01: Not even satan can kill me

LAS ISLAS CARCEL. The place for Magus, who would rather stand on their beliefs than be under sovereignty. The place for those who rather set their lives on the line, holding on to their steadfast staunch to their acknowledged true ruler of Kryovries Kingdom, Glashkil Ron du Vaux. Their world has been revamped but despite of, a number of Kryovriesian's faith is ceaseless, believing on their near redemption and the captors would be held accountable through their true leader's hands. They had accepted death long since and would never concede on their conviction albeit they have to suffer the swollen lashes from thorny whips that extends to their agonizing forms.

"Your stubbornness is not going to save you from death!" snarls the man in a white shirt and faded dusky pants paired with mud-caked boots. He was holding a barbed wire flogger that is now soaked in his victim's blood. Behind the rusty bars, echoes the sounds of wrathful hellhounds, drooling over the captives' bones. They have rugged pitch-black coats and their red eyes flicker. Their outstretched heads contest over the gaps, inclining their sharp fangs that crave to tug one of the Magus. Keepers with wands in their hands stood on their posts, waiting for Branty's command to feed the ravenous animals who can eat anything or anyone in one fell swoop.

"U—unless o—our king re—turns!" the young man sups his own blood as he struggles to utter his mind. Neque can hardly see through his inflamed left eye. He was on his belly over a metal plate that is filled with flames beneath, half-naked and wrists chained. His front torso might have been spared from the barbed lashes but he stings in pain as his skin flays off over this immense boiler. Whomever opposes the incumbent king is not absolved. In front of him is a queue of other Kryovriesian, men and women, lined up to their deaths, slumping on the soiled and searing ground. They seemed like vagrants, bones sticking out on their skins, faces and garments filled with filth.

The dome covering the prison is unobstructed but thoughts of running away is in vain as a purplish translucent current infused by electricity engulfed the space going through it. The walls are also enveloped by layers and layers of powerful spell. Even if they somehow managed getting out from the cells and not be burnt alive through these traps, they will have even more problems facing the raging waves and getting out in the middle of the ocean in which this hell resides, in this hell where Kryovriesian are being murdered for refusing in bending the knee to the new power, Azrael Zyker. There is only one true way in getting in and out of this zone – flu powder.

Kryovries is notable for unswerving acknowledgement to law and disciplined people but since Glashkil was dethroned and believed to be dead. The kingdom's peace and people's unity had shattered into pieces. Criminals like Branty are free to walk the land and do whatever they want. Las Islas Carcel, for scoundrels such as him, is the most pleasurable region in the land. This is where lawlessness is of no bounds, where his bloodlust is fed. He was banished by Glashkil but his exuberance overflows now that he can set foot, anywhere he fancies. Even if he missed the chance to kill the former king, he can still grudge on the Kryovriesiann that Glashkil treasured the most. Branty could not restrain her excitement at the thought of killing Neque, one of the Kryovriesian that heped Glashkil captured him and throw him outside the kingdom.

"'Less he returns?!" Branty mockingly repeats what Neque said, trying to challenge his inflexible belief that the only leader he will recognize will return. "Well, guess what?" He grabbed Neque's hair, making him look straight at his ghastly eyes. "Your beloved king died right before his very throne! Murdered by his own bloodline!" His laughter reverberates like crazy as he violently lashes the young man's back on and on. Neque endures it excruciatingly as he hears nothing but the hard sounds of the whip touching his rear, even so the mad dogs' growls filling the air. Among the women who closed their eyes, whose throats sting in pain as they try so stiff to hold back tears, is an old lady. She breathes slowly but feelings are dry as she helplessly stares on how her only son go through this mayhem.

"YOUR KING WILL NEVER EVER RETURN! HE IS DEAD!" The whipper ridiculed even more. "GLASHKIL IS DEAD!" He cackled maniacally when a lightning suddenly strikes. Branty stopped for a bit to probe the sky. Just minutes ago, it was lucid with beams of sunlight spreading out, but it is getting darker now wiith the flashes of firebolts, deafening sounds of thunders roared and roared. Bothered, Branty carry on with his pace, dubious but he continued with his mockery, "Lo...look, the skies grant me here! The gods agree!" He puts on a proud face but he wishes that his thoughts are mistaken. "It is about time that I end you!" He fakes his deranged laugh while eyes stealthily looking up the heavens.

