"I'd love it if it were longer," Mattheus replies with a scornful look.
The two men, both in full black face off each other again. Martyn's blue hair is of a much darker shade now.
"You must be wondering why I'm still alive. Well, I'd have died, if not for the black dragon's blood I drank before you caught up with me," Martyn continues.
"Devil's Blood?! You really are out of your mind!" Mattheus asks incredulously.
"No, I'm not. Power is but a means to achieve a noble aim, to ensure that people can enjoy their lives here on earth. Since Kai went to kill the black dragon, I might as well grab the opportunity offered to me to increase my power to face the Demonlord Nuriel."
"Noble aim indeed. I wonder what happens AFTER you defeat Nuriel. Anywayz, Nuriel is dead. Matthieu and I killed him after 'killing' you. We needn't you nor your powers to rid Silvenlore of him," Mattheus face is now grim.
"Well, apparenly you guys didn't put him down well enough. Nuriel has returned, roaming the earth building up his forces. I'm here to make a proposal. I don't know how or why he's back or why he came over to our world in the first place. What I do know is that we must kill him and prevent him from doing anymore harm. I've tracked him to a small island not far from here. I'd like you to help me defeat him. After which, I'll return to you the Relics of Edrea, so that you can return the power of Edrea."
Just then Martyn's phone rings. After a short acknowledgement, he tells Mattheus, "I've done what I came here to do. Do consider my proposition. I'll look you up again in a week's time for your answer. It cost 3 lives to find you, although it's for a noble cause, it's still best to avoid it. So don't run too far off."
Mattheus doesn't have time to reply, Martyn turns around, his long coat fanning out behind him as he does so. Moments later, he disappears to the roar of a metallic blue 'Raging Bull'.
**********
The hitman steps out of the building he had just holed up in for the hit on one of the four notorious crime bosses of the city. The crowds are still gawking at the wreckage. The crowds seem to be very surprised at the carnage.
"Are their lives really so peaceful? The four gangland bosses must either be pretty mild people in reality or live in remarkable peaceful co-existence," the professional killer thought to himself.
He didn't have much time to follow-up with this thought though. He suddenly senses the presence of two people giving off magical aura.
"They seem like GoDs, but their auras seem somewhat different. What are they doing here? Hmm, guess there's only one way to find out."
The hitman turns into an alley and slows down his footsteps.
Behind him, two men in long trenchcoats quicken theirs and follows into the alley. Their hands reach into their trenchcoats.
In the alley, the two men find their target walking very slowly just ahead of them. Swiftly, they draw their silenced pistols & fire.
The hitman jerks forward as the bullets hit him. Surprisingly, he doesn't fall, nor look to be hurt. Even more surprisingly, the two assassins find the bullets flying back at them, popping out from their target's back. The hitman had forced out the bullets and projected them back at his assailants. They are able to dodge some ofthe now magically-charged bullets, but as were surprised by the turn of events, they still cannot prevent their weapons from being knocked out of their hands.
"Who are you? And who are you working for?" the hitman demands, his back still facing the two.
"Who we or our master are is not of your concern. All you need to know is that you need to die," one of them replies as he conjures a pair of small axes. His partner has already armed himself with a pair of maces.
"Looks like I'll have to find out from you the hard way."
The hitman takes out a small stick, just a little longer than his clenched fist. Then the two men see a blue glow coming from him. The tips of what looks like a double-sided blade can be seen. They gasped as he brings his hand down to his side again. The weapon is crescent in shape. Two curved blades are on either side of the stick he earlier took out, bathed in blue glow.
"The Moonblade! You... you're the Bluemist!"
Fear grips the two assassins. Never did they expect that they will be making a hit on a Guardian, much less one of the most powerful one. One of them throws his axes at the hitman before turning round to run, followed behind by his partner.
Bluemist turns around too, throwing his Moonblade. It glistens in the sunlight, flying like a boomerang towards the two escaping figures. It cuts right through the axes that were thrown at Bluemist, not even slowed by them as it continues it flight towards its two targets.
The trailing man turns around just in time to see the Moonblade within four feet of him. Instinctively, he crosses his maces in front of him to block.
*PING*
A knife had blocked the Moonblade just a foot away from the maces. A greyish figure descends from the left as Bluemist catches the returning Moonblade. This tall figure is in a dark grey long robe. As he turns his head, Bluemist can only see a pair of glowing green eyes. It would have looked spooky to anyone else, but not to Bluemist.
