Here, at the edges of the world, a lone traveler dared to challenge the shifting winds, the dry, lifeless soil, the unflinching sun. She wore a thick, woolen cloak, frayed and torn from the incessant winds, and spent her monotonous, painful time praying; not to any god, but to nature. Of course, the winds still raged, the land was still lifeless, and the sun still continued its daily patrol, but it was solace, and any who traveled here needed solace, lest their mind turn to ash.

       She spotted something from atop the horizon: a few greyed, splintering planks, lashed together in the form of a hut. The traveler was shocked; a settlement, here? Maybe, just maybe, she had found what she had been searching for: the strongest, the one who claimed he was unbeatable. Who else could found a settlement here, at the very frays of reality? Instilled with newfound hope, she forged onwards.

       "Hail! I am Delilah of Inan, a traveler from the west. Please, help me!" she cried. And yet, her only answer was the slamming of doors and the shutting of windows.

       Dismayed, but not yet broken, she continued to move inwards, but was only met with similar greetings. Finally, at the very center of the town, a lone building had yet to close its doors. She quickly stumbled through its entrance, looking for any signs of life. There, she was met with shelves, filled with various foodstuffs, trinkets, and even weapons.

       "Welcome to my store," a youth said, sat behind a counter. He propped his head with his hand, flipping lazily through a thick book. He had a crown of fair hair, pale enough to be considered white.

       "Who are you?"

       "The owner of the store," he answered frankly.

       "Oh, sorry! I am Delilah of—"

       "Inan, I know. Anyone within a mile's radius could hear your screams."

       She blushed. "Sorry, I was a little desperate for help."

       He turned to look at her. "This is a store and I am a clerk. Perhaps help will come if you purchase something."

       "Oh—uh, sure," she said, digging through her pockets. "What is the cheapest item?"

       "Forty coppers."

       She gave an awkward laugh. "C-could you make that twenty?"

       He stared at her. "You don't have forty coppers?"

       She hung her head. They stayed in silence for a bit. "S-sorry, I'll leave now," she said finally, turning to leave.

       He sighed. "Come back, I'll help you."

       "Truly?" she said, perking up.

       "Truly..." he replied, reluctance thick in his voice. ”What do you need?"

       "I am looking for the strongest."

       "The strongest? Strongest at what?"

       "Huh?" she exclaimed. "The unbeatable one!"

       "That's me."

       "Really!? But you're so young..."

       "Foolish girl. I am the strongest salesman in all yonder lands, and I dare you to challenge that! My profits are unbeatable!"

       "Oh, that's not quite what I meant," she said, deflated.

       "Then speak, girl. Strongest at what?"

       "...fighting?" she answered hesitatingly.

       "You came here, to the edges of the world, without even knowing what you were searching for. Did your parents drop you when you were little?"

       "Well, there was one occasion..."

       "That was not meant to be taken seriously—! I give up."

       "Oh, please don't. I need to find him," she pleaded.

       "Why?"

       She took a deep breath. "The lands are under attack. Only the strongest can save us now."

       "What do you know about him?"

       She tilted her head in recollection. "He appeared a whiles after the Rebellion. Legends say he has never lost a fight."

       "And who are your enemies, so strong as to warrant the strongest?"

       "I... should not say to any other. It may danger you."

       After a bit of hesitation the youth shook his head and stood up. "Well, you came with pure enough intentions. I shall bring you to where the Sword King lives. He sometimes calls himself the strongest."

       "Truly?" she said, growing excited.

       "Truly," he sighed.

       ...

       The youth led to her a cliff, against which only oblivion laid. There, in contrast to the barren lands, a great temple rose, its brilliant marble pillars shining under the sun.

       "How beautiful!" she exclaimed. "This is where he lives?"

       "Indeed."

       "Can I meet him immediately?"

       "Why are you in such a hurry?"

       She looked behind her. "Shadows chase me. They do not wish for me to find the strongest."

       The youth looked surprised. "You are important enough to warrant a chase?"

       "Of course!" she said, puffing her cheeks up in indignation. "I am the Chief Druid of the Great Forests!"

       "You're the what? I don't believe you could be the Chief Druid of my garden..."

       "Well, it’s true!"

       "In any case, I am not his personal assistant. I don't know who he chooses to meet."

       "Oh. That's fine, you have been of great assistance already," she said, smiling at him. She looked down at herself. "How should I approach him? Do I look okay?"

       "With your feet. And no, you look like a sand bug."

       She turned to him, her eyes wide. "Do I really!? I haven't had the time to prepare—"

       "Take off your cloak and I'll see."

       "Oh, okay," she said, shedding her cloak. "How do I look?"

       "Like a—ah!" he exclaimed, shocked. Her thick cloak and hood had covered most if not all of her body. Now, a pair of sharp, emerald green eyes, framed by oaken locks, looked expectantly towards him. She had all the airs and perfection of youth—something seldom seen here, at the edges of the world.

       "Huh? Is my appearance that unbecoming..."

