Everything... taken away.

She is made to be like him now. He can imagine her whole world spiraling out of control. The unfortunate event must have rendered all hopes of recovery obsolete. And yet, completely drenched in her father's blood, her mother's blood, and her sisters' blood... still... she sits quietly, as meek as a little stained mouse, attentively gazing up at him. It is almost as if they were not surrounded by a sea of blood and fire. But rather, they were sitting in a school house with plenty of warm sunlight shining through the window. He, her teacher. She, his pupil. How odd that he would have such a serene imagine in his mind after robbing so many lives. More mysterious still is the expression she wears while digging her dirty fingers deeper and deeper into her sister's fatal wound. It is not that of a child who has witnessed death. It is that of a young woman who has caught the first sight of freedom.

Freedom... from what?

She has seemingly risen above shock, anger, and despair. Her monstrous demeanor clashes with her human bearing. A living, breathing paradox.

What is that reflected in her eyes? The flames devouring her homeland? The sundered limbs of her loved ones? The demon who had brought her to this moment in time?

No. It looks to be pity, but he cannot be sure. How can it be? To turn the tables with a mere gaze.

It is, without a doubt, pity, boy. She believes you have a fate much worse than hers. And I must say, at the present, I agree whole-heartedly. You are weak, boy... and she knows it... as do I. But do not fear, I have the power to turn weakness into strength. Feed me and I will grant you what you so desire the most. You are not lacking in vengeance and hatred. To be cast out by your own family. To be forced to relinquish the power of which you were born into. All those hurt and resentment will fuel your future. You have always been prone to envy, wrath, and bitter hatred. Abandon yourself to them. Those who have looked down on you. We will kill them all. Every last one.

But why...? Why is it that she now wields the sword? Why is it that the sword now buries itself to the hilt inside his chest?

I have given you what you so desired the most.

Yes, it speaks the truth. To his kingdom, he had returned. Plowed right through the surprised guards. Marched up into his old home, the epitome of grand. He had come home at last... to take back, from his younger brother, what rightfully belonged to him. His life. His throne.

Who are they to judge him? Who are they to overlook him? The crown was his birthright.

And you have taken the crown off your brother... along with his handsome head. You have destroyed all those who aligned themselves against you. And now... now you are no longer driven. And now... now it is time for me to find another vessel.

• • • • • • •

It seems your nightmares have become more frequent these past few weeks. You should have taken my advice and killed her years ago when you had the chance to end her misery and yours. But, it is good. It is good that you have learned from your wrong. Ignoring my advice is never wise.

His senses awaken to the familiar humming from the cursed sword. It is thirsty again. Always.

To dream of her, I am beginning to think you take more interest in the younger than the elder sister.

"The eldest is dead."

Ah, yes. You cut her up very nicely indeed. 

"And the youngest... she could not possibly be alive."

Now that is where you are wrong, boy.

"What you mean is... she is still alive?" Perhaps there is such a thing as hope after all. "How do you know this?"

The little princess of swords thinks of me. I do not intend to brag, but I am always on her mind. Now, if you would be so kind as to treat me to a savory breakfast, I will tell you all you wish to know about her. Do we have a deal?

He is always given the option to refuse, but it is never his choice to make. Protectors, heroes, aspiring swordsmen... one by one, they all fall to the demon sword. How many more must die?

Too many to count.

• • • • • • •

The roaring sea greets him as the sun shines down from a clear blue sky. Vendors clamor on the wide open piers, letting the whole world know their loud bargains are the true way of life.

Despite the noise level, everything seemed peaceful enough... that is, until the sword intentionally attracts trouble by jabbing a heavily bearded man. He looked to be a weathered sailor... but what was with the giant axe at his side?

"What is it?!" The big man turns around from his shopping and snarls. "What do you want, little man?! Do you want to pick a fight with me?!"

"No, not in particular."

The answer earns him another beastly snarl. "What does that even mean?!"

"It means..." He quickly changes the subject when the humming from his sword intensifies, reminding him of its needs. "Are you, by any chance, a sailor who has ventured to many lands?"

"Oh..." The man drops his roughness and begins to boast. "I am. I am. I have sailed to many continents, seen many strange things, heard stranger tales, and crossed swords with the fiercest pirates ravaging the seas."

"Then you must know who is the strongest warrior around. I wish to challenge him to a duel."

"Is that so?" Unruly laughter issues from his foul-smelling trap. "You will not last, little man. Not with that skinny sword. Not with those skinny arms."

"I do not wish to give trouble to someone as inexperienced with a weapon as yourself." He gives the giant axe a small tap with his foot where the sword had sliced it, separating head from handle.

The loud thump draws the attention of many passerby. The man looks down at his broken weapon in awe. How did the little man do it? His sword never left its sheath. Or did it? Too amazed. There is just no room for anger.

"Thaorthernpeirunts..." It comes out as nonsensical gibberish.

"What did you say?"

"The Northern pirates... you won't find anyone stronger than them."

"At sea, yes..."

"On land... there's... there's... oh! Have you heard of Dragon Claws? His hands are made of steel and he-"

"Is dead."

"Dead?" The news comes as a shocker. "How come I didn't hear of this? When did he die?"

"A few days ago."

"I see... then perhaps you know of the Armored Beast? He is twice as big as any man and ten times as strong with impenetrable skin. He-"

"Is also dead."

"What?" Again, a quizzical look.

"Also a few days ago."

"How could you possibly know that? Wait. How about... how about... the Sword Saint? He is definitely not dead."

"That is because he is a myth. I have searched for him. No such swordsman exist."

"If the Sword Saint is a myth... then the Sword Demon I've heard rumors of must also be a myth. To slaughter an army single-handedly, it just doesn't sound right."

"No, the Sword Demon is not a myth. He is very real."

"Then go find him and fight him."

The Sword Demon laughs and shakes his head at the giant oaf standing before him. "Tell me. How do I possibly fight myself?"