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Ch.9

Alexander casually strolled down the length of his private armory, lining each wall were the statues of previous Demon Lords looked down as if judging the worth of those whose passed by, their weapons collected and cared for over the centuries lay on white cloth clad pedestals of black marble. With a soft sigh he placed a hand upon an altar that lay bare “some day Balthazar I will return what my son has lost” he spoke to the statue in passing. This was as much an armory as it was a hall of memories, approaching the most recently added statue in the hall he reached out grabbing the hilt of his blade. A pure black blade forged from adamantine, a zweihander with unprecedented weight compared to any human blade. The sword stood as his equal from point to pommel, with a blade as wide as his palm from the parierhaken tapering to a slightly rounded point, it's leather wrapped ricasso allowing for a number of different techniques.

After moving into the training hall he took a deep breath as he let the let echoes of the past flow into his heart, it was a dreadful thing, this weapon of slaughter. Screams of the souls he had cut down filled his mind with their cries of pain and anguish. For now he waited with the blade slung over his shoulder, hanging from it's wide cross-guard. Deep down he hated himself for what was going to come next, if only he had the same wisdom he had acquired with his old age perhaps his relationship with his son would not have ended on such a sour note.

Yet another set of double doors greeted me, at this point I was beginning to wonder if this was a necessity or just an architectural choice, these were made of oak and carved with scenes of battle. I pushed my way forward with bated breath, anxiety gripped my bones as I was greeted by a long hall lined with statues. Axes, swords, maces, and other weapons lay on cloth clad altars, untouched by the ravages of time, I could not help but marvel at the somber beauty that lay before me.

“Welcome to the hall of memories, here before you lay the weapons of our forefathers, from the shattered remains of the first Demon Lord to my own blade, each of us will one day add our own creations to this hall” the deep velvety voice of Alexander washed over me. “For now you may choose any weapon that is to your liking, when you're ready come and face me” he spoke with a heavy tone.

I searched up and down the rows till I found a weapon that suited my tastes, a pair of very simple blades with cruciform hilts and wide hefty blades with rounded points, they were of a far older design that had long since fallen out of fashion. The hilts were constructed out of a green-gold metal with dark horn for the grips, garnets were embedded into the pommel caps. Upon being drawn from their scabbards the blades were covered in swirling patterns of black and silver revealing their forge welded nature, these were constructed before humans had learned the secrets of crucible steel from the dwarves.

I gave each blade a tentative swing finding them to be more blade heavy than an arming sword, still they were heavier than any steel blade I was familiar with, if I practiced my normal routines my arms would grow heavy before I was even half done. I was half tempted to find a lighter blade but every weapon I had picked up appeared to be even heavier than these blades. My greatest concern was the overall lack of a cross guard, the normal presumption is that one would wield this type of sword with a large center grip shield. Having the blades as a pair could only mean that one blade was meant to parry while the other was for the riposte. I nervously swallowed the buildup of saliva in my mouth as I regarded the difference in our reach, the blade of Alexander's sword was almost the length of my body.

“Come at me with everything you have, if you hesitate only death awaits you” my grandfather spoke firmly as he readied the massive two handed blade, one hand below the cross guard the other on the ricasso.

With my mind clear I observed his plow stance searching for an opening, due to the nature of the zweihander the lower hand was near his hip and the other near directly in front of his waist. The plow was perfect to counter thrusts and overhead cuts. It's weakness lay in cuts and thrusts towards the lower legs, still I doubted this obvious weakness was anything more than a trap. I channeled Aether from my core to reinforce my body to hopefully close the gap between our difference in strength and size.

With a step forward I dashed into range bringing my left blade in a down ward cut from an ox stance forcing him to parry the blade in hope to open his chest for a thrust, his parry threw my left arm wide and sent a painful shock down the arm and into my shoulder. With ease he whipped the blade over to parry the right opening my chest to a strike with the pommel, and with a forward step he brought the flat of the blade down onto my already damaged shoulder.

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“Weak” he stated flatly kicking me in the gut before I could even recover, dropping me to my knees, the force of the impact causing me to spew bile. “Where has your fire gone, is this the best your father could accomplish” Alexander laughed mockingly even as the pain of his own words gripped at his heart.