       "N-no, uh, never mind. Just go already!" he sputtered, turning away.

       "O-okay." She wasn't sure what to make of his reaction, but it didn't seem good. She took a deep breath and steeled herself. "Am I allowed to simply walk in?"

          "I suppose."

       He saw her enter the temple, only to freeze.

       "What, are you scared again?"

       "He's... not here."

       "Not here?"

       She dropped to her knees. "There was... a note... he's not here. It say's... he's off, traveling..."

       "Oh, that happens, sometimes," he said offhandedly. "Well, what shall you do now?"

       She didn't answer for a bit, but eventually stood back up, a determined glint in her eyes. "I will continue to search. Do you know where he may be?"

       "I suggest you give it up."

       "I won't."

       "I'm not even sure how you managed to get here. He could be anywhere. Give up."

       "If I was to give up, then what of the forests? What of the people?"

       "You do realize that responsibility lies not solely on your shoulders?"

       "Is there a reason for me not to try?"

       "You may die."

       "Then I will die."

       "You are fine with that? Dying for nothing?"

       "I will have died for my beliefs."

       "Beliefs are worth nothing. Not even the twenty coppers in your pockets."

       "Perhaps."

       Neither of them spoke for a while.

       "Well, I am returning," he said finally, turning to leave.

       She followed him, silent, a little ways behind. As they neared the town, she saw him pause and begin to laugh.

       "What is it?"

       "Your shadow seems to have arrived."

       She rushed forward. "No, the people—"

       "They're dying by the dozens. Good riddance."

       "How could you say that?"

       "They never purchased anything from my store."

       Ignoring him, she began to run to the source of the screams.

       "What are you doing now?" he asked, jogging lightly along with her.

       "He's after me—"

       "Oh, so you've given up searching for the strongest? Those were the same people who shut their doors in fear when you came, and now you wish to die for them?"

       She stopped for a minute, turning to stare at him. "You're an annoying, heartless, insufferable asshole, you know that?"

       He was shocked for a minute, but quickly recovered with a smirk. "The flower has thorns. I had thought that they were all clipped away," he commented, a hint of admiration in his voice.

       "Be quiet and go away!"

       He sighed. "Unfortunately, those thorns seem not to have matured past five."

       At this, she began to fully ignore him, and continued to move onwards. Discarded corpses littered the streets, growing in density. Curiously enough, there was not a hint of blood despite the slaughter; rather, dark lines streaked across flesh and leaked onto the ground, as if cauterized by flames. Finally, at the very center of town, where the youth's store was, stood the shadow. True to its name, it had no form, but was rather an amorphous amalgamation of darkness; its shaping slowly distorting under the sun.

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       "Stop! You search for me, do you not?" she yelled.

       The shadow turned, or at least, it seemed to turn. "You reveal yourself." The shadow spoke with a groaning, painful voice.

       "Kill me and spare the others. They are not involved."

       "Oh? And what shall you do if I refuse?"

       She paused for a minute, her mind racing to find an answer. "The strongest! He shall avenge his people."

       "The strongest? He is no threat," it laughed. "Know that you have wrought destruction upon these peoples and perish, girl"

       It's shadow began to stretch towards her, and out of the shadows came a claw, traveling at inhuman speeds. Delilah closed her eyes, prepared for sounds of ripping flesh, but she could only hear the clanging of metal. Opening her eyes, she saw a steel blade. It was not the short stabbing swords of the west, or the long, curved blades of the east, but the longswords of the forested tribes to the north. A double edged blade, encased at the end with a gilded crossguard, it was weighted at the center; a diverse blade that could be used both offensively and defensively, a blade with enough weight to break spears but fast enough to win against other swords.

       "Who's no threat?"

       "You!"

       And the one who held that blade was none other than the youth with the store.

       "This is my territory, shadow. Be gone." He offhandedly turned towards her. "I said I was the strongest, did I not?"

       "The strongest salesman..."

       "I am that as well."

       The shadow responded. "You are the one who calls himself the strongest? Laughable—"

       It was interrupted by the youth's sword, which had cut the shadow in half.

       "Laughable? I am the only one here with the right to laugh. I am Castiel, King of Blades. What are you?"

       The shadow slowly reformed itself, darkness receding and recombining into its familiar form.

       "I am invincible," it laughed.

       Shadows streaked forward, claws coming out on all sides to attack the youth. The youth parried them all, his blade gleaming in the sun, and went in for another strike, but the shadows simply regathered once again. This pattern continued, the shadow's attacks parried by the youth and the youth's strikes ineffective. Delilah was beginning to despair; the youth was being pushed back, slowly, but surely. If even the strongest could not fight against the shadows, who could?

       "You dare to call yourself the strongest? You cannot even fight me!" it taunted.

       The youth jumped back from the four claw's that struck at his previous position. "Insult me one more time, I dare you."

       "Oh? You are a fool, your attacks are slow, and your blade dull. What now, strongest?"

       The youth stood still now, his head held high and his sword down. "Victory is like fine wine; it must be let to age."

