Windcrest was quiet. As the sun drooped below the horizon and families gathered in their homes for supper, the streets were nearly empty. Most shops had closed, business having been carried out hours prior. One remained open - the Alchemist. Right at the edge of the town center, tucked away between a restaurant and clothing store. Business had been particularly slow that day - the Alchemist in Ivoris had a sale going on, which while still more expensive than that of Windcrest, attracted customers from all across Skyhall.
Purple light filled the room as magic energy coursed into the weapon, coating the blade with a swirling green energy. As he grabbed onto the hilt and lifted it up, the blade responded slowly, as if twice the size it truly was. His wrist flicked to the side as he channeled magic energy from his core, in a similar way to that of a skilled swordsman. To his despair, the sword moved with swiftness unbefitting the previous response, with a faint white afterimage moving from the blade. His eyes studied the blade, watching closely as the green energy slowly shifted to a citrine, then to an orange. Once more, heâd screwed up the parameters.
He tossed the sword away in frustration, the enchanted blade clattering onto a pile of similarly messed-up swords. While all fine in their own right, the spells werenât correct. Ones meant to greatly reduce weight and magic transfer capability would instead increase the weight and boost the size of any aura conducted from it. Failure after failure, his patience had worn thin. He could nearly perfectly replicate the spells from scrolls onto other objects - why not the ones for weaponry? It felt like an insult to his skill.
With a sigh, he backed away from the table he had worked on, walking to the coatracks. His took of the alchemist robe that he wore while on the job and hung it up, the white and blue fabric contrasting the grey attire he wore beneath. As he turned to leave, he sensed it - magic in a concentration beyond any curse user heâd met. It overwhelmed his mind, everywhere and nowhere all at once, encompassing every inch around him. It was all he could sense. He clutched his head, staggering backwards to lean against the bare wall.
The attack on his sensing came to a sudden halt as a bell rang, nearly masking the sound of the door opening. Heâd forgotten to close again. He glanced up at who had entered - a person in a midnight blue cloak that concealed their entire body, with a grey mask over their face. Cracks were present upon it, red light dimly pouring from the edges where it likely met their face. Reluctantly, he shuffled back to the table from which he always enchanted, forcing himself to put on a smile.
âWelcome, what can I help you with today?â He asked as he studied tried to sense the intentions of the individual before him. The instant he did, the same overwhelming pain struck his mind and he relented, squeezing his eyes shut. When he opened them, they were right in front of him. Their arm was outstretched, covered in the same fabric as the cloak. Within the grasp of the gloved hand was a grey mask - featureless save for two black ovals as outlines for eyes.
A voice spilled across the room, coming from every side as it spoke to him. âIt needs more magic conductivity. The alchemist from Ivoris is sloppy and Iâve know you arenât.â It was an imitation of him - deepened and slightly distorted, but still his voice. He shouldâve been freaked out, horrified even, but he couldnât bother to care. âTwenty Silver, then.â He replied as he took the mask, the same price given to every customer. A steal considering the effort put into learning the enchants.
The mask gave only a faint clatter as it was placed onto the table. He looked down at the mask - a fine creation, surely made by an expert. Purple magic energy once more coated his hands as he placed one onto the mask, growing a circle from beneath it. As energy poured into the mask, he focused on the material - how the magic flowed through, each divot and crevice it could work itself into. After a minute, it was done. An unconventional enchant, but one he could do well enough.
When he looked up, the noticed a pouch on the corner of the table. He normally wouldâve checked to make sure the client had paid properly, but heâd seen similar pouches hold the same amount. He lifted the mask and offered it to the person before him, who snatched it out of his hand and hastily donned it. It slid perfectly over the mask beneath.
âIs there anything else you need?â He inquired, slowly ditching the smile that rested on his face. He just wanted to go home, not spend another half hour enchanting thirty masks belonging to some curse user. âIâd like some answers, Felix.â The name immediately peaked his attention. Howâd he know? Perhaps he had a higher bounty than he thought. Great.
âNot sure who âFelixâ is, M-My nameâs Joshua. Joshua Oâbrien.â He stuttered in an attempt to deceive the client, similarly to everyone before. The masked gaze of the figure brought no comfort, no indication his lie had been believed. âYou took that name upon arrival six months ago. To the seas, you are still Felix Gates - wanted criminal. I come a question and a request. You will benefit.â
For a moment, Gates was silent. This person had enough power to wipe him from Skyhall and the leverage to get him ousted from it. He had no choice other than to comply, risking death otherwise. âFine,â he said with a sigh, âAsk what you want.â
âWhy? What do you seek to accomplish with your life?â The voice was different - still distorted, yet now that of Ratliff, a member of his crew. He shuddered at the thought this person tracked his crew down and harmed them. âForce kingdoms into one authority, unite the War Seas, stop war.â His answered, his voice firm.
âYouâre not nearly powerful or influential enough to spark such a shift.â Such a response was unexpected to Gates. He expected disbelief at the possibility, or perhaps commendation of the noble goal. Instead, he was given only the truth. As he opened his mouth to retort, to try to deflect reality once more, they began again.
âI can help change this. I need someone to inherit my knowledge of magic, given my form is⌠unstable. You have potentially hundreds of years ahead of you alongside motivation to learn.â A gloved hand reached down the neck of their robes, searching for a moment before emerging with a deep purple gem, containing a gaseous mist that swirled within. âStudy under me for the time I have left. If you want to contend with those who oppose you, you will need what I can teach.â They extended the crystal to him. âA token of goodwill.â
A Hecate Shard - heâd read about them, but never seen one with his own eyes. If they were offering this, what else could they give him? What knowledge could he inherit? So many questions flooded his mind, the joys of the power he could obtain. Even if it meant being subservient for a time, it was worth it. His lips shaped into a smirk as he took the crystal into his hands.
âWe have a deal, then. I look forward to learning from you.â
A/N
I originally intended for this to go into my writing dump, however it quickly shaped up to be something worthy of posting. I wouldnât call it my best work, given it was mostly written at 1 AM, but itâs passable. Iâm not particularly fond of the âmasterâ character, however theyâll be gone soon enough anyways. Next writing is coming⌠eventually. Next writing will probably be about Miles Lace and his defeat at the hands of Gates (circa 1852). Naming this was annoying, I can never think of names 
. Thank you Hakita for making Ultrakill, without 1-1âs combat theme I wouldnât be able to give this a name. As always, criticism would be greatly appreciated. 15 SWORD PILE GO! I didnât even re-read this
