Chương 39: A Long and Winding Bloodbath

Ch. 39 - A Long and Winding Bloodbath Even as the blade rejoiced in its own private victory and contemplated whether or not it should pursue the path of blood or vengeance next, the lucky streak of the party that it traveled with came to an end. The following day started out like any other on their winding trip of exploration.

Dero and Altharia reviewed the map he was slowly drawing to judge which blank spot their efforts might best be spent fleshing out while Ivarr practiced his swordsmanship with his friends in the daily warm-up exercises.

It might have been a camping trip or hunting expedition were it not for the fact they were still at least a week from civilization. This deep in the mountains, they hadn't even found a village worth the name. Why would they? There was no way to herd sheep or tend fields when monsters might strike you down at any moment. That same danger applied to Ivarr and his friends as much as anyone else. They'd left the claustrophobic safety of the woods and were climbing toward the ridgeline.

Then, the next thing anyone knew, a dozen hulking orcs were charging down at them like an avalanche of rage. -1 Life Force Though the sight was no doubt terrifying, the blade analyzed it bloodlessly and decided that they would probably still survive. It didn't strike the blade as a planned ambush or any other sort of sophisticated attack. The orcs outnumbered the humans, so they thought that they'd be able to feast on their flesh.

It was no one's fault that after almost a month in the wilderness, someone finally died. Everyone did their best. Altharia rained fire on them, maiming half of them before they even reached the group, and despite earlier attempts to keep a lower profile, Ivarr fought like the god of war himself after charging heedlessly toward them. Despite being on the wrong side of the slope for such large opponents, he still took on four at once. Even with the strength of the blade, he was still wounded several times.

+184 Life Force +4 Greater Monster Souls Wounded or not, though, he wouldn't fall, and he took on the entire brunt of the enemy's attack himself. It was enough to make the blade proud of him, even as he gutted and dismembered his opponents. He didn't notice just how much more life force his attacks were draining now. Nor did he know how much more quickly his opponents were falling. He just knew he needed to do more.

That left just two orcs for the other three men, but for inexpert fighters using mundane blades, two orcs was one orc too many. Though they succeeded in killing them both, Sammel and Dero were both wounded by the end of the battle. +2 Greater Monster Souls Wounded was a lot better than dead, though, which was Brik's fate. Ivarr didn't find that out, though, not right away, even as his weapon captured the man's escaping soul.

-5 Life Force Instead, after whirling around and verifying that those two had been dispatched, he charged up the hill and killed the wounded orcs who had survived the mage's fiery wrath. After that, when none of the orcs were breathing, and he'd looked around from the ridge to make sure no other attacks were coming, he walked back down to the group. That's where he found everyone else gathered around a corpse.

The man had been his friend a few minutes ago was just a corpse that had been split from neck to groin by the sharp stone axe of an orc. The leather armor Brik had been so proud of had done almost nothing. It was a horrifying sight, but Ivarr endured it with more stoicism than the blade would have expected. +99 Life Force +3 Greater Monster Souls Unlike his near breakdown over killing Elom in self-defense, he accepted the death calmly and simply stood there with his tears cascading down his cheeks.

This time, he didn't ask if the blade might be able to save him or even if the priest could do something. He just reached down and closed his friend's eyes forever. They didn't make it any further that day. They spent the afternoon building the man a cairn on the rocky slope, and they spent the night just below the ridgeline to shelter from the wind. There was no joy in that night, though, or in any of the nights that followed. Instead, frustration only grew.

-1 Life Force Ivarr's flirtations with Altharia died the same day that Brik did. Instead, he started talking to the sword more about what he could do to get stronger or faster, but it had no wisdom to give the man. This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there. With me in your hands, you're as deadly as any four men, but not even you can save everyone, the blade told him.

That night, it didn't attempt to console its wielder any further or even to try to sway him on a subtle emotional level. Grief was a natural part of death and battle, and the blade would not deny the young man that. Instead, it consumed greater monster souls it had harvested that afternoon, along with Brik's soul, and then contemplated upgrades. It had received 283 over the course of combat, which was much more than the 38 it had started out the day with after its last upgrade.

