Altair thousand blades, ancient-ruler and lord protector of the thousand blades empire had gone through what most in the archailect would have described as quite the interesting existence. Born on a dusty world in a forgotten system in an equally forgotten galaxy, Altair had been the child of a harlot and a drunkard. A bit cliche if one really thought about it, but it was the fate the universe dealt him, and he had not complained, not even once. His epiphany or enlightenment as one would say, came when he had simply been a street urchin, foraging across the dusty, yellow grounds of his town. Working as a blacksmith to the town’s smith, a silver ranker by the name of Jokuro, he pursued the path of the blade forger initially, seeking to be admitted as a disciple to the diamond ranked sword masters that reigned supreme on his world. Unfortunately, his background denied him such lofty goals, but Altair was nothing if not determined and crazy to snatch his future in his own hands.

It was then he had met an apostle of one of the blade cults on his world, one who had stolen what were rare ranked blades from his organization. Nothing fancy in the grand scheme of things, but for a tier 3 world, they were powerful enough to be considered divine weapons. In actuality though, they were discarded weapons of a gold ranker that had ascended to the rank diamond and had left the planet behind to walk further down his path. Hastily given the weapons by the cultist who was on his last legs, Altair had seen an opportunity to make something of himself, and without a second thought for the consequences of his actions, he had grabbed that opportunity.

Training quietly in the abandoned zones on the outskirts of his town, for fear of being discovered by the cultists who hunted for their divine relics, Altair abandoned what little form of life he had in that town and journeyed deep into the wilderness, crossing into the yellow zones where the expert ranked monsters resided, it would be worthy to note that he had done this as an acolyte. Details of his travails during his time in the wilderness are unknown and were never documented by the chroniclers of house thousand blades, perhaps the ancient wanted to keep whatever memories he had in that wilderness personal, but when he had appeared after his twenty-year isolation, Altair had ascended to the rank of gold.

It was here that truly his legacy began to form, for rumors of a being in the wilderness who wielded an array of different swords began to come from the highly contested zone between the different cults that ruled on the different continents. The diamond rankers of these continents sent their golds to find the source of the rumors and if proven true, bring them into their service either willingly or forcefully. Many a gold went, those who thought themselves superior to Altair found their paths abruptly ended by his blade and their weapons added to his growing collection, those however, who were smart enough to see just what sort of monster was growing in that wilderness were wise enough to retreat, for this was not a being they could reason with.

Altair could care less though, for he had his mind set on loftier goals above lazy and pompous diamonds who did not have the courage to go into the wider archailect and make a name for themselves, in fact, the mere fact that diamonds were content to sit and lord over a single continent, having squabbles between their cults were disgusting to him. Altair wanted to change the status quo on the planet, and for that, he knew he had to get stronger, and so he went into the red zone, leaving the yellow zone almost at the same time that the diamond rankers were preparing to send their top ranked golds to deal with him personally. Soon enough, like all things with time, the story of the gold ranker with a ‘hundred blades’ faded into myth as more than a decade rolled by, nothing could be found of him, and the diamonds were more than fine enough to leave the red zone alone.

The monsters of the red zone had grown to near master rank levels and were considered hidden apocalypses that should they go on rampage on any continent, the diamond rankers would have to pool their entire cults together to deal with them. Usually, it would be left to whatever diamond ranker and cult that resided on that continent to protect their domain, hence the ensuing battle would significantly weaken their power, allowing the other diamonds and cults to make a move on them. Thus, it was decided by pact sworn to the archailect on death by complete annihilation, that should any of them willingly, through either physical actions or by proxies, rile up or cause any of the diamond ranked monsters of the red zone to rampage through the continent.

On the last day of the last month of their calendar, the monsters of the red zone went into a frenzy, a haze of pure power, the likes of which had never been seen on the planet in hundreds of years appeared. To those of the uninitiated, they attributed it to one of the diamond rankers probably either ascending or unlocking some source of power and as such, they prepared for another period of war. To the initiated though, they knew what it signified, the rise of another diamond ranker, and to the diamonds and their high-ranking golds, they remembered just what sort of monster had been growing in the wilderness of their world. The diamonds and cults immediately mobilized, hoping to end the threat in the wilderness once and for all, and on their arrival to the deepest parts of the red zone, met a sight that would forever go down in the history of their world as the events legends and myths were made of.

