“To be honest, I don’t really get the obsession with weapons. It’s so excessive,” Ruben thought while climbing up a small tunnel shaft.

“I suppose I’m thankful for it. This is what allows people like me to stay in business,” he parried his own argument. 

“This tunnel is so small…”

The young blacksmith struggled to fit his broad shoulders into the chimney-sized pathway. The head with long musty golden threads of hair kept bobbing as he went against the sturdy wall, as if that would help in pushing the blacksmith’s lanky legs any further. Ruben was never one with an impressive physique, only the muscle needed for the job, but due to his height most considered the man humongous. The fact he preferred the loose clothes really didn’t help. 

“Woah, you’re a big guy!”

“That’s just rude,” Ruby was about to get offended before realizing how far away the voice came from.

“Assume you don’t want to duel for that treasure, do you?”

“It’s from the room right under! Is someone going to fight down there?” 

“Wooooooargh!” A terrifying roar thundered through the tunnel.

One bang after another, Ruby was frozen solid by the constant shuddering that came with the sounds of fighting.

Suddenly the very wall he was holding onto began crumbling before…

“Guh!”

 He plummeted along the debris that used to make up the tunnel. 

“Probably broke something,” Ruby thought while trying to remove the sharp rocks that were digging into his skin.

The sight most important, however, was away from the rubble. The colossal blue wrinkly naked creature that barely fit into the room was stomping and swinging a bat around a huge smelting pot.

“That pot, these stations! I made it, this is one of Brockur’s workshops!” Ruby was overjoyed despite the most dire circumstances while looking around the spacious, by human standards, room.

The blue troll with teeth sharp as knives kept breaking the walls of the room and ruining its recognizability. He swept once again with the wooden club, trying to cover as much area as possible. Still, that effort wasn’t enough to smoosh the puny in-comparison man hiding behind one of the larger wall leftovers.  

 With a dull sword in his hand, the troll’s opponent looked almost unremarkable. The gray gambeson and simple black pants, brown oversized boots, it all didn’t amount to much. The black hair the swordsman had was growing out after clearly getting trimmed to its max, and the same went for the thick stubble near his mouth. 

 “Could someone like this really be fighting a blue troll?”

 He dodged out of the way of the club and threw a dagger into the troll’s forehead. The weapon barely pierced the skin before the creature’s regeneration forced it back out.    

There were straps around the man’s chest full of empty slots for weapons. 

 “He must have used up all his proper arsenal. Maybe I could lend him a hand!”

The blacksmith glanced at the shortsword attached to his belt. Lodged into its handle was a glass marble with thick black smoke inside.

 “Use this!” Ruby yelled as he threw the weapon, “It has the [Ignite] skill, trolls can’t regenerate the burn wounds! Call the skill’s name, and the sharp edge would ignite, but only for a second!”

 “Thanks.”

 The swordsman smirked, taken aback at first by the blacksmith’s presence.

“Wo-oh.”

 He scooted around the wooden bat right before it would send him flying. 

“The sight is clear, he must run for the sword and… What is he doing?!”

The swordsman walked up a slouched pillar and jumped before said pillar got leveled by the monster. He slid down the floor right next to the weapon but ignored it completely. Another dagger was thrown, this time at the wooden bat. There were nearly ten similar ones already inserted all around it. 

 The troll yelled and picked up a rock. Shattering it in his fist, he started launching smaller projectiles using the strength of his fingers. With surprising accuracy as well. 

*Swoosh* *Clang*

 Barely dodging one and deflecting another pebble with a brand new dagger, the man hid away from the creature’s left-hand barrage behind the club by grabbing onto the dagger handles. They served as a ladder for him.

 The wooden bat began shaking wildly.

“Wooargh!”

 The troll banged it against the hard floor. Then again and again. A good ten hits before he stopped and spun the weapon in his hand.

*Swoosh* A dagger dug into one of the troll’s eyes. Expecting to see a squashed bug, instead, the troll saw a man who climbed up the club towards the creature’s fingers. One by one, they were slashed before the swordsman hollowed out a large chunk of the wrist. 

“He won’t be able to swing a bat like that but what about the pebbles?!”

Another eye got punctured by a newly thrown weapon, and while the other one already healed, the blood from it completely covered the beast’s vision. 

 The troll threw rocks in desperation all around him.

“Aa!”

 One lodged into the blacksmith’s hand. Ruby quickly took cover. 

The swordsman meanwhile slowly walked towards the blue troll’s belly and placed his weapon on the floor. In his hands shined two metal razors.

“He will crush you!” The blacksmith yelled, and the troll, perhaps inspired by his words, perhaps deciding on his own, relaxed his malnourished legs and began falling. A dull drop echoed through the hallway.

