I might have decided to not fight the Eyes of the Serpent, but I had no intention of seeing this harrassment play out. Though not so convinced it was the right thing to do, the prudent thing to do, I pressed on. I felt it was a safe bet for me to at least not perish to petty thugs.
The first guy attacked, a rusty dagger glinting in his palm. But his actions, previously graceful and having a dangerous aura, were now very slow to my heightened senses. A memory rushed through my head, the original Ash's muscle memory guiding my moves. I sidestepped the clumsy attack, my dagger a blur as it struck his heart. The life drained from his eyes as a phantom wisp, a shimmering essence of what I figured was his soul or life force, was forcibly sucked into my blade. I felt a surge of power, a subtle strengthening of my own essence as the stolen soul fused with mine.
Emboldened, I whirled on my heel, the momentum sending my blade into the gut of the second bandit. His eyes widened in horror as he recognised the futility of his struggle. His lifeforce followed his comrade's, a fleeting shimmer absorbed by my greedy blade. My muscles surged with renewed force, each snatched soul fueling my expanding strength.
The remaining gang members hesitated, their swagger wavering in the face of my unusual speed and violence. But fear soon turned to false bravado, and they charged as a one, their weapons glittering in the moonlight. I moved through their midst, like a dancing death dealer. Each strike was precise, deadly, a combination of the original Ash's combat instincts and my own rising proficiency. With each dead foe, my blade drank deep, their souls adding to the chorus of whispers within my weapon, a chorus of fear and anguish. At any other moment that would have been creepy. Now though, I was on a roll. And then there was no one left. The fight, the one sided fight was over before I knew it. Phew!
"Well, my test run was successful." I said to myself softly. I didn't overestimate this time it seems. I felt that my self training, though not as vigorous as I would like did bear some fruit.Might not have been up to standards, but it did have an impact. I felt good. And I kind of spaced out for a few seconds. I still wasn't stupid enough to lose track of my current location. That would have been crazy.
The dust had settled, and I found that I could not hear the sounds of the market place. It was all strangely silent. The only sound was the raspy breaths of the fallen gang members, their life snuffed out like candles in the wind. The young woman, the cause of this gory altercation, was nowhere to be found. She had undoubtedly sneaked away sometime earlier. It must have been a relief for her to see some sucker occupy this guys for a bit. She did not even wait to thank me. That figures.
A rush of tiredness washed over me, the exhilaration dissipating as fast as it had come. I gazed down at my dagger, its crimson blade now stained a deeper shade of red. The whispers of the absorbed souls rang in my consciousness, a symphony of sorrow and wrath. I had murdered these soldiers with a savage efficiency that startled even myself.
I understood, deep down, that it wasn't entirely my own skill that had brought me through the struggle. The muscle memory of the original Ash, developed through numerous bouts, had guided my every action. Even the ritual I performed based on his memory was especially helpful. Though I find it weird how easily I am getting the hang of things. Its almost like an all seeing being is been so helpful as to gift me perks to bulldoze my way through obstacles. .But the power rush from the absorbed souls was apparent. That being said, the blade was obviously more than simply a weapon; it was a conduit, a vessel for the life essence of those it claimed.
As I wiped the blood from my dagger, a sensation of awe blended with a terrible thrill. This weapon, this wicked treasure, has untold potential. I envisioned the power I could wield if I continued to feed it, to assemble a legion of souls within its red depths. The thought sent a chill down my spine, a mixture of exhilaration and anxiety.
I tried to categorize the dagger, to compare it to the fabled weapons in the video games of time on the Earth plane. Was it analogous to Frostmourne, the soul-stealing runeblade of the Lich King? Or perhaps more like Soul Edge, the cursed sword that swallowed the souls of its wielders? I couldn't be sure. This world's enchantment was different, more visceral, more tightly connected with the substance of existence itself.
Regardless of its origins, the blade was mine now. And I would use it to create my own path, to climb above the confines of this mortal coil. I sheathed the cleaned dagger, the voices of the dead a continuous reminder of my newfound power. I needed to further grow and it would require a lot of effort from me. Especially as one who was a greenhorn in the world of magic. I have been winding it so far. This must change. I get as much info as I need to achieve my goals. Mediocrity is distasteful.
But I was ready. I was Ash Blackwood, ambitious CEO in my prior life and this world's blood mage. I didn't get things easily in my past life, why would I expect something different here? Even with the existence of magic in Kaeloria, it was a given that all good things require the will and endurance to seize them. This applied to even my sotware development journey. Maybe I could combine both and make something world breaking?