The loose soil sweeps across the barren land as a gust of wind, uncommon to the area, sweeps past. John looks up to Kardama, meeting his gaze. His weary knees had come crashing down. The conversation begins to flow smoothly.
John Kado: I thought you did not keep friends.
Kardama: I did, at a time. It was not worth it. Friends are only good for putting blades through each other. I can see the curiosity building in you, and so, I will tell you a story. As long as you do not bother me with any questions...
John didn't wait for him to finish. He gives a firm response.
John Kado: I will not.
Kardama: Very well, then.
Particles of sand rise from the earth, forming illustrations as Kardama narrates with a cold voice.
Kardama: Long before your ancestors crossed the ocean of Rayne, before the current dynasty that put Gregor on the throne, the native Oragonians of the north ruled what you now call Malvay. Among all the kingdoms of the world, Oragon stood tall. Even taller than the island of Zenxhimer, the land of sweetness. I reincarnated in that era, oh how could I forget it? The age of Vegtedikes. Unlike reappearances, reincarnations end up a lot more awkward. As a teener, I was already under investigation for the death of my foster parents. The sweet souls that took me in had died mysteriously. Turns out, I killed them unwittingly. I was drafted to a team of Vegtedikes, similar to what you call chevaliers in this time. The legendary quickblade, captain Masashi was made our guardian. Toxhiro, Shin, and Liz, were my teammates. The best unit in all the land. Curious teenagers grew up to become promising young adults. An epic tale that ended with me driving a blade through Toxhiro's stomach. Your so-called sword of rituals used to be part of a series of seven. Seven weapons forged from steel melted by dragon breath. Weapons older than even Oragon. And now, thanks to your unwitting support, I can restore it to its former glory.
Kardama picks up the dull copper hilt from where the winds had tossed it. Right before John's curious eyes, the hilt begins to shine brightly, a lustre only king's gold could have (the most polished and most remarkable kind of gold, so named for its value). Out of the golden hilt, a beam of light springs forth, a beautiful blade of dark steel appearing where the shattered blade had been. An inscription on the glorious blade catches John's attention. He attempts to read it.
John Kado: Black nemesis.
Kardama smiles as he stares at him, his blue eyes seemingly glowing rhythmically with the sword.
Kardama: You read Oragonian well, but it is ancient Oragonian. The sword's name is dark nemesis. Liz helped me name it. I carved the name on it with the agony that followed her death. She chose the exact same name the landlords had chosen, centuries before her grandfather was even conceived.
John stares at the spectacular sword in awe. A golden hilt, a black diamond-ornamented pommel, a blade of darkened steel...he just could not take his eyes off it. Regaining himself, John raises his gaze to Kardama's blue eyes.
John Kado: The story...I do not understand.
Kardama replies brusquely.
Kardama: And it is not for you to understand, nor is it for your comprehension. I have shared enough. Change the topic.
Matching his energy, John shoves a brusque remark at Kardama.
John Kado: I shall like my arm back. It was my good arm.
Kardama replies precisely.
Kardama: Then take it.
John stares at him suspiciously.
YOU ARE READING
DEMON HUNT
FantasyMario Cadel gets caught up in a series of tragic events that opens his eyes to the mysteries and darkness in the world. He begins a struggle to establish peace but whether he succeeds or not is another matter...
