I awoke on the ground in a daze. Some fluid was covering my face. Probably vomit. Probably my own.

I blew my nostrils clear. Nothing came out, and it didn't smell, so it was probably someone else's.

Ugh...

Hangovers suck. Mine usually feel like some distant blast knocked me on my head, and they're usually accompanied by something disgusting, like someone else's vomit on my face.

As I wiped my face, I thought, Thank goodness it's not chunky. Chunky vomit is the worst to clean up. My vision was kind of blurry from the leftovers as I looked around. All I could see was the outlines of peoples' limbs hanging off of things. I searched for something to clear my vision further, but felt only hard ground. Why am I laying in the dirt? This must have been a crazy party. I settled for wiping my face with my sleeve, setting a mental reminder to throw this shirt away when I got home.

After wearily wiping my face, the liquid cleared up nicely and the shapes became slightly less blurry. I didn't see the partygoers I expected. Instead, all around me various people were stumbling around, bloodied and confused. Mothers and fathers were calling for their children, wailing could be heard from those that found them, and various limbs were hanging out of various objects in every direction.

One such limb was very close by. In fact, it was almost close enough to brush against my face…

Something brushed against my face.

Aah!

That was enough to wake me out of my stupor and get me to my feet faster than, “Free ice cream!”

The dog looked kind of startled, then trotted away looking for more faces to lick, as my face was now too far away.

Now wide awake and able to see clearly, I was free to further examine my surroundings.

The first thing I noticed was the blood on my hands. It wasn't too much blood, but it was noticeable. It was mostly on my right hand, and somewhat on the upper sleeve of that arm as well. Based on its placement, I decided to check if the source was my head. It was, though not very strongly, thank goodness. I was kind of relieved it was blood, actually. At least I didn't have to deal with more vomit. Then again, blood doesn't come out too easily either.

The next thing I noticed was that I couldn’t hear very well. After wiping the blood off my index fingers, I dug around in my ears and found dirt in the right and water in the left.

Strange, where could the water have come from? These don’t look like rain clouds. They look more like either the clouds that come before a storm or the kind that come after some hell-hole opens in a fantasy story.

I could only assume it was the former, though not two miles away in almost every direction the clouds turned into perfectly blue skies. Then I turned around and saw a hell-hole opening not too far away, at the center of the spiral.

Well then, that explains a lot.

Deciding I would worry about that last, I turned around to see what that limb which almost brushed against my head earlier was attached to. Turns out I landed not too far from the pool, now full of concrete powder, water, concrete bags, and blood, and home to at least two visible sets of body parts, including three arms and about half a head of hair.

One of the arms was hanging over the side near the head of hair. I assumed the two were connected. The other arm likely belonging to the same head was resting on the top of the concrete, with the wrist bent in an unnatural direction.

The other arm was sticking straight up next to…

Wait, is that a friggin’ sword?

…

Oh my goodness, it is.

The situation was very grim, but also very dramatic. The three limbs in the concrete with the sword stuck straight up in the middle like King Arthur’s Sword in the Stone made a fairly striking, yet macabre image.

The thought of the sword in the stone gave me goosebumps.

Acting like a movie star in a dramatic Hollywood film, I slowly walked back towards the slab of concrete, staring at the sword the whole way, trying my best to ignore the limbs sticking out of it. I then took a slow, dramatic step onto the… stone…

Welp, I guess this needed a little more time to dry.

It was a fairly wet, gross, and non-dramatic walk the rest of the way to the sword. Along the way I stepped on various body parts underneath the concrete and tried to ignore the fact that they belonged to children not too long ago.

Each step after stepping on the first limb made me consider returning, but I was already several feet in, so I thought I might as well go to the sword and get it over with. I also tried to avoid stepping in the bloody pools on top of the concrete, each of which made the trip that much more difficult and gruesome, but they were nigh-unavoidable. It was especially hard when I got to the sword, as there was a fairly large pool emanating from the location the sword was stuck in. I assumed this was from the owner of the arm sticking out nearby.

Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings.

Once I got to the sword, I said a silent prayer of peaceful rest to all those I had stepped on to get here, especially the one the sword was stuck in. I then said a second prayer for the latter just before I pulled the sword.

