a chill run down him as he watched Uwrath. “What do you want me to do.”
“I thought it would be obvious.” The god replied coldly. Angelus then felt something happen to him. Like there was a pair of hands running through his body and changing him. Sometimes they would grip him and stretch what he assumed was his body, other times it would feel like they were softly giving him shape, like a potter giving his work shape. It was a very odd experience, but none of it was painful.
When the hands disappeared, he tried to look at himself. This time when he moved it was like he was back in his regular body. Lifting his hand, he looked and saw that instead of the skin, it was the blue fire the surrounding souls were made of. He made to walk, but something felt off to him, there was no weight on him. Every time he took a step, it was more like he was pulling himself with the limbs that were meant to be his legs. It took Angelus a few steps, before deciding that he didn’t like whatever it was that the hands did to him. He tried to walk some more, but that was interrupted as something slammed right in front of him. Whatever it was startled Angelus so much that he fell back. Looking up, he saw what fell in front of him.
It was a scythe, not the same scythes that farmers would use to harvest their grain. No, this scythe was a tool that was meant to kill. The curved blade at the end looked to be three feet, with a cruel curve at the base of the blade. Throughout the blade, there looked to be small cracks and chips on the blade, along with rust making it seem bloodied. The shaft of the scythe was black, with rust running throughout the entire length. On the other side of the scythe, there was another blade, the was an identical blade that was only a foot in length, but it looked just as wicked as the larger one. The part that caught his attention the most though was the hole that sat where the handle met the blade. It was completely empty like something was supposed to be embedded in it, but it was taken out. Under that hole, the shaft was split in two and twisted. Taking the whole scythe in, this was clearly meant to collect a harvest, but not of grain or wheat, this weapon was meant to harvest lives.
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“Pick it up,” Uwrath commanded, no sign of the god that showed kindness to life just one minute ago. Angelus looked up to the god, the empty sockets looked back to him but did not repeat himself. Standing up, he moved towards the scythe, every step feeling heavier as he pulled himself towards the weapon. When he finally reached the weapon, he put both hands on the handle and tried to lift it. It didn’t budge, he tried to pull it, but again, it didn’t move. He looked to Uwrath, trying to see if he would help him in any way. But the skull gave nothing away as he watched him struggle.
So Angelus continued to struggle, berating himself as he tried to think of a solution to this test. He may have not known Uwrath for long, but he had to imagine that the god wouldn’t give him an impossible task. There had to be an answer to this, one that he just wasn’t seeing. But for the life of him, he just couldn’t think of what that answer could be. He was using all of his strength to try and live this scythe, but it wouldn’t budge. The frustration was starting to get to him, almost making him cry tears, but thankfully he had no eyes to cry from. He was already embarrassing himself in front of a god, to cry would probably ruin any chances he had with getting a class. A thought then struck Angelus.
“I can’t cry.” He reached up and touched where his eyes should have been, but he couldn’t feel them. He tried touching, rubbing, and even gouging his eyes, but he couldn’t do a thing to them. “I don’t have eyes, yet I can feel when I’m going to cry” He gave more thought to that as he looked at the body that Uwrath made of his soul. It was a slender body that didn’t even look like it was properly made. Lifting up his arm, he used his hand to feel his bicep, there was no real feeling and when he pulled it, it pulled apart like wet clay. It didn’t hurt, in fact, it didn’t feel like anything, only the slight sensation of stretching. Letting it go, it shaped itself back to its original form as though nothing had happened. “So, I have no real body, all I am is a soul given a shape.” He concluded.
Giving this deeper thought, he started to wonder, if he was just a soul, why could he feel when his eyes were close to tears? why did he feel strained when he tried to lift the scythe? He already concluded that the scythe wasn’t meant to be lifted with raw strength, with his soul body, he didn’t think he would be able to lift a rock. Walking up to the scythe once again, he examined it again. He tried to see if there was a different way to hold the weapon, one different than strength. This time when he examined the blade, his eyes wandered to empty space on the blade. It just didn’t make any sense to him, why was there an empty space on a weapon, did it serve any purpose? Was it meant to hold something? did whatever it was in there fall out? Angelus couldn’t help himself and reach out to it.