Ruby run towards the creature while grabbing his shortsword with the undamaged left hand. While the troll wasn’t moving the blacksmith got to stab through its skull and began yelling, “Ignite!” 

The head barged into flame, leaving terrible burns on the blue skin. “Ignite!” Ruby yelled again after three seconds.

“Ignite!”

 Each usage of the skill was accompanied by another burst of light. The creature’s head quickly became unrecognizable. 

Ruby sighed with relief. 

"There was no need," a voice came from inside the troll.

"You're alive?!"

"I guess?"

The man shrugged while standing in a hole dug out clean through the troll's flesh.

"No need for what?"

 Ruben was breathing heavily while trying to estimate how quickly one must cut to do something like that.

"It's impossible without using a special skill but the bloodied razors had no black orbs encrusted anywhere," he thought.

"The fire was overkill, the source of the troll's regeneration is in their tiny hearts," the swordsman said while showing a still-beating imperfect white pyramid made of bone. From the holes on its edges, the veins of the creature kept quickly growing out even after being cut out from the body. In time, this heart could regenerate an entire troll. 

 The stranger whacked the object with force using the handle of his blade. It cracked open, and the organ inside spewed out, squirming, leaving only a dirty dark-red orb.

"A skill! They form upon a monster's death."

"Something like that. Sell it somewhere, might cover the hospital bill. A talented regeneration skill might even come in handy. You're a blacksmith, right? Make something with it."

The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

"That's too much, you were the one to kill the creature," he refused the gesture as the last pieces of the ceiling’s rubble finally stopped falling. It looks like the tunnel stabilized.

"No, no. I wanted to practice a bit and caused you to fall down here. Just take it, buddy, I have plenty."

"Alright... What… What is your name?"

 Ruben grabbed the orb, his arm still hurt like crazy. 

Climbing out of the corpse, the swordsman threw, "Like I'm gonna tell you, buddy."

"Why not? After what we just went through?"

"I mean it wasn't that bad... Say, if you were Brockur Ivaldi, where would you hide your gleam?"

"Are you here for the gleam? Nothing else?"

"Guess I'll find it myself."

The stranger began rummaging through the few intact tables.

"The substance needed for weapon strengthening is rare, but why target the smithy of a legend just for that?" Ruben wondered.

"Here, the gleam is usually kept in barrels under the applicator. Is that really all you're going to take? Look at these weapon stands…"

“A-huh. Thank you.”

 The stranger popped open one of the barrels from under the ravaged gleam applicator.

“No, where is it?!” He yelled, “Not in this one either!”

All the barrels turned out to be empty.

“No surprises here. You see, Master Brockur is a traveling blacksmith, he wouldn’t keep any gleam in his workshops.”

“Why the hell not? Legendary smith my ass.”

“He is a storyteller first, smith second. Brockur has countless smithies around the world. He visits one, crafts a masterpiece, and leaves it for someone to find and start their journey as a swordsman. Naturally, where there is a treasure, monsters would start getting inside and-”

“So he’s a dungeon maker?”

“Sort of. He could have left some gleam along with the weapon-”

“Got you, looking for a treasure chest.”

“The rumors of him being here were fresh. Just two days ago he was in the local village, I hoped to find him-”

“Don’t care,” the man handwaved the conversation.

“Why!? Stop being so rude to me!”

“I’m not rude, just straightforward. There it is.”

 A big chest with a red crest for a lock unsurprisingly survived all the commotion.

“Ivaldi quality.”

The swordsman whistled.

“I just thought that if you need Master Brockur for something, and I’m looking for him. You’re quite strong, a blue troll is a tough creature to fight-”

“The white trolls were more ferocious… How do you open this thing?” 

“Listen, I need to meet him because my father-”

“I beg you, please, no backstories.”

The stranger frowned.

“Okay, umm, I just thought maybe we could help each other out. What swordsman wouldn’t like to have a blacksmith around? The objective is the same for both of us.”

“Uhh, pass. I can handle my own maintenance, nor do I really need that Brockur guy, I just need some gleam before the tournament.”

The swordsman kept barging the lock with his sword’s handle.

“There’s a password to it. Normally you’d have to track down Brockur and impress him in some way before he shares it with you, but… I know the code to this one.”

“Open it up then? As I said, I only need the gleam.”

“Maybe.”

“Nope, no deals. Just do it, I know you want to open it too.”

“Can’t you at least think about-”

“Na-ah.”

“Come on. The tournament, you’re talking about the Jedom tournament, right?”

“Perhaps.”

“Okay then. Don’t interrupt-”

“Fine.”

“...” Ruben took a deep breath.

“So, Brockur will be there, at the tournament. We could kill two birds with one stone. I help you out, you help me out, we both get what we want.”

