SKYFIRE MAGUS (I)

Lady Ella and Thalia had slowly returned to their ship and sat down onto the porch, drinking tea whilst observing the goings below. Both their eyes were fixated on the solitary figure standing in the Central Plaza, his eyes exceedingly solemn as he looked towards the north where the bloated cloud of black-clad figures appeared.

“She still decided to intervene,” Thalia said, sighing. “She really is a high-noon bitch.”

“Look at it from her perspective,” Lady Ella said, smiling. “An entire year she spent here had been for naught. And Lynne himself is a liability to them. However diluted, he still shares the same bloodline. If he awakens it, he’d gain access to all their secrets. That’s a risk they can’t afford to take.”

“Let’s just save him then and leave,” Thalia proposed. “He himself won’t make much of a difference on the outcome.”

“Do you remember why he refused my offer to study under me?” Lady Ella asked, narrowing her eyes slightly.

“Oh…” Thalia nodded, thinking back to the day the two of them split. “He’s a strange one.”

“Unlike us, he grew up in the world of mortals, not Mages,” Lady Ella explained. “To him, they are the kin.”

“I wonder how he’s going to--- wait a shit, did he just take out a scythe?!!!” Thalia suddenly jolted onto her feet, her eyes round and jaw agape as she saw the gigantic, bladed scythe appear behind Lynne, floating midair.

“Oh?” Lady Ella arched her brows as she spotted it, surprised.

“He’s a complete idiot!! He actually wasted materials for a Soul Weapon on a fucking scythe!! And from the looks of it, good materials! Screw him, let’s just leave Master.”

“This ought to be interesting.”

“Hm?”

“I recognize that design,” Lady Ella chuckled lowly. “Ah, a mad man he was.” Thalia spotted a tinge of longing and sadness in her Master’s eyes for a moment. “Looks like he finally found the one who’ll carry on his name.”

“Who?” Thalia asked. “What are you talking about, Master?”

“You’ll learn eventually,” Lady Ella said. “Let’s see if Lynne can actually use the scythe or if it’s just for the show.”

“Of course it’s just for the show,” Thalia grunted. “Look at his face. Even he knows he’s the dumbest thing to come out of a woman since the dawn of time.”

“… I really ought to fix your tongue.”

“It’s you who I’ve gotten it from!!”

“… are you sure?”

“…”

**

Lynne looked on solemnly towards the incoming figures, the scythe behind him bellowing the hymn of destruction. Many eyes turned towards him, surprised, terrified and confused. The aura the scythe gave off was of death, yet also of life, as if deliberately ambiguous. Yet, Lynne paid them no heed.

His memories shifted through the 48 tomes from the Empyrean Scything manual. The 48 tomes are separated into 4 general stances, and Lynne had only scratched the surface of the first: Reaping. It’s an off-hand stance whereas wielder controls the scythe via mind rather than hands. Accompanied by 12 techniques in total, it’s the beginner’s stance through and through.

Taking in a deep breath, his body burned once more as he cast Pyre, his hair bellowing backwards like serpents, robes fluttering in the rounding gale. The medallion strapped to his neck escaped, dancing before him as Lynne took to air, hovering like a deity in the sky. With his body aflame and a massive scythe behind him, he truly did appear like a God of Death looking down onto the mortal world.

“Reaping Stance,” he muttered lowly, his eyes fixated onto the approaching, black-clad figures. “Linger.”

As if called, the scythe shook briefly into the air before it expanded massively, hovering above Lynne, its tip pointing downwards. The weapon suddenly bellowed, its screech deterring all and everyone who heard it, with its shaft suddenly fuming as the large blade got scorched, completely white flames dancing about.

“Skyfire Reaping.”

Lynne’s eyes grew cold as he commanded the scythe to move. The weapon suddenly slashed three times, bringing forth massive hurricanes with each swing, leaving beneath a deep gash in the earth filled with mutilated corpses. White flame scorched whatever rubble was left, leaving behind a cataclysm of flames. As if its each strand was filled with consumed souls, the flames cried and screamed, melding in into the river of agony which flew through the Holy Paradise.

The battles in the sky heated up ever so further, and those on the ground were turned to madness. As everyone spotted the white flames raging from the gigantic scythe which bloated the sky, all battles suddenly came to a halt as their eyes shifted to the small figure beneath the massive shaft. The figure remained motionless, winds causing his robes and hair to flutter, with a golden medallion dancing before his chest. The medallion had seven different flames etched onto its surface, all burning in the circular manner around themselves, almost shimmering under the sky. Within the circle were two flames – black and white – which Lynne added just yesterday.

Three gashes in the earth alarmed the black-clad figures as their eyes stared in shock at the figure hovering in the sky. With three simple, downward slashes, he had killed over fifty people. The very image of the floating scythe caused everyone’s hearts to stiffen, their throats to close and mouth to dry.

“Hope,” Lynne muttered, suddenly exploding with massive, outward wave of energy. “Hellfire Decimation.”

The white flames atop the scythe suddenly blurred, darkening like the night itself as they began burning pitch black, causing even the sun itself to disappear from the sky. The land beneath descended into darkness as the image of the devouring flames etched itself into everyone’s minds. The scythe slashed again, and again, and again, all the way until twelve slashes, all done in a circular manner, as if creating a round pagoda in the sky, created a massive tornado of flames, one which burned through the earth beneath until it left a massive, abyss-like crater filled with nothing but ashes.

