Chapter Twenty
The old tyrant leaned up against the wall, feeling his spirit pulsing in the world above.
His hammer, dented by so many thousands of years, lay by his hip. His helmet hid his face, the narrow slit of the visor revealing only two jet black eyes, staring out from the shadows.
Behind him were two doors made of stone, leading in to a palace.
He shifted his weight against them as a black-scaled nymph came into view, her scythe in hand.
He winced and shook his head, "Go back, Abigail. This is not the time or the place."
The ground shook, and her grip tightened on her scythe, "Who in the Shades do you think you are?"
He shrugged, "I am War. Who do you think you are?"
The scythe swirled, and he heard her voice dimly ad the world fell away, "I am Death!"
Wrath glanced up, his insane head of her wobbling, as the doors opened.
He laughed as he saw the little nymph there, standing so tall and so proud.
"What is it that you want, little Ignis?"
She roared, launching towards him. He sighed and spun a spell, throwing her face first into the black stone floor. "I am not as kind as War. I fuelled his soldiers. I am the anger trying to burst of your chest, I am Wrath."
She pushed herself to her feet, and he shook his head, a ball of magic pancaking her into the floor, "No, no, no. You don't get to stand. Not after what you've done. No."
He stood over her, glaring down, "What are you Abigail? Your best friend dies, and you steal her boyfriend. Fiona cared about you. She was one of the few people you ever let close... You didn't even mourn her."
She yelled, breaking free of the spell, her scythe making a beeline for his face, but he swatted it aside like it was rubber.
"You don't know what you're talking about!" She yelled, glaring at him, and he laughed, "Don't I? I'm wrath. I'm your self-loathing. I'm the anger inside you, eating you alive."
Abigail's knuckles turned white, "I will.destroy you."
Wrath laughed and flicked his wrist, sending her flying into the wall. She hit it with a meaty thud before collapsing twitching onto the ground.
"I don't think so, Abigail... For that, you'd need to forgive yourself... And that's just not going to happen. You deserve this. You are nothing. Just a little bitch who likes to swim... Think about everything Kyle sacrificed for you... And you throw it in his face, coming storming in here... Thinking what, that an untrained little nymph is stronger than the most powerful Necromancer this world has ever known?"
A chink in her armor appeared, a flash of a wince. He was getting to her.
Wrath sneered, "The nymph who couldn't make a golem... Tell me again, how many professors who followed you into battle made it out? How'd the Vitamancer protect them?"
Abigail pushed herself to her feet, and his fist came swinging around, punching her into the ground hard enough to chip the stone. "Come now, little nymph, where's the flirting that had saved you, your whole life?"
Tears formed in her eyes, "I'm not like that."
"But you are," he spat on the ground, "You are the worst of your kind."
"I am." She said, her voice suddenly firming.
Wrath barely had a chance to realize his mistake.
"I am Death."
Sin smiled as she saw the bleeding nymph limping towards her, she laughed and swung the door open, bowing falsely, "Your majesty."
The nymph roared, and it was a roar, and launched at her.
Sin glared, ducking the scythe before grabbing a delicate wrist, "I tried to play nice."
She snapped it, and shoved Abigail backwards onto the ground. She glared down, "You really need to learn some manners."
She stopped down, shattering the ribcage, separating the spine.
She turned and walked through the door, "Seeya, Abigail."
Judgement paused as he saw the bleeding man in front of him, and cocked his head, "Kilroy?"
Kyle smiled ruefully, "Hey Judgement... Been a while... I'm sorry, I'm in a bit of a hurry. I need you to open these gates."
The old spirit sighed heavily, "I'm sorry, Kyle. You're still not worthy. You haven't moved on."
Kyle winced, and spun his hand slowly, "I did try and ask."
Judgement cocked an eyebrow, "Are you really picking a fight, Kyle?"
He shrugged, "I don't have a lot of choice."
Judgement shook his head, "You walked through an army of Reapers to get here... Close the portal. Your world will be safe, and you can walk away."
Kyle shook his head, "That's not how this works. I have a debt to pay, and I will pay it."
Judgement winced, "The Lady is a tad bit occupied, for your sort of worries."
