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Killing Magic

To seek strength is in human instinct. To use this strength is in human nature. To abuse this strength is in the nature of all humans, suppressed barely by ideals in the form of spiritual mentorship. Accordingly, when the road to attaining strength is opened for a meager share of a population, Billions must suffer. For the human civilization of planet Triton, this was a century of self discovery. For the common man, this was an era of envy. And for the mages blessed by the architects of human civilization, this was a stage to pursue unprecedented glory and power. It has been 97 years since human civilization has become conscious of its origin, a mystery spanning beyond their planet, waiting to be uncovered in the treacherous sea of stars. The architects have resurfaced, all twelve of them, from the dust left in history by epics and myths. Beyond the common man's vision, the architects orchestrate their own plans. Beyond the architects' plans lie their common purpose, their hopes and dreams for the human civilization. And tonight, a miracle beyond it all has been sparked; a miracle...that may not bring forth fortune, but the shadow of an erased truth; a miracle birthed by brutality and vengeful hunger. And among all mentors of human instinct, vengeance presents to you your most magnificent self, and to mankind your most abominable form.

MentalDemonkiller · Fantasy
Not enough ratings
24 Chs

C9: Business After Burial

[ 18:30 ] was the time displayed on his comcell when Merrywick walked out of Sir Hector Hospital.

He had turned down repeated insistent requests from both the enforcers and Church clergies who wanted to accompany him to the funeral. But he was certain that one or two would follow his trail either way.

Aunt Helen had sent her car to the hospital so that he could head straight to the burial ground, and he was thankful for that. Their assistance since his 'rebirth' was more than what he had expected. It had made the first stage of his plans a lot easier.

Merrywick didn't quite give off the aura of someone headed to the funeral of his parents. He sat at the edge of his seat, face glued to the window of the car like a curious child marveling at the world outside his house. He read every billboard, advertisement banner, and business plaque that the car passed by. From the information stored in his memories, he could surmise that they were at the edge of Sector 2 of Bastion City, not too far away from Magetown, the part of the city that belonged solely to mages and aristocrats. In the gaps between buildings, the silhouette of the unusually tall Deity Tower could be seen, standing at the heart of the city.

As the driver tried to enter a narrow avenue to take a shortcut to their destination, Merrywick cleared his throat loudly.

"Please take the highway."

He was met with a dubious look from the old man, but his request was compiled with. Soon, they were pushing through heavy traffic on a wide lane, and Merrywick got what he wished for– a good look at the people and vehicles on the lane entering Magetown.

Maglev shuttles like the one his parents had died in were the cheapest and most common type in that lane, meant for mass transit. Other rarer, smaller vehicles included Antigrav cars, Rune Infused custom carriers, Aquabikes, windwalkers, and a few heavily customized vehicles that he couldn't even recognize.

The scene in the commoner lanes was much more tame. Two and four-seater cars were the common vehicles, much slower than anything on magetown lane. Most of them were electric, some ran on biofuel, and some even relied on petroleum fuels to function!

Magic, something that common humans treated as a novel, terrifying power, was being used for the smallest luxuries in the aristocratic circles. It was hardly difficult to foresee that class struggle in society would grow to unprecedented extents with the contribution of each passing day.

Half an hour later, the car entered the burial ground, and Merrywick arranged his countenance in the rearview mirror to suit the occasion.

Contrary to his expectations, the number of people attending his parents' funeral was quite large. Not only his parents' friends and associates had come, but many of Merrywick's classmates and acquaintances from school were there too. Merrywick suppressed a grimace as he greeted each of them with a somber expression and accepted their condolences with a bowed head.

Perhaps his discomfort had been noticed, because Aunt Helen and Uncle Steffen suddenly appeared at his side and guided him out of the crowd.

"Did you have any trouble in the hospital after we left?" Steffen asked quietly.

"None that I couldn't deal with myself," Merrywick replied.

"How are your injuries?"

"Fully healed."

"That's good, that's good. Do you want to see them one last time before they lower the coffins?"

Merrywick shook his head. "No need. I'm sure everyone will appreciate a quick burial. Time is precious. Tell the workers to begin."

Those words were probably not suitable for someone in his position, a recently orphaned young man. But neither Steffen nor Helen made a fuss over it. Both seemed to have a silent understanding between them. Merrywick was left alone for the rest of the burial.

Officially, his parents didn't belong to any faith, a rare trait in this era. There were no specific rituals to follow. A Deacon from Sunbreaker's Church came by and offered some blessings upon their buried coffins. And then the soil over the coffin was flattened.

