In lands dark during the day… where the lava flowing between the patches of stone still only produced a low glow… there was a castle set on a mountain that was sculpted especially for it.

An immense skull—a rageful, animalistic skull with a jaw that could swallow the biggest and deadliest creatures—decorated the front of the castle.

On the sides of the castle were massive baskets, each set ablaze, which barely held back the darkness despite the size of the fire. Despite this, the castle didn't feel oppressed in this place; instead, it blended perfectly with its surroundings.

It was a very special place indeed.

This was the west, the Markos Region region, where Bal'kee Castle rested.

Lava flowed through the castle, beneath the ground and inside the walls, in special tubes and tanks that allowed its continuous current. It was how the place was always lit in a low glow, like being around a fire after dark. Those within the castle still worked.

In its throne room, which had never-ending steps and little floors, a King sat upon his plain, golden throne, and a woman stood on the miniature floor just before it. She had pale skin, amethyst hair, and markings by her eyes. Her head was bowed.

"…and that makes for most of the ponds in the Offose Region."

King Farrow chuckled as he leaned back his head and cracked his neck, looking outward at the balconies that sprouted across the towering walls of the throne room, masked figures overlooking the announcement. They were, of course, purposed at different heights.

And even Sila, who was then allowed to raise her head, did so to look back—seeing the floors below… the ones that she had climbed herself… the ones where some of her 'sisters' were still standing upon now. Their heads were also bowed, some closer than others, letting her know that just because she was ahead and above… that lead could easily be lost.

"And have you heard her words, everyone? The ponds remain as they are—mere bodies of water." The King didn't move from his throne, gesturing a hand, an old, frail, and pale one… though one nobody doubted the strength of. "Nothing will be coming through them. Nothing will interfere with what is soon to come to be."

King Farrow then held up a long and skinny finger. "However… the one who did come through the pond… this Rodent." His finger wagged with a clicking of his teeth. "I don't like you kept him alive—regardless the reason."

"That can easily be resolved," Sila answered as she stood tall again, not really caring for this place or this moment, just going along with the motions. She had to fight shrugging. "I can kill him easily now as I could have easily then. His life just means more information at no risk or cost. But should you bid it—the world will be rid of him."

The King cackled with arms raised. "Everyone! Don't I have such a darling daughter before me? One who hears my words, who tries to estimate my will when I am not there, and eagerly tries to rectify a minuscule mistake just to appease me? Surely… you will be… hold on… what is this…”

Everyone in the oddly designed throne room looked at the golden throne and the cloaked man sitting upon it, each suffering a terrible attack, a horrible feeling that almost made them shiver and twist as though a massive panic was about to break out.

Everyone rolled while standing, sounds escaping their mouths like the whines and growls of animals. Each came to direct their happenings toward the lady… who also felt a terrible disturbance. It was as easy and quick as the clank of a sword drawn from its sheath.

The woman stood there stunned, unable to believe what she felt—no more than a twitch breaking out from her… causing her breath to leave through her mouth. Her face scrunched at how, after all this time, someone could have even reached that Sword.

And, at once, she felt that he had done so.

Before the woman could have recovered, her father was suddenly before her, moving in a way that nobody could see, towering over her despite his hunched state. Before she could even so much as tremble, the back of his hand smacked her like she was a baseball—launching her into the air and into the middle of the room.

There, she knocked against a flaming, circular wall that became manifest, different sigils and symbols rotating close to its rim, the woman locked in by burning bracelets at its center. When a symbol passed over her above, terrible torture was wrought through her body, each unspeakable and indescribable, except the repressed noises Sila made.

Her father, a giant that nearly reached her elevated state, held his head low as unimaginable anger brewed inside his hood. "Stupid. Stupid. STUPID!" His hand smacked the air, back and forth, right and left, each directly knocking into his daughter. "THE SWORD! HE HAS IT! HE HAS THE SWORD!"

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

"G-GAH! W-WAIT! WAIT! WAIT!" Sila struggled and breathed, gasping and curling in the seconds between the differing pains. "HE—BAH!—DOESN'T KNOW—FAAAAH!—HOW TO—NNNNHH!—FIGHT YET!"

