When calculating line-of-sight from channel or sea, remember that it is not restricted by usual limitations. Even when the Skyway is wreathed in cloud and fully concealed from view, it is still regularly attacked. They don’t need to actually ‘see’ you, as long as they know you’re there.
----------------------------------------
Jair stared at the weapon’s examine text. When had Maelstrom’s integrity increased? It had been ten percent last time he remembered.
Would it repair itself over time, like his own soul would?
No. His instinct said that wasn’t the case, and the new line in the description looked like confirmation.
─ Maelstrom
─ Type: Ascended Soulsword (3rd Form)
─ Rank: Legendary (Integrity: 11%)
Imbued with the pure energy of Mount Sanctum and the lifeblood of its creator, this blade has transcended its humble origins and become a weapon of *****?
After ****?, this blade now contains traces of ***? and will **?
─ Class Requirement: Mageblade
─ Bound to Jair Welburne
“It's changed. After something the blade contains traces of something else.” Jair read aloud. It had been an active change, not something healing itself over time. “And will unknown.” That sounded either exciting or ominous.
“Your soul must be a mess,” Eythron grunted. He turned Maelstrom over. “This could have been a beautiful weapon.”
“It already is.”
“Don’t try to lie to yourself. This isn’t steel, this is your soul. If you didn’t acknowledge its flaws, it wouldn’t look like this.”
“I can’t just will Maelstrom into being flawless. That’s not how—”
Eythron tapped the blade with a finger. “I didn’t say ‘just’ anything. The strongest of wills still requires action to manifest itself. But you’ve had this sword how long, and your will has done… what?”
“A little over three months, and I’ve been specifically not doing anything to it until I could consult with my teacher.”
“I’m not your teacher.”
“You were, and you could be again.”
Eythron’s eyes narrowed darkly. “I don’t take kindly to liars, Jair Welburne.” He turned Maelstrom over again, running a weathered hand across its misshapen edge with a gentle touch, almost a caress. “Where did you find the materials for this? I’ve never seen such a combination successfully fused.”
“Oh, now you tell me? After I spend how many lifetimes to fulfill your recipe, and it was untested this whole time?”
Eythron’s hand froze. His eyes flicked up to Jair, then slid back down to Maelstrom. “What do you mean, lifetimes?”
Jair waved his hand at Maelstrom. “You think something like that could be accomplished easily? Yes, it took lifetimes. A lot of trial and error from both of us went into perfecting the design. I'm not sure if Maelstrom could be replicated, even setting aside the holes in its soul. But now it’s here, and I need to know how to repair it. Or complete it.”
“Repair and completion,” Eythron said, musingly. "Yes, it will require both. It looks like you were on the verge of dying and it threw itself in front of you. Gave something a bite right out of its essence rather than let you fall."
"It's been saving me far longer than that," Jair murmured. How many battles had he fought and won with his reforged, then-nameless sword on the way to their shared destiny?
But Eythron’s words also vividly recalled the Zeluran beastlord, with its heavily modified body and soul, as it sliced him open on Mount Sanctum’s mana forge, eagerly rushing to feast on his soul. The beastlord wasn't quite a vampire, there was no way to be partially or almost a vampire, but it had uncomfortable similarities in how it fed on body and soul alike.
It seemed the narrow line between his current success and abject failure had been even thinner than he’d imagined.
Jair ran his eyes down Maelstrom’s warped length. "I almost don't want to correct it. I've gotten used to its quirks. It's... characterizing."
"If that's truly how you feel, then I doubt any attempt at a secondary reforging would take. The weapon isn't just yours now, it's a part of you.” Eythron grunted irritably. “Not that I would ever advocate for a second reforging at this level. The power lost in the adjustment would be more than the integrity gained would be worth. You'd be throwing away a legendary weapon to get a shiny looking exotic one. Better to continue the process you’ve begun.”
“And what process is that?”
“How would I know?” Eythron shrugged and tossed Maelstrom back to him. “Something you’ve done.”
“You’re as helpful as always.”
Now that he was no longer distracted by Maelstrom, Eythron crossed his arms and stared Jair down. “You act very familiar with me for someone who I’ve never heard of. And don’t think I’ve forgotten all your mentions of lifetimes and working together.”
“If there’s a question in there, I suggest you ask it properly. Unless you’re accepting me as your student? I’d be happy to sit down and discuss our history once my future is assured.” Jair glanced around at the destroyed bedroom. “Though we’ll need to find something to sit on.”
Eythron glowered at him.
Jair crossed his own arms, as best as he could with one being shorter than the other, and glowered right back.
They were still wordlessly glowering at one another when the door slammed open with a crash.
