Eternal Undying Chronicles

The ceiling of the chamber was more than twenty meters above, far beyond the usual limits of Alicarde's ability. He felt the strain as he pushed his power to its utmost, crushing the stone above and finally breaking through to the asphalt. With a final, immense effort, the night sky was revealed as debris began to rain down.

Screams erupted from the captives as chunks of stone and shattered metal fell toward them. Despite his growing vertigo, Alicarde used his power to catch the debris in mid-air, suspending it before it could do any harm. The chamber rumbled, and the air was filled with the acrid scent of disturbed earth and dust.

"What the...what is happening?"

"Take cover!"

"Shield your heads!"

Alicarde felt a wave of dizziness as the strain of maintaining his power weighed heavily on him. He summoned Wrath, his bicorn, and mounted it in one fluid motion.

"Everyone, gather around me."

The survivors obeyed without hesitation, their fear and desperation driving them to follow his orders. As they crowded around him, Alicarde expanded [Flux Field] once more, turning their weight to nothing. Wrath spread its shadowy wings, dark energy crackling around it.

"We're floating!"

Alicarde glanced at the terrified but hopeful faces surrounding him, then upward at the open sky above.

He floated the group out of the sewer, emerging into the open night. The wind whispered against their faces as they rose, Alicarde guiding them with the invisible hand of his power. He gently set them down on the side of the road, in the middle of a large and busy intersection.

The gaping hole he had created yawned wide in the asphalt, but fortunately, there were no cars in the way. Malefica had skillfully manipulated the traffic lights, stopping vehicles at every corner, leaving the intersection empty.

As he and the rescued captives hovered into view, the scene drew immediate attention. He cut a striking figure—riding atop Wrath, his dark bicorn, he resembled a grim reaper emerging from the depths of the underworld.

His tattered black vestments billowed around him, and Wrath's shadowy wings spread wide, casting an ominous silhouette against the backdrop of city lights.

In this modern age, where phone cameras were always at the ready, many onlookers already had their devices pointed at the spectacle, capturing the surreal scene even before Alicarde fully emerged. He dismounted from Wrath, his boots making a soft thud as they touched the pavement. The people he had rescued, disheveled and still in shock, stood in a cluster behind him.

The crowd that had gathered was buzzing with questions, their faces a mix of fear, confusion, and curiosity.

"Is that the reaper?"n/o/vel/b//in dot c//om

"What's going on?"

"Are those people okay?"

Many simply pointed their phone cameras at the scene, recording every moment. But a few good Samaritans rushed forward, trying to help the injured.

Alicarde, meanwhile, stood by Wrath, his hand gripping the saddle to steady himself. The headache and vertigo that had plagued him since using [Flux Field] were growing more intense, but he showed no sign of weakness.

'Thank goodness I didn't drop anyone,' he thought, a fleeting sense of relief passing through him.

He forced himself to stand straight, fighting the urge to close his eyes against the throbbing pain in his head. His breath came a little quicker, but he refused to let it show, not in front of these people.

A small tug on the fabric of his vestments drew his attention downward. It was a young girl, her eyes red and tear-streaked, her face smeared with dirt and grime.

She was the same girl who had begged him to save her father. Her tiny hands clutched at his cloak, trembling slightly.

He looked at the girl, his hooded face turning toward her. The crowd, now silent, watched with bated breath.

Even those who had been groaning in pain or crying with renewed hope fell quiet. All eyes were on the little girl who had dared approach him.

The child gazed up at him, her young eyes filled with an emotion he couldn't quite place—was it fear? Gratitude? Something else?

Alicarde turned fully to face her, his eyes no longer glowing with that eerie violet light. The darkness of his hood was now complete, shrouding his face in shadow so that no one could even tell if a person was in there at all.

"T-th... thank you for saving me… thank you for helping us," the young girl stammered, tears welling up in her eyes.

As if on cue, the other people he had rescued began to murmur their thanks as well. They struggled to their feet, some leaning on each other for support, but the gratitude in their voices was unmistakable.

"Thank you, whoever you are..."

"You saved our lives…"

"We'll never forget this…"

"Thank you, Reaper."

The crowd of onlookers, still unsure of what had happened, began to whisper among themselves, the confusion in their voices clear.

"Did he just save those people?"

"Where did they even come from?"

"Did the Reaper really save them?"

"I thought he was only about taking out bad guys."

Alicarde merely looked at them, his posture rigid despite the vertigo that continued to assault him. His head throbbed with pain, but he kept his expression hidden beneath the hood, refusing to show any sign of weakness.

