Note to all readers: I decided to create two languages for this story, and there'll always be English to go with it. It won't occur each time there is dialogue, but rather it will only be present a few times. Most of the dialogue will be in English, for your convenience (even though all characters here don't speak it. They don't even use the same alphabet. Ha!)

Once again, you will notice my tendency to create classes for my Maple fanfics... and again, I will have to warn you of mild-to-strong language.

Pop your popcorn, sit back, read, and enjoy.

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Hal Glasvind lay peacefully on a bench in Edelstein Park. He was having another nightly read at his favorite spot. It was where the moon, when full, would shine directly over the pond late at night, dispensing its elegant light to the flowers at water's edge. The wind was pleasant tonight, too, and he enjoyed it blowing through his brown hair.

Hal made his signature odd yawn as he closed the hard cover. Rising from the bench, he realized he had forgotten to slip the bookmarker into the page. Aww fudgepockets, he thought, but he brushed it off and decided he'll just turn the pages again the next day.

As he headed back to Edelstein City, a pack of fourteen Resistance members sprung from the bushes. All of them had eyes mad with murder, their weapons clutched with battle-ready enthusiasm. Hal remained unfazed, however. Their lack of tactical organization and mediocre equipment told him they were an inexperienced bunch. Perhaps just a small group of cocky new members looking to score easy on the ranks; a lone Black Wings Watchman would look tantalizing to subdue.

"Hende uf!" one of them ordered, aiming his crossbow at Hal's head. "Vir habn dras ansirclen!" Hands up! We have you surrounded!

Hal did nothing. The Black Wings Watchman merely tipped his hat down over his eyes.

"Hende uf! Is givt cainen fluctveg!" he once again bellowed. There is no escape!

"Make it easy and shoot me," Hal told him in the language. The Wild Hunter made a self content smile at the remark and pulled the trigger. The explosive-tipped bolt flew, but it landed on a fellow Wild Hunter's head at the other side of the circle. It detonated.

"Thirteen to go." Hal now wore that same self-contented smile. He had teleported a few feet to the left, dodging the bolt just in time. "You can't even aim right, and you try to shoot me? That's like giving a pencil to an illiterate!" The Resistance bunch flinched, cast their dark auras and hardened their aims.

A young Battle Mage, perhaps sixteen or seventeen it looked to Hal, immobilized him with her Dark Chain. The other mages did the same. Wild Hunters commanded each other shoot! shoot! and hastily squeezed their triggers, hoping that the Black Wings Watchman could not try any other sleazy tricks on them. Their hopes were savaged.

In place of Hal was a human-shaped turnip, peppered with craters and burnt spots from their Ricochets. They all looked in disbelief. Hal then rose unscathed from under the chains.

"Shit!" remarked a mage.

"'Shit!' is right!" quipped Hal. "What the hell did you think you were doing in the first place? The worst you could do is spoil the book for me!" He gave them another of the smiles and proceeded to throw seeds at their feet. Roots ingrained and vines sprouted, coiling themselves around the newbie bunch. Jaguars made their last roars before becoming entangled in their entirety. This time, they were immobilized.

Before he did anything further, he asked, "Which of you in this collection joined the Resistance the earliest?"

"I did!" proudly answered a hunter, his sights still set on Hal. "I've been part of the Resistance for two months! The Black Wings don't belong here! We won't let ourselves be puppeted by your self-righteous organization! To hell with the Black Mage!"

"Funny," Hal said, ignoring his slander of the Master. "You see, I'm actually a Puppeteer. I'm sure you're familiar with my boss, Francis. What a genius. Well, anyways, congratulations," he commanded the vines to cover him like a cocoon. "I'm sparing your life."

Upon sensing their fates about to come to a close, the Wild Hunters shot again. The bolts hit home, but it was another turnip. The Watchman stood a few feet from the decoy. In his hand, a Kage staff metamorphosed into a cross-shaped handle. Strings hung from its four corners and ended at a turnip on the ground. In seconds, it became humanoid in form, complete with a handsomely carved face and sported clothing made of leaves. Spikes rose from the marionette's knuckles, implication of its specialty.

"Everyone, meet Duke, my Brawler marionette."

"Shoot them! Shoot them" the others desperately insisted, but all they could do is try. Both Hal and his marionette evaded explosive bolts and dark chains. The newbie bunch didn't even know which of the two to strike down first. Being stuck to the ground, there was little else they could do. One by one, the puppet and the puppeteer eliminated them. It was over before he knew it. As Hal looked over his newly increased kill count, he noticed that only twelve bodies were sprawled on the pavement. One escaped somehow, maybe while he was taking out the rest. Ah well, he thought to himself. The cocooned Wild Hunter mumbled incomprehendly under the vines.

"We're going to have a chat," Hal told him. "There are many things about the Resistance that the Black Wings could learn from you. Let's take him to the mines, Duke." Duke separated the hunter from the Jaguar, ripping some vines which grew back to cover the two bodies. The marionette then hoisted the captive up on the shoulder and proceeded walking.

Hal stood behind for a few moments, glancing back at the twelve lives he had just extinguished. He didn't know what to think. Just my job, he told himself. Deep inside, however, he was uncertain of which side was right to take. He himself was Edelstinian, after all; he spoke the language with native fluency.

As he left Edelstein Park, the million-meso question hit him: Why exactly did we resurrect the Black Mage?