Capítulo 14: Faceoff
"Hehehehe, the hour approaches," an eerie chuckle, resonating like a man's, emanated from a hooded figure who knelt in front of what appeared to be an idol shrouded in obscurity. The chamber bore witness to a sinister ambiance, with tattered grimoires and volumes detailing forbidden instruments and occult rituals scattered about. The room was a tapestry of unsettling signs, with the twisted remains of animals and fantastical creatures, alongside a multitude of arcane symbols etched onto the walls and floor, seemingly drawn with chalk.
Upon closer examination of the man and his macabre experiments, one would discern an ominous detail—adorning his black hood, there lay a pitch-black emblem reminiscent of a raven, its wings are broken, and a single, unblinking eye at its center. As for the documentation of his sinister work, a singular word stood out, recurrent throughout what were ostensibly his recorded notes. Instead of a mere word, this name sounded like a sinister refrain, and it was none other than "Zeref."
Stranger POV:
The hour draws close. Ere long, the tower shall reach its culmination, and our god and master shall be resurrected. The epoch of dark magic shall dawn anew, sweeping aside the few who seek to govern Ishgar with an iron grip, dictating which arcane arts are permitted. Master Zeref will purge the world of these impostors and pave the way for an age marked by authenticity and verity.
However, there remain preparations yet to be made. We find ourselves in need of additional laborers as we approach a critical juncture. More sacrifices are deemed necessary to facilitate the resurrection of our lord. Regrettably, I had to relinquish those women to the clutches of these barbaric marauders, but they would have provided minimal aid. In truth, they would have proven burdensome, merely additional mouths to feed. "Truly repulsive." We offer these futile individuals the divine opportunity to serve Master Zeref, and instead of displaying gratitude, they dare to raise complaints and pleas for mercy and sustenance, as though mercy has been denied to them to begin with. This is mercy! We have granted them the unparalleled privilege to be part of something beyond the grasp of rustic individuals like them, liberating them from their mundane existence.
As for those barbarians, the self-styled "Great Khan" may believe himself my equal and collaborator for the present, but once these primitives have fulfilled their purpose and purged the villages, they will be consigned to the lowest echelons of the tower. "Heh, those obtuse buffoons shall finally have an opportunity to prove their worth. After all, digging requires little intelligence, a task even the simplest among them should manage."
A few hours prior, I had completed the transportation circle, using it to teleport the captured men – or rather, what remained of them – to the tower. Cursed Khan! He had agreed not to take a single life. Each slave held their intrinsic value, and he had recklessly squandered numerous invaluable resources. The more I contemplated these wretched pawns, the tighter my fists clenched in fury. "Breathe, Adonis," I reminded myself. I only needed to endure the presence of these powerless rabbles for a few more days, and all would be set right.
Yet, the very thought of having to tolerate these magicless refuse for an extended duration caused me to involuntarily dig my nails into my flesh, drawing blood. All of this could be traced back to a single malevolent figure – damn you, Gamgee Hardwick, and curse those contemptible fairies. They incessantly stirred up strife, vexing both friends and foes alike. While we had tolerated their antics in the past, as they often served as a convenient distraction for the council, there were still a few who meddled in matters where they didn't belong. "Rob, was it?" That decrepit, feeble fool believed he could face us and escape, despite being half a step into his own grave. Now, behold him, chained and shackled, stripped of his magic, compelled to toil alongside the rest of the refuse, laboring to excavate the foundations for our lord's resurrection.
However, not every magus is as inept and incapable as that imbecile. Some of them transcend the role of mere obstacles in the path of our lord's resurrection. That cursed Gamgee happened to be one of them. "That wretched geezer, why can't he just meet his end already!" I vented my frustration at the injustice of it all.
To elude the watchful eyes of the council, we could not openly parade as a cult in public. Doing so would subject us to the full force of an Etherion blast. Those spineless council members harnessed all their might to secure or obliterate anything remotely connected to, or even suspected of being related to, our lord. They had the audacity to label us as malevolent. To gather slaves, we operated covertly in the countryside, collaborating with bandit cells and other scum to abduct individuals from villages. In Fiore, however, we had faced a formidable adversary – an obstinate, infuriating bastard named Gamgee Hardwick.
Based on his profile, he was a former fairy, the second rising star after that accursed Makarov who retired to the countryside. And it had to be in that secluded region where he resided, a prime target for our tower. Any bandit den that had been set up in the past was swiftly eradicated by him. We attempted to break his spirit by covertly poisoning his wife when she gave birth, but this merely fueled his determination to grow stronger.
