From Nobody to Nightmare Ch.5 Swords
Artwork Insert
On the matter of swords.
"Skirt of Swords" by Sarah Shields
To the fingers that squeezed my throat
Swing
To the eyes that tore open my cotton shell
Stick
To the comments that bruised my confidence
Sling
To the absence at my self-sickened bedside
Sink
To the smile that slipped through me to her
Sing
To my heart in your chest
Sever
Come closer, dearest of undears
Sweep
I will flare and twirl and
Spin
While you are
Sliced
Into the same number of pieces as I am.
She was a lithe angelic figure upon the rocky crags, her slim body turned sideways in the position that all fencers take in order to limit the target area of their bodies. Indeed, it was a position she tried very hard to instill in Jacob. He was being quite adamant at the moment.
"Your body is the instrument that will carry your sword. Protect it well." And then she twisted his body sideways to mirror hers. "A swordsman must be light and swift in order to successfully dodge and strike at his enemies. Keep on the balls of your feet." She rapped him with the flat side of her thin sword. Jacob winced. She might as well have stabbed him for all the pain she caused.
Jacob gave a sigh before he took up the position she suggested. He held his sword with one hand to cover his side that was facing her. This was something he found to his extreme distaste, for the sword was unbearably heavy and the only viable way for him to fight was to use two hands to wield the blade. He also had to position himself by directly facing her instead of twisting into a side position. "This is not gonna do. Weight," he explained to her inquisitive features.
"Very well," she shrugged. "Whatever it is you feel comfortable doing. It's your individual fighting style, though why you would choose a weapon greater than even ¾ of your height is a mystery to me. However, neglect my advice and we shall see what comes of it."
Indeed, it was his choice to go with the huge broadsword. The day after Jacob had spent the second night at Laylah's sick bedside, he was awfully surprised to see that she was already out and bumbling about. Breakfast was served and immediately afterwards, she suggested on sparring practice.
"Oooh, before I forget, we need to dull our swords. Fighting with a sharpened blade just might shorten our immortal lifespans. Now, I'll guide you through this. Clear your mind, breath, and focus your desires into dulling the blade. Focus, like it's the only thing you want right now out of all the things in the world."
"I-I don't know. I'm trying, but nothing's happening. I could do it spontaneously before, but in a controlled environment, it just doesn't come to me."
"Well that's all a matter of perspective. You're just not thinking hard enough." She rapped his head hard with the flat side of her sword. "Oh, whoops. Didn't dull that, heh heh. Sorry about that."
"You could've taken my head off with how you hit."
She shrugged the comment aside, not feeling very apologetic. "Hey, I haven't killed you yet, so stop your whining. Anyways, follow me in how you do this. With the thought of dulling the blade in mind, run your index finger along the edge of your sword." She moved her hand as she spoke, and a purple spark flitted from one end of the sword to the other, following her trailblazing digits. "Now you try."
"Alright." He focused really, really hard. Focused so much that he was furrowing his forehead and clenched his teeth. He ran his fingers gently over the broadsword's edge, but nothing happened. "I can't do it. Can't you at least do it for me?"
"Well, I guess we're not going to spar. If you can't dull your blade on your own, then what's the use in teaching you how to swing steel? Is your opponent going to do it for you? Well that's a very friendly opponent you got there. It all comes down to your thinking. You don't think that using magic is possible at all. You've never been surrounded by its presence your whole life, that's why you're having doubts. Talented magicians everywhere have the stigma that if they can't be competitive enough in their trade, they're going to fall out of their trade and lose their livelihoods. You can just go ahead and try to do something different, but the benefits of that wouldn't be as great as capitalizing on this gift that they were born with. Are you going to be satisfied with less? If you truly want to be a demon lord, you will learn how to do this. If you truly wanted to kill me, you would've already succeeded."
"Are you calling me a coward?" he growled through gritted teeth.
"You might as well be one if you can't succeed."
Rage influenced his decisions now. He stabbed his broadsword deep into the sand and into the bedrock as well, so that when he stepped back, it was standing on its own. "I'll try again." He spit in his hands and rubbed them together. Then he snapped his left fingers together and fluttered them across the edge of the blade, causing red sparks to alight from his fingertips and follow his hands as they rounded both sides and went into the ground to cover the tip.
"I did it!"
