Eternal Undying Chronicles

The ability known as Fear was a supernatural power that radiated an aura of terror, affecting all those within its range or focusing on specific victims.

Though commonly associated with supernatural creatures, humans with considerable power could also wield it.

The effect of Fear was not unlike a tiger's roar, which could paralyze its prey, stopping them dead in their tracks, rendering them helpless. The ability to invoke such terror heightened significantly with supernatural beings.

In various cultures, when a human encountered a supernatural entity, they might experience a terror so profound it resembled sleep paralysis—a sensation where the victim is fully aware but utterly incapable of moving or escaping.

When the power of Fear reached its zenith, it could even shatter the minds of its victims, driving them to insanity or worse. Alicarde was using this ability on mere humans, but he was holding back, only applying just enough to intimidate them.

Yet even this restrained use sent a wave of horror through their mundane hearts, seizing their minds and locking them in a state of sheer panic.

From the humans' perspective, Alicarde transformed into a creature born from their darkest nightmares. They couldn't move, they couldn't breathe—all they could do was stand there, paralyzed by an overwhelming dread. The sensation was eerily similar to sleep paralysis, their minds screamed for them to flee, but their bodies refused to obey, trapped in a vice of fear.n/ô/vel/b//in dot c//om

Alicarde lowered his gaze, and as if a spell had been broken, the fear that gripped them dissipated. They collapsed to their knees, their faces etched with confusion and lingering terror.

Alicarde glared at them, his expression cold and unforgiving. Behind him, Elizalina smiled faintly, her eyes glowing with a subtle red hue that he did not notice. He turned around and gently took her hand.

"Elly, are you okay?" His voice was laced with concern, his eyes scanning her for any sign of harm. The very thought that these men could have hurt her, even slightly, filled him with a protective fury that he struggled to contain.

Elizalina nodded, though her eyes were filled with remorse.

"Yes, I am fine... I... I am so sorry, this was kind of my fault." She looked down, her voice trembling slightly.

Alicarde placed his hand under her chin, lifting her face so she could meet his eyes.

"It's not your fault, Elly. These guys were just jerks." His tone was gentle, yet firm, as he tried to console her.

Elizalina forced a smile, though her sadness was still evident.

"Yeah, guess you're right. I shouldn't have paid them any mind. I was just so angry when they said mean things about you." Her voice, usually so refined and poised, had softened into something more vulnerable.

Alicarde smiled back. He had noticed that Elizalina sometimes adopted his way of speaking, dropping her usual formal tone for something more casual, more like him. It made him feel closer to her, as if they were influencing each other in subtle, yet meaningful ways.

He let go of her hand and clenched his fists, his knuckles turning white.

"If they ever bother you again, I'll give them a beatdown. So you don't have to worry about me—I can hold my own against jerks like these." He flexed his muscles, trying to lighten the mood.

As he turned his gaze back to the men still trembling on the ground, Alicarde couldn't help but marvel at the effectiveness of Fear on humans.

It was almost too easy. He quickly pulled Elizalina away, worried that she might notice something unsettling about them. As they walked away, she cast a seductive smile back at the men, her innocent demeanor completely vanished, but Alicarde was too preoccupied to notice.

The rest of the day passed uneventfully, with Anne occasionally appearing in the background. Poor Anne was overwhelmed with work, preparing for the convocation day that was fast approaching.

She didn't have as much time to spend with Alicarde, and he missed her company. Yet, there was something strange he couldn't shake—the familiar smell of ethanol and hospitals seemed to linger around him, among the people he encountered.

They didn't appear to be students, yet he was certain there was no medical lab or department nearby. It was becoming more frequent, and he couldn't help but wonder why he was encountering so many of these people lately.

In the back of his mind, he noted that the rumors of people going missing were dying down. People seemed to lose interest quickly, only the nerds on urban legend blogs kept discussing it. Alicarde didn't care much either—his training with Carrisa and Amena was intense enough to keep him occupied.

Carrisa had recently mentioned that she had commissioned enchanted armor for him, designed to protect him during training and battles, so his clothes wouldn't get ruined or stained with blood. She had even hinted that she wanted to surprise him with the design she had chosen.

Despite this, he still had to lug around the guitar case with a sword hidden inside it. Both Elizalina and Anne had asked him to play for them, but he always refused, knowing that the case held a blade, not an instrument.

He hadn't contacted his family at all, and they hadn't bothered him since he had settled into his new life. Occasionally, he exchanged texts with his sisters, but nothing more. Until recently that is, when they called.

