The Virtues' Magecraft

Page 69: Obsession

Hector's eyes widened. The son of Arnhild was in disbelief as he stared up at Arnold and Atlas, the commanding Titans of the Golden Dawn.

"Alexander Lane... is dead?!" he asked.

He was sitting at a single, simple desk in his room within the subterranean levels of the fortress, one where he usually sat to think, for alone time. That made this event, this incident a notable outlier, as two Titans loomed over him and brought him the news. 

Atlas nodded in response to Hector's question, while Arnold flashed his teeth with a wide grin. "Stabbed through the heart. It's funny. I spent so much time thinking of him, thinking of the most entertaining way to bring out the best in him and kill him all at once, but... It seems such ideas will never be brought to fruition. His own world, his own people have wrought his literal downfall. He was stabbed through the heart."

"What a waste," the Titan of the Skies spat out. "He deserved a better death. A bloodier one, with greater purpose."

"The fuck are you saying?" Atlas questioned, turning and facing his fellow Titan. 

"Alexander died in a pointless battle. It would have been far better for him to fall in a battle with meaning. A battle of his ideals, not just him being assassinated."

Atlas didn't understand Arnold's point. He rarely did. But the simple truth was, "He's dead either way. And that's good for us all."

Hector still processed each word slowly and carefully. His eyes were widened, his mouth agape for a moment before he stammered out, "He- He's really dead? Like, deceased?"

Again, Atlas nodded. He shrugged with a slight smile, a toothless grin and told Hector, "Just wanted to let you know, considering your past with him."

The Titan tapped Arnold's shoulder and turned away. That was all either of them had to say, and so, Arnold only smiled at his nephew. He ruffled Hector's dark hair as his thoughts shifted to him. A magic-less boy in complete contrast to the Titan of the Skies himself. 

But before he said anything, Hector only slapped off Arnold's hand. The boy clenched his fist. 

Arnold's grin widened as he turned away in silence and walked off with a wave. 

Hector dropped his fist and pounded it onto a book on his desk. 'Alexander Lane...' he thought. 

Even now that he was alone, he kept himself quiet and lost in his thoughts, his memories. He thought back on the horrifying sights he was met with each time he encountered that black-haired boy. He had met Alexander only twice, and he was a troublesome opponent each time. 

The first, was in the cave on Asgard. He had one order: kill the Demon-Born. And so, he prepared his blade and coated it in poison. A surprise attack was all that was needed, all to plunge his knife into the boy's chest. A proper impact would force the poison to his heart and kill him in minutes. 

Instead, Alexander Lane reacted too quickly, leaving only a sharp graze on his skin. It was still enough poison to kill a normal human in seconds, but Alexander was anything but. The Demon-Born got back up. The Demon-Born attacked and fought against his family members, against his siblings and his mother. 

The second was on Vanaheim. 

Another simple objective. Retrieve the God Crystal from the grasp of the Heavenly Virtues. Hector may have succeeded but... Alexander hunted him down to the last moment. He chased after him from portal to portal, even after he was bleeding and bruised. And how did that end?

He shuddered at the simple memory burned into his bones. The memory of a brilliant white light that crashed into his arms and shoved him away. His right arm had shattered, his left cracked apart. His ribs were broken and his entire being was shaken.