Chapter 21 – Life 5 – The Swords

The Fog-Maker girl, likely a Disciple of the silent woman I knew before, lead me away from my dwelling, outside the Cursed City, and into the Old City. I hadn’t been anywhere near here in 3 years. Strangely, it seemed less full of people than before… but things also seemed louder, more frantic. Was that a change in the city, or a change in how I perceived it? 3 years of isolation could affect the mind, of that I was sure…

The building that served as the 3rd Emperor’s palace was still there, but it seemed to have been enlarged in some way. Combined, almost, with the other surrounding buildings. I supposed it was a symbol of power, that the Empire could devote that many Metal-Molders to the task. Though, it also seemed to be somewhat practical, as my Metal-Sense told me that the additions were quite structurally sound, that they would serve as good fortifications. I didn’t want to live to see the day that such fortifications were required, though. The Old City was the heart of the empire; if monsters threatened it, it would be the end.

We had to go through several sets of guards to reach the 3rd Emperor. It seemed he had warned them that I may be dangerous, as they examined me quite closely and kept me in a room under observation for some time. Eventually, though, the guards sent me to a large room and left. Then, a young man, really a child, walked through the door on the other side. Who on Earth was this? But then, as the child got closer, I recognized his features. I stumbled into a kneel. “M-my Lord!”

In a voice that would normally belong to a 12-year-old child, but still somehow was hardened with age, he said “You may rise.” I stood up but couldn’t wipe the look of confusion off my face. I had heard the man had the power to keep himself young, but… why THIS young? The child-Emperor grimaced. “Yes, yes, I know what you’re thinking. This youthful form seems off-putting for a man of my 72 years of age. Unfortunately, while combining my Life Qi with another element, the careful balance of energy within my body became impossible to manage. It was either this, or return to my ‘true’ form, something I have no desire to do. Laugh at your peril.”

I gulped. “I- I would never, My Lord!” The child nodded. “Good. Now, it seems you have not gone mad. Either you have failed in your task or succeeded beyond my expectations. Tell me truthfully, which one is it? Lying will make your execution far more painful, I assure you.” My legs went unsteady for a bit, as this child-man was talking about my death so casually. Still, I knew the lessons I had learned over the past three months were more than enough to keep me alive. “My Lord, I have, in fact, succeeded. I infused my sword with Titanium energy until I blacked out, and my abilities underwent extreme changes.”

“Hmm, yes, I noticed that you lack the trademark sword which, to my knowledge, you preferred to keep on your person at all times. Could it be it was destroyed in the process you described?” I shook my head. “No, my lord, not destroyed. Evolved. It has become part of me, and I can summon it at will. In fact, I can do nothing else.” The 3rd Emperor raised an eyebrow. “So, your obsession with keeping your weapon on you has, in fact, limited your abilities?” I smiled grimly. “Perhaps some would think that. But while I cannot create, say, a blank ingot of ‘ordinary’ Titanium, I can do something far more important. If you will allow me, My Lord.”

The child waved his hand in a ‘go on’ symbol. I focused on my right hand, and as all times before it, my perfect, beautiful, indigo sword appeared. Then… I focused on my left hand. I focused on the technique that I had been working on for the past 3 months. The first time I tried this, I passed out. The second time, my nose bled profusely, and I had to lie down. But by now, I was able to do it well. A *second* perfect, beautiful sword appeared in my hands, identical in every way to the first. The 3rd Emperor raised his eyebrows in surprise. “I see… and I assume the color change is not just for show?” I nodded. “My Lord, a sword made in this fashion could cut through any material I could find in a near instant. When I summon the second, it is ever so slightly weaker, but still at least 3 times stronger than anything I made before my isolation.”

It was somewhat disconcerting, seeing a child look with such intensity. “How many can you make?” I hesitated only briefly, for I hadn’t expected that question to be asked. “I once made three at once, my Lord, but have not tried beyond that. Each time I make a new one, I have to focus more and more intently on each previous blade, to prevent them from being turned to dust.” “Do you believe this is a hard limit?” I wasn’t sure where the 3rd Emperor was going with this line of questioning, surely no-one could use that many swords at once? Still, I answered confidently, “I do not believe in hard limits for anything when it comes to Qi, my lord.” He chuckled. “A good answer, I suppose.”

Then, his gaze hardened. “The so-called Skeleton Emperor is becoming bolder and bolder, sending out undead monster troops at an increasing rate. Most fighters, not just the Elite Strike Force, have been called out simply to hold the line.” My eyes widened. So *that* was why the city felt less crowded! “Therefore”, said the child Emperor, “I am putting together an expedition. The finest members of the Strike Force, plus a number of promising single-element Disciples, alongside… myself. And now you. I wish for a vanguard to hold your swords in battle. You will have to make 10 of them, at least.”

My mouth dropped. All those months in isolation, I hadn’t even *considered* that others could wield my swords! It felt… a little wrong, almost, for others to wield my hard work, my pride and joy. But, if it meant saving the Empire, I could deal with it. “My Lord, I cannot promise I can make 10 at a time… but I DO promise that I will make as many as possible, until I lie bleeding on the ground.” The grim child simply said, “That will have to be enough. We march north in 6 weeks.”

The next 6 weeks were a blur. I met my former Master, the Titanium-Maker who led the Elite Strike Force, who had been recalled from the war-front. I sparred with her a bit, and we found that even her best armor would at least be dented by my swords. Proof that I had gained power beyond her, though the 3rd Emperor forbade me from telling her how they were made. Still, I gave her one of the swords, and she thanked me profusely. The second sword went to the Fog girl, who was apparently the daughter of the silent woman that remained on the battlefield as we spoke. She would be a real menace, being able to shroud herself from view while cutting down her enemies.

