All Hail Barracutus *On Hold*

War is ripe for the planet of Sempiterna. For generations the twelve major tribes/species (Unless you believe in the tales of the Wizards who say there are thirteen) have very little knowledge of the meaning of the word "peace". Only recently has the tribe of the Svets Deus brought about an era of peace.
In the meanwhile, Barracutus, a normal Kyanos Diamon, struggles to solve the past about the ancient forefathers of Sempiterna. Though could the knowledge of the ancient forefathers be a bigger mystery than he had originally thought it to be? Read throughout to uncover the history of Sempiterna in the first book of an epic trilogy.

(New chapter released every week)

**Please feel free to comment if you believe I made any mistakes in grammar, spelling, etc. Also any constructive criticism and that stuff would be nice** ** Finally, Story Rating: 13+ (Subtle, some-what descriptive violence)**

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25. Chapter 23: Death's Mocking Call (1/2)

Horribleecus jumped up and drew his sword. As the figure approached, the mist slowly deteriorated around it, and then quickly the it came into the light. The figure was short and stout with a green complexion to its moist, wrinkly skin. Its beady, red eye was lifted above its shoulders like that of a serpentine's body. It's long slender claws held a cane in one hand, and a bluish glow was emitted from the other. It was one of the great Wizards of Sempiterna.

"Figmus had told me you would be here in due time. But why so late?" asked the Wizard.

"Figmus?" Horribleecus paused in confusion as he watched the Wizard come closer to the fire. The other warriors sat and stared in amazement. Not one of them had ever seen a Wizard before.

"It would appear that he lacks one thing alone. Though for me to challenge his ways, it would be foolish. Where is this 'Barracutus' he spoke of?"

Minos brought Barracutus before the Wizard and Horribleecus quickly inquired, "So, Figmus lives?"

"In his writings... In his writings alone he lives. When my scroll radiated of black light, I knew that something had happened; and still he leaves another chapter for me only to be revealed when the time is right. However, even I am not the keeper of life and death. I can only prevent that which I have been gifted in."

There was a moment of silence, then Minos looked up to the Wizard and eagerly said, "You're Renovatio! As Barracutus lives, do you believe you can save him?"

"It would be a rather troublesome task, for I see that his soul is cut between the two dimensions of life and death itself. He lives only for the drive of his spirit to keep fighting. Dreams, souls, and spirits all make one being, but without a true heart they are worthless. I will do as Figmus wished, for even he himself had said that he had seen something Barracutus had, which he did not. I must take him in alone. The Soul Casters may not be pleased with other physical beings in their presence."

Minos tilted his head, "Soul Casters?"

Renovatio just nodded her head and walked past the warriors while dragging Barracutus behind her. She came to a corner of the wall and rose her arms and uttered ancient words. Suddenly, the wall began to shift and made a doorway just large enough for the two to enter. Once they had entered to the other side, the wall collapsed upon itself and dust filled the room.

The green fire began to burn more intensely, and the mosaic's stones shined brighter. Horribleecus sat back down and suggested that they wait patiently for Renovatio's return. Once again, the warriors finished reading the mosaic, "Now it is clear why this world still lives on. Knowing the bonds of time, knowing the bonds of impossibilities, knowing the bonds which keep you here are all the same as to knowing the bonds of death. For when a warrior falls, only then will he know if he limited himself. Only then will he know that the world, bound in chains, had so much more to offer. Death brings peace, this is true. Though, death is the worst price to pay for such. Can one ever master death itself? No, death is a salvation, but death is a master. It commands not to heal a heart, but to destroy it. From the first time the blood was spilled, from the first time the grave was made, only more came to follow because it sought a way to make a life know of the inevitable death to come. A perfect illusion for a once perfect world: it only seems fitting."

 

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