Chapter 11: Chapter Eleven—The punchline

Edwin and I turned to each other before bursting out in laughter while Josiah frowned. After a good laugh, I stood up and shook my head. “Well, this was fun. I’m going to go and take pain medication and pass out.” Glancing over at Edwin, I lowered my sunglasses slightly. “I’d rather not see him again.”

“Are you kidding me? You must know he has that strange ability,” Josiah slammed his hand on Edwin’s desk. Total disbelief on his face, which brought me joy. He genuinely thought he had something. It was characteristic of him, though; I was stealing his attention.

“The Divinity has been around him multiple times. She can sense if someone is the Demon Lord.” Edwin stood up, motioning towards his door. “Good day, Mr. Reed.”

“His mother had an unknown element, and I know what it was,” Josiah pleaded. “This was a big secret among the tribe leaders. That’s how they repelled the Empire with the first contact.”

“There is no record of elements being used in first contact, but I am listening,” Edwin answered, buttoning his green jacket. He did not sit back down. I couldn’t blame him. I wanted this conversation to end, but I was also curious about what Josiah was talking about.

“The Outlanders have Runic magica. It’s an altogether distinct element; it doesn’t play by any of the other ones’ rules,” Josiah responded, pulling a piece of paper from his coat, and slamming it on the desk in an unnecessarily dramatic way. “If you ink these on anyone but an Outlander’s blood, it will do nothing,” he said, pointing to me, “but it will work on him.”

“What does this have to do with anything?” Edwin shrugged. “I am intrigued by this runic paper, but I cannot see why this makes him the Demon Lord.”

“I’ll give you all the tribe scrolls. But you have to lock him with this one,” Josiah said, putting his finger to the paper. “This one can seal the Demon Lord.”

Edwin glanced down at the article and said, “Conceivable.”

“What do you mean, ‘conceivable’? He almost ripped his mother’s Runic Element from her when he was an infant. He could illuminate the tattoos on her arms for days before his touch no longer activated them.” Josiah glanced over at me. “He can control multiple elements.”

“Incorrect,” Edwin replied, picking up a black-covered book from the desk. “He can absorb magica—using it for a short period. At his age then, anima levels were minuscule. What he did was absorb his mother’s anima and most likely activate the tattoos through contact because runes are not an element; I know that for a fact. On top of all this, the Demon Lord wields all elements but the Divinity and Darkness. The relic speaks of arbiters of light and darkness banishing The Destroyer. The Demon Lord exists for the purpose of chaos. Light and darkness balance each other. Only through this harmony can the rain of disorder end.”

Josiah looked confused. “What does that mean?”

Edwin glanced over at me. “Cyrus is the darkness, and The Divinity has been born in this cycle. He is not the Demon Lord. He is the key to destroying this madness forever. They have never been born together.”

Josiah looked down at the paper. “This would help… The Divinity and Cyrus stop them?” He responded, looking at Edwin again, “for good?”

“You figured out my element?” I asked. I was intrigued by what they had said. But, unfortunately, I was not briefed on this prophecy. Edwin had a bad habit of holding onto information well past the point of need.

“I did not. However, The Divinity told me she felt something positive for you. She described it as a blooming flower in the darkness that had yet felt the rays of light. A void of nothingness that wishes to be filled. A box that wished for usefulness. The Arbiter of Shadows,” Edwin said with a grin, “the exact words the tablet calls you by, and this brings me to your father’s question,” he said, glowing at the big reveal before pulling the paper across the desk to himself, “and this is what we needed to capture the Demon Lord.”

“Okay, But… it only works on native blood,” Josiah repeated, looking back and forth between Edwin and me. He thought he was so bright, but Father lacked critical thinking in any capacity. Memorization of useless facts was his only skill. Honestly, it’s a miracle I can speak and write English.

Edwin put his hand out to me. “I have a box that has native blood.”

There was a long pause. “I’ll get the rest,” Josiah said, sighing in defeat.“The purpose of my return was to save the world.”

