Chapter 016

The Coldfire Sorcerer

From the moment he first came into this cruel world, death and tragedy had constantly surrounded him.

It mattered not that he was only a boy when invaders from the north ransacked his village and left him to die in the arms of a red corpse he once called “Mother”. Nobody spared a fleeting glance at the homeless orphan attempting to keep himself warm during the stinging nights of winter, using only what little amount of magical energy he possessed to increase his body's temperature. Time kept flowing and the world kept on spinning. He often wondered what his life would have been if Gala hadn't bestowed the gift to use magic. Where would he be if the Gyrakian military saw no use for him or his skills?

Dead in a ditch, he reckoned. Though, through ingenuity or by sheer luck, he’d survived. A battle started and he survived. A civil war brought about by poverty and injustice erupted and he survived. He was a fighter as much as he was a survivor. Fighting to keep on living. Fighting to achieve happiness. He’d lived through it, endured it for many years until finally, it was over. He could return to his wife and two kids to spend what time he’d left reveling in their presence.

It was a bright and joyous dream that lasted just a day. Once again, someone had slit the throat of Gyrak and infiltrated its undisturbed system. Another war had begun, the likes of which he’d never seen. And it was during its infant days did he have to bury the bodies of the only people who loved him. The only ones who didn’t see him as a tool or a weapon. They had taken them from him. That pain gnawing at his heart never faded. When the war finally came to an end, the peace treaty was signed, and the sulking zombies the nation considered to be soldiers trotted home in defeat, a single thought crossed his mind.

Much like the pain of losing his family, that thought never disappeared. It stayed with him. Rooted itself into the very fabric of his being. He probably wasn’t the same man he was at the beginning of his story. What had survived instead was a soulless entity longing for the justice he and others like him so rightfully deserved. In this land responsible for firing the first bullet this creature would unquestionably enact his revenge on the monsters continuously feigning ignorance. Any and all who stood in his path he’d erase without a second thought and continue to move forward towards his destiny. Rune Ransford, the fire mage of the Esteran military was by no means an exception.

The plumes of crimson and silver he released into the air sputtered into shimmering specs carried by spiraling currents of wind. Pellets of rain soaked him, causing his set of unkempt black hair to droop and stick to his forehead like a tangled mop. Never once did he remove his piercing, golden glare at his opponent, the orange flames engulfing the mage’s fists reflecting in his eyes. “Let me get this straight, you came here because you think I killed your family, is that it?” Trevor shouted over the loud sound of water pounding onto the ground. “Honestly, kid, aren’t you being a bit unfair? I mean, how do you expect a soldier like me to remember every face I send off to meet your Ryas, huh? And it happened so long ago too. I suppose it doesn’t help much my memory’s not what it used to be.”

“You'd better remember like your life depends on it!” Rune roared, animosity radiating off of every word he spat. “Kieth Acosta! Terence Acosta! Lori Ransford! Nine years ago they perished in a mysterious fire that destroyed my house! A fire caused by a mage! I need to know if you were the one responsible! So quit playing stupid and answer me already!”

“Afraid this isn’t ringing any bells,” Trevor casually replied, tapping his fuzzy chin. “But if it turns out I really am the guy you’re looking for, what then? Are you gonna kill me?”

Despite the darkness of the night and pelleting rain partially obscuring his vision, Trevor identified Rune’s grim expression quite clearly. Orange pupils pounded in his wide, white eyes. His bottom and lower jaw ground against each other so vigorously he wondered if his teeth would shatter. Clusters of veins wrapped around his head, pulsating and wriggling like a pack of furious, tiny serpents. “Stop avoiding my question,” he muttered. “Were you there that night my family was murdered? Do you recognize the boy you left laying on the floor of a burning building? Do you ever regret what you did? And by the way, that last question is very important. Depending on your answer, you might get the chance to apologize to them personally.”

“Please, you can’t fool me. You’re no killer, I can see it in your eyes.”

“Yeah? Well, people change, don’t they?”

“Fair enough,” Trevor snickered. “Though, I’m having trouble recalling any of this. If this happened nine years ago then I wouldn’t have even fully mastered my thermal magic yet. They must have been real weaklings if they couldn’t even handle a novice like me. Then again, what can we expect from mere humans? Such is the world we live in, right?”