Qahrvirna stomped in, eyes gleaming brilliantly red. “What have you done, you ridiculous man?”
In an instant, Eythron uncoiled and lunged at her, sword extended. The transition from unmoving to violent happened faster than vision could process.
Qahrvirna slapped his sword away and kicked him in the chest, though not fast enough to stop his weapon leaving a deep slice across her side.
Eythron staggered back a step but recovered at once. He intercepted her next attack, recalled his sword to his other hand and lunged in.
“This is my house you uncouth barbarian!” Her eyes glowed brighter still, seeming almost to spill out crimson fire to either side, leaving a visible trail in the air as she darted forward.
Eythron's well-trained speed wasn’t able to match an enraged vampire’s.
Qahrvirna hopped back out of reach of the strike, batted the sword aside again, and her arms lit up with arcane symbols as she fired out a pulse of power straight into Eythron’s face.
This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
He raised his sword to catch the blast, deflecting it into the wall beside him.
Qahrvirna used the momentary distraction to slip around to his side. She kicked him in the back of the knee and blasted a second pulse of magic into his chest at the same time, violently knocking him over.
Eythron’s head cracked against the wall and he fell still, slumped unmoving as blood slowly trickled down the side of his face.
Qahrvirna leaned down, snatching his sword out of his hand and tossing it away. “I’ve known you too long to fall for that. Now apologize for ruining my guest room.”
Eythron chuckled and twisted his hand toward her, pretense of death abandoned. He recalled his weapon in an instant, his hand perfectly positioned to aim the blade directly at her throat. “You know it’s pointless to separate a mageblade from his soulsword at this level, right?”
Qahrvirna slapped the weapon away again, uncaring of the slice it left across her palm, and grinned down at him with her fangs showing. “You know it’s pointless to fight a vampiress in her own home, right?”
Eythron grunted wearily. “What are you trying to prove, Qahri? That you can beat me up when I’m tired and you’ve just ignited? Good job.”
“This isn’t about you or me.” Qahrvirna leaned in close, voice lowering. “If you don’t want him, I’ll gladly take him off your hands.”
“You’ve had him for months.”
Qahrvirna pouted, her bright lips exaggeratedly puffing out. “He’s been so determined to do nothing but train and find you, it’s frankly a bit tiresome. I’m sure once you turn him down, he’ll be less obsessed with you.” She reached down to help him up.
Eythron took her hand and hauled himself to his feet. He returned his sword to his soul, then turned to give Jair a long, assessing look. “Obsessed with me, are you?”
“You’re one of the most influential people in my lives, why wouldn’t I be?” Jair said innocently.
“Lives? Aha!” Qahrvirna spun on him. “Reincarnator?”
“Time looper.”
Her crimson eyes went blank for a second. “Time… looper? As in, traveling backward through time repeatedly?”
“Yes, yes. Everything makes sense, it’s all clear, right? But now I need—”
“Hey!” Qahrvirna pointed at him, with a look of betrayal. “You promised me whatever I wanted, knowing that you’d never have to pay up!”
“I’ve every intention of paying you before I go. I don’t know how the looping power works, it’s possible that each world is left to continue after I depart. Or perhaps it is destroyed and only my timeline continues. I’ve given up trying to determine which it is.”
Qahrvirna put a hand on her hip. “You came here to kill me and steal my knowledge.”
“No, I came here to find Eythron and steal his knowledge. You’re just a target of convenience.”
“I… think that’s worse, somehow?” Qahrvirna stared at him deeply, her brief annoyance shifting rapidly to eagerness. “Mmmm…I want to see what happens if you turn.”
“That’s one of the two things off limits, remember? My sword and my soul. No biting.”
“So when’s the wedding?” Eythron interrupted, then waved a hand. “No, I don’t care. Enjoy yourselves.” He turned to leave.
Qahrvirna turned to Jair, as excited as if she’d just been offered an entire city to toy with as she pleased. “See? I told you he wasn’t going to be any use.”
“I believe differently.” Jair picked up his bag and staff. “Do remember to forward my mail when it arrives. And I still want my own dragoncube.”
“H-hey!” She jumped in front of him with pleading eyes. “At least stay long enough to leave me at the altar?”
“Not this time, Qahrvirna. This is a business trip, remember?” Jair sidestepped the vampire and followed Eythron out, down the stairs to the ground floor.
Eythron opened the front door, then stopped and spoke without turning. “I never said you could come with me.”
“You going to try and stop me?” Jair raised his hand to his forehead, ready to reconjure Maelstrom at a moment’s notice.
Eythron looked over their surroundings, sighed, and shook his head. “We’ve already destroyed enough of Qahri’s possessions.”
“Which you still haven’t apologized for!” she shouted.
