Twilight had fallen by the time Faustus Belial reached Kilian's manor. Shrouded by the night shadows, the magus stared up at the towering doors which stood before him. He contemplated on punching through the worn slabs, but soon realised that manners were a priority in this kind of situation.

He hoped to earn the professor's trust and get all the necessary information through simple conversation. How could he ever hope to receive that if he forced his way into the man's home? That would be most unwelcoming.

Instead, Belial knocked three times using the cast iron dragon shaped door knocker. The sounds rang out like gunshots in the dead of night before being swallowed up by the surrounding foliage.

Shirin De Arctus stood beside him. 'Should I accompany you inside?' she asked.

Belial glanced back. 'You may do so if you wish. I suggest you be wary though, for this man might attempt some form of retaliation if he senses our true purpose.'

The mercenary pulled her long silver hair into a high ponytail. 'I will see that I am vigilant, your highness,' she said. She tugged at the folds of the grey longcoat which sat over plated armour, hiding it from view.

Moments later the door opened and Belial's eyes widened in surprise when he caught a glimpse of the man that was Laurus Killian. The professor - a tall, well-built man with slightly weathered features - hovered in the doorway, his gaze almost suspecting as he examined the two visitors standing on his doorstep.

'Yes?' he said. 'Can I help you?'

Belial offered the man the best smile he could muster. 'Professor Killian?'

'Yes?'

'My name is Ramial Faustus. This is my assistant, Shirin De Arctus.' He gestured to Shirin, who acknowledged Killian with a curt nod. The professor returned the gesture. 'We come seeking information regarding one of your patients.'

Traces of hesitation flashed within Killian's eyes seconds before he stood aside. 'You best come in,' he said at last.

'Most kind.'

Belial pushed past him, with Shirin following closely behind. Killian shut the door and escorted them through the main lounge. They passed down a narrow corridor, which led to Killian's office - or so the magus assumed.

His assumption was proven to be correct, however, when Killian opened the door, unveiling the spacious room that was his personal office. An active fireplace stood in the far corner of the room, bathing the room a vivid orange.

'Please have a seat.' Killian wandered over to where his desk was and stood behind it.

Belial declined the professor's offer with a polite shake of his head. 'It is only a short visit,' he said, his eyes wandering about the room. The polished oak décor gave the office a refined, upscale appearance. It seemed worlds apart from the rundown castle he called home.

'So, tell me again. Why are you here, Mr Faustus?'

'Please, just call me Ramiel.' Belial dismissed Killian's formal acknowledgements with a mere wave of his hand. 'As I said before, I come seeking information regarding your latest patients.'

Killian's gaze narrowed. 'I'm afraid I cannot disclose such information. The rules surrounding my profession forbid me from doing so. I hope you understand.'

After taking a moment to consider the professor's words, Belial nodded. 'I understand,' he said. 'Tell me, Professor Killian. Do you believe in magic?'

'What kind of a question is that? If you are naïve to my exact position here, I can always-'

'That isn't what I meant.' Belial's thin lips stretched in a malicious grin. Manners had obviously failed and so it was time to change tactics. 'I know exactly who you are, Laurus Killian, but that doesn't matter,' he said, almost mockingly. 'What matters is whether you are willing to overlook the rules and give me what I'm asking, or face the consequences that come with refusing.'

Killian straightened up. 'Petty threats shall not work against me,' he said. 'And for the safety of my patients, I shall never disclose information to the likes of you.'

The professor reached behind his desk and opened a drawer. Belial waited, his grin broadening, whilst Killian rummaged through the contents stored within. Seconds passed before the professor's hand re-emerged holding a vial, which contained a strange, blood-like substance.

'I'll give you one chance.' Killian said. His words were laced with bitter hosility now. 'Leave.'

'Oh, Professor. You are a naïve fool, a dog unworthy of his-'

Belial got no further before Killian forced the lid off of the vial and thrust its contents towards him. The red liquid gushed out and expanded, transforming into a collection of deadly flames, similar to the ones still burning within the fireplace. Although marvelled by the erratic change, Belial did not let his surprise get the better of him. Instead, he thrust out his hand, welcoming the attack head-on. The flames brushed against his fingertips before diminishing with a wailing hiss.

Killian's grey brows knitted together and he took a cautious step back. 'Dragifir...?'