Merrywick was given some private time with the two graves while the other attendees left the site. Standing over the fresh tombs, he spent a long time in deep contemplation.

"What a foolish thing to do, sacrificing yourselves for the smallest spark of hope."

As he spoke, his right hand rose in the air, forming a fist. He held that gesture for ten full seconds, as per the custom. Then he turned around and left the graveyard in long, steady strides.

At the gate of the burial ground, he noticed some familiar young faces.

"Wanna hit a pub, bro?" said a tall, lanky young man in a shabby suit. He received some disgruntled looks for the proposal, to which his response was to shrug them off.

"Drinks work well on occasions like this, speaking from personal experience here."

Merrywick shook his head, turning the offer down.

"I have to handle some family matters, Joseph. Sorry."

Another of his classmates, a red-haired girl said, "I heard the Church made trouble for you when you were in the hospital. Has the matter been settled yet? You know my dad can help, man."

Merrywick sent her a nod of appreciation.

"Trouble... is an overstatement. They wanted to offer me a somewhat unique post under their wing since the accident is directly linked to them. Good for publicity and popularity, you see?"

"Oh?!" Another young lady in sharp formal attire exclaimed, her tone not quite polite.

"What kind of post? Did you accept the offer?"

Seeing the curious faces of his peers, Merrywick gave a brief, vague answer.

"I already told you the post is a bit unique. The subject matter I'll be dealing with is unique as well. I don't have the permission to divulge the details, Harriett."

"Hah, I guess the accident wasn't all negatives for you, Merrywick. You did get a job before the rest of us could even adjust to our systems."

Every pair of eyes in the vicinity jerked towards the speaker, a handsome youth who had been standing some distance away from the rest of the crowd. A lady who looked slightly older than them was standing right behind him, breathing down on his neck. Her formal attire, the bulging holster on her waist, and hawkish gaze indicated the profession of a bodyguard, probably a low-ranked mage as well.

Merrywick tugged Joseph and the red-haired girl back, having noticed their disgruntled faces. Both of them looked like they wanted to stride over and punch the guy.

Instead, he walked over to handle it.

"Lord Declan, I feel honored that you'd visit this commoner in his lowest moment. A friend like you in the circle of Aristocrats is rare! You were the only Aristocrat to attend the funeral."

Whatever response Alfie Declan expected from him, it was probably not so polite and self-demeaning. But he didn't seem fazed as he replied, "Ah man, good to see you're in the state of mind to take a little joke. I know that might've been a bit too far."

Merrywick found some humor in the reversal of his tone. His past interactions with the children of aristocrats had mostly been rather charged. The Merrywick in his memories wasn't the most level-headed young lad. And his privileged peers took great joy in tickling any spot that could rile him up.

"It's fine," Merrywick said with a casual wave of his hand.

"If you don't have anything too important, want to come hang out in my apartment? I invited a few more people for a small meeting tonight."

Leaning in, Alfie Declan said in a conspiring tone, "Everyone invited has a silver rank system. Best to start making connections when they're not yet famous."

In a flash, Merrywick realized why the cocky brat was here. Alfie Declan himself had only managed to gain a bronze rank system. As the son of an Earl, he would have to rely on a good network among his peers if he wanted to inherit anything substantial from his parents. Merrywick, a commoner classmate with a silver rank system was a perfect choice to invest in.

Fortunately for young Lord Declan, Merrywick had a convenient proposal of his own that would satisfy both of them.

"I have more important things to discuss with you. Would you please arrange for some... privacy?"

His eyes jerked towards the bodyguard behind Alfie Declan, whose stony face got a shade more unfriendly seeing that gesture.

The son of Earl Declan appeared visibly curious to learn what Merrywick had to say. He had never seen this young commoner act so humbly in the academy. He turned his neck toward his bodyguard and made the request.

"Eyreen, mind taking a hike?"

The woman faced his gaze with an unchanged expression, and replied, "The Earl provided me with the list of occasions when I'm to give you privacy, Lord Declan. This doesn't fit into any of those circumstances. So... I'm afraid I must stay."

Alfie Declan's frustration was evident from his reddened countenance. Suppressing a smile, Merrywick stepped in before the young aristocrat could throw a tantrum as usual.

"Oh, fine then. I'll just have to be more discreet in the discussion. Lord Declan, from what I've heard about your father's business, it seems that he has some influence in sector-4 of the city. Can I ask for your assistance in a business transaction in that sector?"

"...Sector-4?" Alfie looked stumped. "What kind of transaction do you want to make in the red light sector?"