The agony he felt after touching the space happened so fast, that he couldn’t even get out a scream before the hand he reach out with was taken from him. It wasn’t just the hand, but the whole arm all the way up to the shoulder. The pain didn’t come from the arm that was cut off, it came from his core, like someone jabbed his gut with a knife and twisted it out. But pain lasted for no more than a second, but in that time, he wondered what could cause so much pain in such a short time. When that second ended, the arm that he lost grew back, and the pain disappeared. Angelus didn’t give it any mind though, he only fell back and put both his arms on his chest. It didn’t hurt anymore, but it felt like something was missing. He wanted to lay on the floor and think about what happened and why he was feeling this way. But then a transparent grey box appeared in front of him. This was what he had been waiting for, the status screen. The words were white, a sharp contrast to the gray color that surrounded the words, something he needed with his blurry vision. When his vision finally focused enough to read the text, he froze. It wasn't a notification that he received a class.
Your sacrifice has been accepted by Uwrath, the god of death
You have sacrificed part of your soul in order to form a soul bond with a weapon of great power. Do not take this lightly, a soul bonded weapon has the potential to become either a truly devastating weapon or a flimsy farmer's tool. What it becomes is up to you, as you grow strong, it will grow with you, If you stay weak, it will remain the same.
You may now wield the sacred weapon, Spiritus Cavea
Spiritus Cavea, a scythe that was rumored to have once been sharp enough to cut directly to one's soul. This scythe was once Uwrath’s prized weapon in a war long before the first race came to be. He used it to cut down his enemies and trap their souls in its core to use its ability. But centuries of neglect have taken this once godly weapon and made it comparable to the weapons of mortals.
???
Weapon ability: (Locked)
Angelus shot up as he read the words. He sacrificed a part of his soul, and he wasn’t even warned. He turned to Uwrath, his anger rising with every possible situation that ran through his head. But before he was about to let his thoughts be heard, Uwrath interrupted him.
“Your test is not done, boy.” He spat, making every word seem like it was an insult to Angleus’s very being. If Angelus thought the god was deadly before, now he was sinister. He slammed his crook and the scythe moved once again, this time towards Angelus. It moved towards him, spinning so fast that he couldn’t even see the blade. Angelus didn’t have time to dodge the blade, so he did the only thing that he could. He brought his arms up like Brutus taught him to when he needed to defend himself from an attack and braced himself. But the attack never came, looking up, he saw the scythe stop right in front of him, now spinning slowly, waiting for him to pick it up. He stared blankly for a minute, feeling his breathing slow he tried to process what just happened. But once again, he was interrupted by Uwrath. “Pick it up.”
He didn’t even question it this time, only reached out and grabbed the spinning scythe. It was so much lighter now, it was almost like a feather. He gave it a few clumsy swings to see how it felt, even going so far as to try and twirl it. As he did, the handle slipped from his grasp, and he caught it before it could hit the ground. Recovering quickly, looked up to Uwrath, who had no visible reaction to the mistake.
“Now you are ready for your test,” Uwrath said, and snapped his fingers. The souls around them then started to wink out of existence, leaving the space they were in to grow progressively darker. When all but two of the souls remained, Uwrath grabbed both with his crook and placed them in front of Angelus.
“These two souls will be the deciding factor of whether or not you will receive my class, one of them is the soul of a man who has a wife that he loves dearly, along with children who grew up loving him. He helps his neighbors whenever they ask and spends his free time teaching the children how to hunt and survive in the forest.” Uwrath pointed to the one on the left. Angelus nodded, looking at the soul with respect. “And the other is the soul of a man who left a life of full of blood, he killed whatever he could, beast, men, and women alike.” this time, he pointed to the soul on the right. Angelus nodded, having a feeling that he knew what was going to happen. At the tap of his crook, the souls started to spin at a speed fast enough to make his head spin. When they stopped, Uwrath pointed towards them. “I want you to pick one of these souls and cut it with my blade, ending their life. If you do that, I will give you the class that you have dreamed of.”
Angelus's stomach dropped as his fear came true, already figuring out the test, but that didn’t make it any easier. He was trying to talk himself into doing this, killing another man. He knew that if he was to become an adventurer, there might have been a day when he was going to have to kill someone. He didn’t know what to expect, but in Zepher’s story, the first man that he had killed was a bandit that was going to after his instructor. He remembered reading that he didn’t mean to kill the man, that his skill, force shove, sent the bandit into a tree branch and stabbed the man through his chest. Zepher wrote that he didn’t remember much that happened during the fight, but when it was over, he would remember that man's face. The shock at seeing the branch in his chest, the desperate attempts to reach for a potion, the despair on his face when he dropped the potion, and finally the fear in his eyes as he looked at Zepher. Every man that he killed after that would bring him back to that night. Angelus wondered if he could go through that, even if the situation wasn’t the same.