Without warning, Rune vanished from his spot. Flames burst out the soles of his boot, propelling him like a rocket at a breakneck speed across the wet earth. Trevor’s eyes flashed. Whipping his right arm, he launched a sizzling ball of heat towards the oncoming magic user. Despite being a fire mage, Rune moved like water, swiftly curving past the attack spell without even compromising his momentum. Before Trevor could launch a counterattack, Rune had successfully invaded his territory. Swinging back his right arm, Rune shot his fiery fist through the rain and landed a powerful punch directly at the center of Trevor’s face. A mordant shock rippled from the tip of his nose and spread to the ends of his cheeks, red ooze rushing out his nostrils and splattering onto the ground. The force of the blow was enough to knock him several feet into the distance, his back crashing into the metal hide of a nearby building.

“Damn, you’ve gotta be kidding...” was all Trevor managed to utter.

Hurdling straight for him was an onslaught of fireballs, each the size of a boulder. He quickly leaped out of the way of the first and clumsily but efficiently avoided the rest. The balls of flame exploded as they made contact with the building, surging clouds of smoke ushering Trevor forward against his will. He quickly spun around to locate the attacking mage. Several meters ahead of him he found Rune currently in the middle of conjuring more spells. Ribbons of fire spiraled around their caster. The pages of his tome coated in a scorching aura galloped with haste in order to grant him the powers he sought. His blonde hair floated. His right eye glowed with a brilliant, orange hue. Shifting his body to face his opponent, Rune bellowed across the flooding battlefield the name of his spell, “Anguis mordeo!!”. Trevor spun around and fled to the mouth of a nearby alleyway as a monsoon of concentrated fire hungrily chased after him. He dove inside the narrow passage lodged between two buildings and jumped out its exit, landing in mud. Not a second after he’d done so, however, did the screeching inferno ejaculate out of the small crevasse.

Trevor hopped to his feet and slowly inched back, facing the alley that now only spewed deceased cinders and steam. “Not bad, kid. Not bad at all. It’s clear I’ve underestimated you,” he called out, wiping the blood draining from his crooked nose and dripping off his chin. “Your military buddies, I reckon they’ll be joining us soon, yeah? To be honest, I’m more so surprised you lot didn’t show together? You cowardly Esterans are known for playing it safe.”

Rune appeared from behind the curtain of smoke and charged straight for his target, a mage possessed by a spirit of wrath. “There you are!” Trevor exclaimed. A burst of light exploded as Solace, the tome created specifically for him, levitated into the air. The book with a cover of red and white released its contents and magic alike. The lines of gray text on its dull pages illuminated, Trever grinning as he felt his mana flow throughout his veins. Oh, how he loved that feeling. It was one of the reasons he thanked the upper deities for granting him such a powerful gift. It was also the reason why he could look at Rune Ransford, mere inches away, with enough confidence to eclipse the entire planet. “Obice Gelum!” he shouted, pointing a palm at his attacker. Manifesting from thin air was a barrier of solid ice. It rose nearly fifteen feet into the sky, a sturdy bastion of frost responsible for saving his life on many occasions. Though, not even this spell was enough to hold back Rune. When the mage hammered his flaming fist into its icy surface the frosted shield shattered like glass. Trevor heard the thunderous clap ring in his ears shortly before a torrent of wind and ice shards flung into his face.

Discounting the tapping of rain and the occasional applause of thunder, everything was still and silent. A sheet of thick, frosty fog festered, making it even more difficult for Trevor to discern his enemy. Speaking of which, after the last attack Rune had disappeared. He must be repressing his mana point. I can’t sense him anywhere! His eyes scanned the area, endlessly searching around the square-shaped arena enclosed by more empty warehouses. A lesser mage would’ve grown bewildered or anxious, they’d soon fall victim to a surprise attack. The Coldfire Sorcerer was better than that. “I’ve gotta hand it to ya, kid. For you to cast multiple consecutive spells at such a young age means you must be pretty skilled. Hard to find that kind of raw talent these days,” he called out. A smart sorcerer knew in order to vanquish another utilizing the powers of magic they must first break their opponent's concentration. A wandering mind not only clouds one’s judgment but also diminishes the quality of their spells. If his instincts served him well and Rune Ransford truly was a greenhorn, then he’d assuredly take his otherwise obvious bait.