Branty reached out his hand and a white wand comes into sight that heightened the fears of the watching victims and the previously quiet old lady now burst into tears. Agonizing in sorrow, Neque looked into his mother's eyes, he forced himself to smile and slightly nodded, convincing his mother that it's alright, everything will be fine. Tears that were mix with blood run down his cheeks as he shut his eyes to welcome the death that's been crawling behind him. The punisher laid the white wand on the lad's temple. His lips moved to utter the spell when yet another lightning strikes. Only this time, a tall man descended from the provoked clouds. The hellhounds even tamed down in the presence of this man who wears a viridescent rayadillo and a gold belt surrounds his waist, matched by three small aureate chains that run from his left shoulder down to his right trunk. His feet are covered by brunet leather boots ornamented by diamonds on its brim. He looks like a higher ranked soldier.

Branty is fully aware who this man is despite of his back facing him. He will not forget those vermillion highlights by the rear end of the newcomer's black hair. A black wand emerged from this man's open hand and gradually threw spells at the circling guards. The men strived to fight but theirs were no match to this new guest. Once all the sentinels were taken care of, he faced Branty, who got bowled over several feet away to the grubby ground with a lay of the black wand on the forehead. The presumptuous nature of the blasted man tweaked to a lifeless, dumb body. Even when his chastiser's eyes seemed docile, he can see the wrath burning in them and he is scant to his caliber.

"Prince Nen." Hope is sensed in Neque's voice, the same can be seen from the rest of the Kryovriesian. Nen did not respond but instead placed the wand on the chains that confine Neque's wrists. The baton sparked a reddish current that flowed to the cuffs. This made the shackles shook 'til it broke. The fellow is immediately freed and at this moment, his mother approached him. Signs of relief are drawn on her face. Her heart is breaking on all the lashes and contusions of her child but at least, he breathes. The captives celebrated and shouted for joy 'til Branty cut them off.

"You—you think I'm a—afraid of you—you Nen Aail Emperium!?" Branty grunted but Nen did not think twice in again, using his black wand to the man's direction. The nameless spell hit Branty's shoulder and like bullet, it sunk in his beef, smudging his shirt by his own blood. Terror overtook him and he knows he had to leave. He took out a flask smaller than his thumb. It contained sand grains, amber in color and in full disarray, he struggled to unscrew it. He grappled the dusts that spilled over and with shaking hands, he managed to cop half of the grains.

Nen knows that Branty is trying to flee using the flu powder but did not dare to stop the him. The man threw the sand from his hands and uttered: "Irse Casa Grande!" The wind picked up the grains of amber from the ground and swirled it like a storm. As a swift breeze, Branty was taken away, none was left but traces of his blood and the grains that fell back on the ground.

"Casa Grande." In a hushed tone, Nen voiced out, and with those words, another wind blew but was also quick to pass away.

"My Lord!" An ash-gray haired man saluted

"Please, allow me to come after Branty! I will make sure that he will pay for what he did to us!" Another male Kryovriesian joined in. He has similar clothes as the prince but is ruby in color without any gold belt or aureate chains and no cleats to cover his feet.

"Let him be, he will soon meet his death." Nen said with a deep voice, "Besides, none of you even has the strength or arm to pursue him. Running from here is of pressing matters." He is stern but compassion is in his eyes. He turned to face Neque whose front trunk is sorely burnt and back all tattered from all the brutal lashes he suffered. Nen bent his right knee to approach the miserable young man. His gesture made the people ashamed and so, they too, bent their knee as a response.

"Prince Nen! We are not righteous for you to stoop on us." Even though he is struggling to speak Neque tries to move out of his mother's lap to stop his savior from kneeling.

As if not hearing a word, Nen continued by commanding the Kryovriesian male who, earlier, offered the chase for Branty. "From here on, you are in charge. Take away all the wands from the guards and give out to all the soldiers who are with you. See to it that the respective color matched each of you." The man who received the order nodded and did as told.

A woman with cerulean highlights on her black hair caught Nen's attention. Her white dress that looked grubby is covered by a thick black cloak. "You are a Gardien, aren't you?" He asked as he approached the young woman.

