Bladed Soul: Ascend To Necrosberg

VI - Meeting Serrah (II)

Serrah

Arthus lies with his back on the bed which is rather too small for him. Thank the gods, the man named Seymour took him out of the burning forest after he fainted from exhaustion. Even better as to kindly attend to his wounds for a little while.

At present, I'm in my blade form. Whenever I'm not summoned by Arthus, I take on an astraphantasmal entity that permits me to interact with him, but not with my surroundings. Astradhel and the other worlds just don't coexist.

To put it simply, I'm a soul.

When I Lazaddon was still my master, he wouldn't permit me to maintain an astral form. In other words, I was unaware of what was happening around me.

Arthus suddenly jerks, supplemented by a soft grunt. It must probably be caused by the strain on his body. No matter how much I want to nurse him, I can't wrench myself to materialize. The last battle certainly drained a lot of my mana. My head still stings horribly from exhaustion. He must be dealing with the same circumstances.

Vladimiria trots towards Arthus and licks his face. His lips curve into a weak smile as he rewards her with a gentle pat before averting his attention to me, or should I say, the dagger.

Pieces of his thoughts commences through my mind. For some unknown reason, since he became my master, some sort of broken empathy link was established between us.

Prominence on the word, broken. It's because the link doesn't always work most of the time.

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Serrah's Narration from a Memory

Arthus kept wandering around the dusky forest, calling my name once in every while.

"Serrahfina! Serrahfina! Please, speak to me!" he cried.

I ignored him for I was extremely displeased by his actions. But in reality, truth spilled, my loyalty was still with Lazaddon and seeing myself in the hand of a cocky brat had me digging my nerves in dander.

The wilted bushes and shrubs wriggled into life. Corpseweeds were becoming rampant at chasing the child.

Trolls were springing from every nook and assaulted him, greedy for his flesh. It surprised me at first when he fended them off, producing magic in the form of elemental manipulations. He had mana just like me and Lazaddon. But he manifested it in a different way.

I also noticed that he never used the dagger to slash his foes open. Nor did he slay them even when he got a chance.

I concluded that maybe he wasn't adept in the use of weapons, being as young as he is. If only he knew how much I love the savory taste of blood.

Despite his efforts to keep himself alive, the truth was clear. A child like him would eventually run out of energy. It wasn't long before he'd be food for the abominable creatures.

Ironic as it sounds, I was secretly wishing he'd be killed by one of them. I didn't know how I could return to Lazaddon but one thing was for sure. I wanted to get away from the possession of this worthless tyke.

The fighting and consumption of magic finally took its toll on him. He was no longer able to create fire, or move the earth. His actions became slow and predictable.

The trolls realized this and closed with frenzy upon him. They had him completely surrounded.

A huge, brawny one with iron piercings on his deformed face stepped up and swung his wooden club on Arthus's chest.