Josiah simply wanted to make my life miserable. I laughed, crossing my arms, “When have you ever done something for anyone else?”

Josiah stood up. “Your mother asked me before I left to bring you the scrolls. She handed me that one,” he snapped, pointing to the paper in Edwin’s hand.

“How did she die?”

“A storm came. But it wasn’t just the storm. The Liches came in boats built with skeletons. A unature mist of thick fog came over the Island. Your mother and I fled to the steamboat I had hidden. It would not make it across the ocean, but hopefully, find a vessel to help us. She wanted to return for the scrolls. I yelled at her not to, but she went,” Josiah said, shaking his head. “Typically, she listened better than that.”

“You let her go alone?”

“Boy, if I died, and she didn’t on the way back, she could not drive that boat—and if you haven’t realised, I don’t have anima,” he said, raising his tone.

“So you just left her and how did you get the scrolls?” 

"Inola brought them back, and she was bleeding badly. She shoved me on the boat and refused to get on with me. She was going on about some women with long hair."

"What colour was her hair," Edwin asked with revived interest in the conversation. "What was her hair colour," Edwin repeated, and I felt a strange sensation, almost a chill.

"I... don't know," Josiah answered without emotion, almost confused. 

His voice was monotone, it didn’t match his earlier tone.     

“My second question is how you got here, and how would you know if Cyrus would be here?” Edwin asked, putting the book he’d been reading onto the bookshelf behind him.

“I found a ship that saved me. I kept some coins from the Empire on the steamboat. Then I slowly made my way here, buying transportation. Finally, a guard verified I was Cyrus’s father through an old ID and I was granted entry. I took a wild guess he would show up here if he wasn’t dead,” Josiah said, shrugging. “Sin’s Paradise seemed like a place that would welcome him.”

“No one helped you? Give you money?” Edwin interrogated, pushing his glasses up. 

He was suspicious, and rightly so. The journey from the outlands to here was massive. It was a fifty thousand plus mile trip here. The hundred-foot waves would have ended him quickly if he hadn’t found a larger vessel.

“No,” Josiah said, and Edwin glanced over at me.

I nodded, “He is most likely telling the truth—I’ve heard the scrolls being mentioned, but I thought it was a fairytale. Considering I found nothing on them at the school.”

“Get the scrolls and bring them back. You are to stay away from Cyrus unless he contacts you,” Edwin said, walking past Josiah towards the door but stopped looking back, “I will give you housing until Cyrus graduates, but after that, you’re on your own,” Edwin finished and opened the door, motioning us out. “I have things to attend to. We will talk and walk.”

“What did you do with my cat?” I asked, glancing down at Josiah.

“The cat was alive when I left,” Josiah said, fixing his coat’s collar. 

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I just stood staring at him for a bit before sighing and promptly leaving, making my way to my room. I wasn’t sticking around to listen to them work out the logistics. The walk felt longer, and I stumbled into the wall a few times, having people stare at me oddly. I got to my door finally, and Rachel was standing in front of it. “The cat girl came by again. It would be best if you talked to her. She is desperate for your attention. It seems like a plant worth watering,” Rachel said, turning around in a pearl white dress.

“Why, you gotta talk like that,” I said in disgust.

“Like what?”

“Like an old lady. You’re eleven, stop.”

Rachel’s eye twitched. “fourteen.”

“Still weird—fourteen. Why do you look so young?”

“Cyrus…” Rachel said with her annoyance reaching its limit. She grabbed my wrist, and my head stopped hurting immediately. “If you’re injured again, you come to me,” she demanded.

She was trying to look serious, but I just couldn’t with that face. It embodied that cuteness factor where everything was adorable, no matter the emotion.

“I am sorry. I didn’t think I was that hurt,” I replied, feeling absolutely fine now. The need to sleep was gone, which was odd. I had never healed fatigue before with May’s magica.

“You should be. You are days behind me now. This should concern you since I don’t sleep,” Rachel said sternly.

