Dahlia Town, a place full of mystery, a location familiar to very few people, and even fewer humans: the only ones living either religious zealots or fanatic cultists. Of course, there were some normal civilians, but it would be rare to see them out of their houses, and never out of the town's borders. That was because humans weren't the only ones roaming the land around Dahlia town. Lycans, more commonly known to the world as werewolves, and vampires: blood manipulating creatures, one of whom Odin had once called friend before she had disappeared, likely dead in a ditch somewhere. That was the truth of the life Odin lived: it was short lived in many cases. It was true that Yumi, the old woman in a demon's body, had survived to a very respectable age, but she was the one in a million that had. The majority would find themselves dead at a young age, cast out in a battle that was not of their choosing to die for another. The few that chose their battles would still fight against stronger opponents and fall. In a magical world like Fiore, with all its politics and guilds, death was an inevitability to most, and Odin was indeed one of those who had narrowly avoided it already, having only been left alive by the 'grace' of his opponents. That was the worst part. Odin would much rather have simply been killed, rather than disgraced in such a fashion: left alive and even cared for by those he had tried to kill. As a dark mage, hell as any mage regardless of alignment, it was pathetic, but it was time to put it in the past and move on.

The Forsaken Cemetery was the final resting place of many mages and civilians, from great warriors to the local shopkeepers, they could be found here, but Odin wasn't here to pay any homage to the deceased. Today was about the living, specifically about Odin himself. Too many times had he lost a fight; too many times had he been forced to rely on others, it was time for it to stop. Time for the dark mage to become more, to cast off his weakness in favour of more strength. After all, when one reached rock bottom, there was only one way to go.

Or was there?

There was a reason Odin had chosen Dahlia as his testing ground. One of the reasons was of course because of how secluded it was, as this was not a time where the mage wished to be disturbed, but there was more to it than that. Dahlia had always been a place touched by a different kind of magic, a darker magic than any other town in Fiore, potentially in Earthland. There had been a multitude of wars fought for even more reasons, littering the earth beneath the town with corpses, not to mention the creatures of the night that called the town home. The lycans and the vampires. But Dahlia had also been the only town with any connection to a third type of humanoid: one boasting a much superior power to the previous two, yet with much greater a cost. Dahlia was the only town in known history that had managed to produce a Lich: a creature of undeath, and a wielder of the darkest magics.

There was, however, one problem. The Lich that had once roamed Dahlia had since perished: destroyed by the church eons ago by an angel of light. Because of this, there was no way to simply walk up and ask a being how to become one, and the written word could only hold so many secrets. After all, it had taken Odin a month of searching through dusty old tomes to find even one sliver of knowledge about the creature of undeath, and that was only a brief mention about the town of darkness, which had brought Odin here. After arriving in Dahlia, more information began to appear, mostly in the form of dark grimoires and the ravings of lunatics: very few of whom able to form coherent thoughts, let alone spill the secrets of the Lich.

There was one thing though. One bit of knowledge that Odin had managed to piece together from the jabbering of his sources. It was an obvious truth, but one that could hold much more meaning if one were willing to delve into the applications of it. A lich was a being that lived on the precipice: not quite dead but certainly no longer alive, and there was only really one way to find out how that could be translated into actions.

To gain power, Odin had to be willing to sacrifice his own life.

As beings of death, Liches were renowned for their mastery over the dark arts, and their necromantic ways of controlling the deceased and bringing them back to fight. This came fraught with problems, as Odin was seeking a power that was wholly different from his current power, thereby suggesting (despite not being verbal about it) that Lucifer was not enough, and that he was weak, something the demon would not abide. It was for that reason that Odin had not transformed into the demon for some time, more concerned as to what might happen if he did, and whether or not he would get his body back unharmed from the prince. Of all the demon princes, Odin's was without a doubt the hardest to argue with: being the embodiment of pride, he would never accept being wrong. Even now, at the back of his mind, Odin felt something, a force, tugging at his, trying to take over and cause Odin to slip away for good. It was a mutual understanding, they both knew what the other was planning, but neither one of them had, as of yet, called the other out. The way today was going though, that would no doubt change very soon.

To unlock the powers of the Lich, Odin would have to die, that much was obvious to the dark mage. What was not yet apparent was how he was to go about that, as there had to be some kind of way to go about it, otherwise everyone would return as a Lich. Some kind of ritual killing made the most sense, but of course, Odin had no idea exactly what he needed to do. There was no step by step procedure as to how the previous Lich had managed, and even then it was likely that Odin would have to do something different, given his unique circumstances.

