Chapter Eighteen: Echoes of Fading Memories
¬With a longsword in hand, I'll enchant my enemies. With a longsword in hand, I'll break their will. With a longsword in hand, I'll slash the stars apart. With a longsword in hand, I'm the doom of the battlefield.¬
This memory flashed in Dusken's mind. It was the creed his father had instilled in him while teaching him the way of the sword.
His father's favourite weapon had always been the longsword. When Dusken was just seven years old, his father insisted on teaching him to wield it.
Although it wasn't ideal to force a child to focus on a single weapon - especially if it may not be their talent, Dusken was different.
He could master any weapon. Spears, battle hammers, it didn't matter; Dusken excelled at them all - there was a reason he was on the board for elimination after all.
However, the longsword remained his weapon of choice even though he could use others.
As these memories rushed back, a dark chuckle escaped his lips. Those around him turned, some glancing at him as though he had lost his sanity.
Dusken shook his head, the excitement in his eyes was unmistakable. He manipulated his father's words, letting his voice ring out across the battlefield.
"With a longsword in hand, all my enemies shall fall. With a longsword in hand, I will sweep the battlefield. With a longsword in hand, I am despair incarnate. With a longsword in hand, I shall tear the sky apart." Dusken paused, his eyes locked on the beast before him.
"This is my truth, my way of the sword, and whoever dares block my path shall be cut down."
His words, cold and devoid of emotion, reverberated across the silent battlefield like the tolling of a bell.
"Kerch!"
The immediately monstrous creature lunged at him, not caring for Dusken's earlier words.
Dusken sidestepped its pounce, narrowly avoiding its claws. The beast twisted mid-air, one of its needle-like claws slashing toward his ribs.
Dusken retaliated instantly, driving his knee into the creature's stomach with brutal force.
The claws raked across his ribs, leaving three faint, bleeding lines. The pain stung, but Dusken didn't flinch. He had invited it, after all.
His eyes blazed as his sword lashed out. The slash carried a lifetime of meaning, infused with everything his father had once taught him. All the gruesome training he had experienced with the sword, fueled his sword's attacks.
¬Remember this, Dusken: a sword is a tool. Do not believe those who preach that you must treat your sword as if it were alive to master combat. A sword is simply a tool for you to wield, to end your enemies. It serves you, nothing more. And when it breaks, you replace it. That is the way of combat. The path of survival.¬
The lesson, buried deep in his soul since childhood, surged forth with every swing of his blade.
The sword cleaved the air, the winds tearing apart in its wake. Before the creature could react, it was too late. There was nothing to be done.
Shrek.
A grisly sound echoed as the blade found its mark, carving a deep gash into the beast's body.
"Kreeeeeeeeeeeeech!"
The creature let out a blood-curdling scream, its head nearly split in two from the attack. It thrashed wildly, swiping its claws and tail in a desperate attempt to fight back.
Dusken didn't relent. His muscles bulged, his grip tightening on the hilt, holding the sword in place.
He drove the blade deeper, twisting it mercilessly and drawing more blood. A detached, cold light gleamed in his eyes as the creature's life drained away.
In his mind, a grim certainty settled. Anyone who sought to end his life would meet the same fate, this creature was just the beginning. Demon Prince Ashahell. Jessica. Benita. Drake. Alex. Joel.
Even the lean boy who had dared cross him. They would all die like this one day, their faces frozen in fear as his blade ended them.
Unknowingly, a dark smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. Dark red blood dripped steadily from the creature's wound, forming a pool beneath its lifeless body.
The battlefield fell silent as all voices were drained out in Dusken's senses.
Then, the voice of the Calamity Codex reverberated through his soul.
[You have slain a Level One Awakened Creature.]
A brief silence followed its words before it continued:
[Your Abyss Within grows darker.]
A turbulence of emotions assaulted Dusken's mind. Rage. Madness. Hunger. Fury. Malice.
These feelings coalesced and crashed in mind as if trying to twist his view of the world.
"M-my Abyss Within?"
The phrase struck deep, shaking him to his core. His voice shook under the chaotic emotions raging in his mind.
Though they soon retreated as quickly as they had come, Dusken's mind reeled. His gaze swept the battlefield, finally noticing a girl who stood amidst the destruction.
She appeared no older than fourteen, her slender figure draped in simple cloth.
Her upper body was modestly covered, her lower half wrapped with similar fabric. Dusken's sharp eyes caught the dark, unyielding determination in her gaze.
At her feet lay a dead creature. In her hand was a long claw, clearly ripped from a beastman and repurposed as a weapon.
Her strength was undeniable. She had killed a creature, meaning she, too, was at least Level One.
For a moment, their gazes locked. Her stare was unrelenting, filled with an intensity that surprised even him.
But Dusken dismissed her as an illusion, a fleeting creation of this trial. Turning away, his focus shifted to the charred remains scattered across the battlefield.
The tree where slaves had been tied now stood amidst the carnage, surrounded by corpses.
Weariness settled over Dusken as the adrenaline of battle faded. He inhaled sharply, grimacing at the foul, metallic scent that filled the air.
"Curse this unhealthy air," he muttered, shaking his head.
Summoning his Soul Script, he examined his stats:
[Name: Dusken
Innate Name: -
Rank: Awakened
Level: 1
Abysmal points: [10/1000]
Spell Cards: 1
Scrolls: 1
Material Cards: 1
Talent: Abyssal Star
Talent Rank: Ultimate
Talent abilities: [Darkshadow control]
Side abilities: [Child Of the Abyss]
Innate abilities: [Dark Flame]
Legacy: None]
His expression darkened as he noted the Abyssal Points. Normally, slaying a Level One lifeform would grant 20 to 50 experience points, depending on its strength. Yet Dusken had only gained eight points.
A realization struck him like lightning.
These Abyssal Points weren't exp at all. They were the manifestation of negative emotions - hatred, rage, despair and many others.
Killing the creature had unleashed a torrent of negativity, nearly overwhelming his mind.
If this was true, then the more negative the entity he killed, the more Abyssal Points he would earn.
But there was a cost - greater foes could shatter his sanity entirely due to the intensity of their negative emotions.
His expression suddenly changed as he felt a power within him, no, not a power - a call. It was like a bond, summoning his attention.
Dusken gazed down at the carcass of the creature. It was lying in a pool of blood. He didn't know if it was just him or if its shadow had moved subtly.
However, when he focused closer, he saw it. The shadow of the dead creature stared back at him, even tilting its head in confusion.
Dusken's heart skipped a beat at this sight. He took a step back to observe, but the shadow moved also, following him.
At first, Dusken was confused. However, an inspiration suddenly struck him.
"If Abyssal Points are tied to negativity," he muttered in realisation, "then… what if… what if the shadows mentioned in my talent ability are those of the dead? What if I could summon them to fight for me?"
A slow, dark smile crept onto his face. The idea of commanding an army of shadows on the battlefield sent a thrill through him.
"Does this mean… I could become a lord of death, with thousands of shadow soldiers under my command? Why is my ability similar to that of Nothing?"
Dusken muttered his thoughts as he almost lost his composure. For some reason, he felt like there was a scheme at play - a scheme that involved the god of darkness.
Dusken's thoughts burned with ambition and uncertainty, even as the battlefield raged on with fights and the unforeseen death's embrace that drew nearer.