Without any more words, I propped myself up and began to walk over to the massive weapon. As I grew nearer, I felt dread with each step. It sent tidal waves of animosity of death. It was no mere weapon, the tool of death, not a scythe but a reaper. A reaper was what one called a Battle-axe that had transcended past the ordinary rarity pools and gone off into mythic domains. Domains that still are only folklore, whispers, and myths. Even Mercy himself didn't wield a piece of mythic gear, only legendaries, as if that wasn't a fantastic feat.

But what good did that gear do him? Probably drowned him in the sea of sorrow. Poor soul...

Have you guys tried pulling it?

My words fell flat as I turned to see that the three no longer followed me. Rafael didn't even bother walking. Rodger only made it a few steps, and Shadeo, the one with the most likely build to wield the damn thing, was several yards behind me with his hands on his stomach, heaving his lunch on the ground.

Glancing above my head, I turned on the system displays and was met with this:

Utter fear.

Demise

Death

Only the slayer may be worthy.

So this was it.

Closer I crept, my steps no longer striding towards the weapon but merely inching forward. Even if I was the slayer, the visceral agony hit me all the same. Gathering myself, I pulled deep down into my soul's warren. Looking for peace, I was met with a child within, one that reached out toward the agony and wanted to consume it for itself.

With a heavy breath, I forced myself away. I couldn't consume this; no, I didn't know if I could handle this as a part of me.

With every fiber of my being, I sought peace and was met by it. Like a light in a storm, it came out of me and swept away the darkness surrounding the battle axe.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

( Successfully Purified )

Chimed overhead as I dropped to my knees in exasperation. My heart beat with the repetitions of goblin war drums, then, training my ears once again, I found that it wasn't my heart but actual drums off into the distance.

Rodgers's words broke in.

It's the survivors, the ones who followed Radgar blindly. As they left with the corpse, they began to play those beats. It must be a funeral service, a ritual to their fallen prophet.

The solemn sound made me lose myself in their sorrow. I had ruined everything for them. Their lore, their prophecy cut short. A part of me felt their pain deeply, the part that held that ancient power. The voice from the pond came booming, the one from that ancestral eye.

Don't you dare feel sorrow for the path you've chosen? You had a choice, and you knew that sacrifices would be needed. Now, you live with the life you've begged for.

Those inner words banged against my mind, causing my eyes to blur and my heart to sink. I couldn't look back; I couldn't regret it. I no longer had that luxury.

Forgetting myself and my cause, my eyes returned to the Reaper as it lay silently on the ground. Yet its power screamed out for all to hear and feel. Now, within the systems' vision, I read it for what it was.

Battle-ax of the Apocalypse.

It was a massive slab of ebony black steel. The hilt was a white stitching of cross-woven leather that carried on for what seemed like yards. At the end was a grim skull of a black, onyx crystal with rusted ruby eyes. Attached to the face were two razor-sharp ears that silenced all.

With a steady hand, I reached down to hold the weapon that had caused me so much fear and anguish in a battle I could have just as easily lost.

A system notification appeared as I now held the weapon.

Inspection underway….

Requirements…

Slay the Reaper 1/1

Strength 145/140

Soul 1/1

Two-handing skill 1/1

Requirements met.

Congratulations adventurer.

My strength stat wasn't high before; I must have gained some from the event.

With both hands now taught along the shaft, a feeling of power coursed through me as I lifted the Reaper high up into the air, mimicking Rudgar as I performed some subtle swings.

Well, at least I thought they were subtle. The air quaked and boomed with each wing as a shock wave followed the blades' path.

With a smile, I turned to my party, who all looked like they had seen something beyond belief. Their jaws to their ground, they pointed at me as if I had done something utterly wrong as if the realm had begun to spin the other way.

Too much? It's too much. I know it's silly.

Bringing the Reaper down and into the ground, I rested myself on the skull for support, peering at them with a cheeky grin.

I kind of like it. Daggers were great for a while, but brute strength would be a nice change for the path forward.

They didn't respond. Still at a loss for words, they stood staring, dumbfounded.

Then, Shadeo broke the silence with a laugh that infected the rest.

Fear not, captain. With that monstrosity, they won't dare to critique our tardiness.

Sharing in the laughter, we smiled for a bit longer for what seemed much too short, as good times always are. Then we gathered up our belongings and spread out the loot earned. We prepared ourselves for the dungeon ahead. For the vixen, that was Jude, arguably a foe surpassing the apocalypse himself.