Bloodstained Blade-Chapter 192 - Hallowed Ground
That was the last low valley that the two of them went through. After that, Geral only went higher into the mountains. They were a long way from their goal, but that was only because this range rose like the spine of the world high into the sky.
In another season, they would have been deep into the snow already, but the snowline, and even the tree line, was still high above them, so nothing obscured the blade's view besides the shambling mob of dead that followed a safe distance behind its wielder.
Geral was heedless of that, or of the views. Instead, he occasionally mumbled reassurances to his infant son who wasn’t there, and stopped only to look for his wife, before her memory hammered into him again. It was a sad sight, and the blade would have let him talk to their souls if it had been capable of such a feat. No power in either The Path of Death or The Path of Undeath granted it such a feat. It did spend a little time looking through The Path of Vengeance, but none of its strange powers could be twisted in that way either.
One day, when he falters and dies, then I can reunite them, the blade told itself as it continued to review all of the paths while Geral trudged on.
Of those it had walked, Blood and Death had been the most useful. It hadn’t been able to do much with Vengeance, but it still might be its favorite, if only because it had brought it together with Evelyn and let the two of them work to take down her father.
She’d died in a cruel way, but even so, it was hard to tarnish that moment, and the blade wondered if it would feel as good to strike down a god with Geral. Maybe it would have before his mind and body were blasted to ruin, it decided.
If that hadn’t happened, though, then Geral would never have dreamed of striking down Hydonar. He would have lived and died a martyr to his family, and left the world safer than he’d found it. The Ebon Blade supposed that made all of these deaths the fault of the gods, though it doubted they would see it that way, almost as thoroughly as it doubted that they’d seen the last attempt of those troublesome deities to stop Geral’s advance.
The weapon might not glow with the power it should, but they were walking in very nearly a straight line toward their goal, which should have made the task all but idiot proof. Still, most days they saw no one at all. Occasionally, a monster would cross their path, and once in a while they would see a mountain village or a shepherd and his herd in the distance, but unless they incurred Geral’s ire, he ignored them.
+434 Life Force.
+1 Human Soul.
+3 Monster Souls.
+8 Lesser Monster Souls.
That gave the blade plenty of time to ponder the philosophical nature of its paths. It had completed four paths and was closer to the end of the fifth than the beginning. Would there be a sixth, or would it finally be complete? It wasn’t sure. Part of it hoped that the path of the divine would unlock once more, but The Infernal Path probably ruled that out. It doubted very much that it could walk the paths of life and death any more than it could walk the paths of vengeance and forgiveness.
Still, it wasn’t sure what it might find beyond the place it found itself now. All of the paths it had explored summed up its nature fairly completely. What else was there left? It pondered that question for more than a day before the building came into view over the crest of one of the mountains. At first, the weapon thought that the sandstone structure was a fortress or a castle, but as they got closer, it decided the brown-robed monks in the fields made it lean more toward a monastery or cloister.
An alarm sounded shortly after that realization in the form of a distant gong. That was enough for Geral to stop and really look at it for the first time. “Are they enemies?” he asked. The blade thought he might have been asking the nearest zombie, but it wasn’t sure.
I cannot say which god they worship, but I can say they are allies of the gods, the blade answered.
He seemed to consider that for a moment, then he turned and started toward the monastery itself. That wasn’t unexpected, though it did amuse the blade. All they have to do is flee, and they’ll be fine, it thought. Geral won’t run, and my zombies can’t move with any speed. They won’t, though. They’ll die behind those walls, and the gods they worship will be as likely to grant their prayer by leveling the place as they are to offer any real boon.
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It was almost right. By the time they reached the narrow gates of the building, almost everyone had retreated behind the walls. They didn’t line the walls with bows or spears, though, for all the good that would have done them. Instead, those battlements stood all but abandoned as the men of this place cowered somewhere and spent their last moments praying.
Well, all except for one man. He alone stood outside the gate wearing the simple robes of his brothers. The blade might have believed he was nothing more than that if he could not see the truth. Power swirled around him like unseen armor, and as Geral approached, he bowed.
