Talax danced with an energy that seemed to come from the very core of his being. His movements were clumsy and uncoordinated, but he moved around the small room with a wild abandon, his body twisting and turning as he bumped into furniture and on occasion, even into Bene, who stood still as a statue, looking at him with bewildered eyes.
His heart was racing, and he could feel the blood pumping through his veins as he thought about what was to come. After his failed test, he had given up hope of ever becoming a mage. The testing showed that he lacked affinity for any of the elements he had come in contact with. But now, through some miracle, he possessed the knowledge of a void magic spell, and he was itching to test it out.
As he danced, Bene waved his hands frantically, trying to get his friend's attention. "Talax, calm down!" he shouted to be heard above the din. "How is this possible? The tester said you had no magical affinity!"
Talax slowed down, his breathing ragged from exertion. He grinned triumphantly, sweat glistening on his forehead. "Apparently, I wasn't tested on every magic," he said with a shrug. "I found a type of magic I wasn’t tested during my trial."
Bene's eyes widened with surprise as Talax continued his story, explaining how he had noticed something peculiar during his testing, something that he had only just realized was a type of magic that had gone undetected. But Bene wasn't convinced. "Novices can only learn basic elements," he said, scratching his head. "Higher magic is learned on higher tiers."
But Talax didn't care about any of that. He was ready to cast his spell, to prove to himself and to Bene that he really did have magic. He prepared to cast the weak void ball spell, feeling a surge of excitement and anticipation.
"Now behold my greatness!" he declared in a grandiose voice, feeling a mischievous snicker bubble up in his chest.
He began the casting, feeling the mana in his core siphoning out and flowing through his body like a river of energy. His hands moved in a complex series of gestures, his lips uttering words that no mortal could begin to comprehend.
And then, the void ball appeared. A small ball of purple nothingness, hovering between his outstretched palms. It pulsed with a dark energy, its very essence hungry and ravenous. He could hear the echoes of hollowness and ravenousness that he had come to associate with void magic, the emotions muted by the VoidBorn ability that now flowed through him.
Bene gasped in horror, his eyes fixed on the ball. "What is this?" he exclaimed, his voice trembling with fear.
But Talax couldn't answer. He was too focused on maintaining the spell, too consumed by the raw power coursing through his veins. His body shook with the effort of maintaining the spell, his mind straining to keep the magic flowing. He could feel the energy slipping away, draining from his core like water from a cracked jug. With a quick glance at his core, he saw the bright blue pool of mana now reduced to a dried-up pit, with the purple vortex of void magic siphoning the last drops of the magical fuel.
And then it was over. Talax cut off the spell unable to supply any more mana, feeling dizzy and disoriented. The small purple ball that was the size of his fingernail vanished into thin air just as suddenly as it had manifested. He staggered back, panting for breath, his heart racing with excitement and exhaustion at having cast his first spell.
He exhaled sharply, his ragged breaths echoing in the dimly lit room as he tried to steady himself. The sweat that trailed down his temples dripped onto the floor, leaving a trail in its wake. His body trembled from exhaustion, every muscle aching as if he had just run a grueling marathon. His legs felt like they could give out at any moment, and he had to lean heavily on a nearby chair to keep from collapsing.
Despite his best efforts, his first attempt at magic had been a complete failure. He had poured every last ounce of his mana into the spell, but he hadn't been able to complete his spell and now he felt utterly drained, like a deflated balloon. His vision swam, the world around him blurring into a mess of colors and shapes. With great effort, he managed to stay upright, his eyes barely able to make out the faint outline of Bene's figure a few meters away.
Slowly but surely, however, he felt his mind clearing. Gradually, he began to sense his mana starting to replenish, although at an agonizingly slow rate. He glanced over at Bene, who had kept his distance from him. To his surprise, the old man looked even worse than he felt. His skin was pale, his few remaining wisps of hair were plastered to his head, and his wild eyes held a myriad of emotions that Talax couldn't begin to decipher.
The old man took a few slow, measured steps toward him, closing the distance between them. With a rough voice that Talax barely recognized, he asked him, "What kind of magic was this?" Talax was about to answer, but something stopped him. Bene's jerking movements and the cold look in his eyes made him hesitate. The old man who had shown him nothing but kindness, a guide to this strange, new world had been replaced by someone else, someone who looked at him like he was a stranger.
"I asked you, boy! What type of magic was this?" Bene's vehemence startled Talax, and he involuntarily took a few steps back. But the old man followed him, refusing to give him any space to breathe. Talax noticed the man's left hand twitching, and he realized that something awful was about to happen.
He locked eyes with Bene, determined to see his reaction. "Void magic," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.