In his situation, he wasn’t forced to take a life in order to save another. No, he was to decide which of these souls was the correct one to kill. If he pick the wrong one, he will have killed a man he never met, leaving his children without a father, and his wife without her husband. Angelus didn’t know what it was like to lose a parent, but he imagined what it would feel like if either Claudia or Olivia were to suddenly die without warning.
“What is different about them?” Looking between the two souls, he couldn’t see any difference. “Okay, calm down and think again Angelus, what is different between these two souls? One is a man who kills indiscriminately, and the other is a caring father who teaches kids to survive in the forest.” It was all he knew about the two, but it was no help at all. He reached out and tried to see if something would happen, but nothing happened to him. He didn't get a sudden flash that showed their lives, or a voice that explained who the other was. they were just souls that stayed quiet. “Damn it, why can I tell the difference, is there even any difference between souls?”
In his mind, he began to panic, the fear of making the wrong decision weighing down on his mind. He knew he needed to make a decision before he would his class, but this was now much more than that.
“Am I truly willing to risk killing a man for a class?” Angelus asked himself, looking between the two souls. One of them sounded like a terrible man if what Uwrath said was true. He killed both men and women alike, and though he left that life behind him, that didn’t mean that his crime could go unpunished. But if he took the risk and decided before figuring it out, he will have killed an innocent. Even if he did get the class, he wasn’t sure he could ever face anyone at Myrefall again. He had always been taught that hurting anyone should always be the last resort by both Olivia and Claudia. And if they found out that he had killed a man just for the chance to receive a class, they would probably never forgive him. Even if they did, he wasn’t sure if he could ever forgive himself.
He wanted all that came with a class, the power, the fame, the money, all of it. He wanted there to be stories about him that grandfather would tell their grandkids. The tales of an orphan who fought the big monster alone and saved the land. He wanted the champion's ending that Brutus had always called him a damn fool for. But he didn’t want his story to begin with the loss of innocent life.
“What is wrong?” Angelus looked up at Uwrath, he saw the god leaning over and peering at him with his empty sockets. “Don’t you want your class?” The way he said it, it was like he was teasing a dog. Dangling a treat that was just out of his reach, all he had to do was jump to reach it.
“So, this is what you are truly like.” It sickened him, to think that for just a moment, he thought Uwrath was a benevolent god that really did care for life. It made him wonder if he truly did die and if this was some personal torture of his. Made to choose between a man's life and a class, between his morals or his dream.
“I’m not doing this,” Angelus said firmly, mocking Uwrath by slamming the end of the scythe into the ground. “I refuse to take part in this test.”
“Excuse me?” Uwrath’s tone went cold once again, daring Angelus to repeat himself. His eye socket started to glow again, a bright blue fire that matched the two souls right in front of him. Though the legs of his soul body were shaking, he repeated himself.
“I will not play your games Uwrath.” Angelus didn’t know what was coming over him. His body was telling him to shut up and make a choice so this could be over with, his mind was already trying to find the best way to beg for forgiveness. But he didn’t act on any of those instincts, as he was neither sorry nor going to make a choice.
“These are no games, boy.” The god growled, pointing at the two souls. “Kill a man and get your prize. All you need to do is pick one, either by logic or luck, it doesn’t matter, I will give you your class either way.”
“This is not about me getting a class Uwrath,” Angelus yelled, his anger at the god finally boiling over. He had enough of the god’s casual disregard for life, first the sacrifice he made for the scythe, the risk of an innocent man’s death, and then rewarding said dea-no said murder with a class. “I don’t want a class that comes at the expense of another man's life. Whether that man is good or bad, a father or a murderer. I will not risk the life of a good man to get my class if it means that the murderer gets away. And I will not kill this murderer without knowing his story first.”
“I offer you what you have been dreaming of ever since you are a child. A way for you to become famous, to raise money for your family, and the possibility to become a legend in your own right. All you have to do is kill one of these men, and take it. You will never know the consequences of your actions, and you will still be given a class.”
“And live the rest of my life thinking if I have killed an innocent man? I’d rather live my life as a farmer harvesting vegetables.” Some would call him stupid at his declaration. But he just couldn’t give up his morals. Claudia had spent sixteen years teaching Angelus right from wrong, and to accept this offer would be to go against everything that he was taught.
Uwrath didn’t say anything at first, and Angelus wasn’t sure if he should be scared or not. Had he shocked the god into silence? Was he so angry that he was speechless? Angelus couldn’t tell, but he wished he would do something. The silence was weighing down on him.