"Those hand tricks were entirely unnecessary. Poking at your masculinity was the thing that did the trick," she hissed under her breath. Laylah turned around, her white hair sheened in purple as they caught the sunlight. "I'm not trying to tell you how to be your own man. But you are the one who decided to be the next demon lord, a demon lord unlike any other. A demon lord who can preach kindness and compassion among a species with a history so embroidered in violence and bloodshed. Everyone's tired of that right now, but you can't unite all the demonic tribes through the words of a martyr. You need strength to back your claim." For power is might and might is right.
She was right. He needed to get stronger, not just for his sake but for the sake of his goal. In a way, he could be playing to be the saviour of the world.
On the matter of character archetypes, it is my personal belief that those who have truly lost everything are the ones who devote themselves to altruism. The heroes fighting for the sake of the world that you learn about in fictional stories and anime are the farthest thing from the truth. We are all selfish creatures, and our first and foremost goal is to secure the safety of our inner circle, our closest friends and family. One who has nothing else to save will work to save the world. No wonder there are so many tragic heroes.
"Alright, let's begin." She tapped the rocky earthen ground in her backyard with the tip of her sword. "Come up here exactly to this center. Then we turn and walk 20 paces in the opposite direction. On my mark, we attack. The limits of the arena are the fenced area. The one who deals a halting fatal blow wins."
The area behind the cottage was quite spacious, a rectangular area measuring 50 feet by 30 feet. The ground was supposed to be rocky, what with the plateau formation, but it was laid over in sand. This made the surface quite sunken and uneven in places, but if you dug your feet in deep enough, you can reach the bedrock formation. He saw it as no advantage in a battle. Who had time to get comfortable in their footing when they had to move around as quickly as possible?
"Begin."
Her whisper was cast to the wind and his curved ears barely picked it up before she started moving. She covered the forty step difference between them in two mighty leaps, then her thin bladed sword was upon him. A rapier, she called it. Well it was certainly raping him. The angel of night cast down a rain of blows in broad daylight, and his broadsword was clumsily swatting them away. There was hardly grace in his movements, more like brutish deflection and desperation in not getting stabbed. Left jab, dodge. Horizontal slash, block with vertical. Then withdraw for a center point stab. Frankly, he didn't know how to counter this one so he tried to dodge and kicked up sand in her general direction to buy him some time to counterattack. There was a twisting of shadow and apparition and suddenly, she was on his other side with her sword raised upwards, a smile ghosting across her face.
"I don't really appreciate you using your light shifting tricks on me." He hefted up his broadsword and let the pommel rest on his shoulder.
"In battle, all means are necessary to secure victory. You think your opponent will play fair?"
A slender foot kicked up sand into his face, and he shifted to the right to avoid it. Damn, using his tricks against him. At such close range, temporary blindness was fatal with her quick sword. He froze immediately as he felt cold steel slightly prick against his collarbone.
"Dead," she proclaimed.
He sighed and got back up on his feet as she withdrew to a safe and comfortable distance. His arm muscles ached from the heavy burden of the broadsword.
"First thing you should learn is how to hold a sword. You need to know that the broadsword you're wielding is heavier than it looks. Its layers upon layers of steel folded and condensed upon one another. It also cost me quite a hefty sum so do take care of it."
"You could've told me that sooner before we rushed into sparring!"
"Meh," Laylah shrugged. "Experience teaches much more than instruction."
"And sometimes you instruct before you start giving experience."
"Aren't I instructing you right now? Enough talk. Again."
They launched themselves at each other. Two colossal titans of will pitted against one another. One young and brash, brimming with ambition. The other cool and timeless. This time, the angel let the demon come to her and she was quite amused at all the yelling he was doing while he was running to her.
"Intimidation is a good thing to use against your enemies. It's quite useless right now if I'm not going to even flinch." She flicked her blade upwards and held it steady against his heart. "Dead, your vitals were left wide open. Screaming your head off like a shounen character isn't going to accomplish anything. Think. Be wise, be wicked."
"Again!" he yelled. They walked the twenty opposite paces and went at each other. This time, Jacob was being a bit cleverer, angling his blade to his center so that he can easily shift to any side while he directly faced Laylah. Then he charged. Thirty paces, twenty paces, ten paces left. She just stood there with her rapier held upwards right in front of her face while she faced him sideways.
The angel then lunged at his advancing form in a flurry of jabs aimed at his center, trying to draw his heavier sword away. He parted them and aimed at striking her center. Of course, Jacob had the intention of halting before he struck anything. Even with a dulled blade, his broadsword and her rapier were dangerous. Then again, he knew the angel had the strength to block it, like she did every blow.
