Ep 67. Hide Well, Hide True. (1)

  An elderly couple came to a stop before the approag young man.

  “Excuse me.”

  The figure was wearing a pleasant smile; charming, even. It ical, humble beginning of a versation. Aside from his small, bck wings, the young man didn’t particurly strike them as odd.

  But Clyus begged to differ.

  It’d been decades, if not turies, since he’d st seen Felicir in the presence of noies; watg his friend approag civilians so humbly was quite unnerving to the elvey. Although, Felicir himself cared little for what his friend was thinking, tinuing the versation with the couple.

  “If I could have a moment of your time. Do you two know where the may is?”

  The man blinked in fusiorained his ears to hear better, even though Felicir’s words were quite clear.

  “I’m sorry, what did you say?”

  “Felicis. Do you know where she is?”

  firming that he’d heard right the first time, the old man frowned, bag off a step from the young man before him. What he ohought was a charming smile now seemed like a madman’s grin.

  “…No.”

  “Hm…”

  Felicir then turo the man’s wife, beaming the same grin towards her.

  “And how about you?”

  The woman softly chuckled at the question.

  “My, what a strange question you ask, young man. Though, I’m afraid I don’t know, either.”

  “…’Young man’?”

  Felicir burst into a hysterical ughter at the respo’d been a long while sinyone had called him ‘young’ – or man, even. It’d always beey this, Reaper that.

  ‘I should really desd more often. My st visit was…’

  turies ago. And some would sider even that too often.

  “Thank you, that was rather eaining. It’s a shame you don’t know though.”

  Just before the Reaper could proceed to his step, the woman interrupted him once more, this time with a more useful bit of information.

  “Now that I think about it…I do recall my son saying something a while ago…”

  “Oh?”

  “I believe…he said that the deity of mana was at his school. Though, I’m sure it was just a children’s tale.”

  “And what school would this be?”

  “Ied, are you? The Magistitute…just over the er at the end of that street.”

  The oiowards one of the eg streets. She ily beamed a motherly smile towards the deity of death.

  Felicir beamed back at the etting her like an elder would a child. To the oblivious spectator, seeing the elderly dy being treated like a child by someone seemingly so young was quite the odd sight.

  “Thank you. Sweet dreams.”

  “Mm…?”

  The woman’s eyes tiredly blinked a few times, and soon closed shut. It didn’t seem too different from simply falling asleep.

  Her legs fell limp, and she powerlessly fell down. The man hurriedly held his wife, gring at the winged figure with a furious gaze.

  “What was that?! What did you do?!”

  “My name is Felicir. That answers both, does it not?”

  “….Fel-“

  The man’s elderly voice soon died out. His wife was the first to fall unto the street floors as his arms gave away.

  The deity’s unnerving grin was the st thing that filled the elderly man’s vision. He followed suit after his wife, falling to his knees before crashing unto the hard stone surface to sprawl over by her side.

  “…They really ought to know my appearater. I’ve never been fond of hoods, and I’ve never held a scythe…ahey assume I would.”

  Felicir beamed a satisfied grin towards Clyus who was standing a few steps away.

  “‘Magistitute.’ That does sound like a pce where Felicis would be at, doesn’t it?”

  “…”

  Clyus gnced from side to side; several passersby that had taken notice of the fallen couple were beginning to talk. A whole crowd would gather before long.

  The elf clicked his tongue. He briskly walked over to his friend, pulling Felicir along with him.

  “Let’s go.”

  “My, you’re rather in a hurry.”

  “You know I’m not fond of crowds.”

  Felicir snickered at the reply.

  “I suppose not. Hermits do run away an awful lot.”

  ? ? ?

  One hour. It’d takely one hour.

  Clyus threw a brief gnce behind. Rows of cold, lifeless bodies filled the silent hallway, leaving a trail of death behind the Reaper’s steps. Ever sine sort of danger annou, everything had gone silent within the buildings.

  A hundred lives had perished i hour – if not two.

  When the elf returned his gaze forward, Felicir was nontly singing a soft tuo himself. The deity of death was fortably strolling the deathly corridor towards his set of victims.

  Harbinger of doom. Disagree as he may, Clyus struggled to think of ahat came eveely close to fitting the description as well as his winged friend.

  And soon, Felicir arrived at the following . However, genuine surprise filled his expressiohe door refused to budge; the Reaper turo his elven friend, the evil in his grin was thiing by the minute.

  “My, they locked the door. Whatever should we do?”

  “…Would you like me to get you in?”

  “Oh please, it was a joke.”

  Felicir turowards the locked door, raising his voice higher to be heard from within.

  “Felicis, in case you’re in there – I’ll t to 3.”

  After his brief annou, the deity of death raised his hand. One finger lightly touched on his thumb, and a quiet t began to tick through his muttered voice.

  “Since we ’t see the inside, shall we make it a little louder this time? 3…2…1.”

  A snapping noise followed.

  Immediately after, the door smashed open from the inside. A bludgeoudent burst out of the door, crashing into the opposing door before sprawling into a bloody mess.

  When the deities turo the opening, they could see their victims wildly moving about. A maddening se ensued within the css.

