"Ugh!", Milo groaned sitting up in a bed. He rubbed the sides of his head, a throbbing headache running across his forehead, "I feel like complete shit".
He winced as a blunt feeling shot from his ribs. He reached down, running his fingers across them, "Completely healed? No, not quite. Although they have been repaired to a stable condition".
It wasn't just his ribs, all of his wounds were either completely closed up or nearly healed. Despite the pain of the procedure, it sped up his recovery and for that, Milo was thankful.
'Now where the hell am I?'.
After the third shock of mana Milo passed out. The room he found himself in was unfamiliar to him, but he didn't mind it at all. He bounced up on the bed that was big enough to hold his entire family and his eyes darted across the room taking in everything.
On the far wall, a mirror taking up nearly the entire wall hung, on both sides a sword in a golden sheath hung. Milo pushed himself up, moving and retrieving one of the swords from the wall. He ran his fingers across the sheath.
'Solid gold!?'.
He had suspected that it may just be the colour but seeing it up close now not only was it solid gold, but it was also more like a dagger than a sword.
The blade was long and slightly curved to the left, it wasn't quite long enough to be passed off as a traditional sword, but it also wasn't quite short enough to be classified as a dagger. He licked the tip of his thumb and traced it across the unsheathed blades edge.
As soon as the skin made contact, it cut him. His eyes widened as he watched the blood disperse throughout the sword, being absorbed into the pristine steel.
'HEY BRAT!'.
A sudden shock forced Milo to drop the sword.
"The hell was that!?".
He picked it back up and the same voice rang into his mind.
'Hey brat! What the hell do you think you're doing!? Put me back!?'.
The raspy voice continued to pry into Milo's mind. Milo moved across to the other side of the room, falling into a pattern of strikes using the blade. It felt nearly perfect, from the grip right down to the length, it was utter perfection.
'Are you … a sentient weapon?'.
It made sense to Milo that if the voice was prying into his mind, then surely he should be able to communicate the same way.
'Clever brat'.
Milo sat down on the floor, constantly turning the blade in his hand. If this was a sentient weapon, it meant that not only was the being trapped inside extremely powerful, but the craftsman who made this must have been on an entirely different level to what he had known so far.
Although, it did make sense considering he was still in the Kings castle.
The door crashed open and the King bundled inside, his eyes darted around the room noticing Milo sat on the floor, "Milo! You're awake that's good, yes very good", he leant in, peering at the sword, "Ah, are you interested in those?".
"A little bit", Milo replied, continuing to turn the blade around in his palm, "It's a sentient weapon, right?".
The King's eyes widened and a smirk was plastered on his face, "I see, so you were able to contact the soul within?".
Milo's brows furrowed, "Yeah …", he nervously replied, feeling as if he had revealed something he shouldn't have.
The King sat on the floor next to him with no regard for his status, "Those were a gift from the previous war. A dwarven artisan created it and sealed the soul of a powerful Vampire within. That blade you are holding is often referred to as the Dual Daggers Of Destruction".
Milo's face sank.
'Right, I'm never ever going to call them the dual daggers of destruction, way too weird'.
There was a piece of information that Milo couldn't look past though, and that was the soul inside being a Vampire. It made him start to think that potentially the reason why he was so easily able to speak with the soul was due to a possibility of his two main powers combining.
First, he had his soul harvester emblem, something that quite literally allowed him to tap into the consciousness of deceased souls. If it was the case of the emblem growing in strength the more his core grew, then there was potential for him to tap into the souls of the living too.
Second and arguably the most unlikely scenario was Marcos. Due to Milos pact with him, Milo felt that there may have been a slight shift in the way his blood functioned. He noticed that when his blood dispersed into the dagger, it was only then he could hear the voice of the soul.
The only other time Milo had seen blood act or be used that way was when he formed his pact with Marcos. Of course, there was always the possibility that the Vampire in the dagger recognised the scent of another Vampire, although that scenario was so far from feasible Milo didn't even bother to consider it.
The King shuffled closer, attempting to touch the dagger. His grip was repelled by a sudden shock of light.
"Ow!", he snapped, shaking his hand, "Looks like they have chosen you as their new owner".
"What …", Milo said frowning at the dagger.
"Now I know you may be excited but try not to get carried away, they are powerful weapons", the King started to explain.
Milo completely tuned him out and fell into thought.
'Why the hell am I stuck with daggers? I don't even use them to fight … I mean, yeah I could probably integrate them somehow, but I don't have the necessary muscle mass to wield them to their full potential yet'.
He looked down at the dagger again, continuing to ignore the King who was still rambling on. It didn't make sense, why did he always end up getting tangled up with Vampires of all races. He didn't mind it, they were powerful and useful after all, but at the same time they were demons, and they were responsible for previous catastrophes.
So why, why did they seem to choose him of all people every time?
Milo stood and retrieved the other dagger. As soon as he picked it up he felt as if thorns had been dug into his palms. He desperately tried shaking them off, spinning them in circles and swinging his shoulder with enough force to dislocate it, but the daggers dug deeper into his skin, slowly drawing out his blood and lighting up the blade in a crimson red hue.
Milo frantically shook his hands, "Ah! Fuck! Let go!".
He could feel himself growing more and more lightheaded with each passing second. His skin was paling and he felt his knees starting to weaken, "FUCK! GET OFF!".
As he barked this, the daggers finally let go and dropped to the floor. Milo dropped next to them, wiping the sweat from his forehead before picking them back up.
