Page 11 of The Misfit Mage and His Dashing Devil

Again, he flung Walter, the gust fueled by reckless short-sighted rage. Whatever plan this mage held had vanished once he sank into fury. Tsk. But this time, it worked in my favor. In Walter’s too, perhaps. At least I’d offer him a quick death.

The orb containing me rolled off the mantle.

“Finally,” I cackled, drawing this interloper’s attention. “Thank you.”

“No.” Walter stretched his arms, attempting to prevent my escape. Grimy little dying worm had the audacity.

It didn’t matter. Glass clinked between his palms, crisp and enveloping. Shattering shards had never held such a perfect symphony. I’d relive this vibrance over and over, every single day given a second chance. Oh, and I’d never forget how a sliver sank deep into Walter’s palm. He winced.

“No good deed,” I roared, erupting from the smashed orb. Exploded. A thousand whipping tendrils of broken, misty flesh stitched together purely by ethereal Diabolic energy. It’d take weeks, perhaps months, for my flesh and bone to properly manifest, heal, and become whole once more. Until then, I’d simply have to borrow someone else’s.

Worthless Walter shriveled into a fetal position, clutching the fresh injury to his hand, ignoring the dozens of forming bruises and open cuts along his bloody face. Frantically, his eyes searched the repository as I leapt about, relishing in my freedom and smashing what remained of many artifacts. Such an expression of horror from the little mage, probably terrified I’d come for his soul. As if I’d whet my appetite on such a pathetic host when someone far more appealing lumbered here, still incapable of ascertaining the situation.

The enraged mage turned his fury toward my cumbersome tendrils, channeling fire. As if such a thing would ever harm a Diabolic. “What the f—”

“Don’t mind me, friend.” Reeling my spreading cells back together, I lunged ahead. “I’d like to thank you.”

The mage’s eyes grew wide as every piece of my being invaded his body. Only possession would ensure I escaped now. My broken flesh and blood and cartilage squirmed inside every orifice, drowning this mage. He flailed, gasping at air he’d never taste again.

Deep within the abyss of the subconscious, the soul lingered in darkness. I sank into this hollow place, allowing the comfort of flesh to envelop me. Outside, the mage struggled, coughing and choking up bits of my essence, gagging in protest of my arrival.

Tens of thousands of memories floated throughout this space which I had no interest in exploring, so I brushed them away and pulled the mage’s ever-present consciousness toward the dark.

“Riley Hamilton,” I said. “Awful name.”

“What are you? Where are you?” He spun in the blackness of his mind, no certainty or skill to navigate his own headspace. Mortals. Naïve even when they had the universe at the tips of their fingers thanks to magical residue cascading off Mythics.

I conjured a book. Forming into a manifesto of memories, I skimmed a few light reflections which led him to the estate this evening. A heist. A coup. An invasion. “Cute plan from what I can suss out. I’ll probably have to scrap most of these memories to make room for myself, but I wanted to properly thank you.”

He stalked toward my voice, merely an echo thrown about this infinite space for the sake of misdirection. Not sake. Pleasure. I could drag this out for hours. Days. Weeks. Something intoxicating to savor as I snuffed his very existence out of this world. But at this very second, his body recoiled, resisting my invasion, and I had no time or desire to share.

“I’ll be making this quick.” I dragged my claws along his spine, relishing the twitch of terror. How he spun in horror, searching for me, desperate and frail and frightened beyond belief. He wouldn’t find me in the darkness because in here, Iwasdarkness, only capable of tiny tangible moments. But he’d help mend that. Mend my body. I so missed this sensation. All sensation. “Consider your ending a kindness. One you arrogantly denied poor pathetic Walter.”

Riley quivered, running away in the abyss like his plodding steps weren’t the easiest thing to follow. Mortals. Such tragic things.

“Not to worry. I’ll make his death almost as fast as yours.”

With a snap of my fingers, everything about Riley Hamilton crumbled to ashes, sinking into the chasm of infinite darkness every mind synced to at one point or another.

Such a quick and boring death. Not nearly the satisfying first kill I deserved after so much patience. This manor had plenty of mages, quite a few who didn’t belong in the Magus Estate, so there’d be time to indulge. However, there was one mage I had to find first. A debt of death I owed an old friend.

All of Riley Hamilton’s thoughts vanished. All the magic residue clinging to his soul faded. My Diabolic essence settled in nicely. A cozy, comforting embrace deep inside his flesh after so long bound and broken inside a now destroyed orb. I chucked the book, which held the few moments of what remained of Riley Hamilton, into the depths of darkness, everything about him left behind in pieces I’d stitched together. Nothing about this coup caught my interest. Perhaps I’d sort it later if time or curiosity allotted such fancy. What I wanted was to swim above the sea of emptiness and embrace the world again.

I took a deep breath through lungs that weren’t mine. Well, they were now. Air had never tasted so delicious. The sweet aroma of Walter’s blood mixed with the stench of the ghoul. Scanning the bright lights of the repository, I settled my gaze on the flickering bulb. With a wave of my hand, I telekinetically shattered that damned light. Now, I had to decide who to kill first: the ghoul or Walter. Not much of a choice. A trail of blood led to the exit of the repository.

“Well, well, well. You’ve still got a bit of fire in you, Worthless Walter.” I cracked my neck. Such a pleasant feeling. Bones and meat and insides all brimming. The former mage’s sword lay embedded in the ghoul’s chest. I lightly kicked her, testing the waters for a trace of life. Dead as dead was dead. “Good for him.”

I squeezed a hand against my jaw, the mage’s jaw. Mine. Mine. Mine for the time being. Such a forgotten experience to feel again. It ached. Pain coursed through my face, spreading along the nerves to my tender ribs. It was like this host body went through several rounds as a Walter punching bag instead of the opposite. Stretching my jaw helped alleviate the throbbing, distracting me with new pin prickles of shooting jabs. Fuck. I knelt, grabbing a large chunk of reflective glass from my former broken prison. Of course, this repository didn’t house any actual mirrors. Not even a mirrored artifact. Bits of my essence and filmy, pink flesh oozed off the glass. I licked it off, lapping it up and rejoining the last bits of my being. With the makeshift mirror cleaned, I properly examined this host.

The mage’s face appeared intact. No bruising or blood. So either I’d already begun the healing process or simply forgotten the limited resistance of a host body. Gross. At least this one possessed nice aesthetics. Good face. Sharp jaw. That ridiculous stubble which I’d in no way keep up with, no patience for perfect wispy hairs which only grated on flesh. Annoying yet aesthetically enjoyable. I didn’t fully grasp it. His blue eyes popped with a vibrance along the broken red blood vessels of white until my Diabolic nature took hold, shifting the irises a dark crimson and the sclera a soft pink.

Lustful. Luxurious. Luscious.

“Dashing as always.” I smirked. A perfect specimen even in the most inferior of beings. Not that I could talk. Horrid, hollow, and hellish that I was.

Chucking the glass, I looked forward to fully examining these new threads, every aspect and fiber of the being, but first, I needed to search the manor. Escape was my priority. A necessity. Though leaving a trail of bodies in my wake held such excitement.

I wiggled my fingers simply for the sheer sake of movement. A soothing sense. The muscles pulled, resisting death, adapting to their new rule. My rule. A law of life this vessel would obey. Staving off rigor mortis, I rejuvenated a wealth of health into this body. My life. Stiffening of death took the body a couple hours. Surely, it hadn’t taken me that long to conquer the former Riley Hamilton.

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