Three weeks had passed since the authorities made a grim discovery—the lifeless body of a young girl. As news of this tragic event reached Ixartxist's ears, he felt an urgent need to investigate. Boarding the plane, his mind was consumed by a single thought, a steadfast belief that Tassa was still alive, merely hiding from the prying eyes of the authorities.
"That body couldn't possibly be her. I know deep within my soul that she is alive, somewhere out there," Ixartxist whispered to himself, his voice filled with unwavering conviction. "She must be employing her cunning, weaving spells of survival to elude capture. Tassa, my love, my Quart, I beseech you, be safe."
As the plane soared through the sky, Ixartxist's thoughts drifted back to his conversation with Calguas, a conversation that had left a haunting imprint on his mind. Calguas had posed a grim possibility—the notion that Tassa, faced with the encroaching military, may have chosen to escape by leaping off the cliff, accompanied by Nia'le. The idea of such a tragic end weighed heavily on Ixartxist's heart.
The burden of guilt settled upon him, intensifying with each passing moment. He could no longer bring himself to drink the water before him, his worry for Tassa consuming his every thought. Placing his hand on his lap, frustration etched on his face, Ixartxist muttered to himself, his voice heavy with remorse.
"It is my fault. I was the one who called upon the police and the military to capture Tobletone. But I never anticipated that it would lead to this. If the lifeless body indeed belongs to my beloved Tassa, I shall never forgive myself," he confessed, his words tinged with sorrow and self-blame. Ixartxist's heart was torn between hope and despair, his mind plagued by unanswered questions. As he approached the scene, uncertainty loomed over him, driving him to seek the truth, no matter how painful it may be.
Ixartxist's plane finally touched down on the island where the lifeless body had been discovered. With each step he took, his mind was consumed by a single plea to the heavens, a desperate prayer for Tassa's safety. He was even willing to forsake his own principles, to avert disaster, if it meant protecting his beloved Tassa.
As he approached the shore, where the covered corpse lay, Ixartxist's nerves grew increasingly frayed. Fear coursed through his veins, visible in the trembling of his hands and the sheen of sweat upon his brow. His heart pounded in his chest, a relentless drumbeat of anxiety. Yet, amidst the turmoil, one thought echoed resolutely in his mind: "It can't be her. She's alive, she's alive, she's alive."
The sight of the corpse, concealed beneath a green blanket, sent shivers down Ixartxist's spine. The approaching police officer greeted him, informing him that this was the body they had reported at the police station. They had yet to uncover the face, as per Ixartxist's request. However, his mind was too consumed by emotion and uncertainty to truly listen. He prayed fervently that it was not Tassa, desperately clinging to the hope that she was still alive.
Ixartxist's gaze fixated on the height of the lifeless form, his doubts clouding his judgment. Memories of Quart's stature danced in his mind, but his emotions and suggestions muddled his recollection. He struggled to remember her true height, only recalling her standing next to him, her head reaching only halfway up his shoulder. This led him to question whether the corpse before him could truly be Quart. Yet, he also pondered his own towering height of 6'1", considering the possibility that she could be taller than the lifeless figure. But he always remembered her as a small girl because he, Suman, Calguas, and the other demon had the same heights; they were all 6 feet something. Confusion enveloped his thoughts, blurring his perception.
"There is no way it could be her. It's impossible," Ixartxist muttered, his arm extending to remove the cover from the corpse. His hand trembled, but he managed to compose himself in front of the onlookers. A sense of emptiness pervaded his being, a body devoid of a soul, rendering him unable to discern the true identity before him. Disliking surprises, he swiftly snatched the cover and unveiled the face, his gaze meeting that of the deceased.
The sight struck Ixartxist like a dagger to the heart. His emotions threatened to overwhelm him, tears threatening to spill forth, yet he held them back. His hands touched the ground, gripping a rock which he pulverized in his anguish. Slowly, he rose, his expression hollow, his emotions brimming over the edge. He clenched his teeth and fists, unable to bear the weight of his feelings any longer. With a heavy heart, he turned away from the lifeless face that bore the resemblance of his beloved Tassa.
Ixartxist glanced at the police officers from the corner of his eyes, his voice filled with an air of finality. He reminded them that they had witnessed what they saw, urging them to record their observations truthfully in their reports. With a wave of his hand, he cast a spell, causing the police to forget his presence, rendering them speechless and unable to question him. It was a hypnotic power he had wielded before, masquerading as a police officer when Nia'le had taken Tassa hostage. It was this same power that enabled him to orchestrate the deployment of troops and police forces, anticipating the threat Tassa posed due to the spells he had taught her. Little did he expect that she would resort to using a forbidden spell to save a single life.
As Ixartxist made his way towards the plane, a heavy silence engulfed him, rendering him unable to find words to express his grief. He paused before reaching the door, his gaze directed upward, his eyes closed briefly as he silently thanked the heavens for their actions. A tear threatened to escape, but he quickly wiped it away, determined to hold back the flood of emotions welling within him.
Boarding the plane, Ixartxist walked solemnly, his steps carrying the weight of his sorrow. He settled into his seat, placing two fingers on his forehead in a contemplative gesture. Finally, he took a deep breath, unaware that a single tear had slipped down his face, landing on his pants.
Unbeknownst to him, the flight attendant who had been observing him from behind couldn't help but be moved by his silent anguish. She bit her lip, her empathy compelling her to approach him. With a smile on her lips, she drew nearer and embraced Ixartxist, her touch grazing his chest as she whispered reassuring words.
