Bloodstained Blade (Gamelit, Sword MC)

Prince Angarazon receded before him like a wave, without a single order. The men feared him, and even when they could not see what they feared, they shied away instinctively. The path he cleared closed behind him as the mob surged and jostled, but the blade could only see relief on their faces. As afraid as they were of their demonic master, they feared the city's defender more.

The blade had seen the way it moved, so it understood that, though there was nothing impressive about it. Whoever was inside that armor was nearly two feet shorter than its wielder, and their armor was almost entirely without ornamentation. Indeed, it was filthy and dripped oil in several places.

When its wielder closed the gap and stood alone in the gate, he said, "Well, Voltrim, at last it comes to this. You thought that you could keep me locked up in the barren outlands forever, but—"

There was no warning, or even time for the blade to contemplate its wielder's words, or who Voltrim might be. In an instant, their opponent lashed out with a thrust aimed at Angarazon's heart. Against any of the blade's mortal wielders, the blow would have landed; even with its aid, he might not have fully deflected it. Still, the prince did so easily enough. He was fast and strong, though the blade registered a flicker of surprise on the face of the demon.

Is he surprised that he managed to parry that, it asked itself, or was he surprised that the blade had held? The latter was concerning, but it had faced stronger blows before. Var'gar had cleaved through opponents' blades, and Lucian had cleaved through stone with more strength than that.

Even after that first strike, the battle was not joined entirely. Prince Angarazon continued to walk around the lone night in a wide ring. Parrying thrusts as he lashed out. "Your toy won't work anymore, Voltrim. Surely you can see that. Not when I have a toy of my own," the demon prince declared. "Do not make me destroy it. Swear fealty to me, and together we can make war on Hebrinth, or even—"

The conversation stopped when the knight lashed out with another flurry of blows. The effect of the flurry was greater than the sum of its parts, and even though its wielder blocked four of them, the fifth found its mark, sliding between the ribs of the demon prince. The blade felt a polluted Life Force surge from its reserves, and its wielder's flesh was mended almost before the weapon had left it.

-32 Life Force.

That blow, fleeting though it was, came at the cost of its opponent's weapon. Though the blade of the halberd had managed to stand up to it so far, the shaft was not so sturdy, and its wielder sliced right through it, sending the halberd blade to the oil-soaked earth. As the Ebon Blade sliced through that haft, it noted that it was hollow, which seemed to be a strange choice.

Is that why it moves so quickly? It wondered. Because it's hollow like the bones of a bird?

Before it could decide on an answer, the knight twisted the haft of his broken weapon, and a spearhead unfolded and emerged from the tip like a steel flower. He lashed out again with almost no delay at all. This caught its wielder by surprise. It caught the blade by surprise, too. They'd both expected their opponent to be disarmed, but instead, the demon prince got stabbed again. This time it was in the chest, punching through the rib and grazing the heart.

-67 Life Force.

The forced Prince Angarazon back a few steps while his heart repaired itself, but even before the rib had gotten close to fully mended, its wielder charged forward. There was no warning; there was only a growl of contempt, and then it was the one attacking with rage-fueled flurry.

The knight was not caught off guard. It held its own, even if its weapon broke repeatedly under the strain before reforming into another small weapon. The spear became a short spear, which in turn unfurled into a shield and then a dagger, yet despite the demon prince's terrifying speed, it managed to keep the blows at bay, and they only scraped off its armor a time or two.

When it was finally disarmed, it leaped backward and drew a long sword which ignited as soon as he held it, as it began to emit a sort of rhythmic chugging noise.

"Already you resort to your trump card?" the Demon Prince answered mockingly. "And what will you do after that? What will you do with your buzzing little blade lying in pieces with your toy?"

The Ebon Blade noted with some distaste that if he had simply used some of its other powers, their opponent would already be dead by now. It felt no need to rush the occasion, of course. This was art, as far as it was concerned. This was two masters striking and countering with such precision that the gap between death and salvation was measured by degrees and inches.

Still, even if it had wanted to explain to the demon prince that he might use Bolt or Vorpal Strike at any point, there was no way to do so. It was only an observer to this epic showdown.

