Eternal Undying Chronicles

Alicarde arrived at the campus's grand library, its gothic architecture looming above like a forgotten cathedral.

The sleek black car he drove remained idling, its engine softly purring as he raced towards the entrance. A young man stood near the doors, pale-faced, his eyes wide with panic.

His curly auburn hair was disheveled, as if he'd been tugging at it in a desperate attempt to make sense of something horrifying.

"Mark… Where is Anne?" Alicarde demanded, his voice carrying a tone of unease that wasn't typical for him.

Mark swallowed hard, visibly shaken. His trembling hands reflected the turmoil in his eyes as he tried to piece together his words.

"We were just leaving the library when a black van pulled up. They… they grabbed her. I tried to stop them, but one of them—" he gestured toward the nearby bench, now nothing but a pile of blackened ash, "—did that."

Alicarde's eyes narrowed, his usual mask of control slipping. Beneath the surface, a swirling cold madness and fury threatened to consume him. He inhaled deeply, suppressing the rising storm inside him.

"Tell me everything," he said, his voice now reduced to a dangerous whisper.

Mark's breath hitched. "That's it… These guys, they weren't normal. They had powers. They just took Anne like it was nothing. I… I called the police too."

A disturbing chuckle escaped Alicarde's lips, chilling and hollow. Mark instinctively recoiled, unnerved by the shift in his friend's demeanor. There was something deeply unsettling in the cold gleam of Alicarde's eyes.

"Thank you for calling me, Mark," Alicarde said, a smile slowly forming on his lips—a smile that carried no warmth. His eyes remained dark, predatory.

Mark stammered, his voice unsteady. "Y-you deserved to know…" He began to back away, unsure of what to say or do next.

"Where do you think you're going?" Alicarde's voice remained low, his eyes locking onto Mark with an intensity that made the young man freeze in his tracks. "Stay here. I'll handle finding Anne."

Without waiting for a response, Alicarde turned sharply, his disturbing smile lingering for a moment longer before fading as he walked back to his car. Mark stood frozen, his heart pounding with a mixture of fear and confusion.

Inside the car, Alicarde's face grew darker as he pulled out his phone and quickly dialed a number. "Amena," he said coldly, the tension in his voice unmistakable.

"Do you still have access to the city's CCTV cameras?"

"Yes," Amena replied, her tone cautious, sensing the gravity of his mood.

"Track Anne down. Her phone, the van, the people who took her—everything. She was kidnapped outside the university's library." His voice grew sharper with each word, barely concealing the fury threatening to break loose.

As he sped through the city streets, buildings and pedestrians blurred in his peripheral vision. His mind worked furiously to put the pieces together. Today wasn't supposed to go like this. Someone had dared to take Anne. Why? Was it a message?

Had someone figured out who he truly was?

Jessica West briefly crossed his mind—the police officer he'd met earlier. Could she be involved? No. It didn't seem likely. She had no reason to suspect him. But then again, what if she wasn't the one?

If it wasn't her, there were other possibilities.

Zagarath. He knew Alicarde's face, and considering Anne had been there that night… No, it didn't fully add up. But there was another group—those with powers, Espers. Carrisa had suspected they were connected to an enemy of theirs.

If that was true, they might be the ones responsible. The realization gnawed at him, the puzzle slowly falling into place.

"If they took Anne, they'll die today," he muttered, gripping the steering wheel until his knuckles whitened.

Arriving at the mansion, he left the car engine running, the low hum filling the otherwise quiet surroundings.

He stormed inside, his steps heavy with purpose. His usual composure shattered, replaced by a ruthless determination. The front doors of the mansion slammed shut behind him as he moved swiftly, his mind already racing through plans for retaliation.

Inside, Amena stood waiting on the ground floor, her stoic expression unchanged. She observed Alicarde carefully, noting the tension radiating from him, the telltale signs of a man teetering on the edge of either a mental breakdown or, more fittingly in his case, an explosive outburst.

Carrisa, lounging with her typical air of regality, glanced over at him. Her tone was cool and measured, carrying an unmistakable authority that demanded attention.

"Compose yourself, Alicarde. If you desire our assistance, you must first regain your composure. Panic serves no purpose in such matters."