Grinning to himself, Trevor rapidly spun around only to spot the fire mage lunging out of a cluster of mist. Who do you think you’re dealing with? An amateur?! Trevor’s tome flipped to a new page as he launched a steady stream of wintery air and ragged, daggers of ice out his palm. Rune was quick enough to dodge most of them, however, disappearing back into the cover of the mist Trevor’s grin widened as he watched one of the frozen projectiles cut his arm. The mage’s blood splattered to the ground, staining a muddy puddle with drops of red. “I’m willing to bet there’s nothing you’d want more than to kick my ass to kingdom come, right? But you’ve gotta admit, the two of us are quite similar!” he gauntly shouted. “Two traitors locked in a fight to the death! I can’t think of a more fitting duel than this!” Rune appeared again, this time on his left side. The sad truth was, Trevor had anticipated such a reaction. His foe was young, lacking experience. Toying with him proved to be not a problem at all.

“Manice Galem!”

His tome flipped its pages again. A shining blue aura shrouded both his arms before a thick layer of ice began to cover bandage and flesh, starting from the ends of his elbows and reaching past the tips of his fingers forming sharp, well-defined frozen claws. When Rune threw his flaming fist Trevor swiftly held out his hand and caught the attack, fire sizzling at the center of his palm. Even with his reinforcement spell, he felt an electric current flow up his arm to his shoulder. However, for that moment, Rune was completely at his mercy. Tightly grabbing him by the wrist, Trevor pulled the boy in closer and muttered, “This how our fight ends? Pity, we were just getting to the good part.”

“Shut it!” Rune retorted. “You and I are nothing alike, you hear me?!”

“I disagree,” Trevor countered. “They say mages with the same elemental affinity often think the same, foster similar ideologies. I thought it was a load of crap, that is, until I met you tonight. You seek to take revenge on the one who killed your family, yes? I’m much like you in that regard.”

Rune scowled. “What?!”

“You ain’t the only guy here who knows what it’s like to lose people you care about. The very reason I came to this rotten country was to bring misery to the monsters that took my happiness from me! But I’m certain you can relate.”

“Enough of this!” With his free hand, Rune struck Trevor at the core of his stomach. The punch packed so much force it allowed the mage to slip free from his captor’s grasp only to send a barrage of fast-flying fists his way. “You can’t fool me, Thatch! I already know who I am!”

“Do you, now? Are you really that adamant about denying the truth?!” Trevor fragilely strutted backward as he attempted to block each of Rune’s attacks. The clash of fire and ice reverberated throughout the storming dueling grounds. “Men like us sacrifice everything for our family, isn’t that right?!” he growled, managing to land a punch of his own into his foe’s ribs. “Whether it’s betraying our friends, country, or ideals! We bear the weight of it all just to preserve their smiles. And should their hearts ever stop beating, we enact revenge on those who dared to blight our lives! I may be a monster, but at least I have the decency to admit it!” Trevor stood his ground, and so did Rune. The two exchanged their swift yet powerful blows. Whenever he could land a successful strike it wasn’t long after before Rune did so as well. The trading of enchanted, elemental fists and spraying blood bore no recess. “I betrayed the trust of my sweet Gyrak for the sake of chasing revenge and you came to find me by yourself without informing the rest of your teammates! I kill any who cross my path and you sought to kill me for allegedly claiming the lives of your family! Tell me, Ransford, just how are you any better than me?!”

Instead of giving an answer, Rune released a fractured roar as he thrust a swollen, burning knuckle towards his enemy. Trevor returned the favor, sending a trembling punch right back at him. Simultaneously, the bloodied and soaked mages struck one another on each other’s fists. Trever felt his innards vibrate as he was knocked back, landing face-first into the sloppy earth. As luck would have it, his opponent hadn’t fared any better. He observed as the fire mage struggled to return to his feet. If nothing else, he’d surely compliment the kid for his determination. He sensed barely a handful of essence lingering within him yet somehow he found the strength to climb out of the dirt and onto his two feet.

“You Esteran sorcerers are insane,” he chuckled, spitting from his lips a ball of murky blood. “Can’t have you upstaging me, now can I?” On moaning bones he too rose from the ground, solidifying his footing lest he was to fall back to the floor again. “Say, kid, it won’t be long until your reinforcements arrive. As much as I long for this duel to meet a proper conclusion, I can’t afford to sacrifice the plan.”

“Running, huh?” Rune grumbled. “And you have the nerve to call us Esterans cowardly?”

