“Huh?” I said, noticing the grip of the staunch hand tightening around my hilt.
Following the clasped veiny hand, my attention traveled up the densely muscled arm and discovered my wielder's nefarious glinting yellow eyes. If I could, I would have shuddered. Those all-seeing eyes dilated with excitement, gleaming with the foreboding sense of something bad about to happen.
“Oh, sh-!”
Suddenly, with one powerful upward wrench from thick contracting arm muscles, the bustling bazaar zoomed away from me as winds rushed past my soaring body.
“Whaaaaaaaaaa!!!” My nobel screams stretched from the ground into the air, fading into echoes in the distant atmosphere.
I was hoisted vertically into the sky as the sharp edges of my body sliced all the way above the hooded figure. But upon being lifted right over the head of the cloaked young man, I was whisked right back down in a straight slash.
And then- “Crap! Not agaaaainnn!!!”
Again and again, I was cruelly yanked up and swung back down like a hammer.
See, this was why I preferred women! Men. Tsk! No delicacy at alllll!!!
The cloaked young man barbarically wielded me repeatedly like some kind of plain old smashing tool. So troll-like. Not at all refined for the great blade that I was.
“Ugghhhhh…Aaaghhhh!!! Stop! I’m gonnaaa…puuuke!”
“Ha… Ya ignorant young’ns!” old man Dylan snorted at the cloaked young man who felt me out by repeatedly swinging my sharp body in the air. “Don’cha know ya not supposed to touch da merchandise until ya asked for permission? Ya touched it. Now ya gonna buy it! Five gold Elars!”
“Che, what kind of nonsense is that, Mister?” Spat back the cloaked man with his youthful voice. But Dylan’s rather outrageous demands ceased the terrible manhandling of my body. Thank the Great Spirit.
“How else is one to examine a sword’s worth before buying?” The young man hidden under his cloak complained. “I’ll also say this now, Mister, this decrepit sword here isn’t worth anything close to five gold.”
The hell ride was finally over. Yet, the world still spun as I reoriented myself from being brutishly swung up and down. I must be getting old to be dizzy from being lamely swished around. But as I got hold of myself again, I noticed something was off about the way the man wielded me.
The manner I was held and swung appeared amateurish at best. There was no finesse or technique. And yet, the cloaked man’s peculiar grasp on my hilt told me otherwise. What exactly, I could not particularly tell, even from my years of experience. It was a different style that none of my previous owners used. All I knew was that he was no veteran of the sword. But the mysterious cloaked man was hiding something else about himself. He most definitely handled something other than a sword.
Was the young man simply unskilled with weapons similar to me? Or maybe he was a hidden samurai master in disguise - wielding a different type of blade?
But the latter was unlikely for a human so young. They were not born great as I was.
“Ha! Ya know nothing, kid!” Old man Dylan barked. “The sword be worth more than five gold, boy! Count ya-self lucky, brat. I be giving ya too much of a discount already.”
“A discount?” The youth jeered. “Old age must be catching up with you, Mister. You see your sword lately? You are deeply mistaken. Five gold is practically robbery, and I am not looking to get robbed.”
My hilt was gripped tightly again. By design, it was to be held by two hands but currently grasped firmly only by one. Quite large and strong hands, the youth had, I must say. In a display to elicit domination, I was expertly rolled within the youth’s wide palms, twirled between his long, thick fingers, and spun into a spinning circle from his front to his side.
With a flick of the wrist, the whirling blade of my body came to an immediate halt as my hilt was perfectly grabbed in the hand of the cloaked young man. Pointing towards the sky, my sharp edge slashed down in an arc before the pointy end of my body lightly clinked on the ground right in front of the toes of the man’s black leather boots. Hands laying on my pommel, the young man’s calloused palms rested confidently as he and old man Dylan bartered a price war.
“What? So ya can swing a sword. I ain’t impressed, boy. No big deal. Who in these dungeon-infested lands can’t? But now that ya played around with it, ya also know it’s a damn good sword.”
“Decently made, sure, Mister,” the cloaked man acknowledged with a shrug. “But in its current state, it’s near worthless.”
“And that be exactly why ya young’ns be ignorant! Five gold Elars is already too much a discount! This sword of mine be a Dungeon Artifact!”
Whatever, Dylan. I snorted to myself.
If I had eyes, I’d roll them. I did, however, somehow have 360-degree vision. And with my expansive view, I’ve seen plenty of the old man’s usual tactics, always scamming for more coins. Sure Dylan bought me off someone who found me in a dungeon, but I was by no means a Dungeon Artifact as Dylan professed. No dungeon could give birth to something as great as me. But thinking of my bastard Father, I wished I had been.
“This broken and rusted ‘ol thing?” The hooded black hair man scoffed. “Mister, I may be young but do not take me for a fool. I know for a fact that this sword has no imbued effects worth being called a Dungeon Artifact. It barely qualifies as a blunt object, let alone a sword. Seven Big Silvers.”
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Anger seethed within me. I was insulted by a balding man just a few minutes ago. And here I was, the great me, badmouthed again on the same day by a young fool.
Sure, I was not the best looking nor in the best of states. I may not be the biggest either, but does any of that matter? The bigger ones beneath me displayed on Dylan’s rectangular fabric paled in comparison.
They were lifeless swords. Sure some had an effect or two, but nothing close to my mighty self. Damn, caped weirdo. His words deeply offended me, and I was going to give him a piece of my mind!
Ah, hell nah! I ain’t gonna take them bullshit insults!
“Broken? BROKEN?!” I screamed at the cloaked man. “Do you even know the great being you are talking about, caped weirdo?! Me?! And no effects? The all-powerful Voidcutter?! Oh. Ho. Ho. Each and every one of you always has something to say about me, huh?! Well, just you all wait! I’ll show you all how truly great I am! Watch! I’ll send you all to the Void!”