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The third was given, on the Emperor’s orders, to a towering Metal-Molder who was covered in armor. The second he saw it, he praised it for ages, almost to the point I feared he had gone mad like the Sand-Molder. But, he recovered, and accepted it with grace. We confirmed that he could not absorb it in any way, though he swore that he would become a Titanium-Molder, the first in the Empire, if it meant ‘keeping a hold on the masterpiece before him’. He did say that he was not properly balanced for this sword (an interesting turn of phrase, usually one would say the SWORD was not balanced for THEM). Still, he refused to use his own metal to make any adjustments to it, declaring that would do more harm than good.

Finally, I was set to make a sword for myself. When I did, I could feel lines of connection spiraling outwards from my body and going off into the distance. I wouldn’t have known what they were, except one of them went towards a building I *knew* my former Master resided in. These feelings were the swords I had made before. I knew that I could, if I so desired, turn them into dust at any time. A useful fact, I thought, in case anyone wanted to betray me with them. I focused on keeping all the swords in existence while still making one of my own. It was strenuous, almost as strenuous as making the sword in the first place, but the sword finally formed in my hand. A quick check around the city proved that all of the other three were still around.

The expedition caravan was large, surrounded by guards, with many supplies pulled either by hand-cart or by the few tamed non-monstrous horses the Old City had. I walked together with my former Master and another Titanium-Maker, her next Disciple. The dark-skinned man was barely older than I was when I first joined the Strike Force and was practically drooling over our swords. He tried to make one himself, and even guessed a bit on the theory behind how to make one, which I had to deflect with “you must build your Qi more before even trying to create something like this.” Still, I was glad that he wasn’t going mad like the Sand-Molder from so long ago. I theorized that it was witnessing the process of infusion that was the problem… for whatever reason. I supposed that going unconscious at the time might have been a blessing in disguise, even if it did almost make me ant-food.

The caravan passed through several near-abandoned camps, in which only token forces of warriors remained. They all seemed very much on edge, due to the threat of the skeleton armies at their doorsteps. Several areas had been abandoned entirely, requiring our caravan to fight back some monster groups that had taken up residence. We made sure to give the kills to our less powerful Makers, as a last-ditch attempt to give them more Qi to work with. Only once did I have to intervene, with a trio of bees who could summon icy storms. Only once, that was, until we encountered the first skeletons.

They were, in all honesty, pitiful things. Their bones were a dull gray rather than the white I had expected, and they shambled forward quite slowly. The bones themselves were strong, but they had a weak point. Even our ordinary warriors could defeat them by focusing on the green-colored joints between their bones. By blocking this connection, the bones would separate, and anything not connected to the skull of the creatures fell back into a proper, unmoving state. There was only one problem: the things came at all hours, day and night, until each of our warriors, including me, had killed at least a dozen. The things were also immune to any pain and would attempt to attack no matter how many bones were severed until their actual skulls were destroyed, typically by Metal-Makers or one of my own swords.

Still, these seemed a little weak to be threatening the Empire. I brought this up with my former Master, and she explained a bit more. “These ones are the weak ones, the ones we allow through the front lines. Trying to get every last one of them does more harm than good, and the little ones don’t give any Qi to our Makers.” I blinked at that. “So, the larger ones you mention… they DO give Qi?” She nodded. “Yes, though typically a very small amount, compared to the monsters they are made from. Somehow the more dangerous ones give more, but we aren’t sure if that’s part of their creation, or if fighting and killing actually gives them more Qi just like a Maker. It’s not like whatever foul beast or crystal that summons these skeletons will tell us.”

I almost questioned her last statement before remembering that the 3rd Emperor had forbidden any mention of his brother, the former crown prince, being behind this army of the undead. It seemed that even my teacher, who was the nominal leader of the Strike Force, hadn’t been told. The picture of the powerful, uncompromising 3rd Emperor in my head, even if that man was now a child, stopped any thought of informing her. I instead briefly confirmed that the larger skeletal monsters, which were likely made of more than one dead monster at a time, were much more resilient, even at the joints. We agreed that we looked forward to seeing what my swords could do. I tried making one more sword, to come closer to fulfilling the 3rd Emperor’s request, but wound up waking up in a cart several hours later, dried blood on my face. A later talk with others showed that while none of the other swords had turned to dust, they had turned slightly lighter in color. It seemed 4 swords were my limit, at least at my current power. Still, I had promised I would try as hard as possible to make more, so I spent the next 4 weeks struggling with my powers, alternating between killing monsters and pushing myself into unconsciousness.

Eventually, I succeeded in making a 5th sword, and then a 6th, but they were somewhat weak, only a little better than my teacher’s swords. With permission from those they were given to, I absorbed all 6 swords and then recreated them one at a time. Curiously, the one I had given to my former Master resisted being turned back into dust for a few minutes. I wasn’t sure what that meant, perhaps having a different wielder than myself changed it, somehow? Regardless, I was able to make 5 new swords over the next few days that were all of commendable strength, followed by a lighter 6th one that was moderately powerful. I wielded that one myself, for it was a reminder of how far I had left to go.

Eventually, we made it to a landmark, the first in some time. An ancient city, far to the north of the Empire’s boundaries, its name forgotten by anyone I cared to ask. It only had one crystal, which summoned relatively harmless (albeit large) fish into the river nearby. It was also, now, surrounded by a colossal wall of stone and metal. The sounds of battle could be heard in the distance. This was the base camp from which the Empire made its stand against its greatest foe.

And this was where, Ancestors willing, we would defeat him.