Lothair usually live without vision. Always the predefined mission.
Cut the strings he moved, where he was unbounded by rules. It was only then he realized that he was always free.
"My eyesight has gained precision. Yes, my every choice is fine, there will be no more, no more indecision."
As soon as the fire stopped churning, and the rampage was no more, the familiar cold began to sweep the land of sinners once more.
Lothair looked to the unbound ceiling, reaching out one of his hands as if he was trying to grasp the sky.
"O Winter, I had nothing but the silver connection of my family, and I wanted nothing more. It has been, it still is, held very dear to me.
"Why should I begrudge you? Since during the hours when my joy crushed the depths of my pain. You're seated there beside me?
"O Winter, I have ended, you see, by respecting you, because they were certain you will never leave me.
"Ah! I should have realized that your beauty lies in the force of your being.
"You are like those who never left the warmth corner of my poor crushed heart.
"O Winter, you are better than a well-beloved.
"Because I know that on the day of my final agony. You will be there, warming me in my sheets.
"O Winter, so that you might once again attempt to enter my heart."
Lothair crushed something on the palm that he reached out. Something invisible, something personal, and something that had been hurting him since the day he was plunged into a haunting despair.
He let it go, away from the very corner of his deeply wounded heart. The pain might still be there, but now, it was no longer aching as painful as before.
Wounds heal, and a person — they will move on to the new green, grazing the pasture that they have never seen before.
"I can see the new resolution in your eyes, student Lothair."
A tall stature of demonic manifestation nonchalantly appeared beside the dumbfounded Lothair. It was Majoreta, wearing her personalized suit of black and gray color. Cracking golden motifs could be seen embedded on its fabric, along with the bluish red crystal-shaped insignia attached on her frilled lace necktie.
Still wearing the sleepy demeanor, she leaned against the large piece of wall, crossing her arms as she gazed to the faraway land.
"You aren't even clearly facing me."
"I don't need to, I remembered enough of your face to visualize the expression you're having right now." Majoreta chuckled. "Now that you acknowledge my existence, I guess 'Santa' has already gone back to the north along with his magic sleigh. Do you have anything to say, little reindeer?"
"As if I'm going to tell you anything."
"Oh, why so?"
"The Witch of the Dead, the Overlord of Scarcity, the Whisperer of the Crimson Valley — you have too many unpleasant backgrounds for me to confess anything, Professor."
"Weird, I thought my existence was already well hidden enough."
"I did my research before I came to this academy, just like a normal delinquent." Lothair playfully sneered.
"A normal delinquent indeed." Majoreta stopped leaning to the wall, and began to step forward as he raised his hand with the finger spreaded upside down.
As if being taken to an entirely new plane of existence, the silhouette that was formerly known as Majoreta instantly expanded, binding down every entity below the grace of her shadow — throttled to the shifting ground.
The more fear someone exuded, the bigger the silhouette became, and as the victims were consumed by her existence— or that was how the spell that was cast by the Overlord of Scarcity supposedly worked. Instead of being engulfed by the overflowing presence and heart rending pressure, Lothair merely glanced back to the casting abyss.
And pointed his finger.
"Healing."
The moment that word was uttered, an arched eyebrow was raised by the Overlord of Scarcity. In a split second, what she thought to be an unknown force began to dawn on her realization.
What is he doing? How come he didn't yield? Many questions sprung up and down like a broken record, impatient to reach their proper conclusion. It never happened before, nor did she ever think that it was possible for this scenario to unfold. It was only then that she realized that the sheer paranoia had gotten her.
Both of them were taken back to their former position within their original world — to the broken, and snow-filled land of the Magus Academy. There, the unfazed Lothair finally sends out the green hue that he put onto his finger tip.
Like a gentle and soothing lighting, the green warmth traveled faster than the speed of sound as it created a zig-zagging trail of its color.
Albeit there wasn't an immediate effect, Majoreta calmly touched the part of her body that was struck by the green light.
"So this is what it feels like to be healed." She chuckled. "Not as bad as something they would describe."
"So you're just checking on me, huh." Lothair tightly hugged himself like a vulnerable squirrel, despite his gaze and expression saying otherwise. "Not gonna sugarcoat it, you really scared me there, Professor. I thought I would die!"
"Hah, you're just as amusing!"
"With that, I suppose that you have no intention to impede me in any way, hmm? You're powerful enough to decide the death of millions of demons injust a snap of a finger. Yet, you're still dilly dallying for a mere taboo breaker like me."
