Eternal Undying Chronicles

Chapter 77 Specter

The central district was the administrative heart of Evergreen City, bustling with activity at all hours. Towering skyscrapers loomed over the streets like silent sentinels, their sleek glass facades reflecting the neon lights that bathed the city in vibrant hues.

The streets were lined with high-end shops, restaurants, and corporate offices, all vying for attention in the chaotic dance of commerce. The sidewalks bustled with a mix of professionals, tourists, and those merely trying to survive in the city's relentless pace.

Above it all, the constant hum of traffic and the distant wail of sirens added to the district's unceasing rhythm, a pulse that never quieted. If you could make it here, you could make it anywhere.

The night sky, though beautiful, was obscured by the ever-present light pollution that shrouded the stars from view. Instead, the city's neon lights formed a different kind of constellation, one born of human ingenuity rather than celestial bodies.

A vagrant sat slumped against a wall, clutching a cheap bottle of alcohol in his grimy hands. His ragged, stained clothes clung to his thin frame, hanging loosely as if they might slide off at any moment. His beard was a tangled mess, streaked with gray, and his bloodshot eyes stared out at nothing in particular as the chill of approaching winter crept into the air.

He was one of many who had failed to make it.

He took a swig from his bottle, the alcohol dribbling down his chin and soaking into his beard.

"Ahhh, fuckin' bastards... takin' all the tax money, fillin' their fat pockets... Ha! This booze... this booze is worth dyin' for..." he muttered to himself, his voice slurring as he alternated between cursing and laughing, lost in his own world.

He looked up at the sky, his gaze unfocused, still ranting. "Look at 'em... up there in their fancy towers, not a care in the world... bah! I'll show 'em..."

As he rambled, something caught his eye—a dark figure flying above a building, cloaked in shadow, riding what seemed to be a black steed. Next to the figure was a woman, her beauty evident even from this distance, though he couldn't make out the details.

His bleary eyes widened as he tried to make sense of what he was seeing. He blinked hard, then looked down at the bottle in his hand.

"Shit... this is some strong booze..." he mumbled, more to himself than anything, shaking his head in disbelief. There was no way he'd just seen a flying horse and the Grim Reaper.

Up on the rooftop, Alicarde and Malefica dismounted from the back of the dark bicorn. As its shadowy wings retracted, vanishing into the darkness, they both turned their attention to the distant skyscraper.

Its glass exterior gleamed under the city lights, but what was inside was far more significant. The building was a fortress, heavily guarded by military personnel who patrolled the perimeter and manned several checkpoints, their presence a constant reminder of the treasures that lay within.

"That's where the databank is," Alicarde's voice, deep and sinister, echoed from beneath the Reaper's Vestments.

"I can see why it's so secure. Are you sure we don't have to force our way through?" Alicarde asked, his eyes sharp.

"These people haven't done anything wrong, so you will not kill them. Absolutely no civilian casualties," she commanded, her tone leaving no room for argument.

"These people aren't exactly civilians; they're soldiers. So they don't really meet the parameters of our pact," Alicarde retorted, his tone almost playful.

Malefica's eyes narrowed, irritation flashing across her face. "No killing. Adhere to that rule," she repeated firmly.

"Yeah, yeah, I hear you—no killing. Although, this would be so much easier if we just waltzed in there, guns blazing," Alicarde said, stepping to the edge of the roof and looking down.

"Now then, what's the plan?" he asked, turning his attention back to her.

"I'll cast a spell on the local gangs to cause a minor commotion outside. While they're distracted, you'll sneak in. Be as stealthy as a ninja, unlike last time when I blatantly caught you," Malefica's tone was stern, reminding him of his failed attempt to sneak into her class.

"You'll find out soon enough," she promised, her tone brooking no argument.

Below, a small mob of thugs began to gather at the base of the skyscraper. The building, fortified and surrounded by military checkpoints, was now under heightened security. Yet the thugs seemed unfazed, their faces twisted with anger and greed, eyes gleaming with a wild, feral intensity. It was as though all fear had been stripped away, leaving only a raw, primal urge for chaos.

The soldiers, recognizing the threat, sprang into action. One of them grabbed a microphone and called out, his voice booming through the speakers.

"This is a restricted area! Disperse immediately, or we will be forced to take action!"

The thugs showed no signs of retreat. Instead, they advanced, their movements erratic and aggressive. It was clear they were under some influence, their actions driven by dark magic rather than reason.

"Last warning!" the soldier barked. "Disperse now, or we will open fire!"

Still, the mob pressed on, undeterred. Tension hung thick in the air as the soldiers prepared to defend the building.

Finally, a soldier fired a warning shot into the air, the sharp crack echoing through the night. The thugs flinched but continued their advance, seemingly oblivious to the threat of death.

Alicarde watched with cold detachment. "Hey, Malefica," he said, a hint of reproach in his voice, "I thought you didn't want civilian casualties. Isn't this counterproductive?"

Malefica sighed, her eyes on the chaos below. "These thugs indirectly work for Zagarath—they're not innocent. The spell I used affects those with significant negative karma. It wouldn't work on anyone pure."

"I see, the more evil you've sown, the stronger its effect," Alicarde mused, his tone intrigued. "I'd love to learn it."

"All in due time. Now focus," Malefica replied, her voice firm and commanding.

Alicarde's gaze narrowed. "But what about the soldiers? Won't they get hurt? You stopped me before—why let this happen?"

"They're well-trained. They'll manage. If things go south, I'll intervene," she answered confidently.

"And the crowded streets?" he pressed.

"They'll be fine. I thought you didn't care," she said, her tone firm but patient.

"I care—just not too much," he replied with a smirk, though it remained hidden beneath his hood.

Malefica rolled her eyes but refrained from further comment. They both turned their attention back to the unfolding scene below.

The situation quickly escalated into a one-sided brawl. The soldiers, disciplined and heavily armed, easily overpowered the thugs, who, despite the spell's influence, were no match for the military's firepower. Within minutes, the mob was subdued, their aggression extinguished as swiftly as it had ignited. The civilian crowds had long since scattered, retreating at the first signs of violence.

"Time to go, Wrath," Alicarde muttered, turning to the bicorn, who had been silently observing the spectacle.

With a fluid motion, he mounted Wrath. The world around them shimmered, rippling like disturbed water. In an instant, they vanished, leaving Malefica to observe the aftermath, her expression inscrutable. She watched as the soldiers, having subdued the first wave, were now blindsided by a second, larger group of attackers.

The trap had been sprung, and the soldiers, believing the threat over, called for reinforcements from within the fortress.