His vision blurred as her image shifted directly to his right. Apparition again? This woman was never going to stop with her cheap tricks. She waited patiently in her side form while he shifted and tried to regain his balance.
"Are you quite ready? Or do I need to take another minute."
Her jabs were quite literal, both physically and verbally. Just because she didn't believe in his masculinity in wielding huge swords doesn't mean she has to laugh at it. Oh, but she wasn't laughing. I'll show her alright.
Jacob lunged forward, every muscle in his body from his legs, to his core, to his arms moved in perfect sinewy resonance to deliver this mighty blow. It would be anticlimactic if she just moved away. However, she didn't seem to have the intention of moving. In fact, she was smiling in anticipation for this blow. It was a horizontal blow, aimed at taking out her neck. He braced himself to lessen the blow so that her thin arms wielding her thin sword can block the blow. If she couldn't, he was willing to withdraw it backwards just a bit so that it would rest comfortably against the side of her neck. Or it couldn't. I'm going too fast, his eyes widened in panic and he did everything he could to stop it.
Laylah brought her rapier around in a leftward arc to meet his rightwards swing. There was a terrific clang as both of their blades locked. Even with his reduced momentum, Jacob thought that he could win this engagement. Laylah can flit around but when facing an opponent head on, she had no advantage.
That was until she started pushing him back. This came as an immediate surprise to him. Even her leftwards momentum hadn't enough force to push back against his broadsword. It was then that he glanced at her biceps. Slim they were, but they gave a little twitch and he was thrown backwards. He managed to stabilize himself while sliding back with his sword dug into the ground and grating heavily on the red sandstone below. He looked upwards to check on the status of his opponent and she was directly on top of him.
"Dead." The cold ringing words were like the cold ringing steel of both their blades colliding, and his blade was the one being pushed backwards. Like his pride was pushed backwards against her might and will.
"Don't think that just because I am of the opposite sex, I am automatically relegated to playing the weaker role. Angels, whether they be male or female, fight superbly well against one another. I am a strong and independent woman, don't you forget that," she crowed from on top, then cracked a smile. "Need a hand?"
"Yeah, thanks," he huffed from the exertion. She hauled him up, body and all plus sword. "Will definitely make sure to remember that." As if I could ever forget. But I guess she's the true star of her own show. "I have a feeling that you're doing all this to get back at me for before."
"Well, you wouldn't be wrong," Laylah smirked.
"Alright, wanna go again?" He was still breathing heavily and leaned on his tall sword for support. She wacked his head with the butt of her sword.
"Don't lean on that, you'll ruin it! (Well, from her beatings, this thing is more ruined by her than me). And frankly, looking at the state you're in, you can hardly last another round."
He took a bit of time to come up with a reply. "Not true. I'll show you right now."
"You're contradicting yourself."
"No, seriously. How am I going to get better at this if I don't keep practicing?"
Her red eyes flashed in annoyance. "You're going to get better. And this is exactly that, you getting better. You, need to rest. That's how you're going to improve. There's no use in continuing to practice if you can barely hold a sword. There's your homework, learn how to hold your sword. Take hours just holding it so your arms can build up the strength to support its weight." She waved him away and went to the shed.
She came out with two scabbards, one for her rapier, and one for Jacob's broadsword. "It seems awkward just calling your blade by its type. Rapier. Broadsword. It gets awkward sometimes. I mean," she struggled trying to find an explanation, "they're an extension of our arm, our body, our mind, our soul. Try naming yours. I know its awkward calling your right arm by a name, but that's just how it is. The famous warriors have a name for their blades, and if you're going to make a name for yourself, start with your sword."
"Alright," he said heftily. She handed him his scabbard and a cloth and he started to clean his broadsword. Staring deep into the reflective steel, he could just about make himself out, horns, ragged hair, and all. "Man, I don't really know about this."
"If you're going to be an instrument of good, but wielded by an even individual, you should be named evilly. Great Demonic Sword shall be thy name!" he proclaimed.
Her red eyes dulled into uncertainty. "Eh, from one point to another. One awkward noun to another. I was looking for a name, but…" she didn't press the issue further. The boy had quite made up his mind and was gushing over his steel about how good it did during the sparring practice.
"Oh, you are my hero! You protected me from the evil woman and her evil blade," he glanced tentatively in her direction, not at all worried by the daggers she was staring at him. "Umm, what's the name of your blade?"
"Mine?" she exhaled briefly before lifting her bright, naked sword up in the air. "I call her Heaven's Needle, for this is the Needle that will pierce the Heavens!"