The lady gave her regard before answering, eyes affixed on the ground even as she replied "Yes, my Prince." Nen reached out to take the maiden's hands. The lass brought up her face, confused, brows slightly furrowed but remembering her place in front of the prince, she immediately bowed her head down again. "Forgive me, my Lord. But I have no right to—." Nen did not finish the lady's statement and grabbed her up by the hands. It revealed the dirt on her porcelain skin. "Your Highness—I— My hands are covered in dirt!" Again, the prince cut her off, instead he gave her an order.

"The ship called Vainquer awaits you outside, take them all there. The captain knows where to go." He then takes out a necklace with a sphere pendant inside his pocket. Inside it is a linear metal that resembles a timer's hands. It is surrounded by five gems. He placed it on the woman's neck, the reason that she felt more alarmed. She was ready to refuse this jewel but the prince was fast to turn his back to speak to the man in ash-gray hair. "Be quick! I will take care of him." Referring to Neque who's still lying on his mother's lap, helpless.

The man firmly nodded and directed his companions, "Ready yourselves!"

"Let me take care of him." Nen encouraged Neque's mother as he gently grabbed him from his mother's lap.

"Thank you so much, my Prince." The old madam, once more, was tearful. She does not want to leave her son but she trusts the prince. She stood up to join the rest of the departing Kryovriesian. She gave her last glance before the whirlwind of sand took both men.

*******

AS far as Branty can remember, this is the first time that his heart felt this terror. He smells death and he will do everything in his might to get out of its grip. He treaded the vast empty corridor. The vicinity is extremely gloomy until light shone bit by bit as the wind divided the clouds to reveal the moon's full face. He is intimidated by the silhouettes of the immense windows that bloat on the walls and pavement. He does not know what is it but he senses danger from these shadows that look larger than they should. This is his old mansion where he lived at one time, and for now, the only place he can think of as his haven. He is not too dense though, to not know that he hasn't survived demise yet. He opened his right hand to summon his white wand and be prepared in case Nen comes after him.

In this cold night, his body responds differently. His sweat damps him from the fore down to his neck. He started to feel weaker and is agonized by more blood loss. He can hear his heart beating wildly and so loud like it wanted to prance out of his chest if it could. Paranoia consumed him. He sets his wand on every sound he hears and every slight movement he sees.

At a slow pace, he moved along towards the end of the corridor. He is just a few more steps to the stairs, when an aggressive spell struck from his north. It hit his wand and sent it flying yards away to the ground. Troubled, he ran away to get it back when another violent spell smacked him in the arm creating a wound adjacent to the injury he got from the earlier encounter. It pinned him down the wall and his shrieks reverbed in the hall. Upon seeing whose shadow lurks in the place, he grew paler as he also furthermore loses blood. "You—!" he yelled, trying to muster every little energy he still has.

The moon gradually glowed to reveal the man in smirk. The golden locks at the front of his wavy black shoulder-length hair gleamed. His slacks complement his coat in color and he has muddy leather boots to go with his feet. The iconic mole on the top left of his upper lip best describes who this person is. He can't be mistaken. Despite his smirk, his fiery red eyes can't hide away the rage and wrath that were boiling inside him. Under his black coat are bandages, still marked with blood.

"I thought—."

"You amuse me to think I was dead." The angry man sarcastically laughed Branty off. In a blink of an eye, he appeared in front of the squirming man who is struggling to catch his breath, it is as if fright and pain snatched the air out of him. This man's ire made him cowered in fear and it seemed like he is sinking in a quicksand. He grabbed Branty by the neck so strong that he was lifted from the ground and with a loud slam, he was pinned against the wall. "Not even satan can kill me!" His teeth grind as he screeches the words.

Branty's vain in the face became more prominent but the man in black was not swayed. He used last bits of his might to contend the powerful hand that's grasping his neck but like an airbag, his head might explode in no time.

"Don't kill him, Glashkil," only when hearing a familiar voice did this long-haired man halted. "We still need him." said the man who's joining them. He wore a white long sleeve shirt, top slightly unbuttoned revealing his chest tattoo. Once Glashkil was sure who was it, just like some rug, he flung him back to the ground, releasing his grip and turned his back to face the guest like none had happened.

Branty cannot trust to thank this new guy yet but if it weren't for him, he might have had his cervical spine already snapped. His violent coughs and rasps filled the night while he tried to catch up for his life.