'Interesting …'.
He heard the voice pry into his mind again, it's tone curious and searching.
'So … Milo Van Belched is it? What the hell are you?'.
Milo felt his face pale even more than it already had. How could it know his name just from his blood?
'You, what the hell even are you?'.
'That's what I should be asking you brat. Your mana potency is ridiculous compared to other humans, it's almost as if you are a demon … and a pretty powerful one at that'.
Milo stood and held both daggers by his side. He struck outward but the blade weighed itself down by his side.
'Ah, ah, ah!', the blade called, 'No swinging me until you answer my questions?'.
Milo let out an annoyed grunt and slumped down on the edge of the bed. To make sure he didn't accidentally mumble anything aloud, he kept his gaze locked on the King.
'A reincarnate. In my previous life I was a dragon and one of the most powerful people to ever live'.
'So that's how it is …', the voice mused, 'how intriguing'.
The King stood and joined Milo, "So then, do you accept them? I know you don't use daggers or swords, however I'm willing to give you these as a gift".
Milo thought for a moment, "Why though?", he responded, earning a confused look from the King.
"I mean", Milo continued, "It's not like you even know who I am and you are giving me something as precious as this".
Milo's features hardened and he turned to face the King, "I may be a child but I'm not so naïve as to believe something like this comes free. What do you want in return?".
The King stretched out his hand towards Milo, "Your loyalty. Having seen you fight it's undeniable that you will go on to achieve great things. So what I want is for you to swear yourself to me, become someone who lives in the royal castle and grow under my watch. Of course, I can provide you everything that you need in return".
Milo looked at him puzzled, "I'm human, no? I had assumed my loyalty was a given".
The King shook his head, "Not at all. It's not uncommon for elite talents to be poached by other races, even with the peace pact still in place".
It was now Milo understood the true gravity of his situation. He was trapped with no way out. Unbeknownst to the King, the daggers … or whoever was inside, had already chosen Milo as its owner and input his genetics into the blade. He couldn't afford to refuse the King now even though he wanted to.
Milo clasped the Kings hand in his own and shook, "Alright then, but I won't be abandoning my family to join you".
The King smiled and released his grip, "I don't expect you to. As I said, all I wanted was your loyalty to me".
Milo let a puff of air escape from his nostrils, "Why do I feel like you've played me? Were you already aware that the daggers would choose me as their owner? You seemed awfully relaxed even when they dug into my palms".
The King got off the bed and turned to walk away, "Who knows".
Milo clicked his tongue, 'Crafty bastard'.
He followed the King out of the room and down the hallway. To his surprise, there wasn't much to look at. Milo had suspected that because he was in the royal castle, the walls would be lined with paintings and statues, with dozens of maids tending to them at every hour of the day. But there was none of that, the carpet was a plain red and the walls a barren white canvas. It felt strangely eerie to him.
Eventually they stumbled upon a set of double doors, which again were painted white.
'Seems he really likes the colour'.
A pair of knights stamped their heels and spun ninety degrees, pushing open the doors. Milo watched as the King who was relaxed around him inhale a deep breath of air and push out his chest, striding into the room full of purpose.
All around them what Milo could only assume to be noblemen and women watched him like a hawk, likely wondering who this strange child tailing the King was. The King on the other hand simply walked through them, not even stopping to acknowledge them before ascending a small flight of 6 steps and taking a seat on his empty throne.
Milo halted his steps, looking around unsure of what he was supposed to do.
The King watched him, lifting a single brow. He pushed himself up from the throne and reached down towards Milo, "It's fine", he said with a smile, "You are more than welcome to come and stand next to me".
The crowd gasped as Milo ascended the stairs, tucking his arms behind his back and standing to the left of the King's throne. From the corner of his eye he spotted Renny, Marcos and Pavlor all watching on in awe.
"Without wasting any of our time", The King got started, seemingly forgetting where he was speaking, "It's time we begin the next stage of the royal selection".
"STEP FORWARD 16 PARTICPANTS!", he bellowed. The crowd bustled and another 15 children each stepped forward, kneeling down in front of the King.
"What do I do?", Milo whispered.
The King ignored him and pointed towards Milo, "This boy is also one of the participants as well, his name is Milo Van Belched. He is a child whose talents I have recognised and I hereby bestow a title upon him for all to see", the King flicked his head and signalled for Milo to go to the step just beneath him.
Milo complied and fell into a kneel.
The King placed a hand on his shoulder, "I hereby bestow the title of King's personnel. Do you accept?".
Milo groaned internally before responding, "Yes! My Liege!".
"Good, now return to my side", the King ordered, prompting Milo to return to the left side of the throne.
He had heard of his title, but he hadn't expected to be given something as prestigious as that so early. Well, it wasn't all that prestigious, but the common people thought it to be. All it really meant was that he was now at the beck and call of the King and had to rush to his side whenever he needed.
It housed some of the greatest scholars, healers and warriors. In other words, it was a title bestowed upon those that were solely for the King's personal use … a private group, if you will.
'Not like it matters'.
Milo internally rolled his eyes, 'Wait … my daggers!'.
Somehow, he had forgotten to pick them up when existing the room.
As if sensing his worry, the King leant over slightly, "Don't worry, I had the daggers sent to have a new sheath made that you can attach to your hip".
Milo returned a nod, 'He's definitely behind all of this … damn King'.