The old man's hooded eyes widened in fear, but as he looked at Talax, a sense of acceptance seemed to wash over him. His face relaxed and his eyes cleared, almost as if he was relieved that his suspicions had been confirmed. Talax felt his own anxiety ebb away, and he allowed himself to loosen up a little, thinking that the worst was over.
Before he could even react, however, Bene lunged at him. Talax caught a flash of steel out of the corner of his eye, just in time to hear Bene hiss with venom, "Voidling!"
Talax let out an incomprehensible cry of surprise and fear, but it was too late. He felt a fiery pain erupt in his lower abdomen, and a second cry, this time pained, filled the room. A thousand questions whirled inside his mind, but he pushed them all aside as Bene yanked the knife from the wound, causing Talax's pain to skyrocket. He tried to take deep breaths to alleviate the pain in some way, but the old man wasn't finished. With a manic look in his eyes, Bene tried to jab at him once more, and from somewhere around the room, he heard Sir Gallant hiss like a demon, adding to the chaos and confusion.
“You are truly cursed! Cursed by the Gods themselves, like all of your kind! Abomination!” Talax winced as he clutched his bleeding wound, feeling the warm, sticky blood flowing through his fingers. He scanned the room frantically, searching for something - anything - to defend himself against the crazed old man who had once been his savior.
His eyes widened in terror as he saw the knife glinting menacingly in the air, coming straight towards him. With a surge of fear, he awkwardly dived to the side, hitting his bony elbows on the wooden floor, the pain shooting up his arms.
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As he landed on the floor with a thud, Talax felt a sudden surge of mana coursing through his veins, but he paid no attention to it. Instead, his gaze was fixed on the old man who looked wildly at Talax with the knife still in the air. The old man's eyes were crazed, filled with the intent to kill. Talax's heart thumped loudly in his chest as he thought furiously of a way out of this situation. The man that had previously treated him with nothing but kindness now held murder in his eyes, and his intent was clear.
With shaking hands, Talax raised one arm in surrender, still lying prone on the floor. “Please, Bene! I don’t understand what is happening! I thought you wanted me to have magic, that’s what we both hoped for!” As he tried to reason with the old man, his words were choked with desperation. He could hear the sound of his own rapid breathing and the pounding of his heart in his ears.
But the old man just laughed - a harsh, mirthless sound - and continued to point the blade at Talax's prone form. “Filth! I should have let you die the day I met you! That is not magic, that is a curse! A curse that will make you a merciless monster, a devourer!” He spat to the side as if trying to get rid of some foulness before continuing, “Your kind was supposed to have eclipsed in the land, how did you manage to survive? Abominations like yourself should not exist!” Talax's heart pounded in his chest as he listened to Bene's tirade. He desperately searched for a weapon, but the only thing he could see was a small book next to the bed that Bene usually read before going to sleep. “I am no monster, you know me!” Talax protested.
“You think I didn’t feel your desire to kill me, to devour me when you cast your spell? Your magic will turn you into a mad monster sooner or later!” At this point, the old man was shouting, making the veins at his temple stand in stark relief. Talax for his part was in disbelief. Bene had felt the aura that the void magic emitted, prompting him to believe that those were Talax’s emotions.
“No, you don’t understand!” he pleaded, his voice trembling with fear. The old man, though, was in no mood for discussion and attacked. With a furious roar, he lunged forward, the knife flashing in the dim light of the room.
With lightning reflexes, Talax dodged the first strike, feeling Bene's body collide with his own. Pain blossomed in his wounded side, making him gasp for air, but he refused to give up. He lunged for the knife, his fingers closing around the hilt just as Bene swung his arm down for another attack. Talax used his elbow to clip Bene's jaw and heard a satisfying click. In his surprise, Bene let his grasp on the knife loosen, and Talax managed to toss it out of his hand.
Bene growled in frustration. "I will kill you one way or another! I will not let a monster like you loose in the world." Talax saw Bene's fist coming but was unable to dodge. Pain blossomed in his face, and his vision swam for a few seconds, making him see double. He tried furiously to regain his bearings, but when he came to, he felt hands around his neck, choking him to death.
Talax's heart thundered in his chest as he grappled with the old man, feeling the weight of his opponent's body pressing down on him. Bene's eyes blazed with a mad fury as he tried to crush the life out of Talax, his fingers tightening around his neck.
Talax struggled to breathe, gasping for air as Bene's grip tightened. His vision grew dark at the edges, and he felt himself growing weaker by the second. He punched blindly at the old man's sides without inflicting any real damage but with the will of a cornered animal.
He tried to breathe, with gasping sounds the only result. Above him stood Bene like a harbinger of death with a feverish look in his eyes and spit running down the side of his mouth. Talax punches connected with the old scribe’s sides but in his fury, he barely registered them. Talax may be taller than him, but the older man was heavier and of higher level, making it easy to overpower him.