The blade acted before he had a chance to do more than that. He wasn’t a god, but he was clearly channeling the power of one, so the blade Severed The Thread. That worked, but strangely, not completely. It saw the main connection of power that connected him to the distant heavens die, but even as it did, he continued to glow. Worse, he smiled as he did so and said, “I was told that you would resort to such tricks. Such is the way of honorless dogs.”
-100 Life Force.
The blade bristled at that, even as Geral brandished it in a two-handed grip. Neither of them said anything. Their opponent, on the other hand, bowed and said, “I will teach you the error of your ways so that you may apologize correctly.”
Then, he flashed forward, which was normally the Ebon Blade’s go-to move. Geral brought the weapon up in time to parry the blow, but even if it hadn’t been lightning quick, it was still invisible. In fact, the sword thought that this was some kind of warrior monk, and they were going to fight him bare-handed. That was not the case.
The instant he closed with them, an invisible, single-edged sword appeared in his hand, matching the invisible armor that clung tightly to him. Up close, the blade noticed that the man was old and tired-looking, with more gray than brown in his beard and thinning hair. He might have been a warrior once, but he was long past that. Whatever he was now, though, was stronger than he had any right to be, and the Ebon Blade felt the bite of his blade’s edge almost as strongly as the Bug Queen’s chitinous legs.
It flashed out with Vorpal Blade to try to slide through it, even as its zombies began to back away from a fight they had no business being in. The cutting magic didn’t slice through the weapon as the two combatants locked hilts, so it tried Nullify next, but that had no better luck.
-100 Life Force.
“So many tricks!” the monk growled, finally pulling back a step before bringing down his weapon in a series of linked slashes that Geral was able to block without its intervention once it shared its sight with him. That gave the blade a moment to breathe. It doused its blade in Hellfire next to study its reaction, and for a few seconds, the air around their opponent caught fire. Neither his invisible weapon nor his armor caught fire, though. His robes did, briefly, but before it could catch his skin or hair alight, and roast him, it extinguished.
-25 Life Force.
That should have been impossible. Nothing extinguishes hellfire, the weapon said to itself, looking for the reason that had happened.
“Nothing extinguishes Hellfire,” Geral repeated in a dazed way, making the blade realize it had been speaking too loudly.
That made their opponent laugh. “Nothing was extinguished, only banished,” he said, flashing forward with a barrage of strikes. Geral parried the first three, high and low, but took the final stab through his left kidney. “If you spent more time on your sword play, and less time on trickery, you might have become a fine swordman.”
-34 Life Force.
The man’s dismissive tone annoyed the blade more than his words, and after he finished speaking, he drew his blade across Geral’s body from left to right, severing his spine and nearly cutting him in two. That should have killed him, or at least made him fall, but as he stepped back, his flesh had already mostly reknit. While his spine took a little longer, the Ebon Blade held him upright, refusing to let his legs collapse.
-181 Life Force.
This made their opponent purse their lips in annoyance. “Always more tricks,” he said, stepping back with a flourish, before rolling his shoulders. “Well, it has been a long time since I retired from the field of war, and even longer since I’ve had a proper opponent to spar with. Perhaps I shall enjoy this.”
So he is an avatar of the Lord of War, or someone similar, the blade whispered, even though it wasn’t certain Geral would hear, or even understand. While interesting, it appears we are at an impasse.
It wasn’t fair to say that the two of them were equal in skill. The man they faced was clearly Geral’s better. Even if he’d been in peak condition, that still would have been true. The economy of his actions was perfect, and the line of his attacks was perfect. That in itself was actually almost a weakness because the blade could almost predict where he’d strike as a result. 𝗳𝐫𝚎𝗲𝚠𝚎𝗯𝕟𝐨𝘃𝚎𝗹.𝗰𝗼𝗺
-76 Life Force.
If that works, it will only work once or twice, it cautioned itself. A man like this will adapt instantly.
Still, for all of his skill, though, whatever grand powers that Argandin might have granted him seemed to be cut off, and while his sword and shield lingered, powered by what seemed to be the prayers of the monks he defended, that wasn’t enough to overwhelm the blade’s own powers. It had much more power than this man, but strangely, it was in no hurry to rush the fight either. It had been a long time since it had seen true talent, and it wanted to enjoy the show.