The grey figure waves his right arm, covering the two assassins from Bluemist's view with his drooping sleeve. They are gone when his arm comes back down. Immediately Bluemist rushes forward, but the figure disappears in a wall of fire spouting from the ground around him, cutting Bluemist off and leaving him standing disturbed in the alley.
"Something is not very right. His aura is different from the normal Guardians or GoDs, but yet I find it so familiar. Looks like I gotta get back into the Guardians' loop again," Bluemist says to himself.
**********
"Penny for your thoughts?" Mattheus looks up to see a familiar face.
"Hey," Mattheus gives the lady a hug. She was dressed simply in long-sleeved tees and jeans which display her slim figure. In contrast to Mattheus' melancholic image, hers is like a cowgirl, free and cheerful, "you heard my conversation with Martyn I presume."
She grins, "I knew you'd have sensed me, probably Martyn too. You're worried about his motives?"
"I have not & cannot forget what he did back then in Silvenlore. But on the other hand, now that he mentioned it, I think he might be speaking the truth after all. Nuriel said he'd be back just before he died, although I don't quite know how he can do that. And IF Nuriel really is back, it'd be more helpful if Martyn is an ally & not an enemy. But I'd still have to worry about whether he has any other motives for co-operation and what to do if he doesn't return the Relics as promised."
"Well, maybe someone can help you."
Mattheus' eyes widens, "Who?"
The lady winks, "Follow me."
**********
Matthieu slumps onto the sofa. The midday sun is high in the sky, a ray of sunglight beams through between the curtains. Outside the waves beat gently, but steadily onto the sandy beach, creating a melodious rhythm that seems to sing Matthieu into a peaceful sleep.
"Hey, ge3ge2! How was the job?" a casually-dressed young girl bounces into the room.
"Hey, business as usual. But something happened after that, and I think I'll need to make a trip back. You wanna come along? I can finally show you how it looks like."
"Wow! Finally, I can see this beautiful place you've always been telling me about," the girl claps excitedly,
"But what happened? Why do you suddenly need to go back? I thought you said you wanna leave the past behind?"
"Wellz, sometimes the past catches up on you, Carine, and you end up having to deal with it anywayz,"
Matthieu replies with a weary smile, "We'll leave in the late afternoon."
"Okie, I'll go get ready," the girl says, quickly heading up to her room.
Matthieu allows himself a smile. Carine never fails to brighten him up with her cheerful and innocent demeanor. He had met her long time ago when he travelled to ancient China to retrieve one of the ancient relics of Edrea, which was rumoured to have surfaced there. Carine was a feisty girl who terrorised the more shady pugilists there. The pugilist fraternity however was not so approving of her, partly also because of her special abilities as a Guardian, which no one there had an understanding about. Recognising this, Matthieu inducted her into the life as a Guardian and helped her settle into the new responsibilities given to her at birth. Though the rumour turned out to be just rumours, he soon gained a friend who became close as siblings and they have been each other's family since.
"Family," Matthieu thinks to himself, looking at the ring on his right index finger given to him by his father. As he kisses the blue cross on the ring, his thoughts drifts to the last days of Silvenlore.
Mattheus walks out of the chapel. Expectedly, there was nothing unusual in the chapel. Guardians can't do much on Holy Ground. If it really has something to do with the GoD, it will probably be around the chapel.
He steps into the garden, and immediately senses the magical aura. The morning sun brings a sense of warmth to the garden, offering some comfort to Mattheus as he starts to look for the source of the aura.
Gardens hold a special meaning to Mattheus, especially gardens with ponds. Much of his memories like in the garden of the House of Mystical Arts back in Silvenlore. It was in a garden that he discovered who he really is. Soon enough, Mattheus' mind wanders back in time...
**********
"You have a special gift, Mattheus," White Beard, his mentor, told him, "& because of that, you have a special mission." They were taking a walk in the sprawling garden of the magic school. White Beard, true to his name, is an old man with long flowing white beard and dressed in white robes. Walking with a spring in his steps, he looks pretty healthy and energetic for a man his age, which remains unsurprisingly unknown.
"I've been watching your progress," White Beard continued. "You possess exceptional talent in the mystical arts. Not only are you a quick learner, your spells are also more powerful than normally achievable at your level. In fact, no one has ever been able to attain the performance you have. Such prowess are natural. Even we mentors can only pass on the knowledge of spellcasting to you. The rest comes from experience and your natural ability.