"You don't need to worry about that girl, sir," she softly uttered. "I am confident that the authorities will find her in no time."
Ixartxist remained motionless, his eyes fixed ahead, as he listened calmly to her words. The woman continued, her voice tinged with a disturbing tone of vindictiveness.
"The girl who caused all this turmoil, she deserved her fate. She deserved to die and decay, to be consumed by the filthiest of rats. As they say, once a criminal, always a criminal. Everything that has befallen her is a just consequence. Don't you agree, Monsieur?" she asked, her words laced with a twisted satisfaction.
Ixartxist firmly pushed the flight attendant's hands away from him, his frustration boiling over. In a moment of anger, he forcefully pulled her in front of him and released her, causing her to stumble and collide with the bulkhead. The impact left her in pain, unable to stand up, as she gazed up at Ixartxist lying on the floor.
As Ixartxist approached her, his expression a mix of emptiness and fury, the flight attendant mustered the strength to speak. "Why would you do that? Did I do something wrong?" she questioned, her voice filled with confusion.
Ixartxist, his grip tightening, responded with a strained voice, "You did nothing wrong—," pausing to read her name tag, "Anna. But you said something terribly wrong. My Tassa does not deserve any of this. The blame lies with me, not her. I will not tolerate anyone, especially a flirtatious flight attendant, suggesting that she deserves such a fate."
With a forceful motion, Ixartxist threw Anna once again, his actions fueled by his emotions. He then grabbed her by the hair, causing her wounds to bleed, yet he remained unaffected by her pain. In an instant, he teleported them both onto the top of the airplane, defying gravity as they remained suspended in the air. Trembling with fear, Anna, struggling to breathe, managed to utter a question through her strained voice, "What are you...exactly?"
Ixartxist's lips curled into a smirk as he leaned closer, his grip still firm around her throat. "You will know exactly what I am when we meet again in hell," he whispered, his words dripping with a chilling certainty. Anna desperately attempted to free herself from his grasp, but her broken bones and dislocated joints rendered her efforts futile. Blood streamed down her face, obscuring her vision, as she pleaded for forgiveness and release.
Though Ixartxist did not grant her forgiveness, he did release his hold on her. The powerful gusts of wind swept Anna away, leaving her at the mercy of the elements. Ixartxist watched her with a cold gaze, contemplating whether to feel pity for her or not.
As the chaos subsided, Ixartxist returned to the interior of the plane, his demeanor calm yet haunted by the events that had transpired. Approaching his seat, he noticed a woman occupying it, her face obscured from his view. With a nonchalant stride, he continued towards her, his hand reaching for the newspaper on the table. Seating himself on the left side, he finally spoke, his voice laced with curiosity and a touch of menace, "You asked me who I am, but should it not be I who asks, who exactly are you, you devil in disguise?"
The woman leaned against the table, her gaze fixed on Ixartxist. "Don't you remember me? It's Anna Vorey, the flight attendant you tried to kill a moments ago," she declared. In a blink of an eye, she teleported and positioned herself on Ixartxist's lap, her grip tightening on his tie. "How could you forget about me, Ixart-xist?" she questioned, her voice filled with a mix of amusement and frustration. Though Ixartxist's eyes remained devoid of emotion, a sense of agitation stirred within him.
Anna's smile widened as she playfully licked his neck, while Ixartxist continued to read the newspaper, attempting to ignore her advances. "So, what's new?" Anna inquired, her voice laced with a mischievous tone.
Ixartxist swallowed hard, stealing a cautious glance at her from the corner of his eyes. "Stop it," he commanded, his voice firm.
Yet, Anna persisted, showering him with affectionate kisses on his neck. Ixartxist voiced his complaint, urging her to refrain from sitting on his lap. Anna stood up, her anger evident, as she vehemently denied being heavy. She admonished Ixartxist for his comment, emphasizing the importance of not criticizing someone's weight, especially when speaking to a woman. "My waistline is 19 and my hips are 30. I am as alluring as any captivating character!" she retorted defiantly.
Ixartxist shook his head. "No, you're not."
Perplexed, Anna questioned his reasoning. Ixartxist scrutinized her from head to toe, casting doubt on her claim. Frustration welled up within Anna, prompting her to extend her arms and point accusingly at Ixartxist. "I am not heavy, you foolish demon! It is impolite to criticize someone's weight, especially when addressing a woman. My proportions are perfect!"
Ixartxist raised an eyebrow, his gaze questioning her assertion. "Are you serious about that?" he inquired, a hint of amusement in his voice.
Anna's exasperation grew, her confusion evident. "What on earth are you talking about?"
Suddenly, Anna produced a formidable sword out of thin air, her voice booming with anger. "How dare you address me in such a manner after all these years, Ixartxist!"
Ixartxist remained composed, meeting her gaze without flinching, as if he had anticipated her attack. Anna's eyes widened in surprise as she realized that her sword had failed to pierce him. She glanced at the chair she had inadvertently destroyed, her astonishment at her own failed attempt evident. Ixartxist, having teleported behind her, lightly tapped her shoulder, causing her to turn and face him with a mixture of annoyance and curiosity. His devious smirk only intensified her glare.
"What is your game?" Anna demanded, her voice filled with a mix of frustration and intrigue.
Ixartxist turned his back to her, a slight smile playing on his lips. "What will you do if I get pierced by that?" Amusingly asked by Ixartxist, and he continued, "You reveal your true nature far too easily. You truly are a foolish individual, Vi-lyn," he remarked, his voice tinged with gladness and amusement.