However, Lynne didn’t stop; suddenly, black flames blurred and the colors split, as the natures of Skyfire and Hellfire flames melded into one, causing the massive scythe in the sky to hum a melody of both life and death.

“Life,” Lynne said, his face growing ever so paler. “Origin Atrophy.”

His hands spread out freely as his body was swept in black and white, the golden flames which surrounded his body disappearing. The two flames circled around him, clockwise, like two devout serpents. As Lynne clasped his hands back together, a massive shockwave echoed out, burning through the space, causing it to ripple and tear. Suddenly, from a small gash in the sky, a body blasted out, traveling downwards like a rocket until it crashed into the earth. Prince Parsia cursed as he freed himself, but even his expression froze as he saw the image in the sky.

The scythe struck out once more – with just a singular slash – decimating everything within a few miles before it. It etched itself into the ground like the everlasting monument, with black and white flames burning outwardly like neverending harbingers of life and death.

The world fell silent as no one dared to utter a sound; before them stood a creature they could not comprehend. In just three different strikes he had created destruction on the scale of the fight between two Celestial Mages.

Lynne had only gained a small understanding of the first three techniques from the Reaping Stance. While black and white flames appeared to be Skyfire and Hellfire ones, in truth they were mere projections, derivatives from the three flames he did understand. Still, even he couldn’t predict the level of destruction that mere three, not even fully mastered, strikes would cause… and with a scythe at that.

However, he was completely drained – both of Soul Force and Mana. The scythe screeched one last time before reverting back to its original size, and then disappearing from the air in a blinding flash of light. Lynne endured for another blink in the sky before he fell down like a broken piece of a ship. He crashed onto the only part of Central Plaza that was left unscathed – the raised platform with Median on it.

Median slowly crawled over towards Lynne, using last bits of his strength. As he reached him, his fragile, thin hands rested themselves on Lynne’s chest as Median glanced at his face. Lynne’s eyes were closed, his face grimacing in pain, skin pale white.

“Lynne…” Median muttered lowly, his eyes full of pride as his hand flicked the flocks of hair hanging from Lynne’s forehead away. “You really have grown…”

When Prince Parsia saw the strike of the scythe, his face had turned completely pale in fright. Yet, when he had seen the falling figure, his expression turned into one of the worry. Thinking briefly, he gritted his teeth and headed over, full-speed ahead, as he tore a rift through the space and appeared right next to Lynne. He witnessed Median’s crawl and his words to the lying body, and couldn’t resist smiling lightly.

“Old man,” he spoke to Median, crouching down. “He your son?”

“… who are you?” Median asked, creasing his brows.

“Ai, don’t be so lacking of trust! I won’t harm you guys,” Prince Parsia said. “I’m a kind, reasonable man, a shooting star from the sky, a blazing hope--- khm, anyway, my name’s Parsia. I’ve taken a liking to your son.”

“… he’s not interested.”

“Haii, not that kind of interest,” the Prince blushed slightly as he nervously scratched his nose. “I guess you could say that we’re kin-like in some ways. Anyway, since I’ve just arrived here, I haven’t a butt of an idea as to what the hell’s going on, so I’ll need your help. Whenever we see some bloke approach, tell me if he’s an enemy or friend.”

“… who are you?” Median still asked, hesitating.

“Old man, we’ve already covered this! I can see you’ve been through some thick shit recently, but you haven’t gone senile yet, right? I don’t want you striking my back in the moment of forgetfulness while I’m trying to protect the two of you.”

“We don’t need your protection,” Lynne grunted as he forcibly woke himself up, jumping onto his feet. “So shoo away.”

“… that really hurt my feelings, you know.”

“I’d truly – and I mean truly – love to chat with you as we work through your issues, but, if you look ahead, it’s clear we haven’t got time for that.”

“My issues?!! Why don’t we talk about your issues for a bit?!” the Prince barked back. “What kind of an idiot burns his Mana fully without even reaching the midpoint of a fight?! Huh?! Who the hell taught you how to fight?”

“What kind of an idiot appears out of nowhere, in the middle of a heated war, offers assistance to a random stranger and expects to be trusted on the spot? Huh? Who the hell taught you how to people?”

“… maybe we ought to start fighting for now,” the Prince said, reaching for his strange belt and unhooking it. “I mean--”

“My dad did say I wasn’t interested, you remember?”

“Oh for gods’ sake!” he flicked his hand as the belt expanded, suddenly separating into several, golden flocks which danced about like coiling dragons, as if each had its own sentience. “It’s a weapon!”

“… you use your belt as a weapon?”

“Says the guy wielding the scythe!”

“At least it has a blade!!”

“This is Urumi you absolute moron! It’s a certified weapon of my homeland!”

“It’s a whip! What’s your homeland called? Taking rough bedtime to a whole new level?”

“What does that mean?” the Prince looked at Lynne in confusion for a moment before he realized. “Shameless! Perverted! You utter disgrace of breathing!”

“Hah, don’t tell me you never even thought about it.”

“They’re twenty meters away from us.”

“Evading.” Lynne smiled innocently. “I’m not judging, just pointing out the obvious.” two chains suddenly appeared in Lynne’s hands, with two Chakrams at their ends.

“… and you’re also wielding Chakrams.” the Prince muttered, eyes round and wide. “Nope, you definitely win. Who are you anyway?”

“Me?” Lynne remained expressionless as he looked forward towards the several groups of black-clad figures channeling various Spell Arts and hooking forth with their weapons. “Skyfire Magus.”