As the silver light died down I remained unharmed, which was a shock to me.

  That actually worked!

  I looked at the marauder and realized that his face was not shocked but indescribably grave, yet focused.

  “I’ve always wondered why we live in fear of your existences. What exactly makes you so immortal, so untouchable.” he took in a sigh and readied his axe, his silvered flame dancing around the very snowflakes and congealing itself into his blade taking the very spirit of snow within it.

  “I guess I’ll know the answer real soon.” He threw his axe downward in a fiery cascade of white, “Today is the day I die.” The murderer raised his axe over his shoulder, taking in the sight of me, a questioning and ambitious look shining in his eyes, “So I’ll do what I can, aim my axe and prepare to kill god.”

  An increasingly painful ringing sound emanated from his axe as steam from the silver pervaded the air. The steam was pulled back to a single point as he slashed.

  In a flash he cut through the trees, leaves and snow with a striking silver gradient slash.

  After the slash he looked ragged and spent, his voice cracked “There’s no trick to it is there. It’s just strength, pure unrealistic strength. Only a god” cough He coughed up blood “Can kil~l a god.”

  No, this doesn't even make sense. I got my leg stabbed by a piece of wood before. I could maybe somehow understand that my authority could protect me from the first attack since it caused no environmental damage, but that second attack hit me! I’m sure of it and it destroyed multiple layers of trees and snow! Plus I don’t see how my authority could protect me. It’s descriptor was the Vainglorious, The Origin of Hate, a Destructive Vanity, Nightmare of Your Own Creation, not indestructible aegis shield. Unless what protected me from the bandit was the bandit themselves. In the third descriptor it states that I’m a ‘nightmare of your own creation’ and if I'm right it can explain why that shack started breaking when I used my authority before. I believe that statement roughly means something along the lines of belief. I think that bandit’s attack didn’t work on me because he had a considerable fear that it wouldn’t. This connects back to the cabin, she may not have believed that I was a fallen, but she feared it somewhere deep down so my authority showed her proof she couldn’t dismiss. Another reasoning may be that she feared something happening to the one thing that she hung onto, her home. So in accordance to this fear, my authority started breaking that home.

  Although there is a problem with that second explanation. Her house breaking may be a nightmare, but it’s not one of her own creation. Making that explanation inaccurate to the meaning of the third descriptor. Unless the house breaking is something she stressed about for a very long time. If that’s how it was you can say that her elevated stress and fear of the destruction of her home caused the home to be destroyed which would complete the meaning of the third descriptor.

  Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.

  Wait, I think I’m onto something.

  I initially believed the house returned to normal because of my attempt to de-activate my authority but that actually might not be the case. It might be that the house only returned to normal because this body’s sister believed my action of touching my monocle was akin to cancelling it. In other words, I didn’t cancel my authority, my authority cancelled my authority. Or a scarier thought, My authority is always active around me, only causing anomalies to happen when people think that it will.

  “Wait.” A raspy voice echoed

  Shit! Shit! Shit! Why is he alive? Wasn’t that supposed to be a sacrificial attack? He coughed up blood! Blood! That’s like, a death flag! When death flags are put up you’re supposed to die. That’s how this shit works!

  “There is only one thing left for me—” Cough he coughed up blood again “To do.”

  I’m sorry, but I no longer trust your death flags.

  He lifted his axe in the air towards the moon

  Oh, not fucking again.

  He ripped the axe down in a blurry and indistinct action, as if his motions embodied the very haze that his flames prevaded. The blade of the axe crossed his neck as his blood splattered against against the pale white snow.

  The fuck!

  Why did he kill himself? Does dying to a fallen hold a response worse than death?

  I stared at him for a solid five minutes before slowly approaching him with a long stick to see if he was dead. After a few solid pokes. I stole his axe and fur coat. The first thing because it makes me feel powerful, the second thing because I was cold.

  I hid in the bushes when I heard some other bandits coming, “Leader! Shit! We should leave, now!” One of the bandits declared, “If something out here can kill the leader, we can’t even jump it, let alone defeat it.”

  Once I heard their fear, I came out of the bushes. I adjusted my monocle and walked past them as I spoke, “He was your leader? Huh.”

  They froze in their step so I resumed my monologue, “Yeah. Okay, that makes sense. His axe was shiny. It always puzzled me why you people would become bandits. We didn’t ever order you to or want you to. Your kind always holds on to life, it’s so precious for you and you barely even have it. So why make it shorter by disobeying us?”

  Oh, they’re shaking. Yes! Fear me! Believe in my superiority!

  “I’m waiting for my answer.” I sternly reminded them

  “Ye-yes, Venerable one. It’s just that we-we, have already committed so many crimes that we can’t go back.”

  I looked up in reminiscence, “Ah, yes. The sunk-cost fallacy, one of the many fallacies your dysfunctional consciousnesses comes up with to cover up the fact that your intellectually inferior to us. Do you actually think that being a fucking idiot makes it okay to blasmphemize us?”

  “No, no of course not venerable fallen!” They stammered

  I pinched my nose bridge to illustrate the illusion of dealing with idiots

  “Okay. Fine, whatever.” I said, “This is why I hate dealing with these things.” I said with an audiable whisper

  “Who told you about this caravan?!” I demanded

  “I-It was captain’s idea!” The other one shook their head in affirmation

  I gave them an exasperated look pointing towards the dead body on the floor that I was pretending to have killed, “That captain?”

  They once again nodded in affirmation.

  “Okay, think as hard as your little brains can manage, why would I be in a trading caravan?”

  “Protecting something of mass importance to the empire!” one of them responded

  yeah, no I’m fucking not.

  “Precisely, and thanks to you fuckers killing the horses I have to carry it to hearth city all by my fucking self. Do you understand my predicament?”

  “Yes! Your venerability, we shall carry it for you!” They decreed while kneeling.

  A bit over the top

  “Correct answer. Now let’s head to the main carriage.”