Duncan waited for Hilda to fall asleep before pulling himself a seat at a desk and picking up a pen.
August 5th, 1945
Hilda,
By the time you see this, I will already be halfway across the world.
Masao Kubo is still alive, and he still wields the Rakshashi Fan that I have so carelessly left behind time and time again. There is a chance that he might have taken my elixir of immortality, but I pray the worst has not yet come to pass.
I’m sorry for keeping this from you, but I do not wish to endanger you any further. I will stop him myself. If all goes well, this letter will never see the light of day. But if it doesn’t, know that I will always cherish our friendship, and I am so very proud of how far you’ve come. Fare thee well.
Ever your friend,
Duncan
He paused before setting the pen down quietly. A mad compulsion had come over him briefly, urging him to simply tear the letter and mind his own business. But he pushed the thought away, muttering an incantation under his breath as the paper glowed a light blue.
Yes, the world may deserve most of its suffering, but it didn’t change the fact that the people Duncan cared for lived in the world. He had to do this. If not for the world, then for all those who lived in it. For Hilda, for Lucy, for every innocent life he could save.
The Sorcerer finished his spell with an elegant flick of his wrist. The paper hovered in the air briefly before gradually turning invisible. Duncan’s eyes flashed golden as he felt the letter attune itself to his body.
It was a highly unlikely outcome, but Duncan had enchanted the letter to materialise if his body were somehow destroyed.
Normally, he wouldn’t even need to entertain that possibility, given his relative indestructibility. But given the chance that he might be fighting a maniac deriving his immortality from the same elixir he used, he was a little less than confident this time.
Duncan looked at the mansion’s oak tree for the last time before snapping his fingers. A faint green light lit up the side of his face as he bowed his head slightly in respect. “Goodbye, Harvey.”
He stepped into the pulsating portal.
~ ~ ~
It was slightly past dawn when The Witch’s Train finally stopped at Hiroshima’s Ghost Market.
The moment Duncan stepped out of the liminal space, planes roared over him as an air raid siren howled through the air. He stood in the middle of a three-way intersection, each road blocked off by a barricade of overturned cars and crumbled masonry.
Some civilians fled along the side of the barricades, while knots of people huddled under buildings. Explosions continued to thunder all around him as bomber planes pelted Hiroshima mercilessly with their fiery hailstones.
The witch doctor flicked inconspicuous protective charms at as many civilians as he could while he scurried down the street. Hiroshima was probably dotted with bomb shelters, but these people wouldn’t make it in time before a bomb caught them mid-escape. He could only pray that his magic shield would last long enough for them to get to safety.
Duncan flinched violently as a bomb landed a little too close, blasting him several dozen metres into a building. Rubble rained all around him as he crumpled back to the ground with the lower half of his legs missing.
The witch doctor hissed, channelling a generous amount of magic into the bloodied stumps and regenerated his legs in a few seconds. Duncan growled as annoyance overtook him. Damn it all. It was time to intervene.
He burst into the air with a snarl.
The look on the pilot’s face was almost comical as Duncan landed on the windshield like an oversized bug. Duncan snapped his fingers, transforming the glass into sand, before single-handedly ripping the pilot out of his seat. He flung the man away carelessly before charging his palms with more magic.
Duncan caught a blurry glimpse of a parachute being opened right as the plane transformed into a feather after a few more seconds. Weightlessness seized him as he tumbled through the air, but he was far from finished.
Yelling an incantation barely audible in the howling winds, a broomstick materialised from underneath him. The world stabilised itself almost immediately as Duncan slung his leg over the enchanted broom before soaring towards his next target.
He repeated the same action with the next few planes, opting to simply toss the pilots out with magic telekinesis this time, now that he could fly. Despite the bizarre situation, some of the other planes caught on and immediately tried to ram into him instead, but Duncan simply froze them with his binding spells.
Duncan inhaled sharply as he spotted another bomb hurtling towards the city. Without losing a beat, he ignored the other planes, tilting into a nosedive and rushing towards the artillery. He let go of the broomstick, stretching his fingers towards the bomb. He was so close…
Screw it. No time to waste.
“Get back here!” Golden chains burst from his palms and wrapped around the metal shell. He yanked hard, pulling the bomb towards him.
It exploded on contact with his fingers.
