A deep breath.
Muscles contracting and extending.
The sound of air being parted.
An abrupt stop.
The sound of Steel shattering.
From behind her Lucifer hears a muttered “Fuck!”
Opening her eyes, Lucifer looks down at the wooden hilt still firmly grasped in her hands.
From the handle a blade extends upwards, but abruptly ends about 5 cm away from the handle. With a sigh she hands the failed sword to the blacksmith's apprentice who made the failure. Lucifer takes note of his facial expression. While orcs always look severe thanks to their protruding canines, he looks very serene. He takes the hilt and the individual pieces of the shattered sword, observing them in detail.
The chief of the steel fists tribe comes to a stop beside lucifer.
“He's gonna go far. The most promising out of all of them.”
“How come? I have no eye for blacksmithing, but his blade shattered like all the others.”
“It's in his eyes. Instead of feeling discouraged, he immediately went to analysis mode, looking at the break to see how it happened. The others were disappointed when theirs broke, but none of them looked at what exactly went wrong. Even those that are better than him right now, did not think to look at their mistakes.”
Lucifer hummed noncommittal. She had no clue about blacksmithing, nor about educating and picking out apprentices.
Once the young orc gathered all of the steel fragments that had made up his blade, another came to present her his sword. This time it was an adult and by the scars on his arms and chest, he was experienced.
Two swings of his sword showed that apparently he was not experienced enough, as it shattered similar to the others. Lucifer grew more and more despondent at the repeated failures she was handed.
Ever since she cut the chains of divine faith that restrained Aindaeth, she had felt something different. In her old world, swords were just swords. Tools used for killing each other. There were some more esoteric sects and groups that attributed a level of mysticism to the famous weapon, but Lucifer knew that to be untrue. Her Old world had very little in actual magic and only the barest hint of it could be accessed through rituals. Swords were just lumps of mundane metal, mortals used to kill each other.
Still she had been infatuated with the idea of swordsmanship. Mortal stories of famous swordsmen that were skilled enough to cut stone or armor, reached even her ears.
She had spent a significant amount of time with the soul of Myamoto Musashi, both to learn from him, and to ascertain that the stories were true.
In the end, the only thing Lucifer found was that swordsmanship in her old world was limited at best.
The Dawnbringer had been with her since her creation, yet even that mighty weapon could not elevate her swordsmanship any higher than the mortal limitations. Until she cut the divine chains she had given up hope.
But every time since then, the moment she touched a sword something called to her. The reaction had been strongest when she wielded her dawnbringer, but it had been almost as insistent when she had used marble as a sword. Though there was a bit of interference.
But even a single swing of these failed swords was enough to evoke that feeling. With every swing something deep in her soul called out towards the outside. She could feel the withered candle of her love of swords reigniting and reaching outwards, because for the first time in millions of years, Lucifer could tell that there was more to the sword. She had no clue if it had anything to do with the presence of mana, or the other mystical energies that floated around in the air, but she did not really care either.
The next twelve swords were equally as disappointing, which caused the flame of her ambition to stoke itself into a blazing bonfire. She was neither about to ask marble to form himself into a sword, nor was she about to call for the dawnbringer. Yet with every failed sword, her anxiety grew. What if the dawnbringer was truly the only way to swing her sword as she wished.
And then the chief of the steel fists placed a sword into her hands.
The moment she touched the wooden handle and felt the reassuring weight of the sword in her hands, the flame burning in her chest went from a raging bonfire to a calm blaze.
The sword was basically just a katana. Nothing seemed overtly special about the blade, except that it felt extremely sharp. Lucifer could feel the sharpness despite her hands being nowhere near the blade's edge. It weighed about two kilos and was significantly longer than a standard katana, mostly to compensate for Lucifer's height.
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A deep breath and a downward swing. Nothing happened. No creaking of wood, no sounds of stressed metal. Just the satisfying feeling of a sword cutting through the air.
Test swing after test swing, the sword held up, neither bending nor breaking.
Finally satisfied by the sword's performance, Lucifer sank into herself. The murmuring of excited blacksmiths, the whispered conversations between the stoneskin siblings and even the sounds of the waking orc city faded into the background.
Lucifer let the flame that burnt in her soul guide her next movements, as she sank into a wide stance. A single downward slash, executed as perfectly as she could. From the lowered position, she reversed her grip and slashed back upwards. Once the sword finished its arc, Lucifer spun on her feet and slashed horizontally behind herself, at exactly the height of an imaginary opponent.
Firm step after firm step, Lucifer slashed at the air around herself, maiming or killing imaginary opponents in a single strike, dodging or parrying the strikes of others. Her surroundings faded from her conscious mind, until all that remained were the imaginary opponents and her sword.
With every step and every slash, the fire burning in her soul spread through her body, suffusing her limbs and her mind with its warmth. The dark red star burning in her body began to spin, slowly at first, picking up speed until its surface released waves of mana into her body.
Instead of using the mana in a conscious effort, it just sat in her channels, suffusing the matter of her body.
Neither the speed nor the force behind her sword strokes changed, but Lucifer could finally feel what she had always searched for. Her very soul was reaching out to her sword. She could finally feel a qualitative change in her swordsmanship. She could cut a boulder now, without the dawnbringer. She could cut a flower, without having it wilt.
Her conscious mind took a backseat, as the burning flame in her soul guided her body and the sword.