"I'm sure you know about our founder, Magnus, right? He is also the leader of a group called the Guardians of Light, or Guardians for short. This is a group of special individuals, born with the essence of the mystical arts, known as mana, in them. It is because of them that we have the mystical arts students like you learn today. What we learn can only help us to develop our skills and mystical powers to a certain level. Drawing upon these mana, Guardians are able to intensify these spells. Mana also enable Guardians simple manipulations of the natural environment around them. As Magnus once told me, they are like mortal angels God sends to watch over his people. Though they are mortal, they do not die from old age, normal injuries or illnesses. They live on to the end of time, roaming this earth, seeking to benefit humanity with the powers they've been given. They also bear the duty of facing the minions of the Devil in this world. They can be killed by magic, and only by magic. Thus magical weapons and spells are the only things that can hurt them.
"I'm telling you all this, because I think you may be one of them, born with this essence in you."
Up until now, Mattheus had been listening intently, like a child listening to a fascinating fairy tale. But as White Beard narrated, he started to wonder why his mentor was telling him all this. And despite half expecting it, the last statement hit him like a heavy brick.
To some people, it might be a good thing to possess great power. But beyond that, Mattheus saw that having great power also mean having greater expectations being put on the wielder. Did he really want such expectations on his shoulders? All he ever wanted was to spend his life with the one he loves, pursuing his interest in mystical arts, and hopefully making it one he could earn his living from. That was the kind of life he wanted, peaceful and in the company and comfort of those he loves. Fighting demons, he'd rather not have a piece of that.
White Beard saw his hesitation. Trying to comfort him, White Beard then told Mattheus, "Don't worry. You're not alone. Your cousins too show great potential in the mystical arts too. You'll all need to go through a test before I can confirm if you boys really are Guardians. No matter the result, do remember this, ultimately, whatever powers you possess, you will still have to decide how you want to use them, and whether you want to use them."
These words Mattheus will never forget.
**********
Mattheus can feel the strength of the magical aura getting stronger. It didn't take long for Mattheus to find the powdery ashes in the grass. Using his powerful psionic magic, he is able to see the fateful moment before Fr Rob turned to dust.
"It can't be!" Mattheus' face turns white.
"He should have died that day! I killed him myself!"
A turtle surfaces from under the water. The stillness of the water surface is broken by the ripples that drifts outwards. As the surface calms down, the reflection of another figure on the other side of the pond materialises.
"You!"
**********
Two men stood at opposite ends of the pond, eyes fixed on each other. Their long coats flowing in the wind that blew. On first glance, they couldn't look more different. One in white, the other in black. One with jet black hair, the other with blue. But if one looked more carefully, one would realise that their faces actually look almost the same. Both even have white streaks on their fringes.
The man in white took out a golden rod. It was capped with a pair of angel wings pointed down. Slowly the wings opened outwards. From the centre, a blade, covered with a white glow, emerged slowly. The man in black too conjured a golden rod in his right hand. But this one was capped with a pair dragon's wings, which also opened outwards, a blade, this one covered with a blue glow, emerged.
Both men tightened their grip on their swords. Not another word was passed, their stillness a stark contrast to the growing winds around them. And for some time, they stood there, as if frozen in the passage of time.
After what seemed like an eternity, the man in white runs across the surface of the pond, leaping into the air just before reaching the man in black. As he somersaulted, he brought his sword down on his opponent's head.
"Ha! Is that all u can do, Mattheus?" the man in black laughed as he blocked the blow with his sword. Mattheus pushed himself higher into the air as the swords clashed.
"This is just the appetiser my dear Martyn," Mattheus replied as he landed some distance behind Martyn.
"Come on, we should be working work together. You, Mathieu and me. Together, with the power of the Edrean crystal, the three of us can do anything. We won't have to worry about things going against our ways. WE are the ones who determine what's going to happen."
"For that YOU killed those I love. You call that going MY way?" came the angry reply as they turned round to face each other again.
**********
There is intense anger and pain in Mattheus' eyes, hatefully glaring forward.
Martyn's eyes are focused in front of him too, in them a mixture of anger and pity fills.
**********
"With all these power, we can SAVE our loved ones, even bring them back to life! Don't you see this?! We can get rid of anything that threatens us again."
