Quoted By:
-Saiyan Conqueror Quest 228 Epilogue-
<span class="mu-s">AGE 758, JERGAL'S REALM OF DEATH</span>
“You failed. Not only failed, but lost your tome to that demigod. And now you're dying from your own Death Magic.” Jergal says to you, sounding genuinely disappointed. “Such a shame. I had high hopes for you.”
“Dying? No, I'm not dying. My sister will-!” you start to protest, but a glare from the hollow eyes of the Final Scribe silence the words in your throat.
“Even a god cannot heal Death. And you have a shard of your own Death Magic still within you.” he says, as suddenly a skeletal hand appears in the air, tapping you on your bare chest. At the point of contact you can feel it, there inside you. Less than an inch from your heart, you can feel it. Death, radiating from the shard of one of your crystal blades infused with it and slowly spreading. You can feel its influence spreading like a disease, killing you from within. “There is no saving you. Without the strength to awaken, you will waste away until Death takes you. Your time in the mortal realm is over.”
His words strike with such finality that, for a moment, you believe him. But then your anger surges, no way in hell are you going out like this! Not without a fight! There is still one way you can be brought back, a special failsafe you'd built into the very fabric of your home. And if your body is still there, then there is a chance.
“Maybe, but is my body still at my home?” you ask, catching the Final Scribe by surprise. Actually stopping his writing hand a moment, you caught him so unprepared for your question. Then, with a long, weary sigh, conjures that skeletal hand once more to continue his writing, reaching into his large desk and drawing out a scrying orb. Setting it and the cushion beneath it on his desk, he lazily raises a finger to it, causing an image to coalesce. Sure enough you recognize your bedroom, remodeled from the large open room it was originally to a smaller room, to also have the kids with their own rooms on the same floor. Laying in the bed, you see your wife holding your hand in both of her own, trying to keep her tears in.
“Please. Please, come back to me.” she says, you feeling your dying heart break at seeing how upset your wife is. But before you can focus on that, suddenly your daughter bursts into the room. Immediately she seems terrified, shouting.
“MOM! Something bad's coming! All the birds are flying south away from the evil, it's really scary!”
“Meloka Wolbach? Wha-?” your wife asks, expression growing deadly serious as she realizes what you already know: Velsharoon is coming to finish the job.