The old man grunted. “I’ll bring you better ones next time.”
“And how long will that be?” It was midmorning outside, and the sunlight streaming through the door forced Qahrvirna to stay back. That didn’t stop her from arguing. “Three years? You think I have nothing better to do than wait for you?”
“Which one of us is immortal?”
“Jair, apparently. Which means he should stay with me.”
“Yes, he should.” Eythron stepped outside and turned to Jair squarely. “Go with the vampire.”
“No.”
They stared at each other.
“You promised not to ruin my garden, remember!” Qahrvirna’s voice echoed from inside.
They ignored her.
“At least help me understand what to expect in general,” Jair said at length. “Legendary is beyond anything we planned for. These incomplete effects it has, what kind of thing might they be?”
“This is a legendary soulsword. Anything touching the soul is beyond simple comprehension. Sure, you can know yourself to some extent, but even a thousand lifetimes isn’t enough to fully map your potential and understand your capabilities. The most sophisticated construct to exist barely comes close to matching what soulspells do regularly, and it requires a city’s worth of power to run.”
“But we’re not talking about soulspells, we’re talking about an item. Enchantments have limitations, even innate or developed ones.”
“You’re not hearing me, boy. This is a legendary soulsword.” He hesitated, narrowed his eyes at Jair for a long moment, then manifested his own soulsword and tossed it over. “Look at this one. What do you notice about it?”
─ Ascended Soulsword (3rd Form)
─ Rank: Relic
─ Abilities: Soulcutter, Purifier
Imbued with the pure energy of Mount Sanctum and the final hopes of a lost nation, this blade has transcended its humble origins and become a weapon of unstoppable power.
─ Class Requirement: Mageblade
─ Bound to Eythron Zoress, Heir of Death
It was nothing Jair hadn’t seen before, but he did immediately recognize the major difference between their two swords. “Your sword’s abilities are listed as abilities. Mine are in the description.”
Eythron grunted in agreement. “If your list had a bunch of question marks and garbled nonsense in an abilities list, I could make some guesses. Description text? That’s something else entirely. Do you know the difference between a relic weapon and a legendary one?”
Jair did. “Rare is the fourth quality. Legendary is the seventh.”
“Setting aside the integrity damage, your sword is as far beyond mine as mine is beyond a common piece of metal. If all you had was a common piece of metal, would you be able to extrapolate from that to Purifier and Soulcutter?”
“I see your point, yes.”
“I’m not sure you do.”
“A legendary soulbound weapon is capable of basically anything, and there’s no predicting it.”
Eythron recalled his sword and prodded Jair with it. “Not the point. It’s your sword, your soul. So stop staring at its shell and look.”
“I’ve looked at its soulmap before, it’s just a shredded lattice full of holes.”
“So look closer.” Eythron stabbed the tip of his sword into the ground and crossed his hands over his pommel. “And that was before it changed. I’ll wait.”
Jair knew better than to argue on this point. He sat down, Maelstrom across his lap, and focused his thoughts inward.
Temporal Reversion was the same as always, an infinitely complex tangle of golden light. Maelstrom’s soul was harder to make out, a silver web stretched through the center of his own, tangled up with but distinct from his soulspell.
Except… Maelstrom wasn’t all silver any more. As he looked closer and closer, a glint of something distinct drew his attention.
One of the torn sections was filled in. A deep green-black fire, its texture different from Maelstrom’s delicate silver filigree, but blending smoothly into the whole as though it had always belonged. Contrasting, but not clashing.
He blinked back into reality, staring down at the blade itself. Physically, there was no trace of the change. The blade remained only silver and blue, with the stamped pattern in blood. Jair held it up to look closer, and found the change. A thin strand of forest green twisted around the hilt.
“The venix,” he murmured, the similarities too much to ignore. “A soul of green fire. So Maelstrom is capable of self-repairing, but it needs to use existing essence to do so.”
Eythron’s eyebrows raised. "You're sure of that?"
"I killed the venix, and now there's a patch of fire in Maelstrom's soul made of a suspiciously venix-flavored substance. So, I'm as sure as I can be without testing it."
“If your weapon is eating the soul of elite monsters, then you know what you need to do.”
“Hunt down the venix for a rematch.”
The old man swatted him with the flat of his sword. “No. See if it’ll eat the soul of anything else.”
Jair grinned. “Are you offering to help?”
Eythron sighed and grunted. “I’ll allow you to petition for a position as my assistant, pending a thorough assessment of your capabilities and weapon. The assessment begins now. And you can tell me everything we discovered in these other lifetimes of yours. If you lie to me, I’ll kill you.”
“Sounds fair to me. Let’s go.”
----------------------------------------