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Arcanist Tales

Author: XcrapttS
Fantasy
Ongoing · 208.9K Views
  • 193 Chs
    Content
  • 4.9
    22 ratings
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Synopsis

“The tale never ends, until a hero conquers the demons. May science and will prevail.” *** Alistair Neon Percival. The True Apostle of the Luminiferous Aêther, The Reckless, The Defender of all Beings, Self proclaimed king of emotional blackmail, Reborn in the year 1980 NC. His goal? To be the strongest and attain all magical, scientific, and economical knowledge in the world! However, with the flames of war staining the vast world, soldiers bidding their family farewell, and kingdoms of the realm butting heads to see who has the biggest stick. Institutions on the rise, large and small, each competing for benefits while experimenting on the common populace in the name of science. This is the tales of the Alistair, the practitioner of all things Arcane and most especially. The Apostle Of Aether. Note: contains strong themes of violence, real world knowledge, and slightly opinionated narration.

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Chapter 1The Darkest Of Nights. The Coldest Of Days

The night was rough. Skies covered as dark clouds drifted, bright lights conjured from lightning. Dull, empty streets soaked in a heavy downpour; flickering streetlights reflected off the ground.

On this street, walked a suited accountant. Drenched, he trekked along the soaked road.

The man had crimson hair of average length, dampened by the falling drops. Sky-blue eyes looked dim as dismay, and a lack of energy filled them.

He shivered as the droplets ran over his skin, with an earthy smell assaulting his nose.

The accontant attempted to light a cigarette. However, the downpour thwarted his efforts.

"What a tiring day… I want to go home and have a cup of coffee." The office worker threw the cigarette into a trash can, but his hands were shaking because of the chill. He missed.

'The rain sure is heavy today...' The accountant looked to the sky as he wandered across the silent city, and his hands slowly entered his pockets.

Abruptly a hooded figure stood up from a store he passed, staring at his unguarded back with the gaze of a predator.

The hooded figure marched at his prey; its steps mute and monotonous. Eyes were red like embers with the allure of a campfire.

However, the accountant stood unaware of this figure. He ignorantly marched on the wet ground in his black boots. He moved into an alleyway.

And that was his last mistake.

"If you take one more step… I will blast your bloody head off, Romano!" The man commanded as he stepped out of hiding, gun instanly poised at Romano's skull.

The stranger possessed a tattoo of a crimson-red eastern dragon on his face, left eye blind and scarred. The attacker also wore a dark hood that matched the scenery; the held gun came with a silencer.

He'd come prepared.

'Damn!' The businessman turned unhurriedly, not to startle his attacker. After he turned, the tag, Romano Ramin — Accountant at Ventas Bank — was revealed on his chest.

Suddenly, Romano smelt a familiar smell. "Shit, that's the smell of liquor... He's intoxicated."

Upon seeing the man, Romano sighed. He recognized who it was. "This is going to be stressful."

This was the person he rejected a loan for last month in the office.

But he barely panicked, which he rightfully should have.

Why?

He had experienced a similar case in the past, few years back. He possessed hand's on experience.

"Mr. Ralph, my pal, homie, I know you may think that I am being a bad person, but, listen" Romano hands swayed forward to clarify each word, trying to reason with his attacker.

His other goal was to make the man's eyes shift and stop focusing on his bloody head.

"Your requested loan couldn't be accepted for certain reasons at the time, but now… it can!!!" Romano lied like it was second nature. A seasoned businessman.

He observed the man fingers with a keen gaze, hoping to see a change in demeanor, stance even.

'Good, he's hesitating.' Romano mischievously smiled, hidden. He then continued. "However, there might be a way to work it out a bit, so if you could put down the—"

"Shut the fuck up… lying pencil pusher!" Ralph cut Romano's speech off whilst gripping the firearm harder. Head foggy, tequila in system clouded judgment.

Ralph's eyes lost the serenity they possessed as he breathed heavily. 'I shouldn't… be doing this, and fuck. My vision is getting blurry. But I must get that money for my ma

'Nothing else matters.'

Romano's figure was vilified in Ralph's eyes, becoming akin to that of— a murderer. AK held in grip, sandy-yellow scarf wrapped the head.

The alley changed within Ralph's eyes. Sounds of guns resounded, bombs uprooted the sand, and harsh screams permeated the area.

"Drop the gun you, terrorist!" Ralph yelled. He waved his gun to-and-fro, while wobbling around to gain composure.

