Chapter 3 - Sharpening a Blade

A loud clang sounded as two blades connected. Sparks flew and the vibrations quickly numbed the child's arm. "Hah! Is that all ya can do brat?" the soldier screamed in the young boy's ear.

"No sir!" the boy quickly responded while bringing his shield up to protect him from the next strike. The young boy felt his left arm quickly bruise from the impact of the sword as a loud thud echoed out and bounced around the walls of an empty room in the barracks of the Capital. The swords the soldier and the boy used were of human craftsmanship. The blade as plain as a desert with a crossguard made of reinforced bronze and a hilt wrapped in cloth and glued on using Varta goo, were used as their sparring weapons. The guard had casually explained that a Varta was a small furry creature that would inject poison into its pray, turning the victim into goo. The goo was naturally sticky and would gathered before the Varta could consume the goo. In addition, the shield was of the same material. The bronze would act as the shield backed by a leather handle and strap. The protection however, was not enough to keep the child from being affected by the force of the soldier's swing.

"C'me on brat! Yer shield is suppos'd t' be a we'pon!"

"Of course sir!" the child shouted back trying to shake off the numbing feeling in both of his arms. Tensing his entire arm, the boy lifted his arm and twisted his torso. Turning his wrist clockwise while flicking it, the child swung his sword at a blinding speed, surprising the soldier. Taking advantage of the opening created, the boy dashed forward pumping his legs and smashed his shield into the soldier's body, resounding in a strained grunt as the air rushed out and escaped from the adult's lungs. Following through, the child kept his stance low and proceeded to unleash a flurry of blows that the guard blocked with clumsy haste. They were nearing a rack of shields that were stored near the back of the room far away. Pressing forward, the boy suddenly lost all feeling in his arms and hands and soon found out he that he was defenseless.

"Kid," the soldier huffed. "You do realize that you would be dead right now,"

"Yes sir..." the child tiredly responded. The room grew quiet. Only the sound of heavy breathing could be heard. "Sir, why are you doing this?" the child asked.

"Ya know brat? I havn't the fa'ntest idea," the soldier answered, his breath clearly audible in the room. "Ya see, I was ask'd ta by som' impertan' acqua'ntance o' mine," he continued. "The'e be times w'en I ask me'self tha same question. Th's acqua'ntance o' mine is very impertan' to me an' tha' mean' ya be impertan' t' me to,"

"I see sir," the child said. Questions upon the dozen forming since when they first met formed in his head. Why was he so important to the soldier? Why in the world would the child be helped by some random man? Was it truly just an acquaintance of the soldier? Who was the acquaintance? The questions kept coming and he was receiving no definitive answer. At least not yet the child hoped. The child did not know how to have a conversation, so he kept to responses that would not incur anger upon him. Simple sentences such as, Yes sir, Of course sir, and its derivatives were all the child used. What would happen if he tried to express himself? Last time he tried, he was only four years old.

A very young child just learning how to sprint ran across the rooftops, leaped and hopped across gaps between the crumbling buildings. There he was, free with no walls to obstruct him. Only a massive flat area that slowly sloped upwards as one got closer towards the Capital gates, was where the child could feel himself. Air blasted past him as he increased his speed. The holes beneath him was none of his concern. Only the gates on the far side of the Suburbs was his destination. If he could reach those gates, the boy would finally know what was on the other side. What brought him out of his dream was the screaming of two people. Turning around the child noticed a man and a woman. They were screaming at him. Raging at him. Why were they angry at him? He was causing no trouble. No one else was with him and he could not see anyone else other than the two far away from him. So why were they yelling at him? Unfamiliar sounds came from behind him and, the child turned around meeting an incredibly tall and rough looking man with a large beard staring down at him. The man gave a toothy rose his arm and the world darkened.

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The child later found out that the two people were his parents and were executed for not preventing the incident.

The soldier looked down at the collapsed boy. Training was over for today. Sighing, the soldier opened his mind slowly and felt a familiar tug in the back of his consciousness. Focusing his mind onto the single point, he spoke the password in his mind and the tugging point enveloped his thoughts. The faint voice of a woman echoed in his psyche, "How is he Faren?" 

"He is not improving fast enough. I can feel the tremors under the Capital," Faren reported.

"His growth will improve exponentially Faren. The tremors however, tell me more,"

"The tremors are coming from the Living dungeon under the Capital. I'm assuming the worst case possible."

"A Phobos?"

"Yes," Faren confirmed. Only one abomination could create such energy from a single swing. A Phobos from the legends. When the the world lost because of a monster that could vaporize an entire city with a strike, the Gods knew they fucked up. A brief spike in prayers fed the Gods with enough energy to create their last hope, should the monsters of the abyss return. Only the strongest survived the prayer drought. The others would fade away. The strongest of Phobos was unimaginably superior to a god. For mortals to even attempt to fight a weak one, would be asking them to slaughter themselves. Judging by the force of the tremors, Faren concluded that the Phobos was of the weakest kind. However weak was a misleading term to use. The weakest Phobos would still be able to destroy the entire army of Taguan several times over. To Faren's knowledge, the Living Dungeon only required a decent sacrifice such as a large fish that would sell for a quarter of a million kilo. The energy from the sacrifice would be used to create monsters of various types. Any monsters or items left would return to the dungeon and would be stored to create an increased amount of stronger monsters. However, to gather enough energy from sacrifices for the Living Dungeon to create a Phobos is impossible. The first reason is that the dungeon is not powerful enough. The second, is that the amount required, would empty the entire continent of life.

"Faren, investigate the tremors and if you are correct, defeat the Phobos and return," the woman's voice commanded.

"Yes my lady," Faren responded, although first, he has to get this boy onto a bed and get some real weapons.