Season 3: Chapter 79: Say my Name.
Holding The sacred Armament in his hands, Danse roared, the paladin brandishing his katana aloft to blow away the slime, creating a floor of blood beneath his feet for him to stand upon.
“Enough! Monster! Demon! I'll have your head!” Danse screamed, pointing his blade towards the indifferent woman standing upon the balcony.
“You'll do no such thing.”
A voice, drawing Danse's eyes to a black-haired man wearing the sergeant livery of the paladins.
The man held a stygerian silver blade, a paladin weapon given only to esteemed members of the Order.
Danse frowned, a sense of familiarity taking him as he focused on the slanty-eyed man.
A Hero Clansman? No. Another trick. A mimic? A slime? Probably.
Danse wouldn't entertain the creature, he had enough of this dungeon. Enough of these setbacks. His objective lay in the yellow duck held in the woman's hands. All he needed to do was grab it and go.
“I know what you're thinking, Danse. You see the easy way out. Your prize so close yet so far away. But know that you won't succeed while I stand in your way.” The stranger said, holding his blade aloft.
“So you know my name? No doubt that bitch Berus had something to do with this trap. When I get out of here! I'll make sure she's tried and hanged as an apostate!” Danse roared, exploding with power.
“Then I guess you just gotta stay here then.”
“Tsk. We'll see about that! Blood Arc!” Danse spat, activating his weapon, the Muramasa arcing with gold energy as he swung the legendary blade, unleashing a red slash that arced at the black-haired man.
The man lifted his sword, side stepping the attack and shooting forward, rapidly closing the distance to stand on the floor of blood created by Danse's weapon.
You fool. Danse smirked, the moment the man stepped upon his territory was the moment his fate was sealed.
“Blood Spike.”
Spikes of blood rose up, impaling the man, curving back into hooks that latched onto the stranger's body.
“Guhhh.” The man let out, eyes wide, twisted in pain, body falling to the floor as the spikes retreated.
“Heh. All that bravado, and nothing to show for it. Now you're just a corpse lying in your own blood.” Danse said, stepping around the man to address the woman still staring indifferently. “I'VE BEATEN YOUR CHAMPION! NOW! GET DOWN HERE! AND FIGHT ME YOU CUR!”
Danse slashed upward, his weapon unleashing a blast of energy that was blocked by a shining barrier that flicked to life.
“My champion?” The woman replied, brow raised, a giggle sounding from the newborn drider riding a Tarantual.
Suddenly, around Danse, laughs began to echo out, the goblins chuckling, the monsters mocking him. HIM!
“Oh. I'm afraid you are mistaken dear paladin. That's not my champion. And I'm not the one in charge here.” The woman said, her hand barely covering her manic grin.
Danse's eyes shifted left, then right. Eyeing the monsters.
“Then bring them down here so I may cut their head!” Danse barked.
“I'm already here.”
Danse spun, lifting his blade, blocking the attack from the man who was supposed to be dead!
“I killed you!” Danse spat, squaring off once more against the man bleeding from multiple injuries.
“You're a couple thousand years too late to kill me.” The man said, standing upright.
“Tsk.”
Undead? No. He's bleeding. Mimic? But he's bleeding. A wright? Advance Wright? A corpse golem? Numerous thoughts ran through Danse's mind, but it didn't matter, the monster would be dead soon anyway.
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But why did he look familiar?
Danse shook his head, focusing, shifting to the defensive as the man charged forward.
Clash after clash, despite his injuries, the man moved with the grace of a master swordsman, even Danse, with all his years of battle was caught on the back foot.
Whenever he tried to activate a skill, whenever he tried to take a moment to breathe, the man was on him with brutal efficiency.
Each strike, heavy, each slash, swift. Danse was forced to rely on every ounce of his experience to fend off the warrior.
“BLOOD-Uck!” Danse let out, his blade being parried, throat punched, forced to stumble back and focus on defending against the onslaught of the dancing blade.
Who ARE YOU?! WHAT IS THIS?! HOW IS MY SWORD BEING BEATEN!?
The man charged forward, Danse realizing he couldn't rely on his fancy toy, he reached out, blasting the man with holy energy.
“Damn… damn it!” Danse let out, breathless, staring at his attacker laid out on the floor and steaming. “I've had enough of this! Blood Burst!”
Danse pointed his katana out at the man, activating the skill that would explode the man's blood, ending the threat for and for all.