Altair, now a diamond ranker, had slain every single diamond ranked beast in the red zone, as well as single handedly closing the diamond ranked dungeons existing in the red zone, ensuring the citizens of the continent he was currently residing in wouldn’t be plagued by such monsters ever again. Of course, to the diamond ranked sword masters who used periodical use of the dungeons to bolster their troops, this was a wrench in their plans, and they unanimously agreed to end his existence right there and then. What took place next was the most devastating battle the planet had ever seen, the spot at which they fought, forever dedicated as a holy site in honor of the ascender who would later rise to the rank of ruler.

It is usually said in the archailect, that sometimes, strange ascenders were born, those whose growth and paths were as bizarre as the strengths they acquired, and for Altair, he was one of those, a generational prodigy seen only once or twice in the history of a planet, if not the entire system as a whole. Altair, whose path had evolved from the uncommon blade forger into the rare path of the hundred blades, battled five diamond rankers all at once. Mountains were blown away, entire landscapes were transformed, streams where arid dry land was and scorched earth where vegetation formerly flourished. It was during this battle, where Altair had been pushed to the brink of death, fighting off five diamonds was when he had unlocked Anshara, gaining another bout of inspiration, the likes of which the planet had never before experienced,

Altair hundred blades ascended to the rank of master, his path once again evolving,

While such a feat was rare, they were simply unheard of in that part of the system in their galaxy, an ascender getting to the rank of master without serving under a ruler was one that drew the attention of the powers that be, namely the rulers, harbingers and primordials, for it usually meant they would most probably end up as one of those in time. The diamonds quickly realizing just how much danger they were in had attempted to leave the planet, fleeing into the galaxy as a whole to make their fortune somewhere else where they could reign as kings and deities once again.

Master ranked Altair, whose path had once again evolved into the legendary path of the thousand blades killed them all with a single swing of his blade, ending their existence as quickly as possible. What followed next would be what would later be known on the world as the great cleansing, the master ranked ascender who had forcefully evolved himself and his world in turn into a tier 4 world would go around, eradicating the cult and its followers and in so doing, begin to gather his own following, except these ones would span the entirety of the planet. With few weeks to the infusing of the world with purer master ranked aether, ensuring the monsters of the worlds would grow to match his height of power, Altair commanded the ascenders of the world to solely follow the path of the blade.

They could get whatever sub-aspect they desired along with it, but they were to use the blade as their primary weapon. This finally grabbed the attention of Alastor, supreme of blades and edges who saw an ascender follow his edicts and path without so much as even doing it to gain his attention and bestowed upon his existence a core forge as well as sending his harbinger, the great Zane true blade who not even legends of his exploits had spread to the world to train him in the true path of the blade. Welcoming the knowledge of the true path of the blade, Altair immersed himself in his tutoring, leaving the inhabitants of his world to grow stronger in the short few weeks he had given them before the monsters of his world rose in retaliation.

By the end of the few weeks, Altair had grown to reach the heights of any ascender with the training of a powerful figure in the archailect, close to the peak of master ranked as he was, the work of the true blade had been completed. It was then that Alastor pulled his final trick, asking the thousand blades to be next in line to be his harbinger. Altair had blatantly refused, unwilling to tie himself to any force or being in the archailect, he had done well before on his own, no reason to stop now.

Alastor had surprisingly enough accepted the decision of the thousand blades, but not before subtly increasing the level of aether that would flow into the world, a fact that Altair would later learn down the line. When the monsters finally rose in revolt, Altair and his forces who could now boast of a few gold rankers and thousands of experts met them. The battle lasted an entire month of pure carnage and gory bloodshed, thousands were lost in the ensuing carnage, but the thousand blades had come out on top, a clan forming around him. Forging more blades with the bones and essences of the more powerful monsters among those that he fought, he truly earned the name of the thousand blades.

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Even as reality calmly shattered around Altair and he was drawn into the Nethervoid, he calmly drew Durandal, reminiscing on his history as he stood face to face with Voctu, high servant of Molrik. Opening his vault with a thought, he summoned a few of the blades that lined the near infinite racks of his vault, the legendary ranked blades hearkening to his call. Legendary ranked blades floated around him, their names and significance ringing in the void with him, empowering him, strengthening him,

Durandal, the original of his blades, pure of intent, wrath of the thousand blades given form,

Shadowsteel: splitter of darkness, seeker of all things hidden,

Nirvana: healer of wounds, curer of all wounds

Lightsbane: ender of curses, breaker of unholy bindings

Betrayer: soul piercing destroyer, eradicator of existences

Ashrune: shadow walker, aetheric transporter

Oblivion: blade of retaliation

Sunwalker: rune blessed blade of fire.

