“Wake up!” my brother, Reinhardt, called out, an expression of urgency spread all over his face. His black eyes staring right into my soul and his black hair shining in the morning light. “What do you want?” I said, barely, while trying to wake myself up.
Reinhardt was the only one I had, ever since those power-hungry weapon wielders killed our parents. Ever since that day, I vowed to put an end to this unfairness and achieve world peace.
I was still lost in my thoughts when Reinhardt pulled me out of them. “We are late!” he shouted and threw clothing toward me.
How could I forget? It was the last day before the ceremony, and we were all forced to attend school. Quickly, I got into my clothing and ran to the school.
There, the teacher walked in and started to speak.
“As you know, tomorrow is the big day,” he said, while scratching his non-existent hair and gazing at all of us with his blue eyes.
“Tomorrow, all of you will be able to finally gain weapon spirits. Don’t forget to remember us when you all become strong warriors.”
Slowly, I gazed at Reinhardt, who was smiling playfully. He hadn’t changed slightly, even after the traumatizing events.
Teacher Daln then made us clear all the desks out of the classroom and made us sit in a circle, in a meditation pose.
“Please close your eyes,” he said, and I immediately closed mine. Now, I was alone in my consciousness. Slowly, Daln’s words entered my mind.
“Now, I will start the trial training.” Soon enough, a sword appeared in the middle of nothingness.
It was a normal iron sword, emitting a weird aura.
When I walked toward it and picked it up, I moved to a different depth of my consciousness, where I couldn’t even hear Daln.
This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.
There were only me and the sword remaining, and suddenly it started speaking.
“I will have fun devouring you,” those were its words when visions filled my mind.
Visions of my parents dying.
It was obvious what its plan was; to destroy me mentally, which was partially working.
Slowly, I was losing my sanity and losing my control.
The sword started speaking again, “Let me swallow you, then I will take revenge for you,” it said, tempting me.
“No!” I shouted, remembering Reinhardt’s trust in me. I would do it myself, I would achieve revenge and world peace.
Collecting all my strength, I yelled again, and the vision disappeared, and I was back in the classroom. One of the first people to pass this training.
Soon enough, Reinhardt followed me too, and the training ended, with only two people unable to pass it.
They survived since it was just a prototype; in the real trial, they would be dead.
We walked home, exhausted. That training had lasted for hours, which made me lose the ability to properly think.
When I got home, I immediately jumped on the bed and slept tightly.
The next day, Reinhardt woke me up again, but this time, I was quick to get up.
We walked in the bustling streets, with Reinhardt telling me all the cool things he would do when he got his spirit.
I was silent all this time, not wanting to force my thoughts on him.
We finally got to the place where we would get our weapons. Before us stood a big gate with two soldiers guarding it, their gaze fixed on everyone passing by.
I walked up to one of them and asked if this was the right place.
They were quick to ask for our IDs. When we showed them, they nodded and let us in.
Behind the gate, there was a huge area with gleaming marble floors and golden statues scattered everywhere. And in the middle of it, there were a lot of boxes.
Most likely, that would be our trial.
When the area got filled with people, one of the staff started speaking.
“Please go near any of those boxes and stand near it,” he said, pointing toward the middle of this huge area.
I got there, and Reinhardt quickly stood near the box next to me, giving me a warm gaze.
He wanted to be close to me, even during risky situations.
Weapon resonation was a once-in-a-lifetime event happening only once a year, and only 15-16-year-old people were able to participate.
It was an event that would determine everyone’s lives. But there was a risk, a major risk of a person dying.
I looked over to the other participants, and only one person caught my eye.
He had a short, skinny figure, silver medium-length hair, and really dark eyes that had no life in them.
Finally, the staff member told us to start the trials by touching the box.
When I did, I was in my consciousness again.
Nothing but darkness and a sword, a purple sword with a silver handle that was gleaming in azure flames.
I quickly went to it and picked it up.
The sword started speaking all about how strong it was, and how it pitied my weakness.
It showed me every bad past memory, just like that trial sword. But it couldn’t budge me.
Suddenly, two corpses appeared before me, them being my parents. Both of them screamed, “It was your fault,” which made me drift away from reality.
The sword was whispering in my ears, to let it take my body, to let it free me from this torture.
But I wouldn’t go down this easily. “Sorry,” I said in advance, and punched an illusion of my father, then my mother. Making them disappear in an instant.
“You are strong,” the sword finally said. “I like your determination.”
Suddenly, entities that looked like demons appeared in this nothingness.
“Use me,” the sword whispered.
And I knew what I had to do; I immediately lunged at those horned demon-looking entities and started slashing them, with azure flames following my commands.
I burned and slashed countless of them until only I, the sword, and unimaginable amount of corpses had remained.
“I accept you as my wielder,” the sword said, with a different tone than when we first met.
“What is your name?” I asked curiously, while struggling to breathe from all of this fighting.
“I am the fallen deity, Azuron.”