A moment passed. Then another, Danse's smirk fading slowly.
The paladin blinked, eyes wide, his attacker standing up unharmed with a sigh.
“Hm. How disappointing. Is this all the hunter of my kin amounts to? I'm not quite sure if I should be disappointed in you, or disappointed in my descendants for dying at your hand.” The man said, all wounds afflicting his body shifting, evaporating, even the blood that dotted his form seemed to take on a will of its own, slinking beneath the man's armor.
What? Danse nearly asked, but didn't have time to question what the man had said.
His assailant was on the move.
Danse, realizing the weapon in his hand was ineffective against a man-no. A monster that didn't bleed, decided to retract his ki from the weapon, pouring it instead into his body.
But he wasn't fast enough.
“DAMN IT!” Danse shouted, spinning just in time to raise his gauntlet that let out a crunch sound as the monster’s blade struck his arm.
Danse's blade fell from his grasp, a firm foot planting into his chest a moment later that sent him careening back.
“Ah… this brings back memories.” The man said, holding the Muramasa in his hand fondly as Danse scrambled to channel ki beneath his feet to avoid the bubbling body of slime he had found himself on.
Disarmed, Danse snarled, clutching his arm.
Suddenly, a splash. A stygerian paladin sword sliding across the slime towards Danse's boots.
“Pick it up.”
Danse looked down. Then back up, glaring at the monster.
“Go on. Pick it up. Don't be shy.” The Monster casually said, hand gliding against the red metal of the blade. Admiring the wave-like pattern on the sword.
Danse clenched his jaw, reluctantly taking up the sword.
“Do you know what this weapon is made of?” The monster asked, admiring the weapon in his hand with a smile. “Contrary to its appearance, the metal isn't actually metal. But hardened solidified blood. My blood to be exact, two pints! Mix with the ashes of an ichor vampire, five pounds of crimson crystals, and the bones of an elder dragon… heh. That was a fun hunt…”
Danse went wide-eyed, realizing why the sighing man looked so familiar.
The Hero.
An einherjer? A phantom left behind? Some magic defense crafted by the old Demon Emperor to defend this decrepit castle? No. It was talking! It was sentient! Nothing was making sense here!
Danse broke out in a cold sweat, subconsciously taking a step back.
Damn you Berus! You! What is this?!
“Slimey. It seems our guest is injured. Would you mind?” The man said, holding the weapon outstretched to the side.
“Of course darling!!” The woman atop the balcony called out with the fervor of a fangirl before a tentacle wrapped around Danse's leg, the man's injuries being healed.
Danse clenched his now uninjured arm, gripping his weapon tightly.
“Ya know. It hurts my soul seeing my Muramasa used so poorly. Allow me to demonstrate its true form. Nihil. Nisi. Sanguis.”
Suddenly the blade of the katana expanded, Danse eyes going wide, mouth agape, his cheek bleeding as the weapon snaked back to its wielder.
“Tell me Commander Danse. Do you know who I am?” The man asked, smirking as he stepped forward.
Danse involuntarily stepped back, the warrior before him oozing with the aura of an asura.
His stance held no openings, the katana he held in his hands seeming to be more akin to an attachment of his body rather than a tool.
In Danse's eyes, a monster that wielded the powers of the divine and commanded an army of evil.
“You…” Danse went wide-eyed, realizing what Lhikan’s ramblings had meant when he said they “found” The Hero.
“Go on. Say my name.”
“Y-you're… The Hero.” Danse said through clenched teeth.
The man paused, a look of exasperation on his face before he sighed.
“My name... Is Hiroyuki Sawano. Say it.”
Another phantom slash, another cut on Danse's face.
“Say it.”
Something blurred, a slash. Danse knees involuntarily giving out.
“H-h-”
“SAY IT!” The man roared, a dozen new cuts appearing up on Danse's body, the man bleeding profusely from every orifice as he felt a tug from within. “Say my name.”
“H-hiroyuki! S-s-sawano!” Danse recited, dropping his blade, his eyes reflecting the hundreds of red shards that hung in the air. Another skill of the Muramasa, one Danse had never known the weapon was capable of.
“Good. I will give you credit though Danse. You're strong.” Hiro said, walking forward until he stood before the paladin, a hundred blood shards at his back. “But unfortunately… I am beyond strength.”
Then Danse's entire world went white as a malevolent force intruded his mind.