Wait for Me in Hell

Two mysterious figures, draped in dark hooded cloaks, sprinted through the thick winter woods.

The first, standing just over 172 centimeters tall, concealed their visage behind a white plastic mask. Meanwhile, the second, a fourteen-year-old dark-skinned boy, trailed behind the masked individual.

Amidst the rapid, crunching footsteps, the masked figure abruptly halted, lifting a hand to signal the boy to stop. Soft pants filled the air as the boy took a moment to collect his breathing.

"What's the matter, Mi... White Mask?" He asked, his labored breaths momentarily disrupting his inquiry.

"Stay back. I'm going there alone" A muffled voice resonated from behind the mysterious mask.

"No way, I need to come too—"

"And do what?" White Mask sharply interjected.

"Your greatest strength lies in supporting from the shadows, and I'm not about to ruin over a year's worth of planning by tossing the fishing reel into the river" The voice persisted, its mechanical nature causing the boy to wince in annoyance.

Frowning, he presented his argument.

"But even if the cloak's effect only lasts for a bit, I could use my technique to—"

"Rolan, you're staying behind, and that's final!" The masked figure declared in a tone that brooked no possibility of objection. A fleeting quiet settled, and in the next moment, the boy conceded with a reluctant acceptance flickering on his face.

"Tsk, got it" He said.

"Keep yourself hidden and set up a teleportation arrow. If by any chance, the negotiation goes south, hit Lord Keres with it, then get him out of here as fast as you can. Can I trust you to do that for me, Rolan?" White Mask inquired, the muffled voice sounding notably calmer this time.

"Fuck sake, I said I got it, you don't have to keep treating me like your underling for crying out loud!" Rolan protested and White Mask responded, placing one hand on the boy's shoulder with a smothered sigh.

"Rolan, I know how you feel, but you've got to understand. If we don't play our cards right, all three of us could end up dead. So, please, I beg you, stay focused on the task"

"And no matter what happens, leave Lord Invel to me!" The masked figure declared, turning away.

In the next moment, White Mask took off, vanishing like an exorcized specter.

"Tch, this is so unlike you" Rolan muttered, disappointment written into his gaze.

In a single, fluid motion, he vaulted to the pinnacle of the towering tree beside him. Surprisingly, his jump left no traces in the surroundings as if he were non-existent.

While athleticism might not be the primary requirement for his combat style, this much is a mere trifle for one honed in the discipline of assassination.

With pupils darting around like hummingbirds, he closely followed the lightning-quick battle unfolding over three hundred meters away. Red and black flashes danced through the forest as if painted into the night with a brush of light.

Invel appeared to hold the advantage, but what impact would a few non-chakra enhanced hits have on a Deathbringer in his unsheathed state?

As Rolan pondered, a sudden shiver descended his spine. White Mask's plan didn't account for Keres unsheathing his glyph, and this minor deviation from the norm meant the plan would fail.

'You see, this is why you should've brought me along,' he thought, his quivering lower lip caught between his teeth, contemplating his next course of action.

Worrying about Invel was a complete waste of time. No matter how strong the prince is under normal circumstances, the chakra restriction limits him to the capabilities of a non-chakra user.

On the other hand, he and White Mask wore 'Bugged Cloaks,' granting them a temporary exemption from such constraints. If anything, Keres in his unsheathed state was the one they ought to be worried about— Rolan thought.

He had only heard ominous rumors about Deathbringers in this state, but Keres being the Deathbringer in question had him even more on edge.

Swallowing a deep breath, he felt the cool air wash away the contemplation clouding his mind.

'What are you even hesitating for, Rolan?' he questioned, seeds of clarity sprouting within him.

'Am I... trembling?' His eyes widened at the mere thought. But no... that shouldn't be possible, a Gurkha shouldn't know fear. If he hadn't outgrown his weaknesses after a year's worth of self-hatred and reflection, then it simply meant he was defective.

With a disregard for the masked figure's plan, he removed the hood of his cloak, revealing neat cornrows boasting stylish hair beads. There was no need to heed White Mask, especially when the plan was riddled with holes.

Determination flickered in his eyes as he slightly arched backward, finding the right balance atop the tree branch. His hands held an arcane grace, fingers nimble with purpose.

"My sincere apologies, Ina. Out of all three of us, you're the only one who hasn't done anything wrong. You don't deserve any of this..." Rolan shut his eyes briefly, a solemn look of satisfaction etched on his face.

"Loathe me, resent me, despise me. You've got every right in the world to do so..." He paused, and a soft whisper of breeze settled in.