Mattheus started towards Martyn again. Slowly picking up speed until he was charging at lightning speed, sword raised over his left shoulder, towards the black figure that embodied his biggest enemy. Martyn also charged in, his sword pointed in front of him. Just before his body met the incoming tip of the sword, Mattheus commanded silently, "Blink!"
Amazingly, Mattheus passed right through Martyn and his sword. He then turned around and slashed hard. An arc of white glow flew out towards Martyn, who released his own blue arc with his sword as he mirrored Mattheus' turn. They both did not have time to react. The arcs went through each other & through their respective targets.
Both men staggered back a little, holding their chests where the arcs had gone through. For normal men, it would have been a fatal blow, with the magical force slicing through anything in its path. But for Guardians, their mana absorbs the damage, thus preventing physical injury to the body. However, they still feel the pain, and the weakening of the mystical essence in their bodies.
Immediately Mattheus leapt at Martyn again, bringing his blade down on Martyn's head. Martyn blocked the blow and began returning blows of his own. Several rounds of slashing and thrusting ensued. Sparks flew and clanging of metal echoed in the blowing wind.
"Not bad, not bad indeed," Martyn remarked as they pressed their swords together. Then drawing upon his mana, he blasted Mattheus away with a powerful magic missile from his left hand. "I must thank you, Mattheus. Now I know how much more powerful I am compared with the second-best of the Guardians. You forget that I now have the power of the Edrea in me."
"It was because of your draining of the power of the Edrean crystal that all this has happened. It was because of you, I am about to lose all those around me. Even if it costs my life, I must restore the crystal's power and save them."
Just then, the sound of an explosion ripped through the dark sky. An old lady ran out and shouted at Mattheus, "The vortex just shattered the crystal and blew up the Sacred Chamber! White Beard is still trying to close the vortex!"
"You're too late Mattheus. Stop fighting me. I'm not your real enemy. I AM the only answer to the recovery of everything you had. With our powers, we can forge the future, and gain back all that we have wanted," Martyn told Mattheus with an air of superiority.
"Never! What I've always wanted is here, and what's done can never be undone. There are some things even our powers can never undo," Mattheus was charging at Martyn again, "Get out of here Trish, it's dangerous here. Don't worry, everything will be fine soon."
Martyn grinned and launched himself into the air. He clasped both hands on the hilt and raised it high above him. The blue glow of the sword's blade intensified as mystical energy coursed from his body to the blade. In a swift motion, he brought the sword down. A fiery blue arc sliced through the air down at Mattheus. With quick reflexes, Mattheus jumped back as the ground exploded under him. To his surprise, a wave of mystical energy followed from the explosion, catching him in mid-air, and knocking him far back.
Trisha was shocked by the scene. Mustering up whatever energy she still had remaining, she let fly several magic missiles at Martyn. Martyn laughed casually and with a swing of his sword, he reflected the missiles back at Trisha, knocking her out. He then proceeded to finish Mattheus off, rushing forward and plunging his sword into Mattheus' abdomen as he struggled back to his feet.
"I'm sorry dear cousin," Martyn muttered in Mattheus' face. Mattheus's face contorted in pain. Martyn withdrew his sword and took a few steps back. The sword was now stained with blood. Martyn smiled to himself as he took more steps back. Mattheus was on his knees now. He stared at Martyn, the anger still in his eyes. He tried to get up again, but collapsed instead. Lying on the ground, he tried to heal himself magically. But the injury was mortal. He looked at the fallen Trisha and was suddenly overwhelmed with sadness. He had failed to protect his loved ones.
Strangely, Mattheus suddenly felt a rush of energy flowing through his body. Pain started to ease and he started to feel refreshed. Soon he found himself floating. Martyn noticed something stranged too. He was more surprised to see Mattheus' body starting to float up to an upright position. Mattheus slowly levitated, a white glow surrounding him. From his back, a white outline of a pair of angel wings began to form. Mattheus himself felt revitalised. His wounds had healed.
Martyn gasped as he saw this. "Eternal Awakening!" he exclaimed inwardly.
Mattheus too realised what was happening to him. This was the legendary skill called "Eternal Awakening". He wasn't sure when or how he had mastered it, but he knew from the legends he had heard that this was his only chance of stopping Martyn.
It was a majestic sight. Mattheus was floating in mid-air, a big pair of angel wings spread behind him. Mattheus stretched out his arms, drawing upon all the energy he had in him. The white glow grew stronger, until it was almost blinding. Martyn shielded his eyes. Fear began to grow in him. Fear began to grow in him when he felt the power of Edrea flowing out of him. He looked up to see that it was flowing into Mattheus.
