The time it took for Kenan to regain consciousness was long and drawn out. His body was not recovered enough. It forced him to remain floating between a state of alert and insensible thoughts. Soon, despite his body wishes, he grew tired of the lack of tangibility inside his mind and forced his eyelids to open.

Moments after his pupils rapidly expanded came the introduction of pain. Noctis had enough sense to determine, in between the waves of agony, It was a welcomed torment. In the sense that his body had mostly healed, but was dealt with the backlash of overused and torn muscles. Nothing that the magical flask couldn’t help with.

He sat up, almost failing to do so when his triceps threatened to give out. He saw that Jorun was also up. As if his fingers were peaks of mountains, wind rushed and passed between them. Dion slept at the foot of the bed, but sensing his master's rising conscience, rose from the slumber. Immediately the dirus' eyes went to the black sword leaning on the bed. Head twisted in canine confusion.

Jorun looked over. “Hey Ken’.” The wind swept over Noctis in a cool, welcoming wave.

Kenan ignored the greeting. His connection to both the sword and Dion told him something was happening. Noctis quickly pulled the blade up, put it on his lap, and threw the scabbard to the side. “Are you just going to ignore.. Woah.” Jorun began.

Suddenly the area around them became a vacuum of power. All ambient mana was forced and packed into the blade. It kept on reaching, expanding its area, consuming more and more power. Mana strain hit Kenan and deprivation attacked Dion. As their cores were siphoned of all of their power. Jorun's ongoing spell was also taken. His dantian otherwise untouched.

The blade vibrated at a high speed and started to morph at the same time. It became a little longer, and less thick. The blackness turned deeper and became inpentribale. As if it consumed all and any light. A hole was bored into the top of the tang. When both the gyrating and its changing shape stopped. Mana no longer was taken from the immediate area, and surrounding power began to quickly fill the void.

Kenan breathed in and out. Trying to sooth his throbbing head. As soon as mana entered his gate and dantian, he sent it to Dion. Who took it thankfully and replenished his deprived body. It seemed, with the formation of Qi, Noctis was immune to deprivation.

Noctis stood, Dion half-leaped from the bed. Both wobbled in their stances thanks to their respective circumstances. Jorun watched from his bed. Kenan took the blade with both hands, and chopped at the air in an unhurried movement. He repeated the action. Then went into different directions and stances.

The blade was entirely different. The feel, the weight, it’s balance. All of it changed. Yet, still, like the first time he gripped the sword. It felt utterly natural in his hands, as if he was holding it for the thousandth time in this shape. Not only did it have its physical alterations, but some metaphysical ones too. The connection between the two was hard to explain and even worse to reasonably foretell its affection. Now, the bond was even stronger. He knew that the blade could now act as another gate, and had a small dantian of its own.

Their was also something else to it. It took a while for Kenan to accurately discern what it was and separate it from the rest of the changes his blade took on. A hunger now emanate from it. Different from his own and Nonesthic. Not an insatiable void in which everything thrown at or into ultimately resulted in a greater starvation. Merely, the blade was missing something, and it yearned for the absence to be filled. Yet, it’s starvation had an aspect similar to his own. To take and steal.

“Hello. Kenan. Can you hear me?”

Kenan looked around. He held his sword at the ready as the words bounced in his ears. Behind the haze of confusion came a sense of recognition, but it was ultimately ignored.

“You fool. I do not have enough time or power for this. Come talk to me when you have time. The blade wants to consume another object of power. It doesn't matter what type. I recommend giving it something rather quickly. The newfound power of the blade will revert and dissipate without a proper base."

Kenan put the blade down. He looked up and around. The deep, gravely and vaguely lizard-like voice that danced inside was finally and fully recognized. "Nattura?"

This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

"Yes. It's Natt…" The annoyed draconic voice cut off.

"Isn't Nattura the lizard dude in your sword?"

***

Nattura was, without a doubt, correct. It had been a day since the strengthening and altering of his favored blade. With his mana perception, he felt the power inside the blade deteriorating. Like a suspended incomplete spell, or a fire without fuel. A piece was missing.