He felt multiple surges of mana but he ignored them all and looked around frantically. He could feel growing weaker by the second. His feeble attempts against Bene becoming even more inconsequential and the edges of his vision were becoming darker, signaling his looming death.
He remembered the book, and with desperate hope, he stretched out his hand. Bene, in his feverish state, didn't even notice his actions, his eyes filled with fury. After some fumbled attempts, Talax's fingers finally closed around the small book. With as much force as he could muster, he slammed it onto the old man's head, the sound of impact echoing through the dimly lit room.
Benne toppled to the hardwood floor, his body writhing in pain, while Talax drew deep gasping breaths, his chest heaving with exertion. He felt oxygen flood his greedy lungs, and his mind slowly cleared. He scrambled away from the old man, an emotion welling up in him as he saw him sprawled helpless on the floor. A surge of adrenaline coursed through his veins, his heart racing with fear and anger.
The emotion that took hold in his heart seemed to take root and grow like a mighty oak. He was furious! The man had betrayed him because of some fanciful tale! A white-hot rage blanketed his mind, and he felt his hands ball into fists on their own accord. He had the urge to use his magic, to unleash its power and strike down his enemy.
Talax stopped himself, though, from acting on it. Killing another man wasn't what troubled him. His inability to finish the spell, on the other hand, was what made him pause. He knew that he needed to leave, and quickly.
He took a deep breath, trying to find equilibrium, to calm his thoughts, and think rationally. He had to leave, not just from this house but the city altogether. Even if no one else but Bene believed his tales, he could still be accused of having magic and labeled an apostate.
Sir Gallant chose that moment to make his presence known, materializing out of nowhere. Silent and unseen, he jumped onto Talax's shoulders, his claws digging into the fabric of his shirt. With a fierce swipe, he drew blood from Talax's cheek, his eyes glowing with malevolent glee.
Talax screamed at the unexpected attack and tried to dislodge the demonic cat. Sir Gallant's fur bristled as he hissed and spat, his fangs bared menacingly. It would have been funny, a grown man wrestling with a one-eared cat, except for the fact that Talax wanted to leave before Bene could recover.
With a forceful push, he managed to dislodge the angry cat that had left scratches all over his neck and face. He stumbled towards the door, his body aching with pain, and his mind reeling with confusion.
He went to leave, but a sudden jolt pulled him back. A bony hand had wrapped around his ankle and yanked him with such ferocity that he stumbled and nearly fell. He twisted his body to break free, but it was too late. With a bone-jarring thud, he crashed to the ground, dazed and disoriented.
Once again, stars like brilliant fireworks exploded in his vision, but this time, he was more cognizant and instinctively contorted his body into a defensive stance. He felt a sharp pain like a red-hot poker connecting with his stomach, causing him to flinch in agony. Bene, with a snarl of triumph, then mounted him and Talax through the haze of pain, instinctively curled up into a ball, shielding his face with his arms. Bene started raining down punches to his face, his wrinkled features twisted into a mask of fury.
Then he saw it - a glint of metal, lying just out of reach. With the last of his strength, he lunged towards it, his fingers closing around the hilt of the knife. The cold metal sent shivers up his spine, but he held on tight, knowing it was his only chance.
No hesitation or regret plagued Talax's mind as he lunged forward, the blade glinting in the dim light of the room. With a fierce yell, he jabbed the knife into Bene's throat, feeling the satisfying resistance of flesh and bone as it pierced his skin. A fountain of blood rained down on his face, and he could taste the metallic tang of it on his lips. He pulled out the knife from the old man's throat, feeling a sense of hollowness overtaking him.
Bene's eyes bulged in disbelief as he clutched at his throat, trying to stem the flow of blood. But it was too late. He looked at Talax, his breaths coming in ragged gasps like a dying animal, and with a gasping voice whispered, "You are cursed... soon you will join your God... and I..." Before he could finish his sentence, his eyes lost focus, and he collapsed, this time for good.
The old man's dead body pressed down on him like a mountain, and he felt blood soaking down his robes, the sticky liquid like a second skin. With revulsion, he pushed away the body and stood up, his limbs like lead. He cleaned his hands and face with the water bucket that lay in the corner of the room, the cool water like a balm to his aching body. Talax tucked away the small knife that had saved his life, its blade stained red like a bloody reminder of what he had done and looked one last time at the man who had almost killed him.
A dark red pool of blood had formed around the man's head like a mocking halo, making the room look like a gruesome painting. Talax sighed at the pointlessness of what had happened, his mind like a mess of conflicting emotions.
Sir Gallant was looking at him accusingly, perched atop the cupboard like a judge passing sentence, hissing menacingly.
"Don't look at me like that. I never meant to cause any harm," Talax shook his head and hoped that it wasn't true what they said about cats and their dead owners.
With one last sigh, he walked away.