'Oh? You know what this is, do you?' Belial held up his hand and pointed to the silver ring around his middle finger. 'I must say I'm surprised,' he said. 'Your knowledge surrounding Ballethorne's armoury is greater than I first thought.'

'Ballethorne was a gracious, powerful wizard!' Killian snarled. 'You dare insult his memory by wielding his own creations?'

'Yes.' The magus' response was instant. 'Unnecessary aggression has clearly unfolded here, Professor. I did not want to resort to such violent tactics. But, since you refuse to cooperate to my demands, I'm afraid I have no choice but to eradicate you.'

Amusement crept its way across Killian's face. 'Ho? And how do you intend to do that? You may have Dragifir, but you cannot hope to harm me with it. It's merely a defence mechanism!'

'You are right, of course. However, I also wield this...'

Belial reached into his pocket and pulled out a collection of cards, which he held up for Killian to see. The flames resting within the fireplace reflected against the gold embroidery engraved around the edges of the worn material.

The professor's face blanched the second he saw it. 'The Tarot of Wizardry...' he whispered.

'Exactly. One of Ballethorne's most prized possessions. Oh, how many people he saved with these cards. But I don't plan on saving anybody. I only plan on using them to get what I want.'

'By spilling my blood?' Killian laughed hastily. 'Faustus, if you think that will-'

'I will not be spilling any blood here today,' Belial interjected. He reached out with his free hand and seized one card before slipping the others back inside of his pocket. 'One card, Professor. That is all I will use. One card.'

His gaze fell to the inked lettering plastered across it.

The Lord of Souls.

A vivid emerald glow materialised and fell over the card, engulfing its tattered form. Mere seconds later, a collection of deep purple flames broke free from within Killian's chest, tearing through his flesh and ripping against the material of his shirt. The professor's eyes widened and he lurched back with a horrified gasp as the violet inferno erupted from inside of him, selfishly demanding freedom.

Belial watched with an amused smile as Killian staggered round his desk towards him, gasping and choking, his light blue eyes dripping with terror. The man was but steps away when his legs gave way beneath him and he fell to the floor, where all he did was twitch and convulse.

'F-F-Fau..stu...stus...' Killian's voice was but a strangled hiss.

Belial crouched down beside him whilst he continued to writhe. 'Faustus Belial,' he whispered. 'Remember that name. It's the name of the man who killed you. Tell it to the Gods and let them know of my existence. I want them to know who I am and what I'm capable of. I want them to tremble in fear, knowing what they did. You let them know that I want revenge for the pain they caused.' He reached out, placing his hand against Killian's pale forehead. 'Let them know.'

Laurus Killian, as if comprehending the magus' request, finally succumbed to death and stopped twitching. His body relaxed and the purple flames withered, leaving a gaping, bloodless hole inside of his chest.

'I've never seen a man without a soul until now,' Belial remarked to nobody in particular. He looked round at Shirin, who stood behind him, awaiting orders. 'Okay. Let's start searching.'

* * *

It wasn't long until Shirin found the records of Laurus Killian's patients. She approached with a small leather notebook grasped between her fingers and held it out to him.

'Is this it?' he asked.

'Yes, sir,' Shirin said. Her voice was calm, monotonous. 'I am positive.'

With a satisfied nod, Belial snatched the notebook from her and flicked to the first page. It was then that he saw that she was right. Each page was dedicated to a particular patient which Laurus Killian had successfully treated. Their personal details were listed along with the causes of their injury and the treatment method used to heal them.

Belial, disregarding the unfamiliar names and past dates listed, flipped to the last page of the notebook and proceeded to read through the details. His eyes widened when he saw the recorded name of the Killian's latest patient.

His last ever patient.

'Maelstras,' he spoke the name like it was a forbidden curse. 'Erin Maelstras...'

'Maelstras?' Shirin's face darkened. 'As in the family who rule over the kingdom?'

'The very same.' Snapping the notebook shut, Belial closed his eyes. 'Okay,' he said. 'Gather the forces and tell them to ready the weapons. We are heading to Orion's Seat.

* * * *

...Belial, will you please stop killing people? Every time you murder a character, I have to make funeral arrangements. Plus, it upsets readers who liked that specific character!

Dearie me, things are really starting to turn nasty now. Any thoughts on this chapter? What do you think Belial plans on doing next?

#KillianDiedAHero