Her father held up a hand, the hulking, hunched and cloaked figure that he was, thick in absolute mass as his sitting at the top didn't imply for him to be. He barely raised his head to look at his daughter—a sight he didn't dare disgrace his eyes with.

"You… have failed."

"YES! YES… I HAVE!" Sila breathed but didn't care about securing oxygen… but rather clearing her name. "But… I can't claim how he got the Sword… only that he isn't worthy of it." She swallowed the contents of her mouth. "I can still kill him. Take that Sword and break it. He truly is no match. Please, father."

Her father thought about this in silence as the rest watched on… soon… the beast of a person turned around. The wall of fire that he had manifested disappeared, and Sila fell… landing on the reptilian tail of her father, which lowered her to the ground.

"Correct this," King Farrow said, slowly ascending the steps to his throne. "Or begone."

Sila, despite barely being able to return to her legs, stood straight and strong, bowing forward regardless of how much this killed her on the inside. Turning without a break in her motion, she carried down the steps, her eyes starting to glow a subtle violet.

"And Sila?"

Sila stopped… but did not turn.

"Sasha wouldn't have failed like this."

The woman froze.

"If you cannot do better than the one you killed," her father said. "Then you should have allowed her to kill you instead."

With that, there was a force around Sila, one that generated currents of energy around her. Her steps pounding despite how slow they were. Her hand rested on the sword attached to her hip… a great weight within the slim, simple metal.

Sila passed her sisters on the way down, eyeing them all without exhibiting a hint of weakness. Some held the gaze… others unable to bear the intensity. Soon enough, she was at the bottom of the throne room and did not have to use her arms to open the doors.

"Rodent," she said to herself. "You'll regret not dying sooner."

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In a room that was dark except for a round and flat sapphire crystal in the center, King Farrow stood upon it as holographic lines shot and laid upon his form, as well as shooting across the room and transforming it. There was a blue glow in his eyes, and he no longer saw what was around him.

At once, seven others were with him, each in their thrones, each at varying heights, his being at the very top.

"I'm sure all of you have felt it."

"Impossible." Number Five shook his head. "Even like this… it should never have been pulled."

"It was bound to happen eventually," Number Three said. "Someone was bound to pull it."

Number Four spoke up. "But our reports showed that there still were no changes in the Sword. What caused it to be allowed to be pulled?"

Number Six leaned forward. "Boredom can be quite the toll. Regardless of the reason… the Sword is now free. But why do we fret? Its limited power is still sealed… in fact, this is rather good."

King Farrow, Number One, attached himself to that. "How do you mean?"

"I'm sure I'm not the only one to have felt that the Sword and the sword alone was pulled." Number Six looked around at those gathered. "And sure. Knowing that such a terrible thing had finally been freed from its holding was a terrible jolt. But in its current hands, it poses no threat, risk, or anything. Even if the Sword wanted to do something special, it has not the power… nor the hands required to handle its power."

King Farrow hummed.

"Without the Sword to protect its sacred grounds, that leaves us to do as we please with the site." Number Six rested back on his throne. "And if we really want to be careful, we can send someone to kill the current holder of the Sword—and see if it's possible to break it."

"My daughter is already on it," King Farrow said. "She's motivated to kill."

"Imagine if she had the Sword," Number Four said.

"The one who took it, however, is from a pond." King Farrow let the information settle with everyone. "Despite this, he holds no special bearings. Nothing remarkable. I trust and believe my daughter when she says this."

"How did an ordinary person make it to and pull the Sword? It should be impossible."

"Indeed." King Farrow nodded. "Make no mistake: what lies before us is only a tiny grain of trouble. It is of no threat." His head lowered. "But with that being said… I don't trust what this grain can be planted to be. I want zero risk when it comes to this situation."

"Shall we halt our plans and deal with this personally?" Number Five asked.

"No." King Farrow looked at someone in particular. "Number Three. Garbage."

"Yes… Your Highness?"

"How goes the underground city?"

"Still on course."

"Good. You're closest to this problem." King Farrow relaxed a bit. "In the case my daughter fails… I want you and your experiments to handle this personally. Knowing that blade… it'll want to check out its 'home.'"

"Hehee." Number Three clasped its hands together. "Sounds like I'm in for a fun time.”