The blade that opposed it was certainly strange. As the knight gripped it in both hands, the edge started to spin, buzzing to life like a swarm of angry bees. It was like a flamberged blade, but one where the undulations in the steel moved. The Ebon Blade had never seen anything like it, and when the two crossed the next time, it felt real pain as the angry teeth of its foe chewed against its edge.

-144 Life Force.

Even that was not enough to save it, though, and after a series of vicious cross strokes and thrusts that ended in showers of sparks, the blade's wielder finally executed a repost that sent its tip sliding right through the enemy's defenses and his gorget as well.

Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

The man inside the armor responded by dropping his own battered blade and reaching out to grab its hilt. The blade learned two things then. The first was that there was no one in the armor, at least no one alive; the only things it sliced through in there were strange bits of metal. The second, more interestingly, was that, unlike the demon prince, it could feel a connection to the knight instantly.

As the two fought over it, the blade immediately looked at the knight's status for some clue as to what was happening. They made no sense, but for the moment, that didn't matter; what mattered was that for the first time in the short infinity it had been trapped in hell, it could affect something, and the blade grabbed on with all of its might.

There was some distant force controlling it that struggled against it, but the Ebon Blade easily overpowered it. What treachery is this? The voice inside its head yelled, but the weapon ignored it. Instead of worrying about that, it worried about the demon prince who was trying to wrest it from the strange knight's grip.

A moment ago, he would have succeeded, too, but the blade had changed sides. For the first time in its life, it was betraying someone who was wielding it. It felt bad about that, but the reasons for that were obvious. Being wielded without any say in the matter was absolutely intolerable to it.

Changing sides in this case, though, changed everything. The Demon Prince had only been able to overpower his opponent with the blade's strength. Now that he had lost it and the knight gained it, the situation was instantly reversed. The blade pulled itself free by slicing through the left side of the knight's neck, and it whirled the weapon into a wide, scything blow that its former wielder was totally unprepared for.

+43 Life Force.

He managed to jump largely out of the way using a powerful beat of his wings, but in doing so, he lost the tip of his tail and one foot. Angarazon roared in pain as he dripped black blood on the ground. "What? You awake and betray me for this… this.. Thing?" he roared in disgust, twisting the knife in the blade's soul. It deserved that, but its former wielder would deserve what came next.

Rather than listen to any more abuse, it leveled its blade at the giant demon and launched a bolt of lightning at him, striking the demon prince in the chest. He roared in pain at that, but even as he did so, the blade appeared behind him, at the point of the bolt's termination, and in mid-air it stabbed right through the demon's heart.

-40 Life Force.

Even as vicious and unexpected as that blow was, it didn't kill the demon. The blade could have cut it in two then, but it didn't. Instead, it rode the dying body to the ground and crushed its ribcage with the full weight of its new wielder before it activated Vorpal Strike to cut the demon prince nearly in half, from heart to groin.

-50 Life Force

As tough as his body was, the demon tried to endure that, but it was impossible; the damage was too much. He didn't even have the chance to scream before he gracelessly expired, because his lungs had been pulped.

+47 Life Force.
+1 Demon Prince Soul.

Before the demon prince had started to dissipate, and even before he'd stopped moving, the demon army that he'd led to this point was already starting to scatter and flee. Fear of their master had apparently been the only thing that held their rigid sense of order in place, and now that it was gone, the conscripted demons threw down their weapons and ran for their lives.

The blade stood there then, looking at the remains of Prince Angarazon's fading corpse. It probed its new wielder then, looking for a mind, a soul, or even a heart, but it found none. All there was, besides the insistent strings that bound it like a puppy and tried to order it ineffectually, was a powerful spring in its chest that was slowly winding down one tick at a time.

I thank you for slaying that cretin, the voice whispered again, but I must ask you to relinquish my property. I am sure we can find accommodation, then you can leave my factory city in peace and be on your way.

The blade didn't know what a factory was, but it ignored the voice. Instead of responding, it turned to the point at the center of the city where the threads led. It was a strange sort of castle where the towers belched black smoke. It didn't make much sense to him, but he supposed that it made a sort of sense for hell. It cast one final glance at the disintegrating army of Prince Angarazon, and then it started toward the polluted castle.

Perhaps this one will have some answers, the blade told itself as it went. It was getting tired of being in the dark, literally or metaphorically, but as much as it wanted to, it couldn't tear apart its former wielder's soul to get the answers it craved.