Bloodstained Blade-Chapter 174 - Blood Price
Geral was not a coward, but he was not enthusiastic about fighting either. In his desperation he mentioned a few local hazards that they might strike down to gather the life the weapon required, but didn’t sound eager about any of them. At least that was the case until the Ebon Blade told him what was necessary to heal his wife.
Life feeds life, and to strengthen hers, we must snuff out others, it told its new wielder, trying to ease the young man into the violence to come.
The blade was already flipping through his memories, and it could see that it had not chosen a warrior. Despite that, though, he’d chased off kobolds harassing his flock with a sling, and he’d taken up a spear to defend the walls of their small village when the orcs had come. Beyond that, things were murky; there were large threats, but it would need to inquire about them more directly with its new wielder, and right now, he was more concerned about his wife.
“Wait? I have to kill people?” he asked, as he took in the blade's words. “My neighbors?”
Men and women contain more Life Force than monsters, but are not required, it informed him, feeling a wave of relief pass through him. A few orcs or beastmen, a couple of dozen goblins, or even a single manticore all contain sufficient power to save her.
“Goblins are probably the closest,” he said, thinking about the layout of the valley and filling in more details for the blade. “We’ll start there.”
The Ebon Blade did not argue. Instead, as its new wielder rested it on his shoulder and started jogging off to the south of the village, the blade simply appreciated the feeling of being held again. Even more than that, though, it appreciated no longer having to see the steady drip of -1 Life Force every minute or so.
Like the constant fear that at any moment it could fall back asleep and not wake up for a month or more, that slow drip of energy had defined its world for far too long, and as its wielder moved, it scavenged what little power it could from the creatures that had long since learned to instinctually stay outside of its range, but the birds and rodents were but appetizer for the feast that lay ahead.
At any other time in its life, the Ebon Blade would have scoffed at the idea that any amount of goblins could be considered a feast, but it had been hungry for far too long to refuse even green-skinned scraps, and tasting flesh and blood with its own razor edge was far more fulfilling than any amount of distant life draining.
+17 Life Force.
Fortunately, they didn’t have far to go. The blade peaced together that from its wielder’s words as much of his thoughts, and while he had no knowledge of how big the warren was inside, it was thought to be expansive by the men of the village.
“It’s at least big enough to have a second exit somewhere,” Geral confessed. “We’ve tried to burn them out twice in the last five years, but no matter how big or how smoky we make the fires, they keep coming back.”
They are a pestilence, the sword agreed, offering no additional advice on the subject.
More than anything, it wanted to see what its wielder would do, so it offered little advice on anything. Even when Geral commented on how much faster and stronger he felt, the blade told him as little as possible. My powers are many and varied, but we will gather energy faster if we use them less. All things have a cost, not just healing.
The blade expected more follow-up on that. Its wielders were often nearly as greedy for more power as it was, but Geral had no interest in the blade’s power beyond what he needed from it. He thought only of his wife, which would have been touching if the blade hadn’t known that it was impossible for anyone to put it down once it had chosen a wielder. He would save the woman he loved for at least a little while, but even as a young man, in less than a decade, he’d die of old age.
That bad news could wait until he had its victory, though, the sword decided. Instead, it just watched as he approached the burrow. He stopped to try to light a torch then, but the blade told him, Do not worry about such trivialities. I will let you see what your eyes cannot, and you will show me what you are capable of.
“But how?” the farmer asked. “You’re just a sword, I—”
As he spoke, the blade flooded his mind with a fraction of the world as it saw it, overlaying the weave of energy that made up all of creation, illuminating not just the darkness of the rocky crag before them, but the tunnels that it forked into as they snaked into the ground. It even illuminated the nearest goblins in green, letting him see them right through the stone itself. This wasn’t a trick it could do before it entered hell, but being forced to puppet Warbringer for so long had given it a level of control over its wielder it could have never imagined previously.
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+9 Life Force.
I’m just a sword, the blade agreed, and you’re just a farmer, but together there is no force in this world that can stop us.
Geral didn’t argue with that. Instead, he took a deep breath and steeled himself for battle before slipping into the mouth of the cave. As a place to do battle, it wasn’t optimal for either of them. The man was very uncomfortable, both at the idea of entering such a dangerous place alone, and the Ebon Blade had grown so long that in the cramped confines, its wielder would be forced to use it more as a spear than a sword.