Kyle flicked his wrist, grabbing hold of the tendrils of magic that made up the physical world of the Other Side, "I know. She asked me to come here. I have a debt, and its due."
Judgement sighed and drew his sword, "Okay, Kyle."
The necromancer yanked, the steel gates behind the spirit exploding into shrapnel, sending him stumbling.
Kyle twisted the ground and punched down, the spirit vanishing beneath the soil.
He backed away slowly, the gates were open, but Judgement wasn't dead, not by a long shot.
The ground behind him exploded as the spirit leapt into the air, sword curling around in a perfect arc.
Kyle dropped to the ground, feeling his hair tumble away, and then a fireball burst from his hands, knocking Judgement backwards.
The spirit shook his head, "Kyle Kilroy, you have been weighed, you have been measured, and you have been found wanting."
Kyle clenched, fueling his anger, and burst into flames. He ran forward, tackling the spirit.
Judgement's flesh burned, releasing a scent that was disturbingly like roasted meat. But the spirit was far from done, and a single punch to his head sent Kyle rolling.
He sprang to his feet and saw the blade bearing down on him, and did the only thing he could think to do.
He caught it, and the blade bit deep into his hands.
Judgement glared and began to push harder.
Kyle ignored the tug of war, and focused on his Pyromancy. Heat was the key to this battle, not strength.
Molten metal began to drip onto the ground, as it scorched what was left of his hands.
Judgement pulled away, tossing aside the remains of his sword and smiled, "Lateral thinking can only get you so far, Kyle."
He tensed, but the spirit shrugged, "It is not my place to block the way for the worthy. Go ahead."
Kyle's flames extinguished and he nearly collapsed, but he was caught by Judgement, who looked him in the eye, "Feed him to the Shades, Kyle."
The doors were tall, impossibly so. They were as tall as the Other Side, and represented the division between the dead, and those who ruled them.
The throne he sat in was incredibly uncomfortable, but he knew better than to change that - Death had bound the throne to the Other Side.
It was supposed to be some symbol about how a leader needed to be among their people, working, rather than presiding over them.
Personally, he thought it was stupid.
However, those doors were opening.
Discord leaned.forward, and put a hand under his chin, "What idiot seeks to enter chaos?"
The doors flew open with a crash, leaving a half-dead human standing in front.of him.
He glared, "Wait... Kilroy, wasn't it? The boy presumptuous enough to make a deal with Death?"
Kyle shrugged, painfully, and spoke, "I'm here to pay my debt to the Lady."
Discord.rolled his eyes, "Death's dead, kid. I'm in charge now."
"I know."
There was a lot of determination, anger and a small feeling of justice in that tone, but no respect.
Discord rolled his eyes, "So what you going to do?"
"I challenge you."
Discord burst out laughing, "No thanks. Reapers?"
A thousand scythe bearing souls appeared behind the throne, "Take this as a challenge, Kilroy."
Kyle swore as magic swirled around him. Reapers were masters, and the magic they channeled was the stuff of dreams, or nightmares in his case.
He could avoid their traps, turn their attacks inside out, but there was a fact he couldn't avoid.
He was worn out. He'd already taken on army of Reapers, had been forced to fight Judgement.
Now he had another army to contend with, and hope he had enough strength left to distract Discord.
This was insanity.
If he died here, then he would become Discord's plaything. His necromancy would mean nothing.
Discord was its creator.
But for now, a thousand scythes tore into the moment of the universe where he was located, each one taking a piece of him with them.
What had Judgement said?
Something about being found wanting?
Anger was a tool had long since learned to use. His anger at himself, at the world, and at injustice.
Someone had taken the Other Side from the haven it should have been, and turned it into a place of torture.
He felt the magic swirling through him, and shaped it.
A scythe split in half in front of him as a blade of wind was forged into existence. The face behind it fared worse.
Kyle bristled, spinning and casting.
These were innocent people, forced to serve at their master's hands, but Kyle knew a secret.
The scythe was their channel.
Without it, their magic was damn near useless against him.
So he took them from them.
