Fleshcrafting Technomancer 53 Song Of The Blood Seraph Final Par

"Ugh, what kind of smell is that? How can p.i.s.s smell worse than a sea lion's fart? Maybe we should start by cleaning your insides," Kilian pinched his nose and waved off the "terrible" smell. Alas, his last words only deepened Ernst's terror, making the yellow p.i.s.s pool soak his feet.

Wiggling his head in disapproval, Kilian put on a pair of black rubber gloves and tapped Ernst's cheeks.

"W-why...why can't I move?" s.h.i.+vering with tear-soaked, bloodshot eyes, Ernst stammered at Kilian.

"Willpower," he replied, clutched Ernst's neck in his right hand, and hurled him across the room to crash on a sofa. Still, Ernst couldn't move. Whether he stared into Inyoka's eyes or not seemed entirely irrelevant.

"Fear paralysis is a common thing. Instead of running before wild beasts, helpless human prey can quickly end up stranded by fear. The Compendium of Species taught me many things, and among them, what makes what race tick. Inyoka's eyes are a supercharged version of that stimulus. With shallow willpower, you only need to glance at him once, and you will become no different from a statue—a talking statue, that is," Kilian followed, and alongside Inyoka, reappeared before Ernst.

"Y-you c-can't kill me! I'm the only son of Grand Duke Rupert! The heir of Ruhkfort! My father loved me enough that he didn't bother to have another son! Also, the Department Chair of Technomancy is my elder sister and will definitely investigate my death! Even if you don't leave fingerprints, she will retrace your magical signature!" Ernst snarled, finding backbone in his background.

"You're right! Except that your sister will be the first to celebrate your death. In fact, if I didn't have other plans for it, I'd give her your head. A pity, really. Oh and, I use Fehl Magic." The words destroyed Ernst's final hopes, and mouth agape, he wept warm tears. On the list of people Esther wished to kill, the only ones above her husband were her father and siblings.

Let's not mention seeking the murderer, it would be great if she didn't cover the trails—if trails there were.

"Please forgive me! I am sorry! I don't deserve to die! It's not right! I didn't even get to touch her!" Desperate, Ernst thrashed against invisible chains, while jabbering one of the worst "don't kill me" cases in history.

"Oh? Forgive. Alright, just tell me one thing. How were you going to do it? Pin her on the ground, shove your c.o.c.k down her c.u.n.t and say, forgive me, I'm sorry? Hum? Yeah right.

You see, Ernst, sending hundreds to their death, even worthless wretches, just to secure a victory, doesn't make my heart race with excitement. I will do it because I must. Because if you don't win, you lose. And I've tasted defeat already. But making sure the likes of you draw their final breath in utter agony? Now that really gets me going," Kilian leaned forward, and whispered in Ernst's trembling ears.

"But don't worry, even sc.u.m shouldn't die in vain. Your corpse must tell an immortal tale! I call it, the Song of the Blood Seraph." All amus.e.m.e.nt vanished from Kilian's face, replaced by a deadpan gaze that only made Ernst's heart race faster.

"You're mad! You're mad! You're m-" Sinking his gloved fingers into Ernst's face, Kilian stopped his outrage and began his artwork. And though Ernst remained alive for the longest part of the macabre surgery, Kilian removed his vocal cords to make sure he couldn't scream.

Following Ernst's one-hour-long makeover, Kilian kept the result in the h.e.l.lforge, and with Cyberkinesis, hacked into the academy's recording technology to locate all those that witnessed the contact between Lena and Ernst's group. After hunting them all down, Kilian returned to the h.e.l.lforge and waited till midnight to hang the new Ernst in the dining hall.

On the following day, as thousands of students rose to enjoy breakfast along their peers, they stumbled on a scene that'd haunt them throughout the rest of their lives.

"AAAAAAAAAH!" Hundreds of blood-curdling screams, males and females alike, thundered within the dining hall as a terror-stricken crowd formed around a hanged man. Well, something with the rough shape of a man.

Strung up on a crystal chandelier by his bowels, Ernst's mutilated, gled corpse dangled in the air. His face torn off, his ribs severed from the spine and arranged to form three pairs of b.l.o.o.d.y wings. One pair faced the ceiling, another the floor, and the last aimed at the left and right. Driven by foreign magic, Ernst's hands played a symphony oddly similar to Fur Elise with his vocal cords, and on his chest, four crimson words stood, "Here lies a pig."

Dozens directly fainted, some dropped on their knees, and others still ran toward the doors, seeking the help of the instructors.

This murder, the worst single kill in Arcadian history, would reverberate throughout the empire, alarm millions, and trigger unpredicted waves of consequences.

Henceforth, the Imperial Academy took a firmer stance on inter-student strife, deployed an investigation team led by Archons to retrace Ernst's last moves, and questioned the dozens of students he abused to check their alibis. Alas, all those that could give useful testimony, those that witnessed Ernst and his goons surround Lena, were nowhere to be seen.

As for recording technology in the halls, strangely, they all malfunctioned. Appraising the magic also gave no result, prompting the department heads and headmaster to blame it on Fehl Magic. With one murder, the Imperial Academy rose to maximum alert, unwittingly thwarting the Technocracy's plans.

Meanwhile, in the following days, demented dark magi and serial killers would attempt to replicate Ernst' murder, while horror artists made it the new icon of their craft. Kilian's Blood Seraph thus conquered the horror market, with many dubbing him as the macabre genius of a century.

Unable to endure his son's fate and dark glory, Grand Duke Rupert von Rukhfort gathered his va.s.sals and made an unprecedented statement.

"It is no secret that Niklas von Skoll's rule is the worst in Arcadia's history. But since the emperor's fall, using a succession of false pretexts, the von Skoll dynasty has oppressed the Arcadian aristocracy no end! Dukes beheaded for a yes or a no! n.o.bles put under house arrest and humiliated within their houses!

And now, even the Imperial Academy, the breeder of the future, number one arcane inst.i.tution of Arcadia, dares tell the world that it can't investigate the horrid murder of its top students!

The abuse goes on and on, for the imperial family doesn't doubt its absolute power. And since none dares put its might to the test, I, Rupert von Rukhfort, dare!

Brothers and sisters, lords of ancient houses, let us raise our swords against infamy, and overthrow the scourge that keeps us all chafing in the yoke of tyranny!

Another day under von Skoll rule is another day in h.e.l.l!" Rupert's statement alarmed the world, and within three hours, threw Arcadia into civil war.

But while many wondered how the Grand Duke dared challenge the von Skolls, Kilian enjoyed turkey tails in his suite, unaware of the seismic changes he triggered.