by Michael Sisa
“God. In. Heaven. Please. Save. My. Sister,” the child mumbled. His chest rapidly rose then fell, and Jiablu knew that even without him doing anything, the child would succumb to its death.
Suddenly, a realization dawned to him. These lowly insects called humans, their lives were transient and fleeting. Would that not make them the most suitable race to learn from? They were weak, arrogant, disgusting and nothing but specks of dust, but they had something that he lacked: Mortality.
If he wanted to learn the purpose of living, then he would do well in learning it from a race with very limited lifespan. A race regarded as one of the weakest. A race that continued to live despite the severe lack of power. He stood in total silence as he pondered. He had decided. He would do it.
“Be honored, insignificant one,” Jiablu said. He lifted a finger and in an instant, the life in the child dissipated away like fog. Black miasma began to envelope the now lifeless body, and moments after, the corpse reverted into its perfect state. It had completely healed. Even the missing eye from before had returned to its former glory.
“I shall take over his body. I shall mingle with the lowly insects—and I shall learn from them,” he declared.
The ground rumbled and malicious evil spirits screamed. Numerous apparitions began to manifest itself before Jiablu. Like an abyss, everything turned pitch black. His body distorted, and it darted towards the sprawled corpse of the child.
A second after the phenomena, the previously dead body began to move. It slowly stood up and dusted its garb. A child’s voice said, “This body is too weak… but it shall do for now.”
He heard clanking sounds and he furrowed his brows. He did not like what he was seeing: numerous undead, and they were hostile.
“They don’t recognize me, huh?” he mumbled. After taking over the child’s body, a large portion of his magic was sealed in order to prevent the shell from breaking down. At most, he could use only around a tenth of his original prowess, but he knew that it was more than enough to survive amongst the mortals.
One after another, skeleton warriors began to appear from the village’s center. His entire left side was filled with such undead to the brim. They pointed their rusty swords at him. All they saw was a puny human, weak and helpless.
After a sigh, Jiablu waved his hand, and the horde of undead monsters turned into nothing but ashes. He willed for a gust of wind to blow, and it carried the remains into the sky.
Weak undead like Skeleton Warriors were disposable, and even the Liches inside his Labyrinth would be able to create one. He watched with indifferent eyes as the flickering flames continued to burn down the remaining houses. He had long confirmed that there were no longer any survivors in the village. The child was probably the last of them.
He heard the sounds of hooves clanking, and the ground rumbled. From a distance, he saw clouds of dusts swirling upwards. He felt disgusted when he saw hundreds of cavalry soldiers heading towards the village. Humans, all were armed to the teeth. A banner embroidered with the insignia of a rose and a shield flowed alongside them.
Horses neighed and the entire unit stopped. He heard a deep voice issue out commands. “Platoon 1 shall secure the perimeter! Platoon 2 shall search for survivors! The rest of you, follow me!”
One by one, the soldiers dismounted. One of them shouted the moment he saw the child. “Commander! A child! A survivor!”
A middle-aged man with firm brows immediately came running. His limbs were as thick as tree trunks, and his armor was different from the others. Unlike the silver plate the soldiers wore, his was pure white, almost reminiscent of the crystals in his master’s tomb.
The Commander halted right before the child. His aged eyes glimmered in jubilance. He heaved a relieved sigh then said, “Thank God! Thank God!”
Jiablu tilted his little head to the side. The man’s voice was close to crying. Why? Was seeing a mere puny human, a child at that, such a moving sight? He was unable to understand the rationale behind it. All he felt was confusion, and deep hatred that continued to boil. Still, he restrained himself. Unnecessary bloodshed was not needed right now.
Soldiers continued to search the burning village for any survivors. The Commander asked, “Are you alright? What happened here?”
Jiablu just stood there like a statue, not bothering to respond to the question. The Commander sighed and smiled in self-mockery. Why had he not thought of it before? The child was a victim of slaughter. He must have seen numerous villagers succumb to their deaths and he, an adult actually dared to ask the child what had transpired in the village. He bit his lips as he regretted the words he said.
“Commander! We’ve searched the entire village—,” a soldier said. His next words were whispered, “—But there were no other survivors. This child must be the only one remaining.”
The Commander nodded once. He understood the implications. He stood face to face with the child and smiled. He softly said, “You are safe now. We will do our best to protect you.”
After he realized that the child had no intention of answering, he grabbed him and placed him on top of the mount. The horse loudly neighed after contact. Did the horse shiver? He stared at the mount’s feet. They were trembling.
“This place’s probably too hot for the horses. We need to get out,” he mumbled. He turned towards his men. “We are going back to the Kingdom. All men—let’s go!”
One after another, the soldiers mounted their horses. After a slap of their reigns, the mounts kicked the ground, sending dusts flying around. Only a few moments after, the scorching village had turned distant.
Jiablu rode the horse together with the Commander. Beside them were more than a hundred mounted soldiers, fully armed to the teeth.
