Bloodstained Blade-Chapter 25 - Wild Places
That first night was a trying one for the blade’s wielder. He managed to light a fire despite the damp wood. Despite that, he was not attacked, immediately, which the blade considered to be a lucky break for the inexperienced young man. Still, Ivarr didn’t get much sleep, and the lights of the city, only a few miles away, called to him. The Ebon Blade kept a lookout the entire night, but it saw nothing that needed Ivarr awake, even during his brief few hours of sleep.
The following day was more tenuous, though, and it very quickly became apparent that as much as the boy wanted vengeance, he didn’t have much to achieve it besides boldness and an untested blade. He walked right past one set of beastmen tracks that were only a few days old, confusing them with mule deer, and he almost completely missed the first goblin lair he came across because the crevice was too narrow for a human to fit through.
The blade tried to decide which one it should direct its wielder’s attention to when a distant rumble made the decision for him. The sound originated well past the Ebon Blades's sight, but it could see a single blurred figure standing on top of a nearby ridge, visible only because it was moving. Ivarr barely hesitated and instead drew his weapon and ran up the slope to charge it.
The thing, in turn, lifted a club high and charged Ivarr. It was a tectonic clash, and the Ebon Blade thought it was a fitting first battle. After all, a beastman wasn’t so challenging for a man wielding a magic blade.
Only, it wasn’t a beastman, not in the way that it had thought. It was part man and utterly beastly, but as they got closer the weapon could see that it was bigger than any of the goatmen that the Ebon Blade had encountered before.
This was a minotaur, which was a beast that was significantly more dangerous than any of the goatmen that had been part of Gar-lok’s tribe. They were eight-foot-tall, solitary hunters and insanely strong.
The Ebon Blade felt no guilt. It hadn’t urged the boy to charge the thing, but it had no desire to lose such a promising young wielder. Originally, it had planned to let Ivarr fight the beastman with no intervention on its part, just to see how the boy did. It changed its mind as soon as it realized what it was the moment it saw what he was up against, though.
Rather than test him and watch his skull get crushed, the blade gripped the soul of its wielder as tightly as it could and took full control. It was the only way to avoid the devastating side swing that was about to come from an opponent that was twice the weight and had an advantage in both reach as well as the high ground.
The Ebon Blade parried lightly as it dove through the creature's legs, using Ivarr’s body as if it belonged to it. The motion wasn’t to block anything so much as misdirect. It had intended to follow that up by slicing away one of the thing’s tendons and crippling it, but it moved too quickly, and it had to move away quickly lest Ivarr get his rib cage caved in by a stomp from one of its massive hooves.
Even as he bounded clear, though, the landscape had changed noticeably. Now, the giant cowman wasn’t on the uphill slope. He wasn’t even charging. He was standing there swinging that club like a force of nature, but there was no subtlety to it.
The blade felt confusion stirring in the mind of its wielder. Ivarr wanted to fight, but he didn’t feel in control of what he was doing, and he wasn’t sure what to make of it. The Ebon blade did everything it could to suppress those thoughts as it focused on the fight. Neither of them could afford a distraction in this moment.
Its healing powers were immense, and right now it had substantial reserves, but against an opponent like this, that wouldn’t be enough. One incorrectly judged block would send the blade flying out of Ivarr’s hands, and if the beast actually connected, and managed to crush a knee or a shoulder, well, an injury like that could take half a minute to fix, and in the time it took the blade to do that, its wielder would take half a dozen more similar blows.
That was why every move had to be defensive and clean. The blade moved forward just enough to make the monster think it was going to charge, but even as it swung the club, it redirected and brought its slice down, then up again in a long J-stroke that opened up a bleed gash across the right side of its abs.
The creature roared in pain, even though the Ebon Blade didn’t have time to slice too deeply. It had to pull away before the creature’s weapon whipped back around like a meteor, and the blade had to move its wielder in the same direction just to avoid the strike.
How am I doing this? Ivarr wondered. The blade ignored him; it didn’t even let the numbers or the pleasant surge of Life Force flowing through it distract it. This was as close to a worst-case fight as it could be in at this moment, and it would have rather faced a hundred goblins.
+21 Life Force.
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The next few minutes were tense as the minotaur went in for the kill, time and again while the blade fought more defensively. Conscious of the differences in reach and strength, the blade used the terrain to its advantage each time. It never let the thing take the high ground, nor did it even try to strike unless some rock or outcropping gave its wielder better footing than his opponent. Most of the strikes it lashed out with were never intended to connect, and those that did were glancing blows at best that only made the creature angrier.