When the sun went beyond the horizon and the moon was summoned, Kenan wobbled himself out of bed. Dion woke and Jorun continued to sleep in his recovery induced coma. The dirus motioned to follow his master, Noctis told him to stay. After some silent arguing through the connection, Dion bregudingling agreed.

With as much caution as he could muster with his precarious circumstance, he snuck his way out of his medical tent and tried to step his way through the dozens of injured and burned soldiers. It seemed as if the entire town was forcing him to get the proper rest that he needed. Multiple times did he try to exit his tent and start up training, regardless of his pending injuries and soreness. Each time he did so, someone ratted him out. Either some able bodied men or the gray brothers were called to drag him back to his bed.

All that mattered right now was to get to his objective. Afterwards, they could drag him by the foot if they wanted to.

Somehow he managed to get past the entirety of everyone in the emergency medical zone. Everyone was either in a deep recovery sleep or too busy dealing with the wounded to notice him. The next step would be harder than the last, he would have to rely on his tongue. In the condition he was in, Kenan was unable to climb or jump on the ball. Not without an excess of Qi.

He approached the gate, with only two weary guards posted on the side. Normally more would be on top of the and even more patrolling the roads leading up to Banburn. But resources were low and everything had to be pooled together. Even guards. As soon as he came into view, the two straightened. When Noctis came within proper distance, the senior of the two walked to meet him.

The guard saluted. “Mr. Noctis Sir. You should still be infirmed. We have been ordered to take you back if necessary.”

The guards have treated him with a great amount of respect. Even this man, who was two decades his senior. At first it surprised Kenan, and now it annoyed him. He couldn’t quite figure out why it caused him vexation. “My uncle has told me to meet him.”

“But sir, the Auditamor has ordered…”

“Who is my uncle.”

The guard's eyebrow raised. Looked at the other guard, who nodded, then back to Kenan. “Then we will escort you..”

“No, it is unnecessary. We are trying to keep the meeting has hidden has possible. This is the only way to talk without causing worry among the citizens and other soldiers. In fact, in thirty minutes. You are to meet me at the stables and drag me back as if I tried to escape again.”

“But, Sir.”

“Relaxe. If I didn’t want to be seen, I would’ve just jumped the wall.”

The guard looked back at his partner, who shrugged. A face of thought placed on his countenance. “Understood sir.” The guard stepped back into the proper place.

Noctis went through immediately and let out a breath of relief. He shrugged off his fake ordering persona and continued his way. He didn’t really have to hide very much. Not many people still resided inside the city. However, just to make sure, he stuck to the places where the moon couldn’t touch.

After some time he made it to the stables. In which he located Jefned. His horse. Who was laying on hay, sleeping peacefully. He somehow was aware of his approaching master, and mustered his conscience. “No, go back to sleep Jefned.” The horse followed the command, after he nayed softly in both greeting and gratitude.

On Jefned's stable half-wall was his saddle on witch had bags attached to them. After a few minutes of rummaging through. He produced a large dagger, pretty much a sword to him. Serrated with an ugly grip. A weapon that drinks the blood of it’s victims and turns it into power, a treasure of Roshu’s horde.

Kenan pulled his own weapon out. A magnetic attraction between the blades strained his muscles. Or more rather, the sword was pulling the dagger closer to it. When the two objects touched, mana started to swirl in a vortex around Kenan. Super condensed power made a blue outline of the dagger with a tendril touching the sword. Previously invisible runes on the dagger lit up, and disappeared. They then recrudesced on the black blade, along the flat of the sword. The daggers metal cracked, and started to turn into dust. The power around dissipated. Inside the hole on the tang, red goo started to grow. Vein like lines spreading from the now filled hole.

Kenan picked the weapon up, a new found power thrumming from it. Before he could inspect it further, he felt his entire body be lifted and then flipped upside down. He unwillingly floated out of the stable into the moonlight with a disgruntled Doco waiting for him.

"You lied." Doco said. Kenan gave the equivalent of an upside down shrug. "Why?"

Noctis smiled, "Reaper shit." His uncle scoffed and let go of his magical hold. Kenan fell face first into mud. He hoped it was mud.

"Go to bed idiot"