Mangler: flesh eater

Thunderfury: caller of lightning

Knightfalls: defender

Requiem: summoner of soul wraiths

Venom: bite of a thousand venoms

Apart from being his blades, forged by his own hands and willpower, they grounded him to reality in general, strengthening his ties to the archailect and order as well. Altair could be the next harbinger of the supreme of blades, but he considered his calling higher than being what he considered the pawn of another being. He grabbed Durandal that pulsed with aether, reflexively summoning his core realm, the abode of thousands of shimmering phantom blades that swirled around him in a vortex of power.

Voctu nodded, gripping his naginata at the bottom and pointing it at Altair,

“Good, I would suffer no mere ruler, an ancient I presume?” Voctu asked,

“you knew that already” Altair replied,

“Apologies, we begin’ Voctu said, swinging his naginata,

The art of swords fighting, taught to Altair encompassed three main aspects, technique, speed and observation. Even as the first swing carried the weight of a rotting edge, Altair felt the ripples of intent coming his way. His first passive skill activated,

Echoes of the blade(L): you can sense the vibrations and directions of every sword swing close to you, its force and strength are replicated and doubled by your subsequent attack.

Durandal clashed with the green blade, repelling the attack with a sonic boom, the ripples became intent fueled blades that Altair grabbed and tore into Voctu with the wrath of a storm. Still the high servant of the lord mutator danced among the blades, parrying and swatting away the majority of the attacks as his blade moved in a blur of attacks, fast enough that even Altair struggled with catching its movements,

At least, at first,

Anshara rang like a bell as Altair willingly submerged himself into the movements, stepping into the hail of storms. Summoning and grabbing mangler, the flesh-eating blade, forged from a carnivorous master ranked creature found on his home world, it raged within his grip hungry for the taste of flesh, and Altair obliged it. Running his authority and intent through the blade, he matched Voctu blow for blow, two sword masters dancing under the hail of blades.

Over and over, Voctu sought to bite the flesh of the ancient with his blade, seeking to infect him with the mutator, but at every turn and strike, Altair had a blade there, parrying the weapon of the high servant with precision and skill. Feeling the immense power of the mutator bolstering Voctu, Altair held it at bay with his realm and pure aspect, seeking to push through the seemingly wall-like defense of Voctu. Dodging another bite of the servant’s blade, he released mangler, a phantom arm made of blue aspect grabbing the blade.

He grabbed another blade, one made of dimming light, as if the very sunset of a planet had been captured within its forged metal. Lightsbane, breaker of unholy bindings. It touched the shield of abyssal energies and cracked it with its first touch, Durandal did the rest, shattering the orb of green power around Voctu. Then Anshara fizzled away like a hastily ended dream as it took all of Altair's centuries training to deflect the attacks of the servant.

Not given time to puzzle just how and why his state of Anshara had been so hastily snatched away from him, he drove his entire concentration on parrying the attacks of the high servant. Then his core realm shattered, its power leeched away in a flash that almost cost the ancient his skull, Durandal ringing like a gong, Altair dove into his aspect and utilized his most strenuous skill, thousand blade arms.

A skill that gave him the ability to summon multiple arms, it allowed him to wield over a thousand blades at the same time, all for a portion of his endurance stat and his attention. He was loathe to activate it, but however, seeing as he defenses were steadily being crushed in ways he didn’t understand, he was left with no choice. Hazy arms of glowing aspect gripped close to a thousand blades, the majority of them barely rare and uncommon ranks.

While they would prove useless against the high servant, Altair hardly needed them to make any damage, simply to buy time for his strategy. Voctu laughed as a bubbling form made of his essence towered over Altair, at its back, little pathways opened up, thousands of blades, all bearing the same powers of mutation and decay appearing,

“you think to overwhelm me with quantity?” Voctu asked,

“No, your end will be fair, your body sacrificed with honor to the mutator, you have fought well Altair of the thousand blades, now die well” the servant continued

“Your blessing from the mutator, it’s the ability to pierce through any defense and ability, isn’t it?’ Altair asked,

Taking a wild guess, he had assumed so seeing as all of his offensive abilities were still working, simply his defensive tactics had been exploited. Voctu gave a malice eating grin,

“Took you long enough, but there’s hardly anything you can do about that, is there?” the high servant asked,

