*Sad weapon.*
In a dark, endless void, a small boy with jet-black hair sat curled in on himself, his sobs echoing softly in the emptiness.**
"Where is Master? Did Master really forget Cil?" he whispered, his voice trembling with despair.
*Pa!* Cil slapped his own cheek, the sharp sound cutting through the silence. "No! Master would never forget Cil," he insisted, though his tears continued to fall.
---
**P.O.V. Human Emperor Hendrix**
Emperor Hendrix, the so-called Killing Emperor, lounged on a throne forged from countless swords, each blade a testament to his unmatched power. His golden robes, adorned with diamonds, shimmered faintly in the dim light, but his attention was elsewhere.
His piercing gaze was fixed on the blade reflected in the mirror before him.
"Since the day we attempted to tame this blade, it has wept for its master," Hendrix murmured, his voice low and contemplative. The weapon before him was no ordinary sword—it pulsed with a life force so potent it seemed to defy the very laws of nature.
"Who could possibly be worthy of wielding such a thing?" he wondered aloud. "To conquer something so wild... it would require a strength beyond even my own."
Though the temptation to claim the sword for himself gnawed at him, Hendrix resisted. The blade's power was immense, radiating an ancient energy that seemed capable of tearing through the fabric of reality itself.
"Could this be some type of ... weapon race?" he mused, the idea both thrilling and unnerving. A competition for such power, one that could challenge even the gods, was a prospect that stirred something deep within him.
Suddenly, a haunting whisper filled the room.
"Enslave."
At that moment, Hendrix's left eye— Gedé—fractured into six distinct pupils, glowing with an unnatural purple light. The power of enslavement radiated from him, a force capable of bending even the strongest wills to his command.
Yet, this sword was different. It resisted.
---
**P.O.V. Dax**
"The human... ate your heart?"
The voice belonged to a woman of striking beauty, her skin a soft pink hue that seemed to glow faintly in the dim light. Her eyes, sharp and inquisitive, bore into the guard standing before her.
"Yes, Madam Dalia," the guard replied, his voice trembling. "The human... he hides his true power."
Dalia tilted her head, her lips curling into a faint smile. "How curious. Why would a creature conceal its strength when survival depends on it? Humans truly are enigmatic."
With a dismissive wave of her hand, she added, "You're dismissed. Schedule a match for him. I want to see what this human is capable of."
As the guard bowed and retreated, Dalia's gaze drifted to the arena below, her eyes gleaming with anticipation.
---
In the cold, dark confines of his cell, Dax sat hunched against the stone wall, his mind racing. The chill of the damp air seeped into his bones, but his focus was elsewhere. He extended a hand, his fingers brushing against the faint traces of mana that lingered in the air.
*Eat.*
The word echoed in his mind, pulling him back to reality.
The sound of heavy footsteps broke the silence as a guard approached, keys jangling in his hand. "Human, you have a fight," the man announced, unlocking the chains that bound Dax.
"Follow me."
Dax rose to his feet, his movements slow but deliberate. As they navigated the labyrinthine hallways, the distant roar of a crowd grew louder, filling the air with an electric energy.
At the entrance to the arena, the guard gestured to an array of weapons laid out before them. "Choose wisely," he said, his tone indifferent.
Dax's eyes scanned the weapons, each one gleaming under the flickering torchlight. His gaze settled on a jagged blade, its edge sharp and cruel, resembling shards of glass. Without hesitation, he reached for it, his fingers wrapping tightly around the hilt.
"Truly a work of art," Dax murmured, his voice low and dripping with dark admiration as he examined the jagged blade in his hand. The weapon was cruel in its design, its edges serrated like broken glass. "Made for the pure purpose of killing." A wicked grin spread across his face, his eyes glinting with a cold, calculating light. He twirled the blade once, testing its weight, before stepping forward into the arena.
The battlefield was a sprawling pit of sand and bloodstains, surrounded by towering walls lined with jeering spectators. The air was thick with the stench of sweat, iron, and decay, and the roar of the crowd was deafening. Demons of all shapes and sizes leaned over the edges, their eyes glowing with malice as they shouted curses and insults.
"Boo! Human scum! Die!"
"Tear him apart, ogre!"
"An interesting crowd indeed." Dax could feel the hate from the crowd, but he was uninterested in them; he didn't care how they felt.
His attention was fixed on the creature standing at the center of the arena.
The ogre was a monstrous figure, towering over Dax by at least twice his height. Its skin was a deep, blood-red, covered in intricate tattoos that glowed faintly with an otherworldly light. A single, curved horn protruded from its forehead, and its eyes burned with a primal, animalistic fury. In its massive hands, it gripped a broadsword that looked more like a slab of iron than a weapon, its surface pitted and scarred from countless battles.
Dax tilted his head, studying the ogre with a detached curiosity. "An interesting crowd indeed," he muttered under his breath, his tone laced with sarcasm. But his focus quickly shifted back to the ogre. There was something... unusual about it. Something that set it apart from the mindless monsters.
*Inerous, what is that?* Dax thought, his mental voice sharp and probing.
*Master, that is an ogre,* Inerous replied, its voice echoing in Dax's mind. *But this is no ordinary beast. Look closely—its tattoos, its aura. There's something strange about it. Master Activate your origin eyes.
Without hesitation, Dax simply obeyed. His left eye flickered, the iris splitting into a kaleidoscope of red as his origin eye activated. The world around him shifted, the physical realm giving way to a vision of mana and life force. Strings of energy dangled from the ogre's body, pulsating with an eerie light. But what caught Dax's attention was the creature's chest.
There, burning brightly within its core, were two intertwined flames—one a deep, menacing purple, the other a vibrant green. They danced around each other in an unearthly rhythm, their energies clashing and merging in a way that defied natural law. These flames where the origin of the strings dancing around the ogre.
"This ogre possesses purple strands," Dax murmured, his voice tinged with intrigue. "Similar to the guard from earlier."
*Yes, master,* Inerous confirmed. *The purple flame represents its demon blood and the green monster blood. The coexistence of the two flames suggests this creature is a hybrid—a fusion of demon and ogre.*
A grin spread across dax face like a predator catching the scent of prey. "A hybrid," he whispered, his voice barely audible over the roar of the crowd. "How fascinating."
Dax would have loved to capture it, to study it, to unravel the secrets of its existence. But here, in this blood-soaked arena, such luxuries were beyond his reach.
"Pity," Dax muttered, his grin widening. "I would have loved to dissect this magnificent creature. But since I don't have my lab..." He tightened his grip on the jagged blade, his origin eye still fixed on the ogre's core. "I'll just have to make do with my current condition."
The ogre let out a deafening roar, as it charged toward Dax.