The scenery soon returned to normal, a sense of calmness dawned, and Ralph's eyes regained their composure.

"I want you to listen," Ralph spoke in a lower voice, arms swaying by his head's sides. "My mom, look, she is dying. Two weeks left. So, if you could please. Don't make me pull this trigger. I will do it,"

Ralph begged as a torrent of tears dribbled down his cheek. Body shivered in the chill. The left hand that held the Barrett shook with hesitation, but he remained determined.

"I don't have anything left," Ralph said as his eyes reddened, veins spread. Water flowed down beards as he gritted.

"My wife is dead, man. I don't have a good source of income. My home was confiscated… My mother is the only thing I have. Now, fucking listen to me. Just this once!" Ralph's said as his head wobbled in anguish. His hot breath slowly mixed with the frost.

A trace of pity flashed in Romano's eyes. The mention of Ralph's mother struck his heart.

Romano watched the tears that flowed from the man's eyes with a confused countenance and a headache ensuing.

"I cannot accept your plea. I am not the person you should be appealing to. However, I know someone that can handle your problems!" Romano gave Ralph a proposition, one that he felt would solve both their problems and didn't end with him bleeding out on the ground.

Ralph's rashness dwindled when he heard that, and he contemplated Romano's words. Now feeling bad about holding an innocent man at gunpoint.

Ralph held the dog tag on his chest and stared, eyes shaking.

'I made an oath, yet I do this? What have I become?'

Seeing that his half-truths worked, Romano added. "I promise you, Ralph, it will be okay."

'Could he be telling the truth?' Ralph slowly lowered the firearm and closed his eyes. Feeling confident, Romano tried walking a few steps closer. Then. That was when it happened!

The adrenaline-filled Ralph registered that as a sign of hostility; his body moved before he could think.

Romano's eyes widened when Ralph steadied his hands, pin hole revealed. Darkness was within. Eyes of war gazed, like a stare down by the reaper itself.

It happened so suddenly.

Consecutive flashes.

The flickering bright lights.

And the silent clicks.

Romano suddenly felt a sharp pain strike him, and blood flowed to the watery grounds, Romano's blood. And he gaped with fright and dismay.

"What have-y-yo-you… done?" Romano stuttered, with bright blood spilling out of his mouth and red holes in his torso.

Romano gradually got to his knees as he struggled to hold on to life. However, he still glanced at the shaking man with hate in his eyes. The fool had shot him.

But Romano could not look for long — he lost the struggle with death — chest fell to the ground, and a sanguine fluid merged with the wet, dirty alley.

'No,' Ralph dropped the gun, horrified; it landed on the ground with multiple clicks.

He stepped back, legs shaking. With a look left and right, Ralph dashed away the fastest he ever had, leaving the wide-eyed corpse in wake.

* * *

'What happened to me?'

'Why can't I move?'

'Why can't I feel?'

….

'But yet, I can hear and see… how?' A voice reverberated through a dark expanse. Its tone. Neither feminine nor masculine.

It stood at the center. It remained at an equilibrium. Time passed, like a flowing stream by the waterbed. And the voice, leisurely, got an answer to its dormant inquiries.

"My name is Romano, and I died," Romano said with the tone he once had, and his wisp-like body retained its humanoid features. "So. Ralph pulled the trigger in the end, huh? Well, fuck him!"

"Yet it remains!" Romano looked around the infinite void, now filled with countless white dots and unconfined miasma. "Where am I?"

No answer came, only silence.

"Is it only I, or are there others?" Still no answer. However, Romano did not fret—he could wait.

"Oh, I am alone," said Romano. "I guess this is fitting. This relaxation and… peace!"

However, he was unaware of a finger-length break that appeared on his skin.

Time tread.

Centuries passed.

The crack covered ten percent of his body, but Romano failed to notice this. His brain had shut down. His memory fragmented.

A Millennium passed!

The cracks covered 40% of his body. He was close to nonexistence.

This continuous corruption lasted for an indefinite amount of time, until finally, a change occurred.

Suddenly, two hands tore apart the void at rapid yet slow speeds. The bright flickering dots drifted away into infinity at the sight of the sudden intruder.

The eternal abyss fluttered like an endless sea disturbed by an outside force. The hand grabbed Romano, and he wasn't sure how to react, so he stayed still.

The hand enclosed Romano within its grasp, and this time, everything truly went dark.

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