At Odin's hips were two knuckle blades that he had recently purchased, more so to have a weapon at hand after losing his previous sword. They didn't have much in the way of range, but they were powerful, and their length could be increased with the power of a useful little spell that they both possessed. It was also the only way Odin could ensure that he died this night, and was able to make it swift and painless, or as painless as suicide could be. He had an idea of how to become the darkness within him, but it was extremely risky and he'd only get one shot at it. Walking to a more deserted area in the cemetery, Odin went about digging a grave for himself: deep enough to hide his body from passing bystanders, but shallow enough that he could climb out of it once he rose, if he even did. The grave was the length of Odin plus a little bit extra, just to make sure he was comfortable if he did end up dying from suicide, he wanted to at least have a proper grave to rest in. If this was to be Odin's final hour, then he wanted to leave this world properly.

He stood on his grave, and equipped one of his knives onto his right hand, sliding his fingers through the proper entrances, with his thumb wrapped around the hilt. Even Odin, full of pride from the influence of Lucifer, had to admit that, if he died and someone found his body with his knife equipped and in navy training gear, he'd certainly be some sight. How pathetic would he look?

That was a thought that had passed through the mage's mind a lot recently. He knew he was weak, and he knew that he had to improve, but he had yet to actually do anything about it. Yes, he had bought the knives, yes he had trained new skills to use in battle, but he had not done anything drastic, and the only way to gain any kind of power was to break the rules and go for it. Holding the equipped blade perpendicular to Odin's own body, directly in front of his heart, the olive haired mage took his free hand, and plunged the blade into his flesh, screaming as the sharp edge pierced his skin, and kept going towards his heart.

Tears began to roll down the dark mage's face. Not tears of pain, but tears of fear. This close to death, every pent up emotion was being released into the blade, willing it further as it continued on its journey. Tears and screams, rage and frustration and pain. Rage at how many battles he had lost, and how many times he had made simple miscalculations, losing him those fights. Frustration at how many times he had been spared by his opponents, despite deserving to die. And pain, but not just physical from the blade, but pain at having failed so many times, and having never felt powerful. Pain for always being weak and pathetic, having to rely on others without being able to do anything for himself.

The blade pierced Odin's heart. His tears and screams stopped as he slumped into the grave he dug for himself, as he took his last breath, and passed on.

His eyes opened, and all was black. It was a strange feeling, waking up after feeling yourself die, and knowing that you were, in fact, dead. Especially because Odin didn't know where he was, as it certainly wasn't Dahlia any more. Everything was black, covered in shadows with only one figure standing, illuminated by their golden hair, facing away from the olive haired mage. Everything felt strange in this place, wherever he was. He could still move as if he were alive and in Fiore, but there was a strange flow to everything, as if he was only moving in his mind, and not physically moving a body. He felt lighter, but not in any way that would make any difference. He was just in a strange new place that didn't feel right, and the only other person even remotely close to him was now only a few meters ahead, as Odin had started walking towards his location. It was then that the being turned, and Odin realised who it was, as he stood only a few inches taller than Odin himself. On the back of the figure had been two ripped wings that protruded from his back, and just above his forehead were two golden horns. Despite having become him many times, Odin had never studied the body of Lucifer as he did now. He had felt the wings himself, as well as the horns, but he had never truly seen what he looked like as he changed. But, looking into those crimson eyes, he knew. He was still dead, or at least dying, and this was inside his head: a unique place inhabited only by Odin, and his demonic partner. In dying, Odin had been brought here by the demon for one last confrontation.

"So you think me not strong enough? You think me weak? You think that you can do better without my powers, Odin? How amusing. You have lost battles because of your own weakness, do not put any of that blame on my shoulders, when it is you who should bear that burden."

Demon prince of pride, naturally not a fan of being discarded for more power. Odin knew that he was going to have to face the demon in battle, something he had never even considered a possibility before. He had always been with Lucifer, through any other hardships he had been the one constant for as long as Odin could remember, and now he would have to fight him, using only the powers Odin himself possessed. Although, he felt something, a tug from somewhere, not unlike what he used to receive from Lucifer. The shadows were calling his name, giving him some power. He had his knives, and he had some ability over the shadows. Would that be enough to face down a demon?

"You never failed me. I was too weak and took your power for granted, never taking the time to truly master it. I need to remove you, only to become stronger through my own abilities. You may never forgive me, but know that I am sorry it has come to this, and I hope your next vessel is more worthy of you than I was."

With all words spoken, it was time for one last bout. Odin didn't know what would happen at the conclusion of the battle, he just knew that he needed to win.

