Relictus strolled through the cobblestone streets lined with bustling traffic that endlessly barraged the stalls along the roads that were selling a rainbow of merchandise. The crowd parted like a certain sea that had a name contradicting its color. Relictus never quite understood that.

Putting that aside, he did seem to get a lot of attention. Relictus sighed as he realized he was still the “heartless harbinger of doom” and kept walking. He decided to survey the stalls. Among them was a singular small stall that had a particular aroma that attracted him.

The smell was almost tangible as he stopped in his tracks and sniffed the air, raising his nose.

‘Yup, that is definitely some sort of fried dough.’ He processed the smell at a blinding speed and started to walk even faster, arriving in a solid 43.06 seconds, a surprisingly specific number for such a lazy author that can’t even meet one due date. Seriously.

In front of him was a slightly shabby wooden shop stall, the person manning it being a man, probably in his 50s, with slightly discolored brown hair only around the sides of his head. In front of him was the most beautiful thing Relictus had ever seen. Over a steel grid that had been heated to the point of mild luminescence, there was a light dough doused in a mild amount of oil and then coated in several different spices Relictus had never even seen. It was visibly turning its coloration from its bright beige to a variable gold and brown, the crystals of sugar still reflecting light. Another layer was added in the same method, and the smell was enough to flood Relictus’s mouth with drool. He couldn’t be compared to the imposing figure that had thrown a notable barbarian as if it was nothing. His face was an image of bliss, a stupid smile crossing his face ear to ear, his face slightly red as he ordered two of the fried products.

He carried them as he walked, immediately biting into one. This gave birth to many regrets as the intense heat of the food incinerated his nerves. Steam could be seen emitting from his head, his eyes wide, as he took all of his power to control himself and not run around in circles out of agony.

Soon, however, taste returned to his mouth and the fried food was exploding with powerfully sweet, yet slightly salty… fruit? Yes, it was apparently a fruit fried in two layers of dough. Relictus, not familiar with this world’s fauna, had no idea what fruit it was, but it still went incredibly well with the crispy layers covering it. Only then did he realize that the author was incredibly bad at these culinary descriptions, and that this chapter had practically taken a sledgehammer to the fourth wall. Within minutes he had devoured the two, and was on his way. Many were puzzled by the emotionless, heartless white reaper being so happy-go-lucky, because ‘who can be that cheerful yet kill 2 dozen people without batting an eye?’

The answer to that rhetorical question was simple – Relictus didn’t care about others. Frankly, he didn’t know himself – being trapped in a bed for 8 years left him with no time to find himself. However, that’s beside the point. He continued to stroll around the city, exploring its many wonders and foods. Especially the foods.

Before he knew it, Relictus found himself in an alleyway devoid of people. Around him, stone, brick, marble, and glass towered around him in the sprawling classical cityscape, and the colorful and diverse blocks of buildings blocked out the sunlight, leaving him in a small pocket of refreshingly cool shade.

Refreshing was a word that could only be used for a few minutes as Relictus leaned against the wall, until he was disturbed.

He pulled his crossed arms to his sides, and opened his eyes. In front of him stood a small army. There were at least a hundred people surrounding him, weapons drawn, menacing looks on their faces. Some wore hateful grimaces, some grinned, confident that he couldn’t defeat all of them.

“What do you guys want, disturbing my rest like this? You know it’s poor form to awaken someone just like that.” Relictus said, his tone deriding and almost mocking them. When Relictus went full passive-aggressive, someone definitely had done something very, very wrong. His eyes were half-opened, his eyebrows lowered and his lips were forming the ghost of a frown.

“We heard you were causing trouble for Dirge,” a particularly thin one (with a distinct English accent) spoke. “Now you can apologize, leave everything you have on the ground, and run away, or we can Caesar you right here.”

Of course, Relictus wasn’t going to budge for ants like this. They weren’t even worth his breath. “Give me a few more hours, I’m tired.” He spoke simply, closing his eyes and leaning back into the stone wall.

