Blaze

Chapter 9

CHAPTER 9

It wasn't long before I'd gained the title of 'Guardian of the Nerds'. The very Monday after I'd saved the orange-haired kid, I had a run-in with some Rooks. They had cornered a goth girl in a quiet part of school. Needless to say, they limped away with a few new bruises and scrapes.

After that, people ran towards me whenever they were being chased by any of the thugs. I didn't mind, but I worried. If I managed to rile up enough of the Rooks, they might come at me all together. It was a high possibility, especially with Carlos with them. Or worse, they could go for my family. No one would stop them. Not the students, not the teachers, not even the cops. No one went against the Rooks, until Blaze.

One day, I was returning from school. Helena wasn't with me, she was still at Ensemble practice. I flexed my arm.

I'd just beat up three Rooks, but one of them had used a knife as a last-ditch attempt. The knife should've gone through my hand, but instead it slid off my skin. One of the benefits of being Blaze: super-strong skin.

Dad still didn't understand how my abilities came about, or how they worked, and he didn't dare send any blood samples or anything to any of his contacts, knowing that no one but him would kept their trap shut after finding something like me.

My phone rang in my pocket. I slipped it out and answered.

"Yes, Dad?"

"Package's here, I'll pass it to you on Saturday."

I could barely contain my excitement. I had a wooden sword from back when I was a swordsman, but I hadn't held a real sword in years. I hadn't felt that thrill, that feeling of power, in years. Some people loved holding guns, or racquets, but I loved swords.

"Sure, Dad."

"Well then, talk to you on Sunday. Bye."

"Bye."

*****

Dad came back out of his room with a long bundle wrapped in black cloth. The cloth was bound at various points on its length by a thin black rope with red markings at intervals.

He placed the bundle on the coffee table, and took a seat beside me. "Go on, unwrap your new toy."

I pulled the rope apart, finding that it was connected to the cloth at its two ends. When the rope was out of the way, I lifted away the folds of the cloth. My heart raced when I spotted a glint from within the cloth. I pulled away one last layer of cloth and found what I'd been awaiting for the last month.

The sword was sheathed by a leather scabbard, dyed black and held in shape by a metal with a matt-red finish. The grip was wrapped in a layer of black rubber, but the cross-piece and pommel were made of shiny dark-red metal. The metal had golden patterns engraved into it and now it glinted bright, I almost believe it was real gold. I drew the sword from its scabbard, and felt raw power.

The sword was about one and a quarter meters in length, with the hilt taking up the last quarter-meter. The sword was made of the same tint of metal as the hilt, but its rain guard had golden engravings. The edges of the sword were parallel for the most part, till about the last quarter-meter, when the edges curved in and ended at a spear-point.

I shook it a bit in my hand to test the weight. Around five kilograms. Perfect for me.

"Amazing," I murmured.

"Test this,"

I looked down to see Dad place an empty plastic bottle down and move away to a safe distance. I knew what he meant. Gripping the sword with one hand, I pulled back my arm. When I swung, there was only a small crisp slashing sound before the top of the bottle slid off.