On a side note he had Warth for company. The evil horse had grown weaker while residing in his shadow, but it was still a creature too dangerous to release. Carrisa had told him that if he could defeat the monstrous bicorn in a fight, it would start to obey him—reluctantly, she had added—or if he gained a true name, it would acknowledge him.

'Telling me it would obey reluctantly doesn't exactly assure me, Carrisa,' Alicarde thought to himself. 'And I'm not in the mood to suffer more than I already do. I think I may need a therapist.'

As the day drew to a close, he was heading to his car with Elizalina by his side when she spoke up.

"So... ahhm, Ali... I wanted to, ehm, thank you for helping me today." Her usual refined tone was absent, and she seemed to struggle with her words.

Alicarde noticed her hesitation but waited patiently for her to finish.

"It's no trouble, Elly. What are friends for?" He smiled, giving her a reassuring thumbs-up.

Elizalina moved closer to him, standing directly in front of him.

"Even so... I should give my hero my thanks." She leaned in and kissed him on the cheek, her face turning beet red before she fled the scene, leaving him standing there with a wide grin on his face.

Alicarde was no stranger to receiving kisses on the cheek—his mother had showered him with them as her only son, and Carrisa had recently done the same. But Elizalina's little peck had a different effect on him, it left him grinning like an idiot. There was no one around to see him, so he didn't bother hiding his happiness.

He got into his car and drove home, still smiling like a fool. His happiness was short-lived, though, as he soon ran into Argint, the werewolf menace.

"Why the hell are you grinning like an idiot?" Argint's voice snapped him out of his reverie.

Her words brought him back to reality. "Leave me alone, I haven't the time for your antics," he muttered, trying to brush past her.

But Argint wasn't having it. She grabbed his arm, raising an eyebrow.

"Haven't...? You come back smelling weird, and now you've started talking like someone's grandpa."

Alicarde trembled slightly—he had unconsciously picked that up from Elizalina. While she had adopted his manner of speaking, was he subconsciously adopting hers?

Before he could retort, Argint grabbed him and began her usual ritual of rubbing against him.

"You are not going into this residence smelling like that. I have to sanctify you from all unclean things," she declared, her body heat seeping into his skin.

Alicarde tried to protest, but his voice came out muffled as he found himself buried in her ample chest. It felt as though she was going to suffocate him.

In his mind, he could only think, 'When I said I wanted to be suffocated with them, this was not what I meant.'

Argint was oblivious to his thoughts. She finished her ritual and let him go, her thin, skimpy clothes not helping his situation. Alicarde, after all, was a hot-blooded young man.

'We really need to start setting boundaries here,' he mused as he followed her into the mansion.

Despite this, his mood remained buoyant. He found Carrisa and Amena together on the fourth-floor balcony.

"What is the occasion, Alicarde? You seem unusually pleased today." Carrisa's voice was smooth and measured, her expression one of curiosity.

Alicarde was baffled—he had stopped grinning ages ago, so how did she know? He wasn't about to tell her that he had been grinning like an idiot because of a mere kiss on the cheek.

"Nah, nothing. It's no big deal," Alicarde replied dismissively, trying to play it cool.

She didn't believe him. She made her own conjectures.

"I suspect the forthcoming convocation ceremony stirs more excitement in you than you are willing to admit. It is, after all, tomorrow."

Alicarde wasn't surprised that she knew. This was Carrisa, after all. He had no idea how long her arms actually were or how far they reached.

'But if she's going to make her own guess, there's no need to embarrass myself by correcting her,' he contemplated.

"So what about it?" Alicarde answered cool-headedly.

She smiled at his words. "You may indulge in whatever you wish, save for fornication with strange women. Infidelity is something I find intolerable," she remarked, sipping her tea. "Of course, should your potential mistress possess the fortitude to engage me in a battle to the death, I may reconsider."

Alicarde was a bit taken aback. He sighed, giving her a tired stare.

"I'm not your husband, and you aren't Hera. Most importantly, we aren't dating; we just live together. But I do admit that was a nice attempt at being humorous. I kinda like dark humor."

She sighed, placing her teacup down gently. "I suppose we shall see in time. I have little patience for worthless people encroaching upon what is mine."

Her voice was reminiscent of a winter that would never end. He turned to Amena.

"She's kidding, right?" he asked Amena.

The doll-like maid ignored him. He turned to Argint, who was doing push-ups on the far end of the balcony.

"You heard her, right? She's joking, right?" he asked Argint.

"Guess you'll have to fuck around and find out, won't you?" Her reply was not reassuring.

In the end, he chalked it up to them pulling his leg. Tomorrow was his convocation day, he hated large crowds. He really wished he didn't have to go, but he had promised Anne they would spend the day together. If he missed it, she would end him, immortality be damned.