“Finished?”

“Yeah?”

“Nope, no deal, I said that already. Are you even listening, buddy?”

Ruben began pulling his hair out before stopping as the musty strands started to give in.

“You know what? Forget it, you are too insufferable to be around anyway.” Young man walked towards the chest and inserted a combination into the lock. A few seconds later, the robust object hit the floor with a loud metallic bang.

The top of the chest opened with a piston mechanism, pushing off all the fallen debris, and from the inside, something quickly flew out.

Inky black, with four white horns for a guard and a dastardly green handle, a single-edged sword with three empty slots in its blunt end began moving on its own accord.

“Three? A legendary weapon?! There’s no way!” Ruby was flabbergasted.

The blade turned sideways, and from the socket below the empty three in which a glass eye stood came a sound.

“Congratulations on your arduous journey, oh great swordsman and his resourceful blacksmith! Though how long could it have been? Oh, it feels like I was just sealed! How many years was I locked away for!? Twenty? Forty? Maybe a century?! The weapon to outlive the master, a tale so tragic!”

“You’re annoying, move aside.”

 The swordsman pushed the sword from his way

“Bingo!” He said with excitement upon looking into the chest.

Three whole barrels of gleam were lying there, as well as a few gems and precious accessories.

“Excuse me!?” The sword cried out. 

“Sorry, Mr. Blade. This guy is very nonchalant, umm. You… can talk?”

“Can I talk?! Of course, I can talk! I’m a legendary weapon.”

“Not to sound rude but I’ve seen a legendary-”

“Not all legendaries are sentient, but all sentient weapons are at least legendary.”

“Now both of you will interrupt me?!”

“Why are we yelling!? Uhem,” the weapon “cleared its throat”.

“Hooray! + 20! Finally!” The swordsman couldn’t hide his excitement while drenching his saber in a reddish-yellow honey-like substance.

“You are spending all that gleam not on me?!” Confusion continued.

“Looks like it was meant as a starting gift to go along with the legendary,” Ruby concluded.

“Oh well. We can get out of here now,” the man said while emptying the last barrel. His sword quickly absorbed the liquid reminiscent of mashed pumpkin while glowing softly.

“+21! There we go.”

“Do you even realize how much I yearned to consume that gleam?!”

“Hey, I killed a troll for it, you hunk of dyed iron!”

“No, no, no. This can’t stand! As your future weapon, I just can’t allow this wastefulness.”

“Who said you’re my future weapon?”

The swordsman giggled.

“But it’s a legendary blade, surely you can find a use for that with your skills!”

Ruby felt weird even thinking about leaving it behind.

“Listen to your wise blacksmith and apologize, now!”

“Sorry, buddy, but I already have my treasure. One day it will become the greatest weapon in the whole world. All blades beside it are trash in comparison.”

The swordsman smiled while staring at his simple saber. The blade wasn’t noteworthy; really, it looked much too simple. The only slot for a skill in it gave away its common quality.

“Preposterous, you freed me, so now I am your weapon. You can’t just discard me!”

“I didn’t free you, it was him. And he isn’t my blacksmith either. I tell you what, even if I had no weapon at all, I wouldn’t use a trashy egotistical weapon anyway.”

The sword slowly turned to the young lad, forced to reevaluate him.

“This must be some sort of a joke.”

“Rude, but… you’re right. A weapon like this would be a waste on me. I just want to create-.”

“And I’m leaving. See you two never.”

“You aren’t going anywhere!” The blade reached the peak of its irritation. “Such transgression. To even suggest that a simple weapon can be better than me. I challenge you to a duel!”

The swordsman marching away from the scene wavered.

“Now we’re talking. But… Am I supposed to fight against a chunk of metal?”

His lips squirmed in a smile as he turned around.

The blade flew inside Ruben’s palm.

“What are you-”

“Don’t worry, boy, I’ll guide your strikes.”

“Okay, okay. What are the conditions then?”

The stranger leaned onto his saber, clearly eager with anticipation.

“You take back your words and admit you’re wrong. Apologize and accept me as your new weapon,” the sword outlined.

“As well as agree to assist me in searching Brockur Ivaldi.”

“Then if I win, both of you will have to admit that there will never be a better weapon than my saber and leave me alone.”

“Very well.”

 The young man sighed, mentally preparing himself. His hand and legs were damaged, but in a duel, none of this would matter. The shaking in Ruben’s limbs was a much bigger problem. However, there is no world in which a legendary blade loses to a regular one.

“I, Ruben Ivaldi, challenge you to a friendly duel!”

“I need to get all the help I can in finding Brockur, it's the only way to cleanse my father’s name,” he thought.

“And I, Fox of Elm, proudly accept it.”

The swordsman raised his weapon.