  Several students were growling like beasts, beating and g at their friends. Several others held makeshift ons in hand, bludgeoning each other with chairs or broken pieces of their desks. Over half of them lied motionless on the floor. The instructor’s body was limply sagging on the window by his neck, his neck skewered and torn by the broken pieces of gss underh.

  Felicir observed the deathly parade with a disappointed grin.

  “I suppose she wasn’t in there. How many does that make? I-”

  “Watch it.”

  Clyus interrupted his friend, flig his e in the air. The bck mana bolt zipping towards Felicir’s oblivious figure immediately disappeared from sight, reappearing ways off behind them before harmlessly crashing into one of the walls.

  The Reaper slowly turo face the source of the sudden attack. An amused grin was eerily curving his lips.

  “My, that could’ve killed me.”

  “A shame it didn’t.”

  The reply came from an elderly man. Although their voice sounded calm, Felicir could make out the anger being held ba his tohe man came to a stop to stand before the two deities with evident hostility in his eyes.

  “I ot allow this to tinue.”

  Felicir raised a brow at the stranger’s audacity. Oblivious they may be, it was still quite daunting to think a human was deg what was allowed or not for him.

  “Really? And who are you to decide that?”

  “…My name is Gio Dugrin.”

  The mage fixed the grip on his e, raising it to eye level.

  Security personnel had long perished in the first hour. Now, it fell to him to stop the assaints – at least until the enfort sector would arrive.

  “The headmaster of this institution.”

  The deity of death slowly cpped his hands, nodding in aowledgement of the mage’s bravery. He also took a step forth, mogly bowing his head to introduce himself.

  “Felicir. Deity of death.”

  “…Or so you cim.”

  Gio briefly go the side towards the st that fell victim to the two terrorists. Every single person was now motionless on the floor, the ’s floor haphazardly painted in streaks of blood.

  “The Twelve would not stoop to your lowness. Nor would they cim so many i lives.”

  Felicir struggled to hold in his ughter. He turo Clyus with a maniacal grin, pointing at the headmaster with a hysterical look.

  “He has an awful lot of faith in us. I almost feel sorry to break his fantasy.”

  The elf sighed, shaking his head. Even though he k wouldn’t matter in the end, Clyus wanted nothing more than to hide his fad run from the unwatention.

  “…In all fairness, I haven’t killed a single life since arriving here.”

  “In all fairness, yht me here.”

  “Pft.”

  Gio’s expression harde the terrorists’ idle versation. The only reality that mattered was that these two individuals were holding a massacre – in the very facility he was responsible for.

  The archmage’s e crackled in thiing bck bolts. When he swung forth, they exploded outwards in waves of lightning, swallowing the corridor ahead and the two men up ahead with an explosive sound.

  But when his spell faded, the two were o be seen.

  ‘?! Where…’

  As the headmaster rapidly sed his surroundings, he felt a hand dropping onto his shoulders. He darted his gaze to see the death deity’s devilish grin.

  “Quite the talented mage, aren’t you?”

  Instead of answering, Gio pluhe rear end of his e into Felicir’s abdomen. However, the on instead sank into a small cra the air between him and his enemy; the mage immediately let go of his e, bag off a few steps.

  The e was soon swallowed whole. The crack disappeared without a trace afterwards, vanishing from sight with his on in tow.

  ‘…Magic? But I didn’t sense any mana usage?’

  Felicir smirked at the archmage’s evident fusion. He poiowards his elven friend with his thumb, casually turning the bme.

  “Dive me if you were expeg a fair duel; in my defense, I only goverh. You bme Clyus over there for the loss of your beloved e.”

  “…The Reaper may imbue death, but he does not toy with the living like you. You’re a mere terrorist, feigning to be divinity with strange magics to trol others into killing and dying.”

  Not a single existing scripture told of Felicir’s ability as anything more than the power to imbue death unto the living. In fact, even that was majorly a cept from children’s stories. Resultantly, mankind had remained oblivious to who the Reaper truly was.

  They couldn’t – not when none lived to tell the tale.

  “Oh, you poor thing. You don’t uand what it means to rule over death.”

  Felicir proudly his arms. No other mortal even came close to his uanding of his own domain.

  But he still told it regardless, time and time again. Perhaps one day, someone would e to uand – and remember, without dying at the end.

  “Have you not yet realized, dear headmaster? Death is not a singur event that marks the end of your life. No, what you call life is merely a process of dying. That is, to say…”

  Felicir beed his hand tio. Immediately after, the archmage could feel his body pletely falling out of trol, beginning to walk towards deity against his will; he stopped before the Reaper ao his knees, shuddering at his own helplessness.

  The Reaper benevolently smiled down at the mage kneeling before him. He grabbed the man by his hair and forcibly raised their gaze to meet his own.

  ‘…This isn’t magic.’

  The headmaster could see the deity before him; he could hear their voice, aheir grip. But despite his screaming senses, he couldn’t so much as lift a finger.

  No one was born equal. A, all were equal before the end that loomed over them.

  “I am death; I am the days you live. How you live those days, and how you reach your end, is mio decide.”

  So look up, and behold.

  Death es.