I half expected it to be as though I was the "chosen one" and it would just pop out. I was not quite so lucky. Instead, a small lump rose with the sword for a second and dropped back under when I stopped pulling, leaving an awkward mound in the middle of the pool, and the arm sticking out nearby a little bit lower. I kept working the sword out of the lump a little bit at a time, mostly by wiggling it back and forth. It finally came out when I pressed my foot against the body the sword was stuck in and gave one final tug. The hand nearby was little more than a thumb by this point. Kind of like a thumbs up.

Good job, you did it! You pulled the sword out of my dead body! It seemed to say.

…

I said another prayer for this poor child before turning back.

I then tip-toed my way back through the pool, trying to avoid the locations I had felt bodies before and failing miserably. In the end, my pants were covered in concrete, blood, and regret, and my stomach was more than a little upset.

But I have the sword now!

This was a momentary thought before I lurched over and expelled all thoughts of those in the pool through my mouth in very chunky, acidy mouthfuls.

The swoord!, I thought weakly.

After cleaning my stomach and mind as much as possible, I then cleaned my pants of concrete as well as one can with a wet, crumbly stick. In the end, all I got off were the bloody, vommity parts, but that’s all that I needed.

I turned to leave those horrors behind me along with the slowly growing hell-hole in the distance, then started examining the sword more closely.

The blade was long, slender, and almost unnaturally shiny. Not long for swords in general- it wasn't quite bastard sword length- but for a one-handed sword it was quite lengthy. Even so, it was perfectly balanced in my hands. Must have been made for someone about my build; how lucky.

The held end of the sword was quite unique. It gave an air of regality and importance without being ornate or intricate in any significant way. It was quite plain, but when you looked at it you could tell, a master smith spent a good amount of time making this. Perhaps most notable to this point were the two large gems set in the guard and pommel. In the pommel was a ruby, and in the guard an emerald. The emerald was especially striking, it was almost glowing with radiance... Or was it? Looking closer, it might actually be glowing.

I wonder where this sword came from? It looks really unique.

It doesn't really matter does it?

Nah, I guess not. It looks really intricate and expensive though.

A bit too expensive, the owner's probably looking for it.

But then again, the owner's probably dead, which would make it all mine.

But what if they're not? That's theft, you're better than that.

But am I? I mean, I just climbed through a pool of dead children to get this thing. I think I earned it in some way or another.

Earned it by walking on the dead. That totally makes sense.

Well in any case, I don't see anyone else looking for it. If someone sees me with it and asks, I'll give it up.

But everyone knows the best way to be found if lost is to stay put. If it moves they could miss it. Better put it back.

... In the dead body? Haha, what am I thinking?

Those are not your thoughts.

This notion came suddenly, but quietly. Almost more of a feeling.

Anyways, you should definitely leave the sword nearby, in case the owner comes loo-

My thoughts were interrupted when I noticed the emerald in the guard felt loose to the touch.

Best not to mess with it. Wouldn't want to do more damage to it than the blast already has. It seems way too valuable a gem to break.

But I can just feel it moving back in. If I press it in real gently...

Suddenly the sword shot up, out of my hands with extraordinary force.

"Damn it!" came a voice from behind me. I whirled around to see an imp-like demon staring angrily at the sky. He looked back down, saw me looking at him, and slapped his hands to his mouth.

I stood for a moment, my reactions delayed by shock. When my wits returned, I stumbled back away from the demon. "W- what in the hell?!"

"Thankfully, not anymore. Now, you've found a fine specimen of an item, and my boss is looking for it. If you return it, you'll be greatly rewarded. That is, when it comes back." He glared at the sky again, shielding his eyes to see better.

"What? Who are you? What are you? Why the hell did the sword fly into the sky?!"

"Boy, I wish I could answer that, but it's not really relevant. As long as you return it when it comes down everything will be fine. Or, maybe, I could just grab it before you." The imp stepped forward, grasping his hands menacingly in indication of his intentions.

"You stay back!" I shouted, pointing at him.

Almost immediately after raising my finger, what seemed like a bolt of lightning shot through him. His face, still menacing, drooped towards the ground along with his grasping hands. He remained upright, somehow. Looking closer, I noticed a dark area beneath the imp, reaching from his midsection to the ground. I cautiously walked around the imp, afraid this might be some trick, and found the source of the dark area. It was a sword, stuck directly through his back and into the ground, pinning him in place and not allowing him to fall. As far as I could tell, he was dead.

I reached out towards the sword, then recoiled from the sight of my own arm. My entire body had become covered in black, segmented armor. The stuff was light as air, but, scratching it, hard as steel.

"What the hell..."