It had already discovered red. Now, there were other colors, too, but it was red that dominated the world that had been thrust upon it.
Red was the color of the ruby in its hilt, and the blood that dripped off of its blade. It was also the color of its enemies, at least in part.
Behind them were was the gray of the cliffs and the blue of the cloudless sky, along with the brown matted fur of its savage, bestial opponents, but it was red that outshone them all. It was pooled beneath the bodies that surrounded the man who wielded it, and it was splattered across those who still managed to face him. Most importantly, though, it covered the sword that beheld all of this.
+5 Life Force
And what was it? It was a sword, with a deep black blade. It’s edges were dull and notched in places and a grey rust like coating covered parts of its blade in ugly, blotchy patern, but there was no mistaking that it was a weapon.
It was the one that was beholding all of this. It could see everything in all directions at once, but only with any clarity for a few feet. After that things started to blur, and in the distance, the mountains, or at least what it thought were mountains were no more than smudges.
Why should I know what a mountain is? It wondered. I’ve never seen one before, have I?
Something about that didn’t make sense to the blade, but there was no denying the reality as it took everything in, just as there was no denying the energy it absorbed from the blood that flowed down the runed channels that led along the flat of its blade toward the throbbing square cut ruby in the pommel.
+3 Life Force
Now that it could see what was happening, everything made sense. That was where the warmth and the Life Force were coming from. It was coming from its enemies and their blood.
Each time its wielder thrust it through the still-beating heart of an enemy, slashed it across their chest, or sliced off a limb in a spray of gore and viscera, the energy that made that up evaporated like a fine mist.
However, not all of it escaped. Before that fleeting burst of essence could evaporate, some of it was absorbed by its blade. Every time that happened, the large ruby that was inset into its pommel glowed with an inner light.
Each of those strikes felt different, too. It Could feel the deliverance between the way flesh and fat cut vs deeper muscle. It could also feel the way its blade grated against the bone. Even if it hadn’t been able to see its enemies, it might have been able to say how strong they were just from the way it felt to cut them open.
+4 Life Force
+6 Life Force
The fact that it was a sword wasn’t a surprise was in itself a surprise to it, but that wasn’t enough to distract it from everything else that was going on. There was simply too much to take in to worry about such details.
It didn’t matter that it was a sword or even that it was being wielded inexpertly. What mattered was the pace of the fighting going on all around it.
The man who wielded it seemed a little weak to have shed so much blood. He was a youth who’d probably never had to shave hair from his chin. He was dressed in the bloody rags of a shepherd, not the armor of a fighter. He was no true warrior, and the sword felt dirtied to be wielded by such a scrawny young thing, but it had no say in the matter. It could barely influence the path the boy swung it on, though it did try, almost unconsciously to do so.
+5 Life Force
Still, beastmen that beset the two of them on all sides didn’t seem particularly tough. Oh, they roared and screeched and glared with their strangely slitted goat eyes; individually, each of them was stronger than the shepherd or whoever it was that currently wielded it. However, they were only four feet tall, with weapons of wood and bone that could not parry even a single attack from its powerful, dark blade.
No, not dark, it realized. ebon. That wasn’t a color. It was a name. It wasn’t a sword, it was the Ebon Blade. That name meant nothing to it, but it was sure that it belonged to it, and compared to it, the entire tribe was less than nothing.
+5 Life Force
+7 Life Force
Its wielder moved like a man possessed, and the sword was certain that was due more to its strength than its wielders. It might not have unraveled the mystery of its existence, but it was sure that the sweating young man and his quivering muscles could never have killed half so many without its magic to guide his hand.
How did that work? It wondered. Am I lending him strength too, or just my skill?
It did not know. Perhaps one of the abilities it hadn’t picked yet would give it insight into that. Empower Blade seemed to be a likely option, but it couldn’t afford that yet.
+3 Life Force
+4 Life Force
Even against its power, not every blow could be stopped. Not when it was one man alone against nearly a dozen opponents simultaneously. No matter how its wielder whirled and danced as he lost himself in the bloodlust, something would make it through. Sometimes, it was an arrow that embedded in his unarmored chest, and other times, it was a spear that made it under his guard.
It didn’t matter to the wielder, though. To him, each of those blows vanished in moments. As soon as the weapon left the flesh, or the arrow was pulled out, the mark it left behind healed completely with only the slightest scar. It was another aspect of its magic that it did not understand.
-3 Life Force
Its wielder was stealing its Life Force to keep itself alive, the sword realized slowly.
That was a better reason for what had been happening than pure capriciousness, at least. Until now, it had thought that something was denying it the power it craved just to keep it from getting stronger. This made more sense.