Many of my predecessors had endeavored to outmaneuver him, but he never faltered in safeguarding his village. Furthermore, that self-righteous scoundrel had taken it upon himself to become a guardian of all the villages. It was only a matter of time before he discovered the fate of Bluebell and made his way here. I had to be prepared to confront and eliminate him. My dedication and skills had been honed over the years, allowing me to ascend to the position of an inquisitor for our belief and cult.
The term "cult" filled me with indignation, as we were far more than a mere club; we represented a dignified belief and church that aimed to restore Ishgar to the golden age of magic, led by our lord, who would guide the people to the truth. Regardless, if I could remove Gamgee, I would earn a promotion and draw nearer to our lord. My fanaticism swelled with excitement. And I had a plan in mind to deal with him.
Gamgee had been challenging to harm because he kept his defenses impenetrable. Yet, he had allowed someone into his heart—a four-year-old child still wet behind the ears. Knowing the deep affection Geezer held for his grandson, he would willingly become a slave in exchange for his grandson's safety. As for the child, I would simply hand him over to the Brain, who had recently begun experimenting on magical children in the north and was running low on subjects. None of the others had displayed much potential, aside from that child of that idiot Ur, although the boy was not of Gamgee's bloodline. He must have absorbed something from his lessons and displayed a remarkable potential by awakening magic at such a young age.
My anticipation surged as my brilliant plan crystallized with each passing moment. Gamgee would soon meet his end, and as for the fairies, they could continue to exist in blissful ignorance. They would have a "rather intriguing" reunion with their second master in due time.
While I reveled in my ecstasy, a sharp knock on my study's door shattered my reverie. Irritated, I demanded, "Who is it?" I had explicitly instructed that imbecilic Khan not to disturb me and that I would attend to him shortly. Preparations needed to be made before we confronted Rosemary, as a single misstep could alert that accursed Gamgee in Hobbiton. I cast a disgruntled look at the door and waited for a response, but all I received was yet another knock.
Frustration welled within me. The sole reason I refrained from blasting down the door – along with the fact that each of these pawns held some value for the impending conflict – was a minor surprise at the Neanderthals' unexpected courtesy in knocking, unlike their usual habit of barging in without regard for etiquette.
I cautiously, yet resolutely, pushed the door open, only to be confronted with an entirely unexpected scene. A searing ball of fire hurtled towards me, requiring the cultivated senses, physique, and reflexes of a true wizard to react in time. I leaped backward, hastily erecting an optimized barrier to minimize the impending damage. The diminutive fireball's impact against my shield took me by surprise. Upon contact, it erupted with a force far exceeding its size, shattering my makeshift barrier and sending me hurtling through the air, crashing into the venerated idol. Forgive me for this act of sacrilege, Lord Zeref, I thought, resolving to deal with this insolent interloper promptly.
As I rose from the wreckage of the idol, I commended myself for my earlier intuitive preparations. My beloved robe had been reinforced with multiple enchantments and protective charms in anticipation of the imminent clash with Gamgee. It was these enhancements that enabled me to rise with minimal harm, though I noted that most of the charms had shattered due to the explosion. "It will take me a while to reapply them," I grumbled.
I scanned the smoke-filled room for the audacious assailant and had mentally consigned him to becoming a sacrifice for Master Zeref. To my astonishment, I could discern a rather familiar, almost punkish figure emerging from the haze. The realization of the intruder's identity filled me with confidence, and I offered a coy smirk as I greeted my would-be assailant. "What a delightful surprise, Magna Swing. Or should I say, 'Rex Gardner'?" His momentary pause in response only added to my satisfaction.
Rex Gardner POV:
After my failed attack, I had anticipated a range of different responses, but I must confess that this was not among them. When one of the bandits yielded to my threats and divulged the wizard's whereabouts, I naturally reneged on my agreement and purged the world of those wretches.
During my journey here, I had taken the time to deliberately slow my pace and minimize my mana emissions to catch the enemy off guard. However, he had effortlessly adapted to my assassination attempt, emerging unscathed. This proved to be exasperating. Adaptability often indicated skill, skill implied intelligence, and intelligence equated to a formidable adversary. What's more, he appeared to recognize me, eliminating any element of surprise, uncertainty, or even doubt. The battle had yet to commence, and this insidious deviant already held a significant advantage.
I didn't feign ignorance and challenged, "Do you know who I am, punk?" My adversary momentarily paused before speaking with a hint of recognition, "Ah, it appears you've been honing your so-called 'acting' skills. I assume your grandfather sent you here to gain some experience."
