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The Boy With A Dozen Souls
EP 21: A Silver Blade

EP 21: A Silver Blade

A SILVER BLADE

After my uneventful journey to the southern wilds, I read through Raw Teachings of Will and Skills the following day. These two books imparted the knowledge I sought, and I finally understood the gold-glowing effects of the Black Knight, the Arachnid Queen, and that guard. It was Willpower.

Willpower was a type of Magik that drained the user's stamina, and all forms of casting, summoning, chanting, cursing, and drawing used Willpower but to a minimal degree.

Three forms of magic called Magiks allowed the use of actives and passives—Mana Emission, which I already knew of, Symbology, and Willpower. Whenever I used any form of magic, all three types of Magik played a role, with one of the three being primary.

Casting primarily used Mana Emission, skills and techniques primarily used Willpower, and summoning primarily used Symbology. Symbology also referred to the language of mana and hieroglyphs, which I knew of, but there were more—drawings, hand signs, pentagrams, talismans, and many other forms of visual tools.

Pure forms of Symbology did not drain the user's stamina or mana because it used the mana within the air around us and pulled energy from a different realm. Additionally, there was a mutually reinforcing cycle of weakness among the three: Willpower neutralized Mana Emissions, Mana Emission disturbed Symbology, and Symbology inhibited and restrained Willpower.

I also realized that Flying Thrust the guard used was indeed a technique. I remember hearing of tech scrolls back in the Fire Kingdom, but I never gave it much thought until now. Unfortunately, the book had no information about how to obtain a technique.

I learned plenty, but the one thing I practiced throughout the day, along with my multicasting, was attempting to learn a new skill. Constant repetition allowed us to learn skills the way we learn passives. Unfortunately, according to the book, it could take years to learn a brand new skill suggesting one should attempt to better an already acquired skill—like Petty Quickstep.

After a great day of training, I left my ruins and headed south with my fully fed familiars—save the undead kinan. The kinan was useless and resembled a naked mixture of a male and female child that punched weakly at things.

Along the way, I allowed my familiars to slay and feast off any animals we saw—they were becoming a handful to feed. The number of fish I sacrificed will never be forgotten, figuratively and literally.

At the watchtower, nothing changed, and I took to the top of the tower—the camp moved further south and was now in the opening. I made out two tents and a sleeping horse—it could be three tents. But I shrugged, not that it mattered, as I lowered myself off the tower and continued south.

Overhang after overhang, I glided down as my familiars leaped down after me. I crept behind a bush as my hawk took in the information of the camp—Hmph, three tents, two bodies asleep near the tent... and another one asleep a bit further south? Weird... Were they all dead? No, my hawk noticed subtle movements from the two near the campfire. The third was too dark to see, but my hawk noticed something was there.

The book's theme in the Law of the Land by Coronor Soreled was kill or be killed. With that in mind, the memory of the Black Knight beheading me and the death of Clifford, Bone, Mac, and the many pleading vampires taunted me to no end. So, a decision clouded my mind; should I slay these few as they slept, or should I approach them with good intentions?

Finally, with Recall Memory spouting off memories, I came to a decision. Every damned kinan besides Cosmo attacked me—bandits, Eldritch, the guards, that Black Knight. Why should I even attempt to be kind to fellow kinans? I was no longer a kinan, right?

I focused back on the prey before me. Judging from the faint imagery my hawk was sending me, these camping individuals were indeed kinans. Hmph, I stood up and dispatched my two arachnids to attack in front of me.

I heard faint sounds of a gent choking while trying to scream. My black arachnid went for the other victim who presented a struggle. He saw me approach,

GENT

Help!

He called out, his accent thick and foreign to me. But I said nothing as my black arachnid bit into his arm, and he screamed in pain. Just enough poison coursed through his body, and he collapsed to the ground. I ordered my black arachnid to my side as my remaining familiars came to my rear—the gent eyes widened in understanding.

PAIN

Paralysis,

I started to explain.

PAIN

I will not kill you if you tell me who you are and where you came from.

He grimaced before a smile spread across his face,

PERKINS

Rot in hell, ya dumb fuck.

I smiled sadly at him; this bastard Perkins, Kinan, Warrior/Archer reinforced my decision to kill them. He had green skin with tiny brown swirl patches up and down his body save for a fat brown swirl upon his face. I reached out to him, telekinetically picking him up as horror replaced his smile. He was far heavier than Mac, yet I had grown so much in such a short time that he felt light.

PAIN

I was tortured for two years. Being tortured for that long, I picked up some ideas.

With only one hand still, I telekinetically ripped away his armor and leather trousers, revealing his bareness to the moonlight. My cave arachnid stepped forward with its pincers clapping threateningly.

PAIN

Do you want to find out?

He fidgeted slightly, and I tightened my grip.

PAIN

I guess so.

My cave arachnid went for it—

PERKINS

Okay, okay!

I called my arachnid off.

PERKINS

We're...

His eyes fell on his dead comrade momentarily.

The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

PERKINS

I have ya word ya won't kill me?

PAIN

Certainly.

I confirmed bluntly, and he continued on,

PERKINS

We're Silver Blades. The Earth Kingdom commissions us to find a bloke named Oralath.

PAIN

Silver Blades?

I repeated. I read about them in a few books long ago—I was at least five or six when I read about them.

PERKINS

Yea.

I thought about it—attempting to bring back such old memories with no luck.

PERKINS

I have ya word. You cannot kill me.

For some reason, those words struck me unwell.

PAIN

I… cannot… kill you?

