The Wielder of Death Magic

Chapter 1072: “Dear Boss” [15]

“Open, open, open!” no answer, only the mild reverberation of the metallic frame. More closed-fisted knocks echoed, yet, no answer returned. A small glimmer peaked from the top floor, through the hammered planks locking the broken windows. “Help me!” they turned upward desperately, “-help, I need help,” they begged.

A nonchalant sigh glanced inward, “-someone’s at the door,” she said.

“I’m tired,” Igna returned, “-throw a potion, I need rest.”

Elize salivated at the thought, picked the potion, rushed into another room, threw open the only working window, and poured. Expensive elixir rained, and the imbued power lit their face as it landed, “-thank you,” said the man, “-you’ve healed my son and me. I thank you, Doctor, I thank you.” The man disappeared. Shadowy figures loomed around the alley, vague shapes hidden under shades of buildings and tall fences. The alleys seemed an ecosystem of their own where different rules applied. It didn’t matter if the street were a stone’s throw away, the truth was as so, ‘-step into the alley and brace thyself for the alley’s thirst mustn’t be quenched.’

Day rose on a particular day. Clock struck 05:40, the sun was out, and calendars flipped for the 1st of September. A new month, a new start. Such were hopeful thoughts. The gazette wasn’t so kind to the populous. Igna exited the run-down hospital into the cold morning raise. From the alley to the side streets, he made a straight line toward the docks. Workers puffed harshly, laborers were hard at work. Muck and filth were thrown into the Just canal. Factories and day-to-day excretions. Nods of recognition came his way, and he returned the compliments and ambled. Crashing winds and the beating of waves, the seas’ saddened sea refreshed his nose from Just Canal’s natural scent. He walked past the pier, bought the day’s issue, folded the paper between his arms, and lit a cigarette. The weather changed early from well-lit to murky. A somber vailed clouded the horizon. Igna settled at a run-down park giving onto the broken pier. He crossed his legs and puffed. “Corruption?” read an ambiguous headline. ‘-not priming the reader to think a certain way, very brave of them,’ he followed the lines, “-Istra’s has changed within the past few months. Secrets are coming into the public lights, matters of which we believed on a base have been confirmed one way or the other. The Police-force’s work in the DBK is astonishing. When asked of foreign agencies, they had this to say, ‘-there are several serial killers in the wild. We don’t come across them, they’re that smart and self-assured. The work Istra’s police agency has done is phenomenal. With a lack of proper infrastructure, the detectives were able to keep the public’s fear at bay. We must respect their efforts,’ such was a comment from a chief investigator of the Emria province. Truth remains. The DBK has thrown salt into the wounds of the police agency. By shifting the investigation away from the public light, we have but assumption to base speculation. Will there come a day when the DBK is found? We don’t know. It’ll come to either the killer making a mistake or someone witnessing the assault directly. He has taken the lives of six people.”

‘Seems to be written by another. The state’s involvement with media governance. I see, corruption, the title’s a hint and a blatant bait. Putting the truth out there makes the public less likely to question the matter. A problem’s only a problem when people make a deal out of it. The ECA’s influence,’ a side-article caught his attention, “-the Slum’s guardian deity,” it read in bold letters. He flipped to the page, ‘-when did they?’ a black and white portrait of Igna’s side profile was placed beside the text, ‘-can’t see my face... it’s anonymized for better or worse. “Istra’s lack of medical facilities and care has resulted in the deaths of many. From sailors to children, our society’s culture of work has taken a deeper toll on the human aspect of things. Mankind’s submission in the face of growing industries... in the face of coming poverty, famine, and all-encompassing despair, has proven a hard place to survive. Compared to other towns, Istra’s growth against the income index has only grown worse. Appropriate comparison to Port Dawn shows a steady growth of the standard of living against the port’s growth. Istra’s an exception. The better it gets the worse becomes the city. Statistics performed by Professor Sine from the Financial Department have proved our assumptions. In stark contrast to the poor, crime-stricken background of Istra, a shining beacon of hope, Doctor Lyoko, or Doc for short, has taken to the alleys to help others. Many were healed. His hospice, a run-down apartment located a few steps from Hen’s street into the dark corner of E Block, has delivered babies, healed the wounded, treated the plague, and even returned life to the dead. Medical aid is scarce, akin to a precious Maicite. Doc Lyoko’s treatment differs from what we’ve come to know of physicians in the main city. He treats for an affordable price and has even been, and I quote, ‘-takes a simple meal in exchange for treatment.’ He will trade and happily incur a loss to help another’s life. Before you shrewd con artist get ideas, “-poor blokes tryin’ to finesse the doc aren’t unfamiliar with broken bones. I saw a fugger’ get acid thrown in his face. The doc’s a maniac. We call hi’ guardian for reason. He’s a certified badass,” such were the words from the Malrish, from the Off guild. The doc’ reputation is one to be respected. If you’re wounded or ill, I’d have recommended a stay. The hospice was recently assaulted. One of the doc’s nurses was shot in cold blood. Istra’s vindictive kink’s yet present.”

He folded the paper and puffed, ‘-what an exaggerated article. They have nothing better to do, I swear,” he snuffed the cigarette and looked at the gray sky. ‘-Someone running?’ he heard way beyond the hearing capacity of a normal being, ‘-the pace and the footstep,’ he focused, ‘-Tommy.’ Such was the truth, the little brother sprinted towards the pier. Igna lowered his gaze at the mist-covered area. He leaped into sight, and little Tommy locked and ran at him, “-hey doc,” he slid and gasped, “-help me, help me, help me!”