The Commander said to him, “Child, we are the Knights of Tesma. Worry no longer. We shall not let any harm come your way, no matter what. We promise you that.”
He snarled at his men, “We have failed to protect the village! We have failed to protect its people, but this child survived! To atone for our sins, we shall do our best to protect him! If we let so much as a scratch come to him, how could we look at our ancestors’ faces in the afterlife? How would we face God Aquina in the days of Judgment? Do you understand, soldiers?!”
In unison, the entire cavalry roared, “Yes, Sir!”
Chapter 3: The Mysterious Magician
After escaping from the blazing village, the Knights of Tesma kept moving towards the east, where their destination was supposedly located. Night came, and they stopped to recuperate. Soldiers pitched tents, and some made bonfires. Jiablu saw some soldiers prepare dinner. He felt a peculiar sensation when the aromatic scent wafted through the air. Was it longing for food? He had yet to find out.
He was staring at the soldiers that tirelessly moved about in the grassy plains when a voice called out to him. It was firm but gentle, “How are you feeling?”
He looked to his left and saw the Commander of the knights. By estimate, the must have been past the two meter mark. He was gigantic for a human. Jiablu also noticed a scar that ran across the man’s left cheek. He stood and stared at him in silence.
The Commander scratched his temporal. How should he deal with this? He had never handled such delicate things before. One wrong move and he might shatter the mind of the traumatized child. He felt a chill run down his spine. It was something he had to avoid at all costs.
He coughed once. “I am Lancelot Frederick, one of the three Commanders of the Knights of Tesma.” There was an awkward pause before he added, “How about you? What’s your name?”
If someone were to see him now, Lancelot was utterly sure they would laugh at his incompetence in handling such sensitive matter. He was known as one of the strongest knights in the history of the Kingdom, but that was all. Aside from warfare, he had no other weapons from his arsenal.
He patiently waited for a response but received none. As he had thought, conversation with the child was currently useless. But he understood.
What transpired in the village was horrendous, after all. It was normal for a child to be speechless from shock.
After a deep sigh that depicted resignation, he grabbed the hand of the child and gestured for him to come inside the tent. For a moment, the split second their eyes locked with each other, Lancelot swore that he saw an evil glare come from the child. No, evil was an understatement. It felt as though all the hate and resentment in the world had gathered and condensed to a single point. For an instance, he almost screamed.
Thankfully, he was able to restrain himself. Had he screamed, a large commotion over the soldiers would have transpired. But what was that? Now that he gazed at the child, all he saw were pure untainted eyes. The eyes of a victim. Lifeless and without purpose.
Lancelot violently shook his head thrice as he dismissed the thought. He noticed the quizzical look of the child, and he heartily smiled. “Haha~ sorry ‘bout that. Did I scare you?”
After a gentle tug, Lancelot and the child went inside the tent. It was wide enough to accommodate a dozen soldiers at once. There were no tables, but the floor was laden with a carpet. The two figures inside glanced at Lancelot and the child the moment they entered.
“It’s the Commander~ how’d it go?” a woman said with a chuckle. Her blue eyes were dancing as she tilted her head to the left. The child noticed that despite being part of the Knights of Tesma, the woman wore different attire. Hers was a chasuble embroidered with the Kingdom’s insignia on the shoulder.
“Haha~ judging by the Commander’s dejected face, I guess it’s obvious,” an old man added. He wore the same armor as the soldiers, but one could clearly notice the stark contrast in physique. His body was ancient, with numerous wrinkles adorning the skin. Moreover, his limbs were as thin as twigs. It made one wonder how he was able to handle the weight of his full plate armor.
Lancelot gave an awkward smile as the two joined in the laughter. He gestured for the child to come and sit beside him. To his relief, the child complied. At the very least, the child could understand words. He was grateful for that fact.
The woman began distributing a small bowl to each and everyone in the room. It was filled with soup and a small piece of meat floated on top. Jiablu’s share was as large as those of the adults. He held his bowl, his eyes with a hint of curiosity. He began to slightly salivate, a first time for an undead like him. As he had expected, a human body was weak and helpless. They needed to constantly feed themselves, otherwise, they would perish.
“So, how’s the investigation?” asked Lancelot.
The old man replied after a sip from his bowl, “Don’t do it, Sir. I think the rumors are true. The area in that mountain is territory of a powerful undead. It is foolish to try and challenge it. Going back to the Kingdom to report is the best course of action.”
“And how did you arrive at that conclusion?” asked Lancelot. He noticed that the child had yet to touch his bowl.
In the old man’s stead, the woman replied, “When we searched the village for survivors, I’ve found traces of undead—hundreds of undead. We encountered none along the way, but I think the rumors are true. The destruction of the villages surrounding that mountain is perpetrated by the undead.”
Lancelot’s eyes widened. He bit his lips then said, “I see. Faith, you are a High Priest of the Order of Aquina. Even the Kingdom would have no choice but listen to the findings of the Order.”
