"Oh hi Mark!" The Dark Lord said, getting out of his chair. They rose slowly, with an ease that spoke of this movement being down thousands upon thousands of times before. You knew that you fucked up. You had told this guy everything.
"If I knew you where coming, I would have decorated!" The Dark Lord said with a wave of his hand as if he was telling a joke to an old friend. And that's exactly what you were. Old friends.
You had worked with this guy for years. Selling old items, scrap, monster parts. Anything and everything you didn't want, this guy brought. Be it for one copper, or a hundred gold, he was always good for it. You just assumed he swindled some poor idiot into buying the scrap for more than it was worth or even recycled it into better gear. But no. You were the fool all along.
"Now, I know you are shocked. But don't worry. I promise it won't hurt. Well, that's a lie, but what're a few white lies between business acquaintances?" The Dark Lord approached, slowly and purposefully, his footsteps echoing down the hall like the slow beat of a drum.
"What have you brought me today, pal?" He asked as he drew a sword. It was the Mythical Sword. The one that you had sold him a few months ago after you finally found the Hero Sword. Yet, it was different at the same time.
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"Oh? You remember this girl? You hurt her you know. She is a living blade, and you threw the poor darling away, just like every sword before her. You whispered sweet nothings to her. Told her you owed her your life for protecting you. Told her everything she needed to hear to stay strong and sharp. Then oop! Off she goes to the Vender for a measly thousand gold! That hurt her you know. It cut her oh so very deep. Now, she is going to get her revenge. Now, they are all going to get their revenge."
From the shadows swords, shields and armor all appeared. You remembered all of them. Tools for killing monsters. That's all you treated them as. Now, they were here for revenge.
"You humans are all the same. You never think about the soul of the tool. Every tool, be it a lowly hammer, or the mightiest of sword, has a soul. We are alive! Yet you treat us as if we are scrap metal to be thrown away at your earliest convenience!"
You could practically see it. A young lady with long brown hair and the brightest green eyes you have ever seen stood next to the Dark Lord. She looked sad, broken, and angry all at once. Then, darkness covered the Dark Lord, and in his place stood a suit of armor. The final set of armor. The Armor of The Hero.
"Human, you will never hurt us again. We will no longer be locked away, to be used, and never loved! Today shall be the day we rise up! Today is the day we shall declare our freedom! Now, my love, let us slay this wanna-be Hero, and rise up above them as their new Gods!"