"In a few years, once it's all over, I'll surrender my neck to you if that's your wish" He declared, his words resonating with a quiet storm, and his feet aligned with the deadly intent of a seasoned warrior.

"But as for you, Invel..." A shimmering jade bow, crafted with his chakra, materialized in his grasp. Next, a supernatural arrow of the same verdant hue followed suit, snugly set at the nocking point. With a purposeful pull, he drew the string back with one hand.

"Be a kind soul and wait quietly for me in hell." His eyes shot wide open as he proclaimed in a calm yet grave voice.

Resolve shimmered through his frame as his aim fixed not on the immediate target but where he predicted the prince would be, several heartbeats from now.

*

Invel was born under a unique celestial favor, earning him the moniker 'The Son of the Silver Light.'

His distinction stemmed not only from being one of two diamond Gavel users but also from an extraordinary affinity with chakra. Even so, the true essence of his chakra-enhanced techniques remains a closely guarded secret to this day.

His opponents often found defeat before getting an opportunity to unravel the mystery. Even the fortunate souls who glimpsed the truth while facing him never lived to recount the tale, so they couldn't really be regarded as fortunate, could they?

Blessed by the heavens as he is, Invel possesses multiple hidden cards even under the constriction of the chakra restriction. Among these concealed assets lay the mastery of the slaughter arts close-quarters combat style, his Gavel, and the mysterious 'particles' dancing at his every command.

These unseen particles were responsible for hurling Keres away back when the prince first arrived. They also propelled him through space on different occasions where he teleported by no reasonable explanation.

However, to prevent any other incidents, Invel secretly shrouded Inara in majority of his accessible particles, shielding her from potential threats. This meant that putting aside his Gavel, which requires special conditions to activate, and the leftover particles he used to enhance his movement, the pre-eminent prince was currently almost as vulnerable as any non-chakra user adept in close-quarters combat.

And so, he was caught in a dilemma.

'How should I end this?' He pondered his next move. While he could easily set the conditions to use his Gavel, there was an undeniable urge to test Keres' limits in his unsheathed state.

Lost in contemplation, Invel's thoughts were abruptly shattered by a powerful punch hurtling towards him. But he reacted with reflexive speed, dodging. The shockwave sent tremors through the air and eventually splintered the trunk of the tree behind him.

Undeterred, the frenzied teenager attempted another punch, but the prince swiftly intercepted, catching his arm and twisting it with a snap that echoed through the silent forest.

Without pause, Invel, taking advantage of his upper hand, unleashed a barrage of bone-shattering punches to Keres' face. Unconscious yet driven, the teenager endured multiple fractures to his skull.

However, seemingly impervious to the damage, he suddenly countered. An explosive foot sailed through the air, unleashing a spinning roundhouse kick with sheer force. Invel crossed his arms to block and was pushed a short distance backward.

Having created distance between them, cracking noises echoed, and Keres' shattered bones inexplicably mended. Tilted head, closed eyes, and soft breaths escaping his mouth, he darted forward, defying gravity with each movement.

The teenager, red streaks trailing behind him like ethereal flames, unleashed a flurry of punches. Invel dodged, his slithering movements almost anticipatory.

Then, the prince retaliated with a series of rapid kicks, aiming for the dream-wandering boy's crown and midsection. But Keres twisted and contorted his body in unpredictable arcs, avoiding the onslaught.

Invel, momentarily gaining the upper hand, launched a spinning kick, but Keres flipped backward, evading the impending assault.

As they twirled, spun and launched high into the sky, the forest below became a mere blur of greens and whites.

Every one of Invel's strikes proved futile as Keres always instantly recovered from the resulting damages. Beads of sweat soon began forming on the prince's forehead.

'It's strange,' he thought. He could instantly end the battle if he wanted. The only reason he didn't is because he chose to test Keres' limits, so why couldn't he shake off this tingling feeling that it was the other way around instead?

Struggling to decipher the inherent hint of composure beneath Keres' movements, Invel subconsciously lowered his guard. And in a sudden surge of ferocity, Keres burst forward with a thunderous foot.

Invel attempted a block but was unable to react in time. The kick sent an impact through his ribs, making him lift his brows in surprise.

'Ahh!' A twisted grin played on his lips. He relished the pulsating thrill, a sensation he had longed for. By the time his heart began racing with excitement, another strike was imminent. In a flash, a destructive punch arrived and clobbered the prince's face.

The grin tugged his lips even harder as he tumbled backward through the air in a reverse descent.