I strained, “Grrrr…” trying to squeeze out a cut from the blade of my body at the surrounding fabric of space. But…I may have embarrassingly tooted instead. Yet, the yellow-eyed youth seemed to catch my deadly actions and gave me a curious look.
“Ha! Count yourself lucky, ya weirdo! If my true powers were fully revealed, you’d be squalling for mercy in the Void!”
But alas, my complaints and threats came upon deaf ears. The cloaked youth glanced away toward the angry old man.
“Ya be try’n to rip me off, boy! Silver?! Bah! Regardless the level, an Artifact be an Artifact!” Dylan shouted back. “Shoo! Go away! I don’t need ya business!”
“Come on, old man. You’re playing dirty,” the cloaked youth grumbled. “No one can use this thing without reforging it, and you know it.”
“Reforge?” I quieted with a gulp.
“Hmpf,” Dylan snorted, silently admitting to the fact. “Three gold Elars, or stop wastin’ my time, ya cheapskate.”
“One gold Elars, old scammer. You know it’s gonna cost me more than it’s worth to repair the dang thing.”
“Repair? Dang thing? You dare, cloaked weirdo with an oversized backpack!” But my haughty facade fizzled. “…Please don’t hurt me.”
“For a Dungeon Artifact?! Two gold, brat! Take it, or leave!”
The grip around my hilt constricted even tighter. If it was anyone’s else’s neck, they would already be strangled to death. Maybe the youth imagined smothering old man Dylan?
“Fine, Mister. Two goddamn gold Elars,” the cloaked youth groaned with a hiss, pulling out two squares of flattened gold imprinted with the image of a roaring lion from within his cloak. Unwillingly tossing them to Dylan, the youth added, “Take it, greedy old man. Where’s the sword’s sheath?”
Catching the two glimmering coins from the air in one sweeping hand, Dylan responded nonchalantly, “There be none, boy. That's how that sword be. Sheathless.”
“No sheath?” The cloaked young man said with his yellow eyes wide. He then chided, “What kind of rip-off is this?”
“A good one. Ain’t no refunds either, boy, so don’t bother. Now shoo!”
“You-! Fine, old stinker!” the cloaked youth roared, stomping off into the crowd with me in tow as Dylan chuckled from another victorious scam. However, unbeknownst to old man Dylan, the youth’s yellow eyes gleamed mischievously at me as we hurriedly rushed away. “Thanks, old man. What a boon!”
…
“Mmmmmpfff!!!” My panicked shouts muffled in the shadows of a narrow alleyway as coarse cloth wrapped multiple times around the blade of my body. “Noooo!!!! Let me shiiiine!!! Let me dazzle! Let my greatness show!”
Of course, my pleading screams did nothing.
“There,” the cloaked young man said, finishing by tying me up.
Swiping off the sweat building up on his forehead, I was suddenly taken aback by the pearly smile admiring me. Or maybe the guy was admiring his own handiwork that coddled me like a newborn baby.
“Much better. For now, until I make you a proper sheath, I won’t have to worry about being cut or cutting others.”
“That’s what you’re worried about, human man?”
A fair concern, I must admit. I slashed foes, not friendlies.
The man stuffed the remaining cloth back inside his overly large backpack, slipped his arms through the straps, and swung it onto his back with a clattering thunk. As I wondered what was stuffed in the bag, I was lifted to the man’s side. A loop leather cloth hoisted around the guard of my hilt and held me at his waist. Not as cushy as a woman’s waist, but his side was firm and padded to the touch. I didn’t mind.
“At last!” I cheered, wanting to fist-bump the air. “No more laying on the ground!”
It was one more step toward my dream: proving to the world my greatness! The caped weirdo was the key! All shall know my to-be nicknames and desire me with deep regret. Revenge was best served with a good heaping of jealousy from deep loss. Everyone who discarded me will soon taste the bitter feeling as I gloated.
“Hehehe. Hahaha! Mwahaha! Huh-?”
Suddenly, I was jerked out of my happy thoughts.
“Time to make the day’s living,” the cloaked man said.
Sprinting as if competing in a marathon, the cloaked young man dashed out of the alleyway while dodging around the pull carts traversing the busy road of Dwelf City’s shopping district. However, I surmised he would have had better success if he hadn’t carried around that large, overstuffed piece of luggage on his back.
Taking a sharp turn to meander around a heavy cart of ores on his right, the momentum from the abrupt change in direction forced his oversized backpack to swing into the wheel of the cart on his left.
The heck this guy be carrying? I thought. His bag clunked and clanked from the thudding impact.
Whatever was in Gael’s backpack knocked the entire cart of vegetables over a good two cobblestones or three, and the large lizard pulling the wooden transport gripped the road hard from the sudden jolt.
“Kssss!” The metallic green-scaled creature hissed while turning its long neck around to search for the cause of the disturbance.
“Hey! Watch it, Gael!” The cart driver shouted as he whipped the reins to calm his reptilian steed. “If you bust my wheel again, you're gonna pay for it!”
“Sorry, Mr. Lawson! Hopefully, your cart is okay!” The hooded Gael shouted as he smashed and dashed. Shouting with a half-turned head while running away, the adolescent Gael added, “If not, you know where to find me! I’ll repair it for you, Mister! Free of charge!”
About to wave an angry fist, the sympathetic cart driver sighed, much too used to the recurring event. Shouting back, the driver called out, “You’d face no trouble if you ain’t always in a rush, Gael!”
Gael simply waved back in reply.
Well, maybe if young Gael also didn’t spend so much time with old man Dylan, he wouldn’t have to rush right now. Where exactly was Gael rushing to anyway?