Fighting against someone who's power Odin had come to wholly rely upon since birth was a strange experience, that much could be said without any doubt. Every spell at Lucifer's disposal, Odin knew well, having trained them all himself, and having used most of them in a fight. He knew how the demon liked to fight, or at least had an idea from how both Odin himself fought, as from estimations made with the knowledge of Lucifer's personality. He was a prideful man, and loved to feel powerful. He would not be one to ignore 'foul play' if it allowed him the victory, but neither would he openly seek it out, only using sneaky tricks when he was forced to.

There were only really three spells that Odin had to watch out for: Incinerate, Raze and Burn. The strongest of the three, incinerate, was a large cone that would wipe out whatever was struck by it, and it would have to be avoided no matter what. The second of the two, Raze, would only be effective at close range, which wouldn't have been a problem, if Odin had anything to fight with beyond his two knives, weapons that excelled when used at close range. If the dark mage was able to get a hit in, it would be unlikely that he would escape unscathed, as the demon would no doubt strike back. Burn was less of an issue as the others, provided Odin stayed mobile, as it would create orbs, potentially one but likely more, each of which capable of dealing a fraction of the total damage. All Odin had to do was avoid most of the orbs, a few burns from one or two wouldn't be an issue if there were four orbs.

Beyond that, there was a slight advantage that Odin himself held. For one, he had never used his two new weapons before, so Lucifer had no idea how Odin would fight with them: an advantage that was slightly cancelled out by Odin's lack of practice with them. But beyond that, there were the shadows that were calling him, asking for Odin to use their power despite not knowing how to call upon it, or what it was he could do, but there was only one thing to do. He began running at Lucifer, much to the amusement of the demon.

As expected, the demon began by using Incinerate to burn Odin. What he didn't calculate for was how close Odin would be after having walked towards the demon during their conversation, allowing his dash to place him effectively in front of his golden haired opponent. This still posed a problem, as he was now going to receive the full force of the spell at point blank range, but it was then that a surge of power flowed through Odin's feet. Taking a quick step to his left, he was moved by the darkness around Lucifer, allowing him to strike as he did so. The demon could bleed it seemed, and with his new powers, this could actually work.

What felt like hours passed, but there was no way to have any inkling of time in the strange place that Odin found himself, all he knew was that he was tired, having worn away at Lucifer as much as the demon had in turn worn away at the dark mage. Both of them only had a little bit of time left, one more strike would take each one of them out. Odin's body was covered in burns from the many spells he had endured, only slightly being able to walk and stand. Movement was sluggish and his skin was raw and felt as though it was on fire: something that might have been a very real possibility considering his foe. But Odin had to win this fight, and with only a simple fifteen meters between him and Lucifer, the ball was in Odin's court. For while he may have suffered a great deal of damage at the hands of his once partner turned enemy, he had also dealt as much. Where Odin burned, Lucifer had lost an eye from a glancing blow to his face, meaning his vision was slow and weaker. One more strike was all that was required, and Odin was ready to deliver.

He took one step, clenched his left first, and snapped his right fingers. His step allowed his shadow to grow, which had little affect currently, but in tandem would spell victory for Odin. His clenched fist caused him to surge forward 5m, closing the distance between himself and Lucifer as he did so, but the distance was closed yet again by the final spell. Odin's shadow had grown in length, which now allowed it to touch Lucifer's own. From this, the dark mage used the final spell to pull the demon towards Odin, who dashed forwards, both blades extended across the location of the demon's neck, who ran directly into them. With a little force, and by drawing his hands back to their normal positions, Odin relieved Lucifer's head from his body, causing fire to engulf the demon as he moved on to the next world, no doubt patient enough to wait for his next vessel, despite his pride never allowing him to admit this victory.

With the battle won, Odin didn't know what would come. He wasn't sure that he'd win, and so didn't bother to think about what came next. But, as he said that, the fires that once engulfed Lucifer covered Odin, burning the flesh from his skin as he screamed in agony, feeling the flesh peel and turn to ash in front of him. It only took a few seconds, but they were the worst seconds of his life, as his consciousness began to fall, landing back into his body, as he woke up in Fiore.

Rising to a stand, and exiting his grave, Odin knew that something had changed, something drastic. He wore the same clothes, but he had lost all flesh and organs, becoming a skeleton, kept alive only by magic. Whatever had happened, however he had managed to win, he had done it. He was a Lich, and the powers of darkness were now his to command.

He was the Reaper, and it was time to collect.

-Exit-