Kyle felt onto one knee, bleeding from head to toe, and glared up at the throne, "I challenge you, Discord."
The spirit stood up, stepping down slowly, "You challenge me. Really."
There was no question there, just ridicule.
Kyle smiled pushing himself upright, "Soul for soul."
Discord paused, "Soul... For soul. I accept."
Then Kyle was sent flying into the room, every bone in his back breaking.
The world was swirling, and Abigail lay in bed, coughing violently, blood staining her sheets.
Beside her was her mother stroking her forehead tenderly, smiling down at her.
Abigail winced, "I'm dying..."
Her mother nodded sadly, "Yeah, sorry, princess... But it looks that way."
She winced, "That's not fair."
Her mother shrugged, "Whatever. It's not like you've ever had an easy life, and this isn't one of those moments. Sometimes… You just don't get to take a break."
Abigail looked at her in fear, "What does that mean?"
"I've got a promise to keep, and I love you, princess." Her mother sighed heavily and leaned in and kissed her forehead, "Time to go back, sweetie."
Abigail sat up, coughing violently, blood spraying from her mouth.
She breathed in and out heavily, eyes wide open as she stared around her.
It was stone.
She was in a building.
A palace.
The Other Side.
She'd attacked Sin… And Sin had… Basically killed her.
Abigail cringed, and then noticed the prone figure lying beside her, one hand on her leg.
They were a nymph, but their scales were jet black, tinged with red. They were relatively tall, and a broken scythe lay beside them.
Abigail smiled sadly, tears welling in her eyes.
They looked almost exactly like her, except for the hair, which had faded from white to grey. They were old, but the resemblance was impossible to ignore.
Abigail had never known her mother, she'd been an orphan.
Death was her mother.
She wasn't Death, she had her memories.
She was a nymph, proficient with Vitamancy, adept at Messormancy, Daughter of Death and angry as all the Shades combined.
Abigail lurched to her feet, wincing as she felt the cut that made up half her side crack open again, and blood begin to run down it.
Her mother had given her life for her, and she wasn't going to waste it.
Someone was in charge of the Other Side, and they were messing it up.
A scythe appeared in her hand, and she kicked open the giant wooden doors, taller than she could see.
Her heart leapt as she saw Kyle, and then she saw the man with black dreadlocks beating him to death as slowly as he could.
Anger moved through her, and she grabbed the fabric of reality, shifting it.
As she appeared beside the man, she spotted Sin leaning idly against a wall, yawning.
Abigail grabbed the man from behind and ripped her scythe through him, Breaking him.
The magic vanished.
The man spun around in shock, "You little-"
His head turned into shrapnel, and Abigail stared through the mess, spotting Kyle standing weakly on his feet, his hand clenched.
Abigail heard a wail, and glanced over at Sin, one hand over her mouth in shock, and then the spirit attacked.
A ball of magic, made up of something Abigail had never seen before shot across the room towards her, intended for her.
But Kyle was still standing in front of her.
He dropped to the ground, the pupils disappearing from his eyes.
Kyle was gone.
The stress of the past, the grief of losing her mother, and now Kyle… The anger that had been building since the Reaper in her had appeared… It all came to the surface.
"Et claustra arguisset nunc anima oblinire tunc peccatum!" Abigail roared and pointed the scythe, and the blonde bombshell screamed as she vanished, her soul obliterated.
The scythe vanished as Abigail's scales faded to blue and she dropped to her knees, grabbing Kyle.
She cradled his head, "Stay with me, please…"
His head lay like a dead weight in her hands, and he glanced up at her, his eyes sightless and nearly shut, "So…rry…"
Abigail bit her lip, tears flowing down her cheeks, as she saw images flash before her.
Kyle and Death, making a deal.
A hope, a plan to take Discord down.
Death had no soul, but Kyle did.
He gave it away… So Death could give it to Abigail… Even though she'd die in the act.
They both died.
So she'd have a chance.
It wasn't fair.
Tears streamed down her face and she held Kyle's lifeless body.
They should have had a chance, together.
Some sort of hope.
… At least a second kiss…
A life…
But instead, Kyle was dead… And she was left, alone, in the Other Side.