"Looks like despite your callous declaration, you still get to be a hero," Malefica's voice echoed in his mind, a happy tone laced in her words.

"Hey, I'm going to try that spell you taught me," Alicarde replied.

"Which one? I taught… ohhhh, I see. How sweet of you… if you fail, you might lose what do you call it… ahhh yes… your cool factor."

Alicarde ignored her, raising his hand toward the people he had just rescued. The little girl in front of him looked up in confusion, her eyes widening as she saw the faint glow beginning to emanate from his hand. Fear flickered in her gaze, and she closed her eyes, bracing herself for whatever was to come.

Alicarde began to chant, his voice low but steady:

"By water's flow and fire's flame,

By flesh and bone, I call your name.

Let pain be eased, and wounds be healed, Experience tales at empire

Through light's touch, may they be sealed.

By earth and sky, by night and day,

Grant them peace, I humbly pray."

As he spoke, a soft, warm light flowed from his hand, washing over the injured. The light was gentle, like the first rays of dawn after a long, dark night.

It seeped into their bodies, easing their pain and knitting their wounds together. Though it could not heal the gravest injuries, it soothed their suffering and gave them strength to stand on their own.

The crowd watched in awe as the light enveloped the survivors, their gasps and murmurs filling the night air. The little girl, feeling the warmth, slowly opened her eyes, her fear melting away into amazement as she felt the healing power coursing through her.

Alicarde's spell cast a faint glow over the rescued people, sealing their wounds and soothing their pain. Malefica's voice echoed in his mind.

"Your spell still needs a lot of work. Your affinity for healing magic is quite lacking, but a job well done."

'I have a serious headache right now, so can you keep the chatter to a minimum? It's good to see you aren't sulking anymore. With these mood swings, I might suspect you're on your period.'

"You really have no tact, do you? Watch what you say, especially to ladies."

"I have a headache, I can't hear you."

He looked at the girl and the others who were marveling at their now mostly healed bodies. Relief and awe painted their faces as they examined their wounds, now nothing more than faint scars.

"Thank you," one of them said, their voice trembling with emotion.

"How did you do that?"

Alicarde merely nodded, acknowledging their gratitude but saying nothing more. In the distance, the wails of sirens grew louder, signaling that the authorities were on their way. He knew he had little time left; after all, he was on the most wanted list.

He mounted Wrath, feeling the strain of his earlier exertions. The spell had only worsened his vertigo, and while he was immortal, he wasn't without flaws. He could still get tired, and now he had pushed himself too far.

Just as he was about to leave, the little girl ran forward.

"Eh... Mr. Reaper, thank you."

Her words echoed in the night air as Wrath took off, the bicorn's form dissolving into the shadows with a ripple. Alicarde leaned heavily on Wrath as they disappeared from sight.

"Take me home," he whispered, his exhaustion evident.

Even as he struggled with the intense vertigo, his mind remained sharp.

"And when you do, go get that Strigoi and have Amena put it in the dungeon with the others."

They arrived at the mansion, and Alicarde jumped off at the grand entrance. He made his way inside, his dark vestments dissolved, revealing the pristine clothes he had worn earlier.

Though his outfit remained immaculate, his face was pale, a sign of the toll his powers had taken on him.

Entering the luxurious living room, he found the girls sitting on the sofa. He had no idea what they were discussing, but he knew Carissa was always plotting something.

Too dizzy to make his way to the sixth-floor master suite, he instead walked toward the large sofa where Carissa sat. She was focused on a holographic image, discussing something with the others.

Amena stood to the side in her maid outfit, hands neatly clasped in front of her, observing with quiet attentiveness.

Across from Carissa sat Argint, her fiery red hair falling over her shoulders, with those sharp amber eyes gleaming as she listened intently.

Elizalina, poised and elegant as ever, sat beside Argint, her long silver hair and flowing red dress giving her an ethereal presence, though her expression was slightly withdrawn.

Alicarde walked in, exhaustion clear on his face. Without a word, he sank down next to Carissa, leaning his head back against the couch. The rigid angle brought no relief, so with a soft sigh, he shifted, eventually resting his head on Carissa's thighs. She glanced down at him briefly, her gaze softening, acknowledging his presence with a quiet murmur.

"Welcome home."

Alicarde gave a faint nod, his eyelids growing heavier with each passing second. The warmth of Carissa's body and the gentle hum of the conversation in the background allowed him to relax fully. His weariness overtook him, and he let himself slip into a much-needed sleep, finding peace in the simple comfort of Carissa's touch.