Watch The World Burn! (D/Arc/Job)

Neutral Grounds was a refreshing experience—it wasn't teeming with magical energy as most other towns he's been to did. But it was far bigger than any other town he's been to, too. It was like a smaller city in Pergrande and it reminded him of home. Of course, he primarily stayed with His Lordship on his property to best fulfill his duty, had his own chambers and all.

As much as he wanted to stop to explore, there was no time for such mediocre desires such as that. There was an interesting job posted on the sketchier bulletin boards today and he happened to be the lucky man to have spotted it first. He was mighty glad no one else had taken it before him because the client had requested something more up his alley this time around. There was, supposedly, a farm somewhere out here in Neutral Grounds. Arcanas found it hard to believe considering how urban the city was, but as he ventured further into its outskirts, lo and behold, small acres of farmland were scattered about the place.

Arcanas was instructed to commit arson, or burning things in general, for his client, and he would so happily! Arson was one of the more fun ways to kill things, as it hardly ever left much of a mess and made everyone feel excited when it's all up in flames. It added to his excitement that this Mr. Jekis fellow had the biggest plot, the biggest barn, and the largest harvest. It was sure to please the bitter and gloomy Arcanas Vigil.

The armored man approached the largest plot he could see, and it was sure that this farmer ate well and slept ever better at night with a business as promising as this. It was make a glorious fire, and Arcanas had come prepared in order to speed up the process. He had purchased three tanks of gasoline and a box of matches on his way there and began covering the place tank-by-tank in it.

Thud, thud, thud. . . The sound of feet shuffling through straws of hay and stopped in front of the barn Arcanas was rummaging through with gasoline. He turned around, and it was an old man. It was most likely Mr. Jekis. "Who 'da hell are you?!" Mr. Jekis screamed from the top of his lungs, "Get 'da hell outta my farm!" With that, he armed himself with a pitchfork of sorts and began lunging at Arcanas with it.

But the pointed ends of the pitchfork did not pierce his armor, not even denting it, and Arcanas, after a few fruitless pokes, grabbed the metal and snatched it from the old man. The farmer stumbled back, "Why you little—" the farmer attempted to strike him with his fists, but again, was fruitless. Arcanas grabbed this fist and twisted it out of shape, quickly followed by a cracking, pained scream of the old man, and began to drag him out of the barn and to the nearest tree. The oak was only moments away from the barn, and would too perish in the flames. Like a nail, he placed on twisted palm on top of the other and pinned the old man's stocky body against the wood, hanging him there by the metal piercing the center of his flesh. He gave him an eerie and ominous "Shh. . ." sound through his metal, a single finger raised to his lips.

Arcanas returned to the barn, finishing covering the place is gasoline. He used the last tank to cover the fields, and then the farm. Finally, with the placed teeming with the smell of gasoline, he lit the match and, from a safer distance, tossed it into the oily mess. In an instant, the plot went ablaze, and the farmer sobbed ever so heavily! He was perhaps a baby! Arcanas watched this gleefully, grinning through his helmet and giggling all the while!

But it was all going too slowly. With all the matches he held, he set the tree the farmer had been pinned to ablaze and left. Later that week, his home was in ruins and his body was so burnt that it was hardly distinguishable. With a hand full of jewels, he set out on the road again.