My wielder has to live, or I am useless, it told itself, even if it didn’t really believe it. It cared nothing for the man that held it.
What didn’t make sense was the fight itself. The blade could see the swirling melee, but there was no indication as to why the fight was happening. Why was a lone shepherd in such a rugged, dreary place? How did someone so unworthy come to possess such a powerful weapon?
There were only mountains and cliffs, along with a single cave. Where was his flock? Why was he surrounded by so many beastmen? Where did they come from?
+6 Life Force
The blade wasn’t sure if it was the lingering confusion of escaping the darkness, but it didn’t have the best sense about any of these things. Also, more irritatingly, after less than a dozen feet, the blade’s vision blurred. It had a perfect view of the battles at hand from any angle it chose to view them, but beyond that, things fell off rapidly.
There was a wider world, but the blade cared only for the fight, and its wielder at the center of it. So, that didn’t matter too much to it.
+5 Life Force
+5 Life Force
What did matter was why the man seemed hell-bent on holding this ground against overwhelming odds. He didn’t charge the enemy, nor did he flee from them. He just stood there like an ocean breaker fighting an endless battle with the tide that did seem likely to end any time soon. It was a recipe for suicide if ever it had seen one.
Lost causes can be their own reward, its mind whispered. It tried to follow that impulse, and understand where it had come from, but before it could, the battle tore its attention away.
Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.
+7 Life Force
The sword didn’t mind that. It would gladly drink in blood and pain; it just wished it understood. Briefly, it worried about what would happen if the peasant-turned-berserker were to fall, but that faded as soon as it realized that one of the beast men would quickly pick it up instead.
In fact, it realized that might be preferable. It could still see a look of discipline on the face of the man, but one of the maniacal goat men seemed likely to fly into a boundless rage and kill everything in sight, including his own kin, which would feed it Life Force that much faster.
+3 Life Force
+7 Life Force
+4 Life Force
+3 Life Force
That observation was confirmed only a moment later when it heard someone call out, “Ren, come on, we have her, it’s time to go!”
+5 Life Force
The blurry shape of a man ran toward the swordsman, and he almost lost his life for it. Before its wielder could even see the man, he whirled around, and it was only with great strain that he managed to stop the blade before it beheaded the blond newcomer.
The second man was no warrior either. He was just another young peasant with a bloody dagger in his hand. Since the sword would not get to taste his lifeblood either, it had to content itself with the look of fear in the shorter man’s eyes as he thought he was about to die.
He didn’t, though. Instead, Ren, who was apparently the sword wielder, made a fighting retreat. He kept fighting, but now they slowly backed away from the rocky cliff he’d been facing off against, they moved passed a cave entrance, and back into a canyon. There were fewer beastmen here, and the Life Force that it drank in slowed to a dribble.
The sword took the opportunity of the lull to drain its nearly overflowing pool of energy. Even if the fighting was about to end, it didn’t want to waste a drop. When it flipped to its menu, though, what it found surprised it.
It had upgraded Share Senses most recently, but unlike every other ability so far, it had not been replaced by a more advanced ability of the same name. Instead, there were now two abilities where one had been.
The sword flipped through both, and the differences were immediately made clear. Increase Senses gave it a better view of the world around it, presumably reducing the blurriness and expanding its view, while Increase Connection gave it more insight into the person who was wielding it. Both of those seemed important, but neither of them seemed as important as Improved Siphon.
Repair Soul: 500 Life Force
Empower Blade: 250 Life Force
Improved Siphon 4: 200 Life Force
Increase Senses: 150 Life Force
Increase Connection: 150 Life Force
Increase Reserves 4: 60 Life Force
So, it spent 200 Life Force, bringing its total all the way down to 34. It felt empty, then, but it did not regret the choice. All that mattered was growing strong, and that meant soaking in as much energy as possible from every conflict.
This was the blade’s first upgrade since it could see itself, and it saw the dull, worn away runes that stretched from the gem toward the tip along the flat of the blade waver as the blade lengthened a bit. It wasn’t an obvious change, but it was clear what was happening, at least to it.
I’m restoring myself, one upgrade at a time, it realized.
Improved Siphon 4 The pulse of the world beats all around you. Drink deeply, but know it will never be enough. Increased the Life Force drained per blow from 5 to 11.
Suddenly, just like that, the weapon realized that it might get as much as two or three times as much power from every strike going forward. Sadly, the beastmen did not chase the two of them for very long, as the monsters regrouped. So, it didn’t seem likely any more blood would flow for now.
Its wielder seemed to have no interest in attacking the other human, which was frustrating because the blade was sure his Life Force was even stronger than the monsters it had tasted up until now. It could feel it throbbing inside of him as his little rabbit heart raced from exertion and fear.