"Edvard," Glashkil finally said "have you found the bastard?" He is trying to calm down but rage has not left him as yet.

"I spied at Frumier Kingdom but there are no signs of Kei Larc." Edvard plainly shrugged. He looked to the despaired Branty's direction and shook his head. He took out the glasses he wore and hurled it far from them. He rolled his shirt's sleeves up to his elbow, uncovering another ink on his left arm, before approaching this man who had finally caught his ease somehow. "I've heard you met up with my brother. How is he?" He tapped him on the shoulder that made him jumped out of scared even though Edvard sounded so sweet as if they were having a friendly chat. Branty looked like he is still chasing for his spirit. His mind processed this face and if he remembers it right, this is Pluvesgal's second prince who chose to be Glashkil's hand rather than inheriting their kingdom's throne. He did not answer but the thought of Nenmade him glance on the wound he is enduring right now.

"Excuse my brother, will you? His blood just boils for criminals." Edvard gave Branty another set of pats on the shoulder and smiled before standing up. He turned his attention back to his friend who is currently glaring out through one of the enormous windows.

"I've been thinking one way so Kei would yield..." this interrupted Glashkil's deep thoughts and to Edvard's direction, he swirled with scrutinizing eyes. "...his Achilles heels." His hand sounded assertive on this urge. As soon as Glashkil recalled what he meant by this, he protested instantly.

"Edvard, we already talked this out." He reverted his back to again observe the full moon but Edvard is persistent. He walked by his front to get him to listen.

"That is the only way we could get Kei out from his sanctum!" Edvard is determined to get his approval but instead got swayed in disregard. He is being ignored but he'll never back down, he tightly held him on the shoulders to spin him so they are facing each other.

"We do not use someone innocent like an item. If he won't concede, I'll find and destroy him myself!" Glashkil firmly answered.

"We need Kei." Edvard whispered, he grew more serious and is equally stern.

Glashkil grunted, "I don't need a scumbag like him!" He forcefully dashed Edvard's grip away from him. "He started this all! He turned his back against the Lears and betrayed Kryrovries! My kingdom! My people!" His grin won't bury the outrage that's consuming him right now. "My heart is overwhelmed with so much wrath," in his fit, he pulled Edvard by the collar "that my mind's full of ways to kill them all and I won't hold back 'til I get back all that was mine!"He let go of the gentleman and again turned his back.

There was a momentarily silence. Only the heavy breathes of the man on the floor can be heard until Edvard broke their stillness. "Don't act like you are the only who's suffering. You certainly know who you share this with." His bitter voice cracked as he said those words. He is suddenly full of emotions as he recalls the past. He opened his palm to call for his black wand. He morphed it from a wooden stick into a bow and arrow and pointed it at Glashkil's way. He already shot it before the other realized but the arrow shot passed Glashkil's direction straight to Branty's forehead whose attempt to throw a spell on unguarded Glashkil got warded off. "Astrofegnia is in the verge of dying. We need to do something before it's too late, Glashkil." He grimly added. He received no reply nor can hear any heavy huffs of breathes anymore.

Glashkil only stood and studied the body that bathes in his own blood. He raised his one hand and like magnet, a force pulled the white wand from the remains, he reached for it and said, "Umbra Fiasco." The white wand emitted a red light that caused the dead body to burn. As if business is done, Glashkil, while unbothered, turned away and walked down the stairs where his gloomy form blended in with the darkness. Edvard was left staggered, he pinched the bridge of his nose and with his stretched right arm, he called back for his wand that contorted back to its true form.

None else can be heard in the place but the sounds of the crackling flames devouring Branty's body. "Frost."Edvard finally enunciated.

After some time, grains of sands spread out on the ground. The particles follow a circular motion and slowly lifts up on the air forming a whirlwind that is as high as the Prince. It continued to flow and bit by bit melted down when a little goblin showed up from it. It wore a suit that is metallic carmine in color. It has pointy ears and has a slightly slender built. Its elf shoes are big and bluntly sharp by the end. Its forehead has a rounded mark that looks like it was branded using a hot iron.

"Your Royal Highness." The goblin gave regard with its small voice.

"Tell Raigin to meet me at Fable Island." Edvard then turned to take his leave. Frost was left, one knee still bent. When his keeper was gone, he also took his leave. He shifted to his sand form and crawled to his next destination.