With a growl I picked my self up and rocked unsteadily before pouring more Aether into my body, “I need more speed and power” I thought readjusting my constructs before launching myself against his ox stance. He slid his left foot back and launched a quick cut from his right shoulder, I countered by bringing both blades to bear pushing his heavier more powerful cut off center before slamming my shoulder into his side. It was like impacting an oak, at the end of his ark he twisted his hips and turned the massive blade into a belly cut. It felt like being struck by a log as the flat impacted my side and flung me several feet across the room.

Alexander let out an annoyed sigh “Aether reinforcement is only a crutch with the amount you are channeling, start by reinforcing your bones, then your tendons, and finally your muscles it will greatly reduce the stress on your body while enhancing your strength to a greater degree” he explained as I picked my self up once more. “If this is the extent of your ability you are of no use to me” he added in a cold voice.

With a groan of pain I stood up gripping the hilts of my blades till my knuckles turned white, I gritted my teeth while restructuring my spell from the ground up to work as he instructed while upping it's output. I dashed forward and launched a simple fire construct filled with a hollow sphere of compressed air from the tip of my right sword, upon parrying what Alexander thought to be a simple fire bolt it exploded filling his vision with a blazing flash. I stepped to his left side only to feel his fist impact my face rocking my senses and knocking me off balance, followed by a leg sweep laying me out on a back.

“You're capable of melding constructs, not a bad idea, but you are five centuries to early to get the drop on me” he chuckled warmly. He leaned over me resting against his blade “Do you know what separates us from the other races” he questioned stroking his clean shaven chin as if in thought. I only knew I was a Demon for all of half a day, I just looked up at him blankly. “Just like the spirits our ancestors were born from we are able to tap into the negative aspects of human emotion, our wrath make us stronger, our pride shields our bodies, envy allows us to steal the abilities of others, with lust you can corrupt the minds of your enemies, sloth and gluttony are far more mysterious in nature” he explained smirking down at my predicament. “Those abilities are also double edged swords, wrath can lead to reckless abandon and many a warrior has fallen to over confidence” he cautioned in a fatherly tone.

I sat up and rubbed my jaw “how in the Nether am I supposed to channel my negative emotions” I questioned before picking my self up once more.

“Are you angry” Alexander questioned in a mocking tone, I shook my head, I was annoyed but not really angry. “Every one you have every loved and cared about were butchered like sheep for the slaughter, and you ran away because you are naught but a pathetic, weak, coward. Oh how you screamed her name in your sleep, what guilt must be eating at your heart, what was her name again, Lily, Layriel, Lyudmilla” he spoke with a dark mocking tone chewing over each worth filling them with intent.

Upon hearing those names my brain stopped functioning, rage filled my body with it's searing flames, I dashed forward staring death in the face with a blood curdling roar of pain. I needed more, more, and more power, I drank the sweet nectar of rage, anger, and violence till my muscles bulged with demonic power. My cuts were rapid, wild, fast, and powerful, with each cut my speed growing, Alexander chucked in amusement while evading and parrying my strikes with practiced ease. I hopped back before launching into another suicidal attack seeing a slight opening in his ox guard, I threw a cut with my left and thrust with my right, my thrust landing upon his chest before a blow slammed down from overhead. The ground cratered around us and my knees buckled slightly but I yet stood, still burning with rage as my legs shook unsteadily.

Alexander watched on with a cold demeanor as I tried to step forward, with a simple outstretched hand he ordered “kneel” and wave of force crashed down onto my shoulders dropping me to my knees. No matter how much I struggled my body would not respond, instead I glared with defiance and burning rage. “Calm” he commanded softly driving the burning madness from my mind.

My body ached and burned with each labored breath, I was covered in bruises, welts, and could feel several bones had been fractured but my mind was trapped in a serene calm through the pain and agony.

“While we Demons are naturally inclined towards our vile and baser natures we are often drawn to one emotion more so than others, as a Demon Lord we are unique in being able to wield all aspects of human emotion. Wrath is a powerful tool when given a proper outlet, but do not let that become who you are as a person Zamiel” Alexander spoke with a soft somber tone as he ruffled my hair.

“That is enough for today, Olivia see to his wounds” Alexander spoke turning his back to hide his own grimace of pain from where Zamiel had managed to actually pierce his flesh. A feat that Alric had never managed to accomplish, he hoped it was only because of Zamiel's recent losses and not indicative of the boy's true nature. For now he could only help his grandson, deep down he wished the boy could live a normal life, but there was no such thing for a child bearing the Demon Lord's legacy.