Chapter 154: Violence (P3)

Kneeling before the man that ought to be kneeling before me, the man I sought to dethrone and toss aside, much in a similar manner I did with Matthias, I find that I've never been so defeated.

Not even while facing the Cult.

The Cult I could always escape from, I could always turn tail, take a blow to my pride and live to fight another day but…with him, with Serue.

I find this may be the end of the line for this wild adventure into this uncomfortable, medieval world of magic, gods, spirits, elves and creatures of all the kinds.

I don't welcome the thought of my pending demise; not like I did the last time. No, this time I have something to live for, I have a life worth saving, people worth seeing again and things left unfinished.

Just like him. If I were to go right now, Serue would be at the top of my list in unfinished business.

Although, I take comfort in the fact that I'd still be able to hang with Anselm…that is if I stay in this world anyway, if I am not simply tossed into another body as I was this one.

I figure the only way to stay in this world as I want to, with Kaylin, Anselm and even Aren. I would need to become a Deity.

The thought of such an ascension daunts me even more that the glistening blade of my dagger held against my neck. But I understand that if by some miracle, perhaps one of Lotars working given how much I've mumbled prayed to the damned Wolf, I would live on to truly take on the role I sourly seek.

The role that gives ultimate power over all that would hurt me, all that would put me down and trample over my progress, my achievements and small victories.

But I suppose, that's all 'what if' talk.

I have since long fallen into the Mayor's trap. The Matron looks unbothered and dignified as always in the corner with the boys huddled around her skirt still, and Audwin has on a permeating air of smugness, you'd think he was the one to bring me to my knees.

And the Mayor, Serue, that psychotic glint that rests in his eyes simply says he wants to play.

But I've got nothing else to give him, if I so much as mould a bit of mana he'll take my dagger to my neck.

Telepathically I've called unto Shaco, but the slithering Serpent is such a distance away I believe my corpse would begin to cool before he arrives. For whatever reason the pair he's followed opted to leave the city, in the unlikely chance I survive this encounter, I've given him a turnback order.

He wouldn't make it to me anyway.

Quietly I curse myself for not bringing along at least one of my undead with me. In fact, I'm beating myself up over it.

What kind of Necromancer walks into a fight without any freaking undead corpses?

If I had one even as far back as the gate, I could have stalled for time with Serue until it got within range for me to use a still untested spell; Dark Step.

One that allows me the ability to displace any of my undead within range with myself, essentially letting me teleport. 

I realize, hindsight is the most useless thing ever. Dwelling on these mistakes will only make me more defeated.

"What's the point of using wind magic if your speciality truly lies in Illusions?" I ask. The more I say the word the more I reminisce my first encounter with Maylin.

Upon hearing that I simply sensed that she was a free elf, she spoke highly of my mana sensitivity and even boasted that I would be nigh immune to Illusion magic and enchantments.

I wonder now, looking up at Serue, what changed?

Is this the hurdle I am unfit to cross? Too weak to blast through like I usually do?

"I have to keep up the charade my friend." Serue answers, "I only learned Illusion magic as a past time, and frankly, it's looked down upon in our community as you know, I'm sure you're inwardly seething at the fact that not an evocationist, but an Illusionist took you, the vaulted Necromage of the Synagogue down on his knees."

"So you do know about the Synagogue."

"Of course, I do, they run everything, I even have a Diviner in my office waiting for me."

"You know exactly what I mean." I grit.

He chuckles lightly, "Ah yes, yes I do."

"Why did you pretend you didn't? Aren't leaders supposed to be truthful? You're from the vaulted family Ire, aren't you?"

He sneers at this, "House, not family." He sternly corrects, nicking a part of my skin, "And you were being stubborn, something kept me from prying too deeply into you. In the end it took me coming into physical contact with you to have my mounted spells kick in."

At this I feel a bit of pride swell within me, "What if you hadn't broken through?"

He loses his smile and looks back on Audwin and the Matron, "Well, that's what they're here for, always be prepared as they say."

"What would they have done? I know for certain Audwin is weak as beans, and you don't seem to trust your wind magic either…I would have killed you the moment my grip got a hold of you."

Even with his back facing me I can tell he's fuming, his shoulder tremble and his grip on my dagger tightens.

"Enough, I ought to be rid of you now." He growls, pressing the blade on my neck once more, causing it to bleed. "Any last words?"

I smirk as I'm reminded of a moment strikingly similar to this one. A daunting force, set to strike me down as there remains nothing for me to do, no way to save myself, no allies worthy enough to stand up to him either.

Sometimes, consumed by the new plethora of spells, I forget I have such powerful old ones.

"Yes, I do in fact have some last words…Circle of Dea-"

"Asher!" 

The words of power die in my throat as I hear a voice I haven't heard in a long time. Maylin.

The doors of the Palace burst wide open, blown to smithereens in fact and strolling in as though she owns the place is the woman herself.

Wearing some sort of helmet and gloves that contrast with her entire matronly outfit.

"Don't kill him."

"Don't kill me?"