Mattheus then bent forward, pointing his arms to Martyn. Immediately, what looked like millions of magical needles shot out from the flapping wings. Some headed for Trisha, healing her when they hit her. Slowly, Trisha began to look younger, until she was restored to her normal young look. Meanwhile, the rest of the needles passed right through Martyn, whose eyes were now wide with shock. He stood very still, unable to move. The excruciating pain pounding his senses till they short-circuited. His mind went blank.
Martyn fell in his face as Mattheus floated back down, but as he landed, he too slumped to the ground from exhaustion.
The sun glistens off the glass windows on the sides of Samson Towers. The city is bustling with the morning rush hour traffic. Down in the streets below, the daily drama of impatient drivers blast horns and shout curses at one another unfolds. Yet another ordinary day in another ordinary city.
**********
A limousine pulled over by the side of a building. Across the road, a pair of eyes watch from a window as its passengers enter the building. Two men remain outside the building, watchful eyes scanning the surrounding environment for any sign of trouble. The driver leans against his car, puffing away at his cigarette. Occasionally whistling at young girls walking past.
**********
"Make sure you have your men ready outside once he enters the conference room. I don't trust this guy.
If he can retrieve the artifact, he can't be that simple a man. Make sure his step out of the room is his last."
"Understood boss," a man of medium build acknowledged as the entourage walk into the lobby of Stevenson Building.
"Good morning, Mr Stevenson," greet the guards as they open the door to a luxurious conference room.
The well-built man of 40s proceeds to take his seat at one end of the table, his bodyguards distribute themselves around the room. Smiling to himself, Mr Stevenson takes this moment before the meeting starts proper to congratulate himself on his astute purchase. Meanwhile outside, his aide passes on some instructions to one of the guards, who runs off quickly to carry them out. The aide then enters the room, doors closing behind him.
**********
The man at the window did a final check of his rifle. Looking at his watch, he mutters to himself,"The time is coming." He gives the area around the limo a final look, then places his head on the rifle, picking his first target through the scope attached to the rifle.
**********
A young man walks down the corridor, towards the double doors of the conference room. Dressed in a black suit and pants set, brown hair neatly combed back, he looks like an executive just under 30. The guards stop him at the door. Setting down the metal briefcase he was carrying, he raises his hands to his side to allow a guard to do a body search. Satisfied, the guards open the door for him. The young man nods in appreciation at the guard on his left before entering the spacious room. The guard's look remains cold. As the doors close behind the young man, a group of guards, armed with sub-machine guns take up positions along the corridor.
Inside, the young man takes up his place at the opposite end of Mr Stevenson.
"Mr Javier, thank you for coming down today. I suppose the item is in that briefcase?" Mr Stevenson begins.
The young man smiles and nods in reply. He sets the briefcase on the table and opens it.
"Here it is," the young man says, as he tilts the briefcase to allow Mr Stevenson a look. Mr Stevenson smiles and nods to his aide, who dutifully brings out a laptop and makes his way across the table.
"Please check the account number, then press this key to start the transfer," the aide says as he set the laptop in front of Javier. Javier does so and the aide returns to his place, metal briefcase in hand.
With that, both Javier and Mr Stevenson rise from their seats and proceed to the middle of the table, right hands held out for a handshake.
"It's been a pleasure doing business with you," says a smiling Mr Stevenson.
"The pleasure's all mine," replies Javier. He then takes a small stick from his pocket,"Would you like me show you another artifact? I think you may find it interesting."
The stick is ornate. With a circular top made of gold, bearing the head of a dragon. There are two red crystals encrusted in the eyes of the dragon. The lower part of the stick is wrapped using a black strip cloth and looks very much like a handle to hold the stick from. Mr Stevenson's eyes twinkle with interest. "What is it?" he asks.
"Well," pressing the top of the stick into Mr Stevenson's stomach. The eyes of the dragon start to glow as a small blade snaps from the top,"it is a dagger."
Immediately, handgun appears in Javier's right hand as he turns towards Mr Stevenson's aide. Mr Stevenson, already collapsing to the floor, clutches at his stomach, his white shirt red with blood.
Everyone in the room is caught off-guard by the sudden turn of events. Before they can even react, the aide and the bodyguards standing behind him are already felled by muffled shots from Javier's gun.