Altair nodded,

“I simply wanted to be sure before I devoted myself” Altair replied,

Watching a puzzled Voctu stare at him, Altair gripped Durandal tightly in one hand and a smoky glowing blade in the other,

Requiem, summoner of soul wraiths,

Around the thousand blades, hazy forms of ghoulish figures appeared, bowing to the thousand blades first before brandishing hazy blades as well,

“Just as you fought me and faced your deaths, end my foe as well, serve me and end your release” he commanded,

The figures gave a throaty wail as the moved with the speed of diamond rankers, appearing close to Voctu who parried them with ease,

"Diamond?, you send the souls of diamonds at me?” he bellowed,

“What can-, ack!” he screamed as a blade sliced him,

Altair staggered as he felt the particular wraith fade to smoke, its lingering memories imprinted on his mind,

Agastus, diamond sword master of the dead plains, slain by Altair at the battle of the blood fields,

Fulfilling his oath, the wraith form of the dead Agastus faded into oblivion, released of his burden. It had been one of the requirements of forging the blade requiem, using the essence of a wraith crow, a bird known for sucking then last memories of its slain prey and storing them, he had used its essence shaped in the form of a blade to slay most of the diamonds of his home world. Wary of the blade Voctu unleashed his fury on the diamonds, eradicating them as Altair’s aspect brought them back to life, their oaths unfulfilled.

Feeling the strain more on his body as his aspect fulfilled multiple tasks at the same time, he spoke again, infusing his authority into the command,

“Nirvana, attend me” he said,

A glowing white blade that pulsed with the power of healing, gotten from another creature found during his sojourn among his world’s star systems, it would heal any disease of illness just once, another of his trump cards about to be wasted. The blade pierced right through his body as he gave a grunt, a rune of healing carving itself onto his heart, he went straight for the servant. Feeling hundreds of his rare blades shattering as the clashed with the unholy weapons of Voctu, he wielded their shards around him in a sphere of deadly defense.

Once again feeling the power of Voctu attempting to shatter another defense of his, he roared his defiance, pouring all his aspect into all his attacks at once, drained but standing with the stamina of an ancient, he clashed with Voctu. In that fraction of a second, blades clashed over a hundred times, rare blades shattered, wraiths of requiem impacting their cuts on the body of the high servant and Voctu actually piercing him once.

It was all the strike the servant needed, pure decay and powers of mutation flooding his very being, he gripped Durandal and stabbed the neck of the high servant who gurgled with laughter,

“you’re done for, praise be the mu-” was all he said as Altair uttered a command,

“unleash” he said,

Nirvana shattered and healed his body,

Requiems wraith tore into Voctu, opening sizzling gashes that refused to heal,

Venom dumped hundreds of specific flesh-eating venoms filled with the authority of Altair,

Sunwalker unleashed flames unquenchable within the body of the high servant,

Still Voctu held on, empowered by the power of Molrik, he attempted to swing his blade down, knowing well enough that Altair had no hope against a second strike. With regret, Altair activated his final trump card,

A simple grey-metal blade stabbed straight through the heart of Voctu, the servant of Molrik staring wide eyed as he immediately felt the aspect and power coming from the blade,

“no” he whispered as he was immediately engulfed in a beam and hail of intent that tore him to pieces,

Tore him to pieces and completely eradicated his existence,

For that was simply no random legendary blade, it was betrayer, blade of Alastor. Forged as a gift to the thousand blades after completing his training with Zane, it was a one-time usable blade, an arcane blade forged with the pure powers of the supreme of edges and it returned after its use, too powerful to be left in the hands of any being.

Staggering as he felt spent, his throne attempting to refill his aspect chasm of power, Altair glanced all around him at his shattered blades, feeling a deep pain at the blades that represented his legacy, laying shattered and useless. Durandal hummed next to him as he nodded,

“Yes, I hear you old friend, we shall forge more just as you taught me in my infant years” he replied,

Durandal pulsed and tapped the ground once as blue images of different forms of blades appeared around him,

“As always master, you remind me of our roots back home” he said with a smile,

Feeling the looming powers of the titan blade and the jade ruler coming towards his direction, he laughed as Durandal pulsed again,

“No, we cannot use the titan blade to forge a blade, and yes, I know just how powerful that blade would turn out” he replied,

Durandal pulsed weakly before settling in his palm,

“Rest easy sir Jokuro, we have much work to be done” he said.