“Allow me to make this easier then,” Uwrath said simply, Angelus didn’t answer. He was drained from the anger he just displayed, not being used to it. He had been frustrated, sad, embarrassed and everything in between, but angry. He could count the number of times he’s been truly angry on both his hands. He just didn’t have it in himself for it to be a regular occurrence. Now he could say that one of those few times he’s exploded, it was at a literal god.
“Way to go me.” He thought as Uwrath grabbed both of the souls with his skeletal hands and slam them together. He held them like that for a few seconds, letting the two souls become one. When he was done merging the souls, he placed it down in front of Angelus.
“Those two souls that I presented you with were never truly two people Angelus. They were both the same man, but at different points of his life.” rising up to his full height, he looked down at Angelus, waiting to see his reaction.
“Uwrath.” Angelus sighed, feeling the heat of his anger come back to him. “I told you, I refuse to kill a man in order to receive my class.”
“Yes, you did.” Uwrath nodded, Angelus made to speak, but the god continued. “But what if I told you that receiving this class would improve your chances of recovery.” Angelus tried to hide his reaction, but the god was too perceptive to miss it. “Your body, as I said before, is suffering from mana overflow, a common sickness most recover from given time. Fatal to those who are not used to mana. But the ones that have the highest chance at recovery from mana overflow are the ones who have the advantages a class brings them. I’m sure that you know the advantages of having a class.”
He did, those who had access to a class would always be stronger than those who had no classes. Whether that be in strength, speed, endurance, or recovery. A normal adventurer could recover from a stab to the gut and be healed the next day, while a normal human would need to go to the nearest clinic and hope they wouldn’t lose too much blood before they got there. In other words, he had to kill this man for the best chance at survival. Uwrath was no longer teasing him with the promise of his class, he was holding his entire life.
“You had better make your decision soon Angelus,” Uwrath said, reaching around and pulling his hourglass out. He showed it to Angelus, almost all of the sand was at the bottom. In a mocking tone, Uwrath said, “Your time is running out.”
Angelus was taught the basics about all of the gods, how they should all be respected and how their words are fact, no matter what they said. The gods always had our best intentions, the people would say. Yet, here was one, making him choose between his own life, and one that he had never met. His emotions began to storm inside of him as he looked between the soul and Spirtus. The anger at the unfairness of the situation, the frustration at the seemingly easy choice made difficult, panic at how fast the sand was falling, and finally, fear at his own death.
“Damn it!” Angelus screamed in his mind. He only had a few grains of sand left in the hourglass, and if the legends were true, it would be the end of him when the last grain hit the bottom. He could save himself, it would be easy to do so. All he had to do was lift this scythe, and slam it down on top of the soul. It was so easy to lift the scythe now, he thought about how it had been not that long ago when it felt like it weighed a ton. Lifting the scythe like he would an ax, he positioned himself in front of the soul. “You can do this, You can do this.”
He closed his eyes and thought of the life he would have when this was all over. He would achieve all that he dreamed of, all he had to do was kill this murderer.
He could give Annie a chance to wear the makeup she was always looking at in the beauty shop. All he had to do was kill this murderer
He could give Lily lessons on how to fight, and Ren all the books he could ever want. All he had to do was kill the murderer.
He could finally talk to both Sylvia and Juno and help them open up to the others. All he had to do was kill this man.
He could lessen the burden on both Claudia and Olivia. All he had to do was kill this man.
He could look at Donavin as his equal, and be happy for each other. All he had to do was kill this man.
He could look at his family and be proud of what he has done, both for himself and for them. All he had to do, was murder this man.
Angelus screamed as the Scythe came down, the strength was impressive, even to Uwrath. As the scythe hit the floor, the blade vibrated throughout his whole arm. That vibration was the only other noise that filled the room, the first being the heavy panting that came from Angelus.
“So, this is your choice.” The soul remained exactly where it was, with the scythe embedded inches away from it.
“Yeah,” Angelus answered, chuckling as he watched the last of the sand begin to reach the bottom. He felt himself getting weaker and smaller with every grain that fell.
“I hope you believe you made the right decision.” Uwrath scoffed, and once again, Angelus chuckled.
“Oh, I know I made the right decision, but if I’m going to die and go to the afterlife. Can I leave you with two gifts?”
Uwrath didn’t answer him, but he nodded to him. So without saying a word, Angelus let go of the scythe, and lifted both of his hands, each presenting the god with one finger as the last grain of sand fell. When the last grain hit the bottom, Angelus’s soul had disappeared, leaving the god in darkness, stunned by his actions.
“Did he just flip me off?”