"Yes! This is it!" His excitement took the form of spoken words. He straightened his legs as if pointing them towards the clouds and extended his arms wide, mirroring an inverted Celtic cross against the moonlit backdrop.

This was the feeling he had been anticipating since the very moment he discovered the possibility of his own demise. A situation critical enough to tip his stagnated scale of balance.

"Tell me, vermin! Are you having fun as well?" His shout rang out, but the intensity of the force of descent made his voice inaudible. Not like Keres would've heard him even if that weren't the case.

Unfortunately, this sensation wasn't set to last forever. All the conditions were finally fulfilled, but more than anything, he was grateful to Keres for allowing him a glimpse at his much-desired feeling of exhilaration.

"You did well making it this far, Deathbringer vermin. As a reward, I'll show you something interesting as well!"

He hung suspended in the moonlit air, and gazed down at the silent forest. The trees bowed in hushed reverence to the spectacle about to unfold. Descending snowflakes refused to complete their journey to the ground.

Invel's outstretched arms carved through the air, tracing ghostly arcs like a celestial dance. And with every passing second, the soaring birds, startled by the disturbance, retreated to safety away from the scene.

A profound silence enveloped the forest, and in a sudden burst, the moonlight caught the gleaming diamonds in the prince's eyes. In that extended moment, the surrounding air shimmered, ensnared in the eruption of an otherworldly transition.

[Gavel of Balance: Nemesis Reversal]

The scene flickered, and upon the sudden flash, the very universe had warped beyond the boundaries of logic. Or at least it was supposed to. But surprisingly, nothing changed.

Bewilderment instantly contorted Invel's expression. 'What just happened? Why did the Gavel of Balance fail?' He wondered, eyes widened, giving a slight frown.

Soon, he realized Keres was also descending, on course to crash into the ground like a fallen comet. And the glyph previously on his forehead was nowhere to be seen.

The teenage boy landed with the snow scattering in all directions as if struck by a celestial hammer.

Meanwhile, Invel executed an acrobatic landing, gaining balance on his feet. He promptly turned towards Inara, who had finally arrived at the relocated battleground. She had an anguished look in her eyes that made the prince instantly panic.

"Ina?"

Breathing heavily, she took an unsteady step forward, but suddenly froze stiff. Her left hand against a tree, right arm still extended forward, and the mark of her Gavel glowing with a divine golden energy.

Unpacked strands of hair drifted in front of her face, and sweat blurred her vision. It was then Invel completely understood why his Gavel failed to activate.

"Ina?" He called again, taking a careful step forward. She didn't respond as her eyes were fixed on something behind him, something far beyond him.

"You okay?" The prince asked, taking another steady step. But the truth is, none of his words reached her.

—

Even though Inara didn't fully activate it, this was the first time she ever wielded even a fraction of her Gavel's power. Her Gavel of Regulation possesses the indisputable authority to seal any sigil be it a Hexed Glyph or another Gavel.

Her feet trembled, ears devoid of sensation, her vision blurry. Yet, her mind relaxed after bringing the unnecessarily drawn-out battle to a close.

Invel had always nagged about her being too young to use such power, but he must be proud of her now.

Oh, right. He was just in front of her. She couldn't wait to see the look on his face once her vision regained clarity... once her vision regained—

'No, this is wrong,' her eyes suddenly widened, and tears uncontrollably streamed down, staining her cheeks with a rush of panic and disbelief. Blood? That couldn't be possible; it shouldn't be possible. Her legs quivered, giving in.

She sank to her knees as a thick red liquid dyed the snow, tracing a crimson path to her front.

She wasn't injured so it wasn't her blood. But as she slowly lifted her blurry gaze, her whole being recoiled in horror, wishing it was.

It's not real. Catching sight of the jade chakra arrow impaling her brother's chest, her pupils quivered but she tried to force the corners of her lips into a smile.

It's not real. Right? She was definitely hallucinating. The test center has a proactive chakra restriction system, so it most definitely wasn't possible for anything like this to happen.

It's surely not real, so you can stop crying now.

'Stop crying now, you idiot!' A yell resounded within her mind, but the tears wouldn't stop no matter how much she tried. And in the next moment, Invel stretched forth his warm hand, covering her leaking eyes.

He seemed to say something, but she was unable to hear him as her hearing hadn't fully returned yet. And by the time it did, the unmistakable sound of countless arrows raining down on her brother filled her ears.

Then, Inara screamed with much more than the little vigor she had left inside of her.

—