Twisting around, making a full circle, Javier starts to pick out the guards around the room who, having just recovered from the shock, are just drawing their guns. Not one of them had a chance to fire a shot.
Turning another circle, Javier admires his work. Every single guard has a hole in his forehead.
Javier turns back to Mr Stevenson on the floor and stares coldly into the eyes of a shivering Mr Stevenson. He pulls out the dagger, drawing a weak wince from Mr Stevenson. Surprisingly, no blood remians on the dagger. The blade retracts and Javier pockets it.
"Now that you've tried my dagger, I guess you're ready go," Javier says, grinning an evil grin as he does so. He empties the rest of the magazine into Mr Stevenson's head and body, and the gun disappears in his hand.
Next, Javier picks up the metal briefcase. Walking over to the laptop, he chuckles as he read the words "Transaction complete" from the screen. He then proceeds to the door, picking up a gun from the hand of a fallen guard.
**********
A dozen gunpoints greet Javier as the door opens, but amazingly, he shows no surprise. Instinctively, the leading guard squeezes his trigger and lets rip a burst of bullets heading straight for Javier. On cue, the other guards open fire. Now it was the guards who show surprise. Their bullets seem to pass right through Javier's body as if he is a ghost.
The lead guard is gripped with horror. "Who or what is this standing before me?" he asks himself.
He didn't have much time to ponder further on that question. His comrade to his right has just fallen at the sound of a gunshot. The next gunshot is to be the last thing he hears. He can feel himself reeling back, numb. Panic has now seized him as he realises that his body no longer responds to him. Darkness envelops him, and he passes out for the very last time.
**********
Javier starts towards the guards, gun raised and firing. One by one, the guards fall, a bullet to the forehead. A few manage to get some shots off but in their panic they didn't bother to aim. One or two shots hit Javier though, and he flinches as they enter his body. Seeing this, the guards start to recover but it is too late. In just half a minute, Javier has worked his way through the group. He discards his gun and pauses to look at his wounds. The wounds start to heal, pushing out the bullets that breached his body. Then with a satisfied smile, he walks into the elevator and out Stevenson Building.
**********
The man who stood guard on the right of the entrance crumples to the ground as the men come out. In a knee-jerk reaction, the bodyguards scramble to get their charge into the safety of the limo, just as the other man who stood guard falls to another sniper shot. The driver has just gotten into the safety of the bulletproof car too, or so he thinks, and is starting up the vehicle.
The man at the window smiles to himself as he picks up a nearby device and pushes a button on it.
*beep beep*
*BOOM*
A fiery cloud shot up as the limo exploded. Nearby windows are shattered by the loud bang. Already a crowd is gathering nearby, though not too near for fear of secondary explosions. After taking in everything that has happened, the man at the window checks his watch again and starts to pack up.
Just as the hitman turns away from the window, a man in a black leather coat comes out from the crowd and heads towards the wreckage. He reaches into the burning back seat and picks up a metal case, before continuing on down the street, seemingly untouched by the fire. This drew gasps from the crowd behind him.
**********
At about the same time, the monotony of the urban morning is broken by a loud explosion rocking the 20th floor of Samson Towers. As if on cue, windows in the building and those of the other buildings and vehicles around shatter in unison. Through the 20th floor window, flies a burning body, which then lands hard on the bonnet of a car below, frightening the couple in it. There is a virtual standstill as everyone got out of their vehicles to find out what happened.
There's a look of weariness on the face. Behind, sunshine beams down through the stained glass. There is tranquility in this place.
Beyond the weary look, there is a sense of peace. He gazes down upon the quiet, empty space in front of Him, looking upon all who come to Him in a fixed gaze. He may be presented in a statue, but His presence can still be felt, at least by the lone figure in the otherwise empty chapel.
Kneeling in the second row of pews, hands clasped, eyes fixed on the old but elegant statue, the figure seems very much part of the peaceful existence of this small cosy place.
A dove lands just beside the figure. But just as quickly, it flies off. The silence is broken by the flapping of wings, followed by the clicking of heels.
The figure remains unstirred.
"You seem pretty calm..." comes a voice,"considering what shall befall upon you in a moment's time."
No response. No reaction.
"Well, silence doesn't mean time will stop for you. You had your chance to utter your last words. Now I shall claim your life," there is a hint of arrogance in the voice.
"There shall be no strife, no bloodshed on Holy Ground," the figure reminded.
"Hahahaha... do you think I care?" comes the obnoxious retort as this intruder to the peace lifts his gun.