He struggled, and a mixture of anger and fear haunted his face.

PERKINS

But ya gave me ya word ya fuck—

I squeezed him tightly.

PAIN

And who is here to enforce it!?

I shouted as I gestured and looked around.

PAIN

This land is lawless. I doubt you would spare my life if I were in your position and you in mine!

He tried to talk, but I clutched him tightly.

PAIN

We are so petty! Every one of us is rude and inconsiderate! We kill strangers for no apparent reason! We slaughter those who plead for mercy!

I felt tears clouding my eyes, but I instinctively heated them away.

PAIN

We treat kids as pawns to go die off for the rich! We have no care for others! We laugh at the sight of death—the sight of our flesh and blood being murdered before our eyes!

I was squeezing him so hard that I could feel his bones through his leather armor top.

PAIN

My word? Useless! Because there is something else I just found out, I am the biggest liar I know.

I cast Fire out of the same hand, causing the flames to give a fiery visual form of my Telekinesis, revealing and turning my grip around him into a burning fist. I watched inventively as my eyes warmed with heat. I watched him scream in agony as his body burned into boney twigs of darkness.

The air above him warped in on itself before letting out an audible pop and puked out a crossbow, flintstones, torches, rags, and iron puri bars. I stared at the litter before realizing it was his Inventory collapsing in on itself upon his death.

I was breathing heavily in my contorted rage as I threw his body into the creek behind me. I took a moment to recollect myself—staring into the abyss of the night, realizing I had just murdered a kinan outright. I telekinetically punched the ground before me—what a disgusting feeling.

PAIN

He would have done the same to me.

I told myself and took in a slow deep breath. I eyed Perkins' dropped Inventory for a moment before dragging my feet over to it. I went for the rolled parchment and unfurled it—It was a map!

My rage seemed to fade away as I examined the crude thing. Drawn in detail by Perkins, it revealed the path they took out of West Rock, noted as a region along the Earth kingdom's border, and led up towards their hideout southeast of the watchtower and northeast of the watermill.

From the watermill to the watchtower, the entire wilderness was drawn out, and I noticed he named locations of fresh game northeast of the watchtower through a range of hills. Then, South of the fresh game was another range of hills named and circled with powerful fiends, and lastly, there was a village northwest of the watermill and west of the powerful fiends. The village was where I saw a plume of smoke yesterday... but that village was not my concern right now.

Eyeing Perkin's dropped Inventory, I Stashed the iron puri bars, a few worn swords made out of basic iron, some jerky, sword belts, one of which I tightened around my waist, and skinning knives that I found within the tents.

I caught sight of blood gushing out of the other blade's neck, and my mouth watered. As I knelt before him, I took in his soft looks—chubby pink face with tiny black diamond-shaped spots. His name was Jobe, Kinan, Tailor/Warrior classes. I eyed the blood oozing down his neck, and as I began drinking, gulping mouthfuls of euphoric blood, I realized that my tirade to Perkins was not valid—I was no longer a kinan. I was a vampire—a heartless monster in the eyes of kinans—but sadness engulfed me as I caressed Jobe's body like a mourning mother.

Would I be able to kill and murder so heartlessly as they? The answer I sought and my frustration seemed to wash away as the bloody nectar filled me. The image of North Star soldiers mercilessly slaughtering vampires flashed in my mind. Halfway through my meal, I was back to being me again, attempting to cement what I am—a vampiric necromancer. There was no use trying to change that, I thought.

I obtained minimal aptitude; the only downside was that I could not drink all of his blood—his meaty taste began to taint the taste of his blood. Hmm... I stood back up, bewildered at the fact that daywalkers did not gain a taste for raw meat. I smiled to myself as an unexplainable joy came over me. I suddenly felt good about myself—a sudden appreciation for what I was.

My familiars noticed something was approaching. It was the horse limping towards us. It looked at me with its dreadful eyes as it lay before me. I inspected it and found a puncture wound on its upper hind leg and lower torso oozing blood. Unfortunately, this horse was in pain, and I was no healer.

Reluctantly, I flattened and pointed my hand against the side of its head.

PAIN

Sorry. Might hurt.

And I conjured my Fire Blade, piercing its skull and killing it instantly.

PAIN

Damn!

I exclaimed, shocked by the power at close range. I stood back and used Summon Undead Ritual. The horse, of course, was raised to life, but this was not the version I wanted. I quickly desummoned it.

Active:

Summon: Undead Caballus Ritual

I then strolled over to the dead gent a bit away from the camp. Salun, Kinan, Warrior/Cutthroat/Hunter, was likely a lookout, but after inspecting his body, he had identical puncture wounds down his torso.

A sudden signal from familiars put us all on alert as laughter filled the air. I squinted into the darkness and saw shadows dashing through the grass on the other side of the river, taunting my skeletons. Their images suddenly popped into my head, but recalling what they were named was difficult. They were a nuisance to travelers, and I would rather not deal with them. I Summoned Undead Caballus Ritual using its former corpse and proceeded to mount it, but my grip slipped, and I fell off.

PAIN

Dammit!

I cursed.

The mount was drenched in blood. I looked back at the two corpses and ordered my caballus to eat Jobe and Salun. Reaching its final stage, it stopped bleeding, grew smooth gray leathery skin, developed boney hooves, and had utterly bloodshot red eyes. I hopped onto it again and realized I had no idea how to ride a horse.

Hmph, only one way to learn. So, I grabbed hold of its thick black mane, and we took off while the laughter of those annoying fiends I have yet to remember echoed into the night.