Not (Just) A Mage Lord Isekai-Chapter 44 - Out of the Darkness

It hadn't been on purpose. Never on purpose.

Nor had it been a proud moment. A moment of glory.

No, I'd barely felt anything at the time.

It was better that way. Comfortably numb.

Even without resorting to Memory Palace, I remembered that it’d been raining. But only because of the puddles. The puddles that reflected my bruised and bloody face when I walked out.

It had sank in slowly.

The vacant look in his eyes as he stared up at me. The limpness of his limbs. The angle of his neck.

The way my hand hung in the air, waiting for him to grab it, for him to get back up.

Just like he always had before.

Just like I always had.

I’d taken worse hits than I’d given him. We’d both taken worse hits in that fight alone, while our ‘parents’ and their audience were spitting and drinking and roaring above us.

Except the roars had gone silent.

Each detail, each broken shard of understanding, had hit me like a spike through the skull. A burst of brilliant terrible clarity.

His name had been Ethan. We’d been friends, of a sort. Much as you can be when you’re only allowed to see each other for those scant hours before and after your weekly fights.

The men couldn’t believe it. That one of their ‘little fighters’ had killed another. Then they’d cheered.

I'd hated it. With every fiber of my being, I'd hated what I'd become. What I'd done to survive.

'It was necessary.'

Three little words. My old man's first words to me after the fight, spewed out as he dug his hand into my collar and dragged me away. A broken, drunk, abusive waste of flesh.

My old man.

Never my father. Not after that day. How could a man like that be anyone's father?

It shamed me it’d taken me so long to realize that simple fact. But he’d been my world. He controlled everything. But with the death of Ethan, that changed. I’d grabbed the money from the till, and his backup from under the old beer fridge in the back, and I ran. Only made it two towns over, but it’d been enough.

I hadn’t really escaped him, even without him around. Every night, I drank myself into oblivion while the days were spent doing whatever drudge work I could find.

When my old man had died, they’d tracked me down, and brought me in to confirm his identity. It had felt… impossible.

But there he was, dead as Ethan.

More dignified in death than he’d ever been in life.

A tightness, a perpetual clawing sensation that’d always sat deep inside my chest lightened as I came to accept that truth. And realized he couldn’t bring his darkness into the world anymore.

And a thought hit me. A horrible dark thought.

‘Would Ethan have lived, if I’d had the courage to do this myself? If I’d taken out my old man?’

And that thought led naturally into another.

‘What about the others?’

I'd known their faces. Their names. The man who organized the events and each of the nine men who brought their 'sons'.

And I made a decision.

They were still running that ring. Still putting boys in to fight. First I found out who was involved. Made a proper list.

Then I got them caught.

Sure, they probably would've wised up, had I been cautious, done it slow, one at a time. Or if I didn’t have a lifetime trained by the old man to fool everyone into thinking I belonged. If they hadn’t treated me like one of their own, just cause they’d watched me bleed for them for years.

Ten men were taken away a month after my old man had passed.

Three had died in… accidents.

None of it had been necessary. It hadn't been right or good. But when I went to their homes, and passed on the news to their sons… that the ring was gone. That it wouldn’t come back…

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It didn't bring Ethan back but…

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Well, I'd slept real peaceful like that night.

I'd spent the next decade wondering when they'd take me in. All that time, waiting for my turn to be punished. Only to crash into that old oak instead.

And now…

Now Calbern had said the same words, twisting my guts in a whole new language. The best man I knew in this new world.

Except he wasn't.

I took a deep breath. No one was perfect. Not even a Knight Exemplar, it seemed. He had done what he thought was best. He hadn't understood. Because I hadn't explained.

Hadn’t even told him who I really was.

I should've forgiven him in that moment. Logically, I knew it.

My heart didn't concede. On that, it wouldn't budge. Not so soon. Funny how uncooperative feelings can be.

When I opened my eyes, the room was the same. Seven men lay dead by my hand. I’d been prepared for one or two. For them to have been shocked in a way that was on the edge, a strike that wasn’t perfect, and so they’d died on account of that.

Hadn’t been prepared for a precise strike that destroyed even their faces.

I flexed my hands, looking down at them. It was so easy to use my power to kill.

Easy as setting a remote to cut a brake line.

Had the guards before me been monsters who wore human faces, like those men who made us boys fight for their amusement? Would their faces join Ethan’s in my old nightmares? Or would I only see them as they were in that moment, headless corpses?

That there were no eyes staring back at me… I knew it would be the second. They’d be there, but the judgment would be…

I was thankful for that misbegotten blessing, even as I hated myself for feeling relief.

"Hello?" A voice broke me from my contemplations.

For a second, I turned, about to lie to Tresla, to tell her I was fine. Except it hadn’t been her.

It was the wood rat. The same little girl who’d greeted me with tittering laughter when I’d first arrived. She was even smaller than I'd thought. When I'd first seen her hanging on the edge of Tetherfall's rigging, she’d been wrapped tightly in several layers of clothing. Those had been shed for a set of light green wraps.