*BANG*
"Arrrgh!"
The intruder grips his hand in pain, bloodied from the explosion of the gun he held only momentarily before.
"I will not accept this!"
With that, the intruder raises his other hand, his palm holding out at the figure in the pew, who, even now, has not moved a single inch.
Suddenly, electrical energy course up the intruder's arm and through his whole body. Brought to his knees as he convulses, he utters his final words,"H..h..how c..coul..d t..th..is be..be ha..ha..p..p..en..n..ning? W..wh..y ar..e m..m..y p..p..pow..powers.. a..a..g..gain..s..st..t me..me?"
The shaking body bursts and disintegrates into dust. A breeze blows, scattering what remains of the intruder.
"Fool. Must be a newly-turned GoD. He was probably so full of himself that he turned over to the ranks of the Guardians of Darkness..., and brought this on himself," the figure thought to himself.
Making the sign of the cross, before kissing a ring on his right index finger, the figure stands up, genuflects and turns to head for the exit at the back of the chapel.
There is a nice cool breeze outside. It is a bright and sunny day. The figure puts on a pair of shades from his long dark coat and makes his way to a shiny black Ferrari, shimmering in the sunlight.
Moments later, all that's left are a cloud of dust and a low melodic roar in the distance.
**********
The garden is a beautiful place. Located just behind the chapel, it is Father Rob's favourite place on the chapel grounds. Standing by the pond in the centre of the garden, he goes about his daily routine of feeding the turtles in the pond. As he is throwing bread crumbs, admiring the little creatures, voice calls out.
"Father, Father!"
A tap on the shoulder. Fr Rob turns to see a handsome young man, dressed in black.
"Oh, son. Were you calling me? Sorry I'm hard of hearing. I'm afraid you need to shout at me," Fr Rob replies apologetically,"now how can I help u, son?"
"Father, I've come for confession!"
"Oh, sure sure. Come, let's go to my office. It's more private there, and you don't have to worry about other people hearing you shout out your sins," is the reply, with some laughter in the voice.
"No, no, it's ok. There don't seem to be anyone around anyway! Shall we have a stroll instead?!" the young man asked.
"But of course! Shall we begin? In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen." Fr Rob smiles with a hint of pleasant surprise.
"Bless me Father, for I am about to sin..." Fr Rob is now truly surprised. Indeed it is the first time he's heard someone begin a confession like that. His amazement didn't last long for seconds later, the surprise on his face is replaced by shock, and then pain. In less than a minute, Fr Rob crumbles into a pile of ashes, reduced to carbon by the magical fire that came out of the young man's hand.
"Ashes to ashes, dust to dust..." the young man continues as he kicks the ashes into the grass by the footpath.
He gives the garden one last look, making sure no one else is around. Then letting out a sign, he proceeds around the chapel and out to the front. He too drives off, leaving behind a dust cloud, and Fr Rob's ashes among the grass.
**********
"It'd be nice if you're here now, watching the sunrise together like we used to."
A sigh.
"Oh well, at least now you're in heaven, probably looking down on me, right? This can be such a lonely job. Guess what? Someone tried to kill me right in a chapel yesterday. I think the Guardians of Darkness doesn't give good training anymore. haha...
"Guardians, people blessed with extraordinary mastery of magic, supposedly to help the others here on earth. But we are humans afterall, though not as mortal. Never aging, never ill. Dying only by the hands of God or a fellow Guardian. However, faced with the lure of power over people, are we really a boon to the people around? If so we wouldn't have split into the Guardians of Light (Guardians for short) and Guardians of Darkness. We wouldn't be having this war 'til now.
"How I wish the world will end now, and I can go back to be with you. Ok, shouldn't take up too much of your time. You still have other people to watch over. Miss you my dear."
The sun has just risen. The glass has just been emptied. Mattheus heads back in. Setting his glass down on the bar counter, he turns up the volume of the television set, just in time to catch the headlines.
"Father Robert Leron, a priest of St Teresa's Chapel has been reported missing by the chapel caretaker. According to the police, he was last seen by the caretaker at around 10am, when the caretaker left to run some errands. The police requests anyone with information about his whereabouts to call the police hotline at 7654231. In other news..."
"Hmm... St Teresa's Chapel," Mattheus thought to himself,"That's the third case of disappearence linked to a place I've visited in the past few days. This cannot be mere coincidence can it? Looks like I need to do some backtracking."