"Pff, childish. Not taken seriously at all. What kind of person names their sword that?"
"Excuse me? What kind of person dubs their sword after a descriptive noun? No, multiple descriptive adjectives. Seriously, we need to start on your grammar lessons immediately. Anyways, I'm heading inside. Start by holding that sword for 5 minutes. Then try again and again and again until it hurts so much that your arms can't do anything."
"WHAT! That's totally not fair at all. What's wrong with you woman!"
"Nothing's wrong. Except you. You wanted to get stronger? This is how. You chose a larger sword than what I recommended and you weren't strong enough to wield it. Child's play. If you were facing a child, I'd bet they could beat you with a stick just by prancing around your immobile frame. You can hardly move. Tomorrow, you're progressing to 10 minutes, then add 5 minutes in subsequent days. Time yourself, mind you."
Hours later, the cool early morning had given way to a dry and sweltering desert afternoon. Laylah didn't do well with sun. Night was more her forte. Leaving Jacob out there was a good choice though, it serviced his endurance to the elements. Plus, his tan needed to be worked upon.
That night, while sitting at the dinner table, Jacob was dead tired. His arms were sore and exhausted. He actually did the exercise Laylah assigned him. When others who would take the words of an adult with a grain of salt. It's like when a P.E. teacher lets you out for free time and expects you to do some physical activity. What do most kids do? They find shade and sit around for the rest of class. It is rare to see the few physical fanatics who would go to their extreme limits all in the name of fitness. And because their teacher told them to. That's exactly what Jacob is. He wants to get stronger, and he would do anything Laylah says, if they be within the bounds of reason.
Tonight's servings were cashew noodles with broccoli and tofu along with a black bean salad. High in protein, which was a necessary macromolecule to feed and rebuild his torn down muscle fibers. Again, the question Jacob posed to Laylah was where she got the fresh ingredients. She would always smile that conspirator's smile, the one you give when someone guesses you right, but you just smile and not admit anything. Only that upward curve of your mouth was proof of any indication.
"Maybe another time. You need to acquaint yourselves with the basics of magic before you can understand what I will tell you." She took a sip from her glass of wine.
"You know, wine is a traditional healing drink that's supposedly good for your health. At least, that's what the human Holy Book says. The two essential vitalities that make up the Christ figure are bread and of course, wine."
"But if the human Holy Book speaks of this Jesus, doesn't he exist in your Heavenly world? He does and doesn't. You've heard of the theory of the Trinity? No? Well, it says that God exists in three consubstantial forms: the Father, the Son, which is Jesus, and the Holy Spirit. God is all of these things, so why refer to the God as his own Son when he is also the Holy Spirit and the Father? God is one in all three."
"Speaking of human ideologies, Jacob, how would you like to visit the human realm?"
"W-what? You mean, go outside your cottage and actually go visit lands apart from Isla Centrum?"
"All the islands. You will see lands of sand, other than the one you're living in right now, lands of ice, lands of grassland and meadows and forests and jungles. You will see them all, for I shall be the one to take you."
"But you aren't well enough to travel. The poison took most of your angelic power away just to hold back its effects-"
"I know that this trip is possibly dangerous to my health, and my combat abilities will be severely limited, but I think it's for a good reason. I'm not always around or always able to protect you. You have got to learn how to do all that on your own," she stressed, then sighed. "Seems scary doesn't it?"
Jacob nods.
"Well, it is. That's how I learned to grow up. Being immortal doesn't grant you the excuse of being a child forever. It's crucial to grow up as fast as possible so you can do the greatest amount of good you can in the world. You can do this, Jacob. Come with me."
"You might die."
"Oh, I'll be fine. I'm immortal, remember?"
"Not unless you are claimed by blade, poison, or sickness, and I'll do well to remind you that one of those three nearly succeeded."
"Traveling shouldn't be too detrimental unless I take it slow, plus, we get all that time to do some great sightseeing. I mean, you are going to absolutely love the views around the world. The different people, the flora, the fauna, oh everything's magnificent. Besides, in one of these exotic lands in the southern Isles, there's this tribe of mystical healers who are rumored to cure any illness. If not, we can just visit the Heavenly realm and complete my healing over there. Plus, I get to introduce you to my extensive family! All the angels can't wait to see what an anomaly you are and how you're going to do so much good by changing the world."
Underneath a silver chandelier lit by candlelight, in a cottage bathed by moonlight, an angel painted beautiful pictures about the world to an enraptured demon boy.