Nine orcish souls gave it another 412 Life Force, and Brik's soul added 86 to that. He wasn't a very powerful soul, but every little bit would help it to get stronger. -1 Life Force Still, with 819 Life Force, there was little that the blade could upgrade with so little energy. Starting the Path of Blood or increasing its Siphon further were its largest goals at the moment, but both of those would require at least 2, 000 Life Force.

So, instead, it settled for Parasitic Link 2 for 250 Life Force, just to make the slow drip of Life Force it had been losing thanks to its recent upgrades, vanish. As gloomy as Ivarr became as the days passed, he didn't turn out to be the weak link. As their supplies started to grow scarce, it was Sammel that finally cracked. He'd done better than the blade had expected up to this point, but after his friend's death, it was obvious that he lived in perpetual fear that each fight would be his last.

The man stank of fear. Each time the group faced off against anything after that, whether it be an orc or a goblin, he would practically cower behind Ivarr to the point where the man's proximity made it that much harder for its wielder to fight. This behavior persisted even after he healed until finally, with a disgusted look at the map next to the campfire one night, he said, "This is hopeless. We're never going to find it. You guys know that, right? We're just walking around in circles out here."

"Never?" the mage said.

"Everything has to be somewhere. Just because we didn't find it this time doesn't mean we won't find it next time."

"Not all of us are immortal. I have a life to live back home." Sammel countered.

"We have more trophies than we have food at this point."

"Yeah, Supplies are getting low," Dero said, trying to put a positive spin on things, "But with a little hunting and some luck we can pull together and next time we can—""I don't want to hunt," Sammel exploded.

"I don't want to fight, I don't want a next time, and I definitely don't want to search for a stupid tomb we're never going to find anyway." The group debated the point for more than half an hour, and though no one else was eager to abandon their quest, the Ebon Blade could see that they all knew that Sammel's time with them was at an end. Eventually, it was agreed that they would return to Kalraka the following morning, even if they couldn't all agree on the reasons for that destination.

The decision did less to dispel the gloom over the group than the blade would have thought. Truthfully, it was happy to abandon this quest. It had what it wanted. Its wielder could go anywhere else now, and it would be able to get enough Life Force to unlock one of the other paths or make the upgrades that it really desired. The blade would probably get more life force just from draining the people who walked by it in a city at this point.

That didn't have half the appeal of fighting pitched battles, but it certainly spoke to the breadth of its current options. Unfortunately, it knew that its wielder had not given up"Maybe it really isn't here," the mage said with a sigh.

"Perhaps the map was in error, and the true mountain peak isn't even in this range."

"We'll find it," Ivarr promised, annoying the blade. It had what it needed. It did not wish to hunt monsters forever now that their souls were not what it required.

"Even if we have to come out ten more times. It's here. I'm sure it is." She hugged him then while the blade tried to decide if it was an excuse to be close to the woman or the death of Brik that had made its wielder so determined. They traveled through the rugged terrain for several days, along a different route than they'd come at first, and the blade realized only slowly that the place was familiar to them.

The backside of the mountain was literally the valley where it and Ivarr had spent the most time hunting back before they'd stumbled across this group. What about the ogre's cave? It asked The blade didn't care too much about this mission, but if it could help end it, well, then it was all for that.

"What about it?" Ivarr mumbled to himself. The Ebon Blade could feel the waves of self-loathing spread through its wielder as thoughts of the ogre led to thoughts of Elom and the battle that crippled him, but it couldn't be helped. It's burrowed into one of the mountains that she seems to care about most, the blade repeated, spelling it out for the distracted man. What if it hides the entrance to what you've been looking for?

"The cave? But the ogre was in there, surely…" Ivarr started to say.

"What's that?" Dero asked.

"Ogre cave?"

"Uhmmm, yeah," Ivarr said, "You know… it's a big cave, and it's nearby somewhere. Maybe we should check it out before we go back. It might hide something even worse, you know?"

"That idea is wonderful," Altharia responded when the two of them shared the idea with her. It was actually enough to make her smile for the first time in days.

"To skip it would be a terrible missed opportunity."