“Who’s running?” From his back pocket, Trevor pulled out a secret weapon. In his hand, he held the ticket to their victory. It came in the form of a slab of turquoise, translucent metal. Remaining frozen at its heart was a small yellow orb, making the strange alloy appear as some kind of deformed, severed eye. “Haven’t you ever wondered about our plans? How exactly we intend on punishing you Esterans? Well, take a good look,” he announced, holding out the crystal. “This is why we’re here. This is how the Day of Zero will be born.”

“You’re going to destroy us with...a rock?”

“Jest if you must, I assure you I speak of no lies. This manite crystal will spell the end to any who defiled Gyrak! Care for a demonstration?”

“Be my guest. If that’s your special weapon then I’ll show you mine,” Rune muttered. Trevor detected his magical energy spike. Like a burning flame, it expanded out of his human husk and consumed his very being. Matching the color of his glowing, orange right eye, spiraling ribbons of fire danced around the sorcerer. When he called the spell’s name, “Otrus Draco!” and a hurricane of heat enveloped the area. Sparks of fire began devouring the fabric of his clothes. A steady stream of smoke seeped out the sides of his mouth. In spite of the power he released the boy himself looked to Trevor like he was on the cusp of fainting.

Nevertheless, he’d no intention of being defeated. Not when his revenge was in his grasp. A plume of blue fire erupted from the palm of his ice-covered hand and instantly shattered the manite, leaving no trace whatsoever. Unlike when he cast a spell, the burning of manite was different. It felt unnatural, like his body was being torn apart and put back together over and over again. Those who failed to contain its rage, much like with a magic rejection, would perish. However, the special few that could govern the dormant power within would undergo an involuntary evolution. The manite's energy penetrated his physical body and rewired what dwelled underneath as if he were a machine.

First, there was pain. Then a rush. And finally, euphoria.

Opening his glowing eyes, Trevor held out both his hands and shouted, “Aestus Melio!”

The two spells left their casters nearly at the exact same time. Rune launched his hand towards him, a stream of fire igniting the night. Flying through the air, the fiery lasso eventually took form, growing wings, a neck, fangs, horns, and a pair of shimmering green eyes. The dragon forged of fire opened its mouth and howled as it engaged on what was sure to be a rather abrupt hunt. Impressive though the spell may have been, Trever couldn’t contain his joy once the mystic art of his creation rushed to defend him. A single, straight beam of solidified heat beamed at the dragon. Trevor would then bare witness to the collision of spells, as well as an explosion that shook the very fabric of Earth.

Throughout his training, Rune had been given two specific warnings regarding Otrus Draco, one of the strongest spells in his arsenal. It matters not how much you attempt to control it, the spell has the potential to desolate everything, he’d said. In short, it limited where and when it could be activated. He couldn’t use it around people or his teammates due to the possibility of them getting caught in the crossfire. The second warning, however, was the most problematic. This spell will consume a large sum of your available magical energy. I dare say you’ll be out of commission even if you only use it once. Henceforth, this spell should only be cast as a last resort.

Lying on the swampy ground, the warning reverberated in his head. Falling victim to his emotions and the nonsensical words of his enemy, he’d allowed himself to use the one spell that dealt as much damage to his target as it did to himself. His arms and legs throbbed. His throat was filled with a cloud of heat. Blood trickled out his nose. Grabbing a handful of mud, Rune attempted to rise, however, the most he could do was ascend to one knee. Any more and he was fairly certain he’d collapse once more.

His surroundings were clouded by a thick sheet of smoke and mist, the ongoing buckets of rain doing little to clear his vision. Struggling to get back on his feet, Rune detected the sound of advancing footsteps. The tapping of leather on mud grew louder and louder until he spotted the outline of a person within the mist. Stepping outside the cloud, a snickering Trevor appeared before him. Despite his condition, his clothing being reduced to rags and blood staining his arms and face, nothing could quell the obvious enjoyment he took out of this most troubling situation. Rune prepared to launch a spell but not even a drop of essence dwelled in him. His tome no longer floated in midair. Instead, it lay lifeless a few paces east of its caster.

“How enthralling. Can’t remember when last I’d a bout so exciting!” Trevor exclaimed. He looked down at Rune with a proud smirk and said, “There’s no doubt the entire town heard that explosion. I can’t afford to stay here any longer. But first, I should probably get rid of you.”