Faith nodded once. She paused for a few seconds as she stared at everyone in the room. Should she tell them the other thing she found? It was preposterous, and even she was unable to believe it. But it was there. She was sure of it.
She gulped the lump in her throat then mustered her resolve. “Commander, actually… the undead aside, I found something even more surprising. Even I myself don’t want to believe it… but God Aquina cannot be wrong. There really are traces of magic used in there before we arrived.”
Faith glanced at the child. Jiablu noticed it, his hands still holding his bowl. Did she notice? Should he kill her? Such thoughts filled his mind as he quietly listened to the conversation.
“Magic?” said Lancelot. For some reason, he was feeling uneasy: as though the conversation would determine their life and death, that some Reaper was currently watching their every move.
“Yes,” said Faith. “The high ranking spell, Obviate.”
Time seemed to have stood still as everyone stared at the woman in shock. Was she serious? Obviate was a high ranking spell capable of vanquishing enemies in the blink of an eye. But as far as they knew, it was a rank 6 spell that needed at least a hundred magician’s worth of mana to cast. Moreover, the magic could only be cast after necessary preparations were done. At the very least, it needed an intricate magic circle that would take almost a month to finish.
They stared at the priest in utter astonishment, and realized that she meant every word she said. If that was true, then a Rank 6 Magician appeared on that village and obliterated the undead. Who was it? Why did he not reveal himself when they arrived? But then, there was also the possibility that the magician had already left when they arrived at the blazing settlement. There was also the chance that it was an organization. Yes, it should be an organization. Otherwise, what kind of monster would that magician be if he was capable of using that spell alone? They shivered at the thought.
“—and the spell, Immortal’s Blessing, was also used,” she added.
They almost wanted to scream the moment they heard it. Immortal’s Blessing was a rank 7 spell capable of healing the most grave of injuries. Even now, there was only a single magician in the entire history of the continent that had used it. But according to records, that certain magician managed the feat only after depleting the power of a Mana Stone obtained from a young Dragon.
They all glanced at the child. If Immortal’s Blessing was used, then it would have explained the child’s absence of injuries. His clothes were torn and tattered, there were blotches of blood, but even the slightest scratch was not visible. The more they pondered, the more feasible it seemed.
Who was that mysterious magician? He killed hundreds of undead and healed a child using the most advance of spells, as though it was nothing but a whim. Was he stronger than the Seven Holy Apostles? But why did he not reveal himself till now?
“This is crazy,” said the old man. Everyone agreed.
Suddenly, a rumbling sound was heard, and everyone glanced at its source. Jiablu shot a quizzical gaze when he suddenly found himself the center of attention. Another grumbling sound echoed, and he glanced at his stomach.
“So, this is the feeling of hunger? Magnificent,” said the child. Everyone realized it was the first time he spoke.
Chapter 4: A Detour
The tense atmosphere instantly vanished and was replaced by a sense of curiosity and surprise after the child’s voice was heard. They all thought that the child had been greatly traumatized and would not speak anytime soon.
“So, you can speak! Great! Great!” said Lancelot. His usual deep voice crescendo, turning high-pitched and eerie. He glanced at the bowl held by the child. It was still untouched. “The soup may not look like it, but it’s really delicious! Try it!”
Jiablu glanced at the bowl filled with soup. The small meat that floated on top was distinct. After glancing at the blatantly jubilant Commander, he raised it to his lips and took a sip. His eyes dilated in surprise. So, this was what food tasted like. It was not bad at all. Was this the reason why humans were so eager to eat and drink? Before he knew it, he had finished his share in a matter of seconds.
“Kakakaka!” said the old man. He heartily laughed as he stroked his short beard. Watching the child finish his food in a single go was heartwarming, it tugged at the heart. He grabbed his half-finished bowl and handed it over. “Here’s my share. Old men like me need not much food to live by. You can have it.”
“Insect, know your place. You dare offer me half-finished food?” said Jiablu. His words struck everyone like lightning. Silence
turned absolute as everyone in the room stared at him in shock. Did they hear wrong? They saw the stunned expressions of each other and realized that they heard it correct.
There was an awkward pause as the old man tried to break the ice. “Hahaha! You sure know your words, young one~ but remember, not everyone will be so forgiving.” He shrugged and added, “Well, rashness is the mark of youth, tolerance is the beauty of adulthood.”
Faith wore a smile as she said, “That’s right. Child, you should be careful on what you say, okay?”
Jiablu was unable to fully comprehend what they were implying. A gust of curiosity struck him and he asked, “Human, you are a priest—have you ever spoken with your God?”
What was this child saying? The way he spoke was arrogant, definitely condescending. Still, they nodded in self-affirmation. Like the old man said, tolerance was the beauty of adulthood.
Faith combed her golden hair to the side. She was hesitant to answer the child’s question. Would it be fine to continue with the conversation? As time passed, they realized that the child was not as pure as he seemed to be. Eventually, she answered, “I’m just a mere High Priest. Only the Pope gets to have a conversation with God Aquina.”