She slashed and slashed, stepping over the uneven ground with footwork so immaculate it looked as if she was gliding over a polished ballroom floor.
Until finally everything coalesced into one. With a burst of fire and kinetic energy that had until now sat unused inside her body, Lucifer dashed forward. Her body stayed low to the ground until her right foot found purchase in the ground. With a stomp she arrested her momentum, which flowed through her body thanks to the unused energy sitting in her channels.
Her right hand shot upwards, slashing from below all the way until her arm fully extended and the kinetic energy of her dash was released through her sword. For a single instant Lucifer saw the sun rising over the horizon inside her mind's eye.
Sunrise sword arts
First light
The feeling of liquid flowing down her right hand ripped Lucifer from her trance. Thousands of thoughts warred for her attention and she did not even know what she was feeling.
Lucifer brought her right hand that was still gripping the wooden sword hilt to her face, looking for the feeling of wetness.
What she saw instead was the wooden handle of the sword, charred black and smoking, while molten metal dripped down her right hand. The first few centimeters of the sword looked like they had before, but the further along the edge her gaze went, the redder the metal was, until she arrived at the sword's tip, or what was left of it. It was at least 5 cm shorter than before, as the tip had melted entirely.
Her mind still waking from its trance, Lucifer failed to comprehend what she was seeing. The energy inside her body had not left, it still sat there, totally undisturbed. ‘Then how did the sword melt?’
“Finally done?” came a voice from a few meters away.
Sitting cross legged on the rust colored ground, master steel fist looked at Lucifer with a tired expression in his eyes.
“Yeah I think so.” came Lucifer's tired reply. This was odd, she hadn't felt tired in centuries, least of all exhausted.
“You've been unresponsive for the past fourteen hours. The others have left. Well, except this one here.” The older orc gestured to a slumped over Asha, who had apparently fallen asleep while meditating.
Only at the mention of ‘fourteen hours’ did Lucifer notice that the sun had already set and the surroundings were growing darker.
Her mind, overwhelmed and strained by what had happened while in her trance, had trouble keeping up.
“What happened?” She asked, both to herself and the older orc.
“I only used a bit of energy at the end to accelerate, why is the sword in this state?” She gestured at the still glowing blade, shaking a drop of molten metal from her hand.
The master smith looked at Lucifer with an incredulous expression.
“You don't know? I have never seen someone this in tune with the sword and you don't know?”
At Lucifer's uncomprehending look, he could only release a tired sigh before explaining.
“You manifested. That's what our people call it. The nutjobs in the sects call it a Dao Vision. The elves would say you were in tune with the world. I don't know what those blasted human kingdoms say about this, nor what the kobolds would think. It's just something that happens when someone creates something.”
The orc gestured at the sword in Lucifer's hand. “Gimme that!”
Lucifer tossed the now ruined blade, hilt first towards the smith, who caught it with a swift hand. While observing the still glowing blade in his hand, he continued.
“Old man Daranturn once told me that, when someone breaks through either a mental or a physical barrier, that they would grow more in tune with man itself. I had something similar happen once, though not on the scale of what you showed me today. When I forged the axes young Asha uses, I apparently manifested the image of a massive hammer striking a mountain of metal. For me it felt like I could strike the metal with the force of a god. But it only happened after I spent decades working towards that goal.”
“It felt incredible. Like everything I've always wanted from a sword.” She said silently to herself.
The old orc burst into uproarious laughter. “Too bad my sword couldn't keep up then! Just means I have to forge a better one next time.”
Lucifer looked down towards her hands. They were trembling.
“It will take a while until I have the new one ready. Do you mind if I have my apprentices try again? I know that the failures were frustrating, but it would help their growth to see their swords fail this repeatedly. I already have a myriad of ideas for when I reforge this thing.”
“I would like that.” Lucifer said with a tired smile.
“But for today I am done. I'll take Asha with me.”
The old orc grinned, his enlarged canines showing. He got up and went towards the cart, now filled with weapon scrap, before putting the half molten blade on top. “I hope you enjoy your rest!”
Lucifer went towards the still prone form of Asha, before gently shaking her shoulder to wake the young woman.
A sleepy groan was all that the young woman gave, and so Lucifer decided to just carry her. With one arm under her knees and one under her arms, she carried the young woman away.
The night was still warm from the sunlight that had shone throughout the day, making for a truly pleasant evening.
Lucifer walked the streets of packed earth that snaked throughout the orc city, past large tents and wooden Houses on wheels. Occasionally she would pass a dwelling from which the sounds of merry making could be heard.
Lucifer ignored all of that and focused on the sky. It had been a little over a month since she had arrived here, and yet the sight of an unfamiliar night sky was as enchanting as the first time. No light pollution or an atmosphere choked with tiny particles. The air was clean and healthy, just like this planet was.
With a content smile on her lips, Lucifer arrived at her tent. Aindaeths tent, which was directly next to hers, emitted the sound of deep rumbling snores, slightly muffled behind layers of fabric.
Once inside, Lucifer placed Asha on one of the nests of blankets, before tucking her beneath a blanket.
While undressing herself, Lucifer noticed marble in a corner of the tent. How the golem had managed to move under his own power was still a mystery to her, but a single look with her soulsight showed that he was fast asleep, so that line of questioning could wait until tomorrow.
Once she was completely naked, Lucifer laid down inside a pile of blankets and pillows.
Before another thought could catch her attention, she was fast asleep.