Duncan screamed in effort, golden light bursting from his eyes as he struggled to absorb the bomb’s energy. It was the first time he had done something like this— frankly speaking, he didn’t even know he could do this at all— but there was no way he was letting innocent people get hurt without even trying to do anything.
“Take… it… back!” Energy leaked from his palms like a rocket as it propelled his momentum into a spinning motion.
With a desperate roar, Duncan released the bomb’s power in the form of an energy ball, tossing it towards the other planes. Light flashed, followed by the sound of a dozen thunders going off at the same time.
Duncan smirked victoriously at the planes on fire, all altruism be damned now. No one hurts innocent people on his watch—
An unusually powerful gust of wind caught his attention, a lot closer this time. Duncan sharpened his gaze, materialising his broomstick again and flying towards the source of the wind. There was no doubt who that was. Time to end this once and for all.
Sure enough, a familiar figure greeted him on the devastated street. Duncan landed gracefully, dematerialising his broom just as his feet touched the ground. He walked towards the man, who was holding the Rakshashi’s Fan.
“It’s over, Kubo. You’re out of time.” Duncan glared at the wounded general. “Just give me the fan back, and we can end this peacefully.”
Kubo looked a lot worse for wear than Duncan had anticipated. His waist was crudely wrapped in a bandage, and his lips were terrifyingly pale. A small sense of pity washed over Duncan, although it was accompanied by a wave of relief as well. If Kubo was still visibly injured, then that meant that he hadn’t managed to take the elixir of life.
Still, it was obvious that he was dangerously close to death, and he needed urgent medical attention.
“Heh… you’re right. In fact, there is no time at all.” Kubo smirked weakly. “It is over.”
“If you understand that, then surrender nice and easy if you still wish to live. I can get you medical help on time.”
“History will always be written by the victors—” Kubo coughed violently, falling to his knees. “—But sometimes, the losers get to influence it.”
Duncan held back the urge to rush to him, just in case that sneaky man had something else up his sleeve.
“You truly are a saviour, Duncan Ward. I only wish we had met under different circumstances. We might even have been friends.” Kubo was losing his grip on the Rakshashi Fan. “Unfortunately, that altruistic nature of yours will be your demise.”
Duncan eyed him warily. “What are you playing at?”
“Nothing. I’ve already given up on the war. Japan is doomed, no matter what we try to do now. Death is on its way. I only used the fan to draw your attention because I wanted to speak with you one last time.”
“Ever heard of a telegram machine?”
Kubo chuckled weakly. “I have. But have you heard of the atom? Building blocks of our reality, containing an unfathomable amount of power. Power that even you and I can never hope to dream of. That is the ultimate weapon our enemies will use on us. The question is, can you survive it?”
Duncan tilted his head in confusion. “Why are you telling me this?”
“Because I was stalling. It’s true that I’ve lost, yes. But it also means I can take you down with me.”
“What do you mean—”
Duncan swung around at the sound of a whistling bomb, turning to where Kubo was pointing. His eyes widened in shock at an oval-shaped bomb hurtling straight down from right above him.
The bomber plane that dropped the payload was practically tearing through the air, probably in a bid to escape the blast radius. It looked a little like a B-29 plane, although there was something a little different.
“Goodbye, Duncan Ward.” Kubo’s voice barely registered through the horror rapidly swelling in Duncan’s mind. “May I never see you in hell.”
The light was the first to hit Duncan’s eyes, a light that was brighter than the sun itself. It seared away his retinas— for a mercy— and rendered him blind immediately. The air hit him next, its temperature rising thousands of degrees in a matter of seconds.
Scorching heat raked into his flesh, ripping it away and digging into his bones. A strange, crushing silence followed, almost as if the air was somehow collapsing into a vacuum. But there was barely enough left of Duncan to even register it now.
The city screamed. A deafening roar rolled over the Earth as though it were being forcibly torn apart. The sky peeled open as a fist of heat and devastation punched down on Hiroshima. Whatever remained of Duncan vanished in a cloud of crimson ash.
And above him, where the sun used to be, a black column of smoke rose and curled into a massive mushroom-shaped cloud.
If one were a little more imaginative, one could almost imagine a skull with hollowed eye sockets and a gaping maw. It was like staring straight into the face of Hell, a face sculpted by mankind’s own bloodied hands.
But as to whether the face belonged to a human or a demon, there wasn’t a difference anymore.19Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡeUkxgK9dM0
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