"I don't care about what's taboo and what's not." Majoreta drew a triangle in the air. Sizzled, the drawn shape immediately became an entrance portal to a private pocket space. She then took a single joint of the cigar before cleanly cutting the cap with a flick of her finger, and hurled it like a sword, using the friction of the air to light the cigar for consumption. "I just prefer if there are more demons dying in this Continent.
"Lately, there hasn't been a single disastrous event where millions of souls were caught in the ferrywheel of the damned since the clash of Seven Deadly Crisis, which in itself, happened five hundred years ago."
Lothair put on a wry sneer. "Why not create the catastrophe yourself? As an Overlord, you ought to possess both power and influence akin to a force of nature. Otherwise, you won't be considered as one."
"Most demons have their own preference, student Lothair. The same goes for nature itself. The ground doesn't go dry in all places, and the wind didn't rage on a neverending typhoon everywhere even if they are capable of such.
"As for me, I'm the kind of person who takes joy and satisfaction from watching far yet personal within the audience seat, not really the actor who did all of the performance."
"Why me out of all people, though?"
"The magma knows where it wants to erupt. The same as how a rainbow suddenly appeared after a rain of blood when a war rages on. It just happens."
"Hahaha… as much as I want to feel flattered, I don't think that I can beat the casualties numbers of the Seven Deadly Crisis."
Majoreta puffed her cigar, releasing an abundance of smoke into the freezing air as she danced a grin to her cheeks. "We know not of the future. Why take some pills of confidence in your pocket whenever you aren't sure of your choice?"
"I don't do drugs."
"Try taking them."
"You're a bad influence, Professor."
"Regardless of your choice, as long as I know that there will be more people who'll be plunged into the afterlife, I'll be happy to ignore my task as the academy's backer. Just remember, 'Kill and recycle~' because those who have nothing in hand might as well be dead on arrival~"
"I'll keep your words in my throat. Thank you for everything, Professor Majoreta."
Lotheir bowed, but before he could take his leave, Majoreta gave him a nonchalant question.
"Out of every plotline that a scriptwriter produced, what kind of character are you?"
Lothair turned around, showing his brand-new confident smile.
"A demon. Just, an ordinary demon, bearing an extraordinary pain."
The Witch of Death was amused.
"I see."
Just like how she appeared out of nowhere, her trace was permanently covered by the gentle touch of the winter. With many lives falling and rising above the wooden plank of the river boat, the path less unforeseen guided the rest into the light in-between.
What lies amidst this silent mourning were fluttering sheets of colorful performance shown from the far, courtesy of the northern sky. Essence of life was displayed, but never given. Such as the way of the demons — forever unforgiven.
"Father, mother… Maybe I'll visit you another time to steep some tea. As for now…"
With the new will to stand up straight, Lothair embarked to the north where the nearest city resided. Using his new conviction, he prepared an elaborate long-term plan inside his head. Not taking any sort of rest until he arrived at the city that he couldn't care less to pronounce its name, he began to search a new opportunity for his very first foundation.
He visited a middle-rated restaurant to offer himself for a job. With an almost 180 degree turn in persona, he smooth-talked his way using his definitely-not-a-lie 30 years of work experience. Together with his insane memory and downright trickery, he rose up to the position of head chef in no time!
Until at one point, he suggested the owner to stamp an irresistible deal of making a new chain under the management of Lothair's ingenious roadmap planning
The suggestion was immediately commenced with most of it being taken care of by Lothair personally. After all, it was found out that the owner was not the most amicable and ambitious sort — only having their eyes latched to the monetary gain, making it very possible for Lothair to whisper treasures and golds if things needed time and patience.
With all kinds of never-seen before marketing and simple array yet convenience menu, the new restaurant chain blew up like a plinian eruption.
In just 3 years, the business grew from one city to numerous Nether Countries. There was no sign of stopping, nothing could impede the new food-train.
Another 6 years have passed by.
The old middle-restaurant name was forgotten, overwhelmed by the massive identity of the franchise that Lothair created.
Catastro-Bistro, despite the name, was actually a fast-food restaurant. Something that was formerly foreign before Lothair introduced it into the food industry. Even with a tiny share that he offered to the old owner so that the deal kept going, Lothair managed to save a good amount of fortune that would last fifty years of retirement in a lavish lifestyle.
But instead of doing that, he permanently gave his ownership for the new chain onto someone else before freeing himself in the market of the city.
He went to a fabric store in the southeast street before going to an alchemy store, magi-item store, and many more. It was not only in the town he was in either, he embarked in a long quest to visit numerous black markets, secret merchant gatherings, and others sophisticated trading routes for more than five months.
Lothair was never sighted for the next six years after that ridiculous shopping spree. Until, his presence was seen once again on the outskirt of Thornar Town.