“You don’t sleep?”

“My body is in a constant state of optimisation. There is no need,” Rachel answered like I should of known that fact.

I mean, it all made sense. Psychologically, she was years ahead of her age from the extra hours of the day. Her brain development would limit this, but there was a considerable maturity disparity. That or the church beat the child out of her. I hadn’t visited the Cathedral yet, but May had told me it was... depressing. She was worried she might have to stay there at first and was relieved to learn the church’s products come here too.

“You heal yourself through sleep deprivation…”

“Correct.”

“Well, thanks,” I stiffly said, walking around her to my door.

She gave me that creepy stare. “Please take care of yourself better,” Rachel said, walking off down the hall.

After finishing the cringy exchange, I went into my messy apartment. I imagine May would have cleaned things up since she had a spare key, but no. The couch was looking like an excellent place to recharge my emotions lazily. Rachel couldn’t heal my anxiety or the constant pressure of everyone’s expectations. My eyes stared up at the fan swishing around for hours before I drifted off into a light sleep, being disturbed by knocking on my door. I sit up, looking over at the grandfather clock. It was nine at night.

I hesitantly stood up, walking over to the door, opening it to Covic. “Friend, you’re alive,” he said, giving me a big hug before stepping into the apartment. He looked at the disaster like he wasn’t the one that made it. He had a habit of inviting himself in. Covic was a very pushy person in general, but he always did it in a way that made it seem like it was your idea.

I closed the door behind him before I strolled to the kitchen, going through the refrigerator’s sparse choices. The chicken leftovers were unquestionably a few days too old, but the cubed breast meat made its way onto a plate, and I started eating it cold at the kitchen bar with a fork.

Covic took a seat at the kitchen counter across from me, putting his elbow on the marble and resting his chin on his palm. “How are things?” he asked, even though the question was straightforward.

“Fine, I guess.”

Covic nodded slowly. “May is not saying what happened after we left,” Covic blurted out, “I don’t mean to ask inappropriate questions, but it’s eating me up, man, I gotta know.”

“You love inappropriate questions. Are you asking if May and I—?”

“Yes, mate, did you fuck!?” Covic questioned with a grin.

“No.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really.”

Covic frowned. “I expected better of you, Cyrus,” he said, shaking his head.

The chicken was disgustingly cold, but I somehow finished it before tossing the plate into the sink as I folded my arms, leaning on the edge of the sink towards Covic. “I’ll try to be better next time,” I mumbled sarcastically before sauntering over, collapsing on the couch. “I thought you were protecting me,” I said into a pillow. I sat up as Covic came over.

“From dying a nerdy virgin? Yes,” Covic chuckled, flopping down next to me, and throwing his arm around my shoulder. “Cyrus, May is equitably a ten out of ten. And my sister looks like me, so she is gorgeous”—Covic shrugged—“what’s the problem?”

“There’s no desire for it and not really my type,” I said, sighing.

“Do you? You know,” Covic asked, making a jerking motion before his brow raised. There was a long pause before he moved on. “Is your cock small? I am sure May won’t care,” Covic finished, folding his legs. He didn’t think I noticed him leaving out his sister, but I did.

I turned my head slowly to Covic as he stared at the ceiling fan; that fan was hypnotising. “I assure you it is not of inadequate size,” I replied, 

Covic bursted out laughing, shaking his head at me before going serious. “Are you gay—”

“Covic…” I interrupted him.

Covic smirked. “I’ll start running with you,” Covic announced, jumping up. “I’ll let you get some rest but wake me up next time you go do this… exercise thing,” he said, leaving the apartment, waving bye from behind. Covic’s visits were usually short, and I was okay with that. Possibly the reason we got along so well. A brief burst of people is what I needed.

My physics book and notepad sat open next to the metal sphere on the coffee table. Perhaps I should study some, considering Rachel was about to surpass me in this imaginary race. I picked up the book and notepad and got to my studies, shoving my worries to the back of my head for another day.

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