"Hey," I said, raising a hand. Just the sight of her’d caused my turmoil to fade, drawn out of the darkness. She remained hanging on the ladder, as though afraid to step onto the floor. I cleared my throat. "So… I hear you're a lucky spirit. Don't suppose you can spare a bit."

She giggled, then shook her head.

"Well, it's nice to meet you. Again. My name's Perry. What's yours."

"Dun got one," she said, pushing against the wall and setting the ladder to swaying. Her chin gestured to the bodies on the floor. "You do this?"

"I… yeah, that was me."

"Could you teach me?"

"What? Why? No. Besides, you're too young," I said, grimacing as I looked about the room. She really shouldn't have been in there.

"Am not," she denied, shaking her head. "I can do magics too."

Before I could say anything, she squinted hard, holding her hands out to the side. Then she popped up, pulling the ladder away from the wall and hovering there, gentle gusts of wind swirling around her.

"See? So, can you teach me? Please?"

"You sure you’re not a spirit?" I teased as I pushed myself to my feet. Looking up, I found Tresla still seated on the edge, her hood turned in our direction, watching. Calbern was gone. That hurt. Just like it would've hurt to see him. It wasn't a healthy hurt. Not yet. That would come later, I hoped. After I had time to process. Grivis was gone too, though at least he’d survived. At least one person would stand for a proper trial.

When I opened my eyes again, the wood rat was swinging back and forth on the rope ladder, her magic gone. "Uh… nu uhs? Unless… if I'm a spirit, then will you teach me how to zap the bads?"

Her eyes inspected me, searching my face for some clue that might let her give me the answer she thought I wanted.

"I can't teach you how to do this," I started, holding up a hand as she opened her mouth to protest. "Yet. I can't teach you yet. Honestly, you shouldn't be able to do magic at all, at your age. Before we begin any lessons, I need to know what you can do. And what's going on with your magic."

"For reals? You'll teach?"

"Sure. But like I said, not yet," I said, rubbing my forehead. "There's a lot that needs to get sorted out first."

"What? I'm good at sortings," she said, letting out a burst of wind as she flipped off the net to land directly in front of me.

"Your magic is like Grivis's isn't it? Except you're still growing," I said to myself, pacing around her as if it'd let me see her magic better.

"Ew, no. I'm nothing like that needle brains," she protested, scrunching up her nose.

"So… you're not a mage. That's a shame. I could teach a mage," I said, winking at Tresla before turning back to the theoretically impossible little girl before me.

Her freckles danced as she scrunched up her face for a second. Then she let out an explosive breath. "Fine. Maybe I'm a little like him. But only a little!"

"Like me too, then."

"Guess is not too bad," she grumbled, kicking the floor. "Better than being like stinky Grivis." She got a little smile on her face, her freckled cheeks dimpling. "S'better to be like the stiff mage." Holding out her hands, she started walking around me, doing her impression of a zombie. It was much more convincing when she wasn’t hanging out of a net. The giggle that followed was like a golden wave, pushing my pain to distant shores, beyond my reach.

"Okay. We'll talk about this later, but I have to get back to that sorting."

"I can help!"

"Not with this. This is adult stuff," I said my gaze shifting to the bodies. "And if you're lucky, you'll never have to deal with it."

"Dealing with deadums isn't hard," she huffed, kicking one of the guards.

"Not gonna ask what you mean by that right now. You got somewhere to go?"

She nodded her head, curly brown hair bouncing.

"Okay. Well, why don't you head home, and then come find me tomorrow evening," I said, ruffling that unruly mop of hair.

She eyed the bodies, then huffed out a sigh. "It's not fair. They hurt so many, then they just… died," she said. "It's never fair."

"No. It never is," I agreed, kneeling down to look her in the face. Eyes of dark brown met mine. "But that doesn't mean we have to accept it."

"We don't?" she asked, squinting.

"There's an awful lot of injustice out there, kid. And these men, more than most, deserved what happened to them. It still wasn't fair. And it definitely wasn't necessary."

"Huh. You can be pretty smart when you want to, mister Perry," she said. Before I could appreciate the compliment, she stuck her arms out ahead of her, adding, "Pretty stupid too."

"Yep. That's the truth," I agreed as she made her way over to the ladder and started hauling herself up.

Sitting on the edge, waiting, was Tresla, playing with her pipe, though not smoking it as she watched us.

"Wood Rat," Tresla said, giving the girl a slight nod of her hood.

"Stinky rat," the girl responded, going so far as to blow a raspberry at Tresla before running ahead to the end of the tunnel. At the very end, she turned around, looking back at me. "Hey, mister Perry."

"Yeah kid?" I asked, turning back towards her.

“Life should be fair.”

I nodded, looking out over the village that hung in the chasm. Then I thought back to what I’d told the boys, after they found out they’d never have to set foot in the ring again. I met her gaze.

"Life isn't fair. But sometimes… it's fair enough."