.....

“Calm it, Tommy. Steady, steady.”

“Doc, it’s big sis. She’s not waking up.”

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“Excuse me?”

“I don’t know, she went out with bro last night... I went to check on her, her room’s closed. I asked them to open the door, they won’t listen.”

Wasn’t long before they arrived. Kepmt’s Cottage, placed at the opposite end of Block G, was home to the residential district and served as a gateway into the slums. Men in military outfits patrolled the entrance. “Follow me,” he went opposite the cottage into a tavern run by the same owners. It opened with unruly patrons passing insulting comments at the cottage. Igna found a seat at one of the windows and sat. A waitress came, her focus plastered against Kepmt’s cottage. “-may I take your order?” spewed a mix of tones uncaringly.

“Doc... what about sis?”

“Listen, Tommy,” he ordered, the waitress remained in her daze, “-there are things we must know before entering a battle. Come, eat something, you have work in about an hour. Leave her to me.”

“Doctor, you sure bro is safe?”

“Why do you say that?”

“I saw them,” he swallowed, “-I saw them returning from the miner’s camp. Sister was crying and bro was silent. He looked angry, I don’t know doc, I’m scared. If sis is gone, I won’t have anyone else... she’s... she’s.”

“I know, I know,” warm food reached their table, “-you’re scared, I know the feeling all too well. Leave it to me.”

“Okay doc,” he ate. The whispers proved a great source of information.

“Who do they think they are?”

“Man, I was having such a nice dream.”

“Lack of sleep before work sucks.”

“Johhny’s mad, looked at him,” chuckles followed, “-he didn’t get his twice-a-day session with the bartender.”

“Oh man, you mean Barbara?”

“No, she’s gone. I mean her replacement, Dalhi. She’s got a great personality.”

“Yeah, two of ’em.”

He changed table, “-why do you think they got us out?”

“Couldn’t tell you, they look like people working for the town hall.”

“Man those corrupt bastards. They intruded on Kepmt’s cottage, I doubt he’ll take it lightly.”

“Yeah, best not to get on Kepm’s bad side. He’s a crazy mothertrucker, I saw him hammer a guest’s hand on the damned counter for failing to give his workers the required tip. He’s not someone to mess with.”

“Istra for you, we should have moved to Pawn. This place sucks... so much for the revolution, the rich get richer and the poor, well, look at the tavern, everyone was thrown out because of some rich kid’s father, fuck the Duquant.”

“Not so loud, they’ll hear you.”

An hour went by, Tommy left. ‘I should make my move,’ most of the patrons left for work. He crossed the street, “-slow down there buddy, no one’s allowed in.”

Igna fiercely stared at the guard, “-yes, well, no one doesn’t concern me. I go wherever I want,” he cocked Tharis and stared at the other guard, “-I have business inside. You should know my name by now,” he took one step and whispered, “-Lyoko.”

“The crazy-haired monster,” they rose their rifles, “-we have orders to kill you, damned bastard!”

“Well then, it makes two of us. Step on in,” he smirked, “-I rather not sully the street with your filth.”

One turned and the other rose his rifle at Igna. He smiled and shot, the one guarding him fell, and the other, panicked and turned, *bang,* too late, the man’s splattered blood against the door.

“Gunshots,” echoed inside. The door creaked. Igna’s dark outline entered – a mini-army stood with guns at the ready, “-STOP!” Svipe ran down the middle, “-Doc, why are you here?” he gasped, “-did you kill my men?” the red splatter against the door was proof, “-why...” he shook his head, “-Doc, please don’t get involved. This matter doesn’t concern you. I saw this for your and the lady’s safety. We’re on important business.”

“Svipe, listen to me,” he walked past, “-shoot me if you must. I have someone to care for,” he climbed the stairs, and the army waited impatiently. Svipe held his tongue and ordered a stay. Many of the doors were kicked in, and slaps and cries came from down the hallway. Igna went and stopped at Nikki’s door, ‘-they’re not here for her,’ he barged the door, stopped at the entrance, threw a glance at Svipe, “-I’m here for her, don’t worry.”

“Should we shoot?”

“Leave ’em be,” he gasped, “-Lyoko’s not here for us. He came for someone else. We continue the mission. Search the rooms, we need to find her. If she escapes, we’re dead.”

“Boss, what about the guards, they’re dead?”

“Take them to the kitchen.”

Another voice arrived, “-boss, we found Kepm.”

“Good, step up the office for parle. I have a few screws I ought to unlock,” he cracked his knuckles, ‘-better grit, Kepm, the dentist’ here.’

Nikki slept. The curtains were drawn and the stench of the plague hit his nose. ‘-She’s infected,’ he approached and turned her face, ‘-good, it hasn’t reached her brain. How many times am I going to treat this chick,’ he snapped, a bubble expanded, ‘-she’s more trouble than worth.’ *Mana Control: Light Element Variant – Astro Krona.*

*Mantia – Book of Restoration, Honzela, Sixteenth passage, for the wounded’s assured restoration, the hardships ought be cleansed. Such flowed the whisper of the healer: Imenia,* the taint crumbled, ‘-it’s lifting.’

*Cough, cough, cough,* her head shot back and she manically clawed at her neck, “-what?” he fashioned a kite-shape, *I am he who slays without fear, I am he who shall be the last of what thee see. Heed mine call,thou whomst dared to fight the natural order, tis the day thou ought to be destroyed, Ancient Magic – Astral Binding.* ‘-a god-level curse?’