+1 Life Force.
+17 Life Force.
+1 Life Force.
+1 Life Force.
+14 Life Force.
+1 Life Force.
+1 Life Force.
That each of them drained its life force was nice as the fight went on for minute after minute was the important part. A scratch wasn’t as satisfying as slicing through muscle and seniew, but it was effective. Each one added to the slow drip of sustenance that its Aura of Hunger.
What mattered most, though, was keeping its wielder whole and intact. Any serious wound would be all it would take to end this fight for young Ivarr, but the blade wasn’t about to let that happen.
For his part, the boy seemed to understand that he was not the one who was moving with perfect timing and grace, but he did nothing to fight the blade, which was good. A single moment of hesitation was all it would take to remove his head from his shoulders.
Still, even as the fight crept over the ten-minute mark, it wasn’t the draining, or even the exhaustion, that brought the minotaur down. It was his own strength. He slammed his thigh-thick club into the ground one too many times, and it cracked loudly in two.
The thing barely seemed to register the damage to its own weapon and lashed out again anyway with the jagged stump of wood, but for the Ebon blade, reducing the thing's reach by nearly two feet made all the difference in the world. Suddenly, it didn’t have to leap aside after every shallow blow, and it proceeded to carve the beast up like a fine roast.
+16 Life Force.
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+1 Life Force.
+1 Life Force.
+11 Life Force.
Five strokes later, the thing was disemboweled, and after another five, it was dead on the ground from frostbite and life drain as much as blood loss. Ivarr wasn’t in good shape himself either, of course. Despite being young and healthy, he’d just participated in a twenty-minute-long duel with a vastly superior opponent, and even with magical strength flowing through him, he was all but spent.
You have received a greater monster soul!
He sat down on the closest large stone and watched the minotaur’s corpse steam in the cold mountain air. It was several minutes before its wielder caught his breath and dared to ask the sword a question.
The blade spent that time reflecting on the new soul and how it was that much closer to its next upgrade, but still, it had been expecting it. It was hard for its wielder to keep a secret when it could hear him rehearsing it and second-guessing himself in his mind.
“I… did you help me win that fight?” the young man asked.
I hadn’t planned to, but it proved to be necessary, the blade confessed. Still, you acquitted yourself well. If you had panicked and resisted me, you would certainly have died.
“I— You can talk?” Ivarr asked. “That’s amazing. Do you have a name?”
I do, the blade answered, But I would prefer to focus on you, not me, Ivarr. Why did you charge such a large opponent? You were hopelessly outmatched. What would you have done if I had not come to your aid?
“I didn’t think it was that big, not from far away,” he sighed. “I… Honestly, I didn’t know that beastmen grew to be that big.”
There are worse things than beastmen out here, the blade answered. As it spoke, images of different sorts of monsters flashed through its mind, bombarding its wielder. For a moment, Ivarr’s mind was filled with vivid images of monsters that the blade had battled. Some it remembered fighting, but others were torn from the depths of its mind, and it could not recall ever actually facing them.
There were ogres, griffons, hydras, trolls, greater slimes, dire beasts, and other horrific megafauna. The dragons flickered there for a moment too, but the blade suppressed them. It didn’t want to have that conversation with its young wielder. Neither of them were ready for that.
There was also the fact that it didn’t wish to scare the lad into returning to the safety of Kalraka’s walls or anything. Still, it wasn’t about to sugarcoat any of what they might find. Especially since it planned to hunt more of these monsters down next.
Well, maybe not next, it corrected itself.
First, it would find challenges that were more appropriate to the young warrior. It was only when he was ready that they could truly move as one and take down something as large and powerful as an ogre or a troll.
Ivarr seemed to take all of this in stride. Instead of arguing and looking for an excuse not to fight something so terrifying, he stayed quiet as he knelt beside the minotaur and hacked off its horns with the blade.
Then he said, “I’d planned to come up here to hunt goblins for their ears and beast men for their horns while I learn to fight, but this, well, I guess it works too. How much do you suppose they’ll pay me for killing something like a griffon?”
For the first time that it could remember, the blade was tempted to laugh then. The invincibility of youth, it said, both to itself and its wielder. Maybe we will stick to something smaller than griffons for now, but perhaps in time, you can bring something truly wondrous back down the mountain with you.