I grumbled, sensing that he knew more than I'd like. "Gaining experience implies some level of effort. Gramps never doubted for a moment that I couldn't handle that rabble. It just seems he didn't account for an unexpected presence in his decision to send me here," I said, locking eyes with him.
He responded with a hint of satisfaction, "Hmm, it fills me with great joy to outwit the great Gamgee Hardwick and remain undetected." Raising an eyebrow, he continued, "So, if you're here, I take it my 'associates' haven't fared well."
I nodded in agreement. "I dispatched them all, chief."
He clicked his tongue and chastised me, "For such a young brat to be so bloodthirsty, I wonder how your grandfather raised you. Perhaps his benevolent facade was merely a front."
I argued, although it felt futile, "Actually, the penchant for killing is more of a personal trait. You'd know that if you truly knew everything about me. So, what exactly do you know?"
My enemy deliberated for a moment, sighing before deigning to respond, "Well, I suppose there's no harm in enlightening you. After all, it won't change the course of today's events. Rex Gardner, the adoptive and surrogate grandson, seemingly appeared out of nowhere on his would-be grandfather's doorstep. He was a precocious child with an adult-like demeanor, awakening his magic on his fourth birthday. His magic, a transformation spell that surpasses the norm, and a touch of intriguing fire magic. Have I summarized it correctly?"
I nodded and replied, "You've captured the essence of it." Internally, I pondered his statement about my 'adult-like' demeanor, which implied that he was unaware of my true identity as a reincarnated adult. Building upon this, he likely had no knowledge of our conversations in Bag End, as he would have been better prepared for my attack. It also suggested that he was cognizant of events outside of our home.
"How did you manage it?" I inquired, my curiosity piqued. He raised an eyebrow and replied, "Manage what?" Irritated, I grumbled, "Discovering information about me and my training. Judging by your own admission, you're weaker than my grandfather. How did you evade his detection?"
A faint smile played on his lips. "Ah, I see what you're getting at. Well, I have my methods, but I'd be willing to share them. Let's call it a trade secret." Raising my right brow, I asked, "In exchange for what?" He replied simply, "I want to learn how you perform that transformation magic of yours. Although I suppose you now refer to it as transmutation. It's a fitting name, if I do say so myself."
I shook my head in disagreement. "They're not quite the same," I asserted. He chuckled and mused, "No, I suppose not. Oh well, I may have to 'forcefully' extract it from you before I deliver you to Brain. I hope he won't complain about 'damaged' goods." The mention of Brain made me mentally bookmark that name for the future.
My adversary continued, "Oh, how rude of me. I didn't even introduce myself. My time spent with these primitives has clearly dulled my manners." He looked at me, slightly bowed, and spoke, "Adonis Black, inquisitor of the 'cult' of Zeref, at your service. Now that pleasantries are behind us, shall we begin, shall we not?" The way he emphasized 'cult' carried a significant undertone of disdain. The name Zeref sent a chill down my spine. In my short time of consciousness, I had read about the infamous black wizard and his nefarious deeds, used by parents to scare their children into obedience.
I regarded Adonis in a new light, finding his arrogance in revealing his identity and allegiance rather striking. Well, I couldn't complain, as this overconfidence might play into my hands in the upcoming battle. But I needed to understand something. "Why are you so well-informed about me? Why the fixation on me?"
Adonis sighed in exasperation before responding, "Well, I've indulged you enough already, so a little more won't hurt. It's not you I'm interested in, but your grandfather. He's a formidable obstacle to our goals, so we've sought to uncover his weaknesses. We can't afford to send a battalion of troops here, or the council would be alerted. We'd nearly given up hope until you entered his life, creating a chink in the great Gamgee's armor. However, that doting old man watches over you like a hawk, making it impossible for us to act. Even when he separated temporarily for your birthday, I was occupied with preparations for Bluebell. But now, you've graciously come to me of your own accord. You'll understand the depth of your grandfather's love when he surrenders for your sake."
I couldn't hide my irritation. "You really underestimate me, don't you?" Adonis coyly replied, "It's nothing personal, kid. If it makes you feel any better, you hold much more potential than me, and once you're through your 'correction' with Brain, we'll be loyal comrades serving the same master."
Flames sizzled in my hands as I advanced toward Adonis. "That will never happen, you stalking bastard! I'm taking you down here and now!" My infuriating adversary merely chuckled and summoned a black staff with a skull head ornament using requip. "We shall see soon enough, child."
PENSAMENTOS DOS CRIADORES 
hmak27230
hmak27230 Big dialogue chapter how do you guy's like it as the plot get's rolling.
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