       Several claws flew towards him, his sword in the wrong position in the wrong time. And yet, before they could reach him, they were blocked by swords, exactly like the one in his hand, appearing from seemingly nothing and floating in the air as if suspended by the gods.

       "I am growing impatient, however," he continued. The youth smirked. "Did you think I was a mere swordsman, shadow? Now that is a laughable sentiment. I had planned to play awhile, but my mind has changed." He snapped his fingers. "Perish, interloper."

       At once, behind the shadow two great wings grew, a brilliant white, as if from the Angels themselves, and closed, trapping it. The shadow raged against its prison, but to no avail. Hundreds, thousands of swords exactly the same as the one in the youth's hand appeared, floating in the air and pointed towards the wings. They glittered and gleamed, innumerous in the skies, as if stars.

       "Last words?" the youth scoffed.

       The shadow did not answer, simply continuing to thrash.

       "That's that. Die," the youth decreed.

       At his command, the swords all at once impaled themselves into the wings. At the moment of impact, a brilliant white light sprang out, blinding all who viewed it. A deafening, shrieking, inhuman scream rang out across the barren lands that sat at the edge of the world. The wings slowly began to dissipate, and inside there was nothing; the shadow was gone.

       "Well?" the youth asked towards Delilah. "You have found the strongest and the strongest has killed your shadow. What now?"

       "The people—"

       He turned to look at one of the bodies. "I do not believe they are real."

       "Huh?"

       "I certainly have no idea where they came from. They seemingly ate nothing, drank nothing. Not a single one ever ventured into my shop."

       He motioned with his hand, and a sword shot out and sliced one of the bodies in half. "I see no organs. I suspect it was a prank."

       "A prank? But who would—"

       "Did you not have some desperate inquiry? Speak, girl. I shall deal with these matters later."

       "Lord Castiel—" she began, bowing.

       "Too long," he said with a wave of his hand, "and too conspicuous. Call me Cas."

       "Cas," she corrected, taking a deep breath. "I request your assistance in the murder of the Devils."

       "...excuse me? You want me to do what?" he said, his eyes widening.

       "I need you to kill the Devils," she repeated. "The seven Princes of the Underworld."

       Cas covered his face with his hand. "Do I look like God? That is not my job, lass."

       "Are you not an Angel?" she asked, confused.

       Cas suddenly crouched over, holding his head with his hands, grimacing. "I... I am human," he managed to get out.

       "But those wings—"

       "Shut up!" he interjected, rising.

       Seeing his reaction, she pursued the topic no longer.

       "Please, please help me!" she pleaded. "Shadows and demons terrorize the lands! If you cannot stop them—"

       "I already told you, did I not? You are asking for the ridiculous."

       Her mind raced for a way to convince him. Thinking back to his words with the shadow, she thought of one last plan...

       "If you... you cannot beat those Devils, then you aren't the strongest!"

       Cas looked at her with clear annoyance. "What did you say?"

       Determined, she stared into his eyes. "You aren't the strongest! You're just another pretender."

       He closed his eyes, veins visible on his head, an angry smirk on his face. Seeing her technique was effective, she continued and prayed that he would not choose to simply kill her.

       "I can't believe I came all the way here for such a weakling! Perhaps I will go find the true strongest, someone who has the will to complete my task," she huffed, turning around.

       "Alright, lass!" he yelled. "I will kill those Devils for you! They are no match for me, the strongest."

       "Truly?" she said, turning back around.

       "I have always wanted to kill them. But remember, girl, it will not be free." Though money was not a particular issue to him, he needed some excuse for his battered pride.

       "Oh," she said, surprised. She hadn't thought of that. She began to dig through her pockets.

       "Stop, stop. Your twenty coppers are not worth a microsecond of my time."

       "B-but, I have nothing else..." She thought for a minute; there was one last thing, but even she was hesitant to offer it... but if she didn't... "M-my body..." she whispered.

       "What?"

       "My body! You can have it."

       He looked her over; to be true, she looked quite good, too good, even to his aged eyes. Her sharp, emerald green eyes, her dainty nose, her pale complexion, her oaken hair, her distinctly feminine shape... But of course, that would never come out of his mouth. "Girl, I would hope to go to bed without puking."

       "Then... I have nothing." She hung her head.

       Neither of them spoke, until finally, Cas sighed. "You can pay me in credit."

       She perked up. "Really?"

       "Yes, really," he answered, barely believing what he was saying. "I expect at least a million gold coins by the end of this."

       Squealing in delight, she jumped up and hugged him.

       "Girl! I am the strongest, the ultimate—what are you doing—get off of me!"

       "Oh, thank you! Thank you! I finally did it... I actually did it..." Tears were beginning to leak out of her emerald eyes, and, despite his protests, she did not relinquish her grip. "It's been so long... my feet hurt..." she murmured, sniffling.

       "—Get off! Get off, I say! Stop it! Don't wipe your nose on me! These are my only clothes!"