It could have changed its shape to fix that, but that would have taken power it did not have, and such strange new powers would only increase its wielder’s growing sense of panic. So, it left him to decide what he should do, and for nearly half a minute, he hesitated there before pressing on.
“It doesn’t matter what happens to you,” he whispered to himself, trying to give himself the courage to press further into this surreal situation. “Simone needs this, so you have to do it.”
Its wielder tried to be quiet. He almost caught he first one unaware, but at the last second it leaped shrieking at him. Geral had to kick it away with his boot before he skewered it on his second strike. It died wailing and wriggling, but the Ebon Blade didn’t mind at all and did nothing to hasten the vermin’s death. It just appreciated the taste of blood and bone.
+22 Life Force.
+1 Lesser Monster Soul.
Goblin was trash meat. It knew that. It had tasted human, but it wasn’t the poisonous sludge that was demons, and in this moment, it savored that trash.
Unfortunately for Geral, by the time he removed this goblin from its blade, two more goblins had responded to the cry of alarm, and the battle was truly joined. He swung the claymore-sized weapon back and forth to keep them at bay, but he’d only managed to kill one of them before the blade could see another wave of reinforcements coming from behind them. In ten seconds, there would be five, and in half a minute, he’d face a dozen. The weapon made sure he could see the tide coming, and corrected his worst strokes, but otherwise, let him flounder.
+41 Life Force.
+1 Lesser Monster Soul.
Even when Geral got injured the first time, the blade didn’t interfere or tell him that he’d be healed. It just watched as the man’s rage slowly grew with each new frustration.
-5 Life Force.
“You little bastards,” he growled, ripping the one off of where it had latched onto his leg before crushing it against the wall with his left hand. Soon, he was cursing with every blow given and received.
+1 Lesser Monster Soul.
Geral had little in the way of technique, and even if it hadn’t glimpsed his memories, it would have been plain to the weapon that had had more experience with spears than blades. Still, he didn’t let that stop him any more than he was letting the fear or the pain of each wound hold him back.
+53 Life Force.
+3 Lesser Monster Soul.
Things didn’t really improve for Geral until he pushed forward into the first cavern of any size. There, he could lash out blindly in almost all directions. That didn’t keep all of the little monsters away, but they fell much faster than he would. He was clawed and bitten over and over in that bloody scrum, but the blade didn’t begrudge him healing.
+211 Life Force.
-34 Life Force.
+7 Lesser Monster Soul.
Even that sensation of pain which echoed through its wielder was something it had missed after years of being held by a bloodless automaton. It basked in the pleasure of the moment, appreciating even the bitterest bile and the toughest tendons as its wielder jacked away.
Somewhere in that scrum, the two of them became one for a time. The blade couldn’t even remember the last time it had truly synchronized with a wielder. Had it been Evelyn? Ivarr? It didn’t matter. What mattered was that this was what it had been missing.
Synchronization Achieved, +100% damage, +100% dodge for one minute.
+376 Life Force.
-88 Life Force.
+22 Lesser Monster Soul.
It had enough of cosmic stakes and unknowable demon trickery. This was life or death, at its most basic level, and while Geral’s heart hammered with rage and panic, it basked in the pain and death as the cavern filled with the faint red haze, courtesy of The Path of Blood.
This, it sighed, drifting in the narcotic haze. This is what I was missing all that time.
After that, for the first time in a long time, it was one with its wielder. The two pressed on through tunnel after tunnel, exterminating them as they went for hour after hour. The blade lost track of the number of corpses they’d left in their wake somewhere after the first dozen because killing was so much more satisfying than counting. Still, it was sure the number was closer to fifty than twenty.
+448 Life Force.
-52 Life Force.
+19 Lesser Monster Soul.
They paused only when they reached another exit from the cave system, and the Geral noted the blood red sunset. “It will be getting dark soon,” he said to himself.
That will be enough, the blade answered while its wielder’s chest heaved. Let us return and heal your wife. When she is safe, we can go out in search of more foes to fight.
“My wife…” he whispered. Those words brought him back to his senses. Instead of pressing on, he turned and left through the blood-soaked tunnels he’d all but purged of vermin. The blade wondered why he didn’t just escape through this new shaft, but did nothing to stop the man as he followed the trail of gore they’d left in their wake.