“You little-” A man in the front walked briskly towards Relictus, drawing his sword. Of course, Relictus didn’t even have to open his eyes to deal with enemies of this level.

He hadn’t tried his blade extension ability yet, so he did so. He activated it as he unsheathed his sword, feeling the power rush into the blade. The bright red lightning glowed across the blade of energy as it slashed through its enemy’s body, cleanly bifurcating him horizontally. Relictus watched, in awe of his own power, doing all he could to keep from breaking out in a fit of mad laughter. The now lifeless body of the man flew through the air and hit the cobbles, his blood splattering the ground and dyeing it a sickening red color. Nobody even had time to process what had happened, and once they did, they all charged in at once.

Instantly, a dozen heads were sent flying. Relictus’s blade danced in his hand as if he was drawing a mural, the darkness drawing a picture of bloody death in the otherwise empty piazza. Morale plummeted as every swing slew multiple people ruthlessly, leaving the entire band in disarray. Relictus made it a point not to hold back against even the most insignificant of insects among his enemies – to do so would be the deepest insult anyone could instill. And so, within just a minute, he had torn through the entire group.

Little did any of them know, a pair of young eyes watched.

~–•–~

A room. Grand mahogany doors opened into a similarly excessive room, the red carpet trimmed with gold rolling down the room to the giant throne upon which a single man sat. His wrinkled face was locked in a pensive look, his eyes focusing on something far away, his long white-gray hair covering part of his face.

“Was it the right decision?” He mumbled to himself. Camiel Dreyfus had just sent off his granddaughter off on a highly important mission. He had doted on the girl since she was born, she had been a solace from the kingdom of death and corruption in his court, which he could do nothing about. Because of that, not only was he worried about what would happen when he suddenly thrust her out into the world, but he also wondered if she was able to complete the task assigned to her. At this point, however, he had run out of men and was running out of time, too.

~–•–~

Eleftherios leaned against the brick wall, his arms crossed and his eyes closed, as he ignored the strenuous lecture that he was getting from the ‘old man’ that was the Emperor of Obror. The fire of the sconces above shone on his bright blond hair, his luminescent blue eyes glowing in the slightly dim room.

“I understand that you wanted to test your power, but you went too far.” The old man said, his tone harsh. “You killed upwards of 200 thousand soldiers, practically annihilating their forces in a ruthless slaughter, and you say you did it on a whim? You threw us straight into a war with a neighboring country we wanted to keep good relations with.

Ah, what will I do with you?”

“It’s a war, old man. Consider yourself grateful so many of them are dead with no casualties. If an empire isn’t growing, it’s dying.” Eleftherios responded in kind, pushing the blame away with his ideals.

“A sovereign group can grow in other ways than war and death!” The emperor responded, his fingers going to his lowered forehead as if he was dealing with a splitting headache.

“Ugh, you don’t get it, do you, old man?” He retorted, having nothing left to say as he stood and stormed out (lol), pushing the heavy door as if it were nothing.

~–•–~

Relictus lay in the bed of the room he had rented out for the night. He was in his usual position of having his forearm covering his eyes as he contemplated life.

‘Why is it that everyone thinks it’s so great to target me? They should know by now that they can’t lay a hand on me, but is it that great to assault another person and force them to kill? I’m lucky I didn’t get PK marked and made infamous for defending myself.’

He sighed, and rolled over on his side. He stared into the light of the tiny flame floating above the candle, and sighed. He rolled over, feeling a pair of eyes burning two holes into his back, but he looked around and saw nothing. Of course, he was far too tired from being awake for 5 days to look around, let alone care. His last-resort defense system could stop any attack in its tracks.

With that, he fell asleep. Relictus no longer saw dreams.

Author’s Notes

Spoiler : Yay, I finally released a chapter! I can’t hit a single deadline because crap always comes up, and I’m not sure if this chapter is up to par. Tell me what you think in the comments. Lots of new characters to come in this arc. Also, I may start writing a different story. Release schedule will be more or less the same for Final Hour, but it won’t get any faster. Should I?