Instead, when the two of them got far enough away from the beastmen, they met up with two other humans who with a group of horses. From there, it was sheathed, and the four of them started to ride as fast as possible.
Its vision became dimmer still when it was placed into a sheath. Even in that fog, though, its wielder was still sharp and bright, and the other seven life forms near him throbbed with energy in time with their pulse.
The young man didn’t seem like he was about to slice this group to ribbons either, but the sword wanted him to. It willed him to draw it and strike them down without much success.
It would apparently have to get Increase Connection to make that happen. The sword had wanted to increase its reserves and then increase the amount it siphoned even more, but that might have to be put on hold if its wielder was going to lose interest in fighting then it was going to have to take control.
“Hurry up,” the man who had escorted them here said.
“They’re coming, they’re coming!” the other screamed.
The girl said nothing, quite sensibly, since it was easy to see, even with the sword’s flawed perception, that nothing was getting close. It was true that there were a great many fuzzy dark spots chasing them, but they were distant and indistinct. They hadn’t been able to keep up with the short legs of men, and they would quickly fall behind the powerful strides of the horses that the men now rode.
It had not been mounted before, to the best of its knowledge. However, there was something to the steady rhythm of the gallop that stirred its memories. It was certain it had experienced this sort of frantic motion at some point in the forgotten past.
Life Force: 34/300
-1 Life Force
The message surprised it. Last time, it had just slowly faded into non-existence when it had run out of energy, but apparently, this time, it could stay awake as long as it still had reserves. How long would 35 Life Force last? It had no idea.
Minutes? Hours? Days? Honestly, it wasn’t really sure how long those were any more or even why it knew the names of various measurements of time.
While the four of them rode for their lives, it calmly contemplated the situation. First, it examined itself, and when it determined that it only lost a point every twenty or thirty minutes, it examined those around it as best it could, determining the optimal order to kill them in.
All of the horses, and most of the humans seemed to be in fine shape, but it could sense that one of them was wounded and bleeding out his lifeforce slowly from a wound to his abdomen.
What a waste, the blade thought, wishing that it could drink that power instead.
It was only after that, and after the horses had been slowed to a walk so that they could rest, that it paid any attention to what the four of them were chattering about.
-1 Life Force
How long had it been? It wondered. A Half hour? An hour?
“But we can’t go back to the village,” the woman said sadly. “None of us can, not ever again. You know we can’t. They’ll know that you rescued me and ruined the sacrifice. We can’t hide that!”
“Who wants to hide it? Screw ’em!” Ren spat in content. “They tried to sacrifice you. They can burn for all I care. Not just the elders either. Everyone. Every man and—”
“They might burn, though,” the outline of one of the other young men said. “With no sacrifice, the tribes will attack, and if that happens... Well, they should be warned at the very least.”
“But if you go there to warn them, they’ll kill you!” the girl whined, in a tone that indicated she was already crying gently, even if it could not see her tears. “I’m not letting my brother die just because he saved his sister.”
“I’ll go,” Ren volunteered. “If they try to stop me from leaving after, well then I’ll just have to show them just what this baby can do. That will settle any arguments pretty quickly.”
“You can’t,” the third boy said. “That’s the cursed blade from the stories. Everyone will recognize it, and if people see you with it, they’ll call the witch-hunters. It was very useful for saving Vara, but you really should put it back before we ride further south. If you don't then—”
“Back?” Ren laughed. “Back? There’s no way I’m putting this thing back. With this blade, I can finally stop being a nobody in the middle of the Kaladian wastes and start being somebody. We all can. We can sign up for the guild and—”
“Stop, Ren. Will you just stop, okay?” Vara sobbed. “I’m not killing anyone. None of us are, okay. We’ll find somewhere quiet far from here to settle down and rebuild our lives. We can find some work to get us through the winter, and then in the spring we can…”
After that pronouncement and the fact that its sorry excuse for a wielder didn’t argue the point further or strike her down for her insolence, the blade began ignoring them as it plotted its own plans. Clearly, its wielder had at least some spine. It just needed a way to convince the boy to follow his dream and leave the rest of this dead weight behind. It didn’t care who or what the lad killed as long as he was killing.
-1 Life Force
-1 Life Force
-1 Life Force
That night, the small group stopped and sheltered behind a rocky outcropping in the grassy foothills. The state of their camp made it clear that they had not planned this adventure well. Only one day out and they were already low on water, low on food, and the four of them were forced to share a tent.
The sword tuned out all of their insipid conversations, at least until the group started talking about it again, along with the ruins it had apparently been imprisoned in until recently.
Those were topics that finally made it pay attention. It hungered for every clue about its own existence almost as much as it hungered for the Life Force of the small group huddled around the campfire.