Rune’s eyes widened. “You’re...going to kill me too, are you?”

“One less sorcerer to deal with, I’m afraid. Your skills are impressive, brat. Can’t have you meddling in our operation any longer. Apologies, it’s just the way it has to be.” His red and white tome flipped to a new page. The Gyrakian’s golden eyes illuminated. Cracking his knuckles, Trevor pointed a palm at Rune’s scalp, scoffing as he said, “As a sign of respect, I’ll make your death painless. And so you can pass onto the afterlife with an easy conscience, I’ll tell you this much. I never killed your family. If they didn’t participate in the war chances are I would never have even met them.”

“Liar...”

“It’s the truth,” Trevor confirmed. “If you ask me, both they and yourself can be considered lucky, to a certain degree. None of you will be around to witness the travesty that will befall this country. For us Gyrakians though, the Day of Zero will be marvelous.”

Rune knuckled the ground. “I won’t let you...”

“It’s over, brat.” Crimson magic energy expelled from his hands, brightening the dark environment. Rune looked up helplessly as he felt magic begin to zap at his skin. “Any final words, Rune Ransford?”

Before he could respond, the hair at the back of Rune’s neck erected. He knew this feeling quite well. In a burst of blinding light, Daze materialized at his side. Drenched in lightning his abrupt appearance startled Trevor into jumping backward, fear and confusion veiling his face. He didn’t get far though as, with a fist drenched in violent electricity, Daze lunged for him, striking Trevor directly in his chest. The man let out a cry of pain as he was flung through the air, landing on his behind several meters away.

Daze, the victor, assumed a battle stance, his arms held close to his face and feet spread apart, as he waited for the Gyrakian to make his next move. All that Trevor did, however, was shoot a spiteful, bloody expression and initiate a hasty retreat. With his tail turned, Trevor Thatch, the mage who’d brought Rune to his knees, disappeared.

The Sparking Mage glanced at Rune from over his shoulder, muttering under his breath, “I’ve got a lot of things I want to say to you. First, I have to take care of the mess you made.” Starting off in the direction Trevor fled to, he ordered, “Stay where you are and rest. The others should be joining us soon.”

“No!” Rune denied, quiveringly rising to his feet. “I’m coming with you.”

“You’ll only slow me down.”

“Don’t worry about me, I can handle myself.”

“Just like you handled everything else?!”

Rune scowled. “He caught me off guard, nothing more. I can still fight!”

“No, you can’t! You can barely stand up!” Daze screamed, forcefully shoving Rune to the ground. Before the fire mage could recover, Daze crouched down, grabbed the collar of his uniform, and shouted directly into his face, “Combat mages are supposed to help people! You’re not helping anyone by acting so recklessly!”

“You wouldn’t understand! I’m doing this for my family!”

“So are you going to use your family as an excuse for dying a pointless death?!” he countered. “Rune, I admired you because I respected what you stood for. I respected your drive, your resolve! Your talent for magic. Even when they all cursed your name or labeled you a murderer. I couldn’t care less because I knew the real you. The guy who wouldn’t let injustice stand. A mage using Ryas’ blessing for good. But attacking your comrades. Sabotaging an important mission, willingly. Blindly charging headfirst to the gates of death. If you honestly can’t see what you're doing is wrong, then maybe I was the fool. Maybe...maybe you aren’t fit to be my master after all...”

“Again with this?! You were never my apprentice! And I never wanted to be your master!” Rune roared. “It’s about time you got it through that thick head of yours!”

“...Yeah, I hear ya. Loud and clear,” he softly grinned. Daze released him and began his slow trot after Trevor with his head disappointedly hanging to the floor. “I thought better of you, Rune. In fact, I still do,” he whispered. He brought a hand to his face and liberated his cheeks of teary trails. “Maybe you should reevaluate the kind of person you want to be and what kind of legacy you long to leave behind.”

A watery expression reflected in Rune's burning eyes. The anger and coagulated frustration clouding his mind slowly began to fade until only penitence lingered. Returning to his senses, Rune uttered, “Daze, listen...”

“Fulmeno Tela,” the broken novice murmured.

“Wait, Daze!” Rune shouted, reaching an arm towards his friend.

His words were never received. Cloaking himself in lightning once again, Daze vaporized, leaving a silent and conflicted Rune stranded in the rain with only regret to keep him company.