Amena, ever efficient, interjected without missing a beat. Her voice, devoid of warmth, cut straight to the point.

"The data you requested has been gathered. We've located the assailants at a factory in District 23. Coordinates have already been forwarded to your device."

Alicarde nodded curtly, though his mind was racing beneath the surface. Keeping a facade of calm was becoming increasingly difficult as his frustration mounted.

Just then, Argint appeared, having overheard the commotion. Concern flickered in her amber eyes.

"Ali, do you need help?"

"No, I don't!" Alicarde snapped, his voice sharper than intended.

Elizalina, watching from the corner, frowned slightly but remained quiet. Normally, she might take the opportunity to make a biting remark at Argint's expense, but today, the tension in the air was palpable. Instead, she said softly, "She's only offering her help."

Alicarde's eyes darkened, his mouth twisting into a dangerous smile. "I don't need help. I am not weak."

Carrisa's voice came in smooth, authoritative tones. "No one has questioned your strength, Alicarde."

"They are mine, and mine alone. Do not interfere," he spat, the venom in his words unmistakable.

Carrisa's gaze lingered on him as he stormed off, her brow slightly furrowed.

"Such aggression," she remarked, a touch of amusement hidden behind her stoic demeanor. "It appears the Espers have sealed their fate. What a pity... they might have proven useful for more menial tasks."n/ô/vel/b//in dot c//om

As Alicarde vanished outside the mansion, Amena, ever pragmatic, murmured, "Let us hope this ends swiftly and without further chaos."

Argint's eyes narrowed. "You know he's not okay, right?"

Elizalina, her face unreadable, added quietly, "It's not just about the kidnapping... it stirs memories better left undisturbed. My concern now lies with the ones who dared to take her."

Enjoy new adventures at empire

Amena nodded in agreement, her expression as unreadable as ever. "they will meet an untimely end."

Outside, Wrath, Alicarde's dark Destrier, awaited him. The beast was massive, its hooves glowing faintly with hellish flame.

Alicarde mounted the steed in one swift motion, the dark vestments of the Reaper billowing behind him like a shroud of death. As the sunlight hit his armor, the metallic edges shimmered, casting an eerie glow that contrasted starkly against the creature's ominous aura.

The bicorn let out a deafening roar, the ground beneath them trembling slightly as they prepared to move. In an instant, they disappeared in a surge of black energy, reappearing in the heart of the city.

The sudden, jarring appearance caused onlookers to freeze in their tracks. Gasps and whispers quickly spread through the crowd as people backed away in fear.

"Is that… the Reaper?" one man stammered, his voice shaking.

"But it's daytime! What's he doing here?" a woman muttered, clutching her purse tightly, eyes wide with terror.

"He's hunting someone…" another voice mumbled from the back of the crowd, trembling. "God help whoever it is."

"He's real? I thought he was just AI generated images!" one younger man exclaimed, disbelief etched on his face.

Alicarde ignored the whispers and fearful glances as Wrath surged forward, a blur of darkness slicing through the city streets at an impossible speed. Buildings and people became a smudge in his peripheral vision as his focus narrowed to one goal, the factory in District 23.

His hand slid over his shoulder, drawing the ancient sword that pulsed with the same deadly energy coursing through his veins. Its blade, black as a starless night with a crimson edge, gleamed in the fleeting sunlight, a promise of death to those who dared cross him.

The city blurred into a forgotten memory as Wrath galloped toward the district, each stride bringing Alicarde closer to his destination. His grip tightened on the hilt, the anticipation of the coming bloodshed burning in his eyes.

When he finally reached the abandoned factory, Wrath slowed to a halt. The place was a relic of a forgotten era—crumbling brick walls, graffiti-stained surfaces, and shattered windows. It reeked of decay, its silence more unnerving than the cacophony of the city.

Alicarde dismounted with purpose, his boots crunching against the gravel as he surveyed the desolate building. A twisted smirk tugged at his lips.

"What karma... I truly have quite the luck with abandoned buildings," he mused darkly, recalling his last humiliating defeat at Zagarath's hands in a similarly desolate place.

"But this time..." his voice trailed off, the glint in his eyes sharper than his blade. "This time will be different."

He moved forward, the shadows of the factory swallowing him whole as he prepared for the carnage that awaited within.