Tainted Souls, Tainted Swords
Chapter Nine: Betrayed.
The taste of Soul Edge's power. At last the demon felt the sword's dark energy, and found the rumors were all true. Soul Edge was the ultimate weapon for his kind, for beings of pure evil. It was wonderful—
"Get away from her, demon," A raspy male voice called from across the corpse-filled camp. A ninja drew his katana which resonated with a similar power to Rekki-maru. But unlike the members of the Fu Ma who sought the renegade before him, he came with a peaceful proposition for Taki. "That sword belongs to her, not you."
With its back to the ninja, paying the newcomer little attention, Varelli Tenebrarum let out an euphoric sigh as the fragment of Soul Edge within Mekki-maru responded almost affectionately to its new wielder. "Soul Edge belongs to no one," it began telepathically, and the stitches binding the creatures eyes and mouth shut transformed into tiny serpents, wiggled their way to freedom, and as it opened its black eyes for the first time it spoke through its own deep and ominous voice, "we belong to it."
"I am Kado of the Fu Ma—"
"Perfect," Dark energy pulsated from Mekki-maru, traveling in waves up Tenebrarum's arm and into his consciousness. And with that dark energy came the sword's experience in battle, every tactic Taki ever used the sword for, and the knowledge of the Fu Ma's strategies against demons all translated to Tenebrarum with crystal clarity. Pointing Mekki-maru at Kado, the monster called out with absolute confidence and overflowing arrogance, "Come, Fu Ma Shinobi! We thirst . . . ."
In that instant, Tenebrarum's fog engulfed Kado completely. Like with Taki, it utterly blinded him and resisted his movements. But Kado (like Taki) was unfazed, unintimidated, and unimpressed. Twirling the katana into position to focus his mind and summon the energy to dispel the fog, his vast experience in similar situations made the maneuver instinctive and automatic.
But Tenebrarum's arm shot out of the abyssal fog, gripping Kado's wrist with tremendous strength (enough strength to snap the ninja's bones with a loud cracking sound that echoed throughout the forest.) Thanks to Mekki-maru, the demon knew precisely where, when, and how to strike. Kado let out a scream as his katana fell from his grasp from the shock and abruptness of the blow, and before the katana could touch the earth Tenebrarum ended the fight. Kado felt a rush of blood flooded into his mouth as his own ally's sword, Mekki-maru, penetrated his heart. The ninja fell to his knees. The fog cleared around him just enough to let him see the gloating demon standing over him.
Kado spit out a mouthful of blood, but still found himself unable to speak as Tenebrarum leaned closer and declared, "Pitiful. Your death was boring. But her's? Heh, heh, heh." Suddenly the monster twisted Mekki-maru within Kado, just to send a wave of agony to his face and take delight in the beaten man's expression of pain. "Now that I know the power I wield, Mekki-maru wishes her destruction to be . . . legendary." And the beast laughed in the defeated ninja's face, kicking the man off its sword. The fog parted a path to Taki who still slept, oblivious to the battle and bloodshed around her.
"Ta . . . ki . . ." he breathed, reaching out for his fellow Fu Ma clan member baffled at the thought she could sleep through this. With the remainder of his strength, Kado began dragging himself across the camp, over the bodies of the dead assassins, to Taki. He couldn't fail his mission. Kado had to tell her of the troubles back home. Of the spell that had come over their master. "Wake . . . up . . ."
"She can't," Tenebrarum taunted, kicking Taki so she rolled onto her back. "Soul Edge has worn her down to a state of helplessness. Her mind and body are exhausted. You weak mortals cannot function without sleep." The demon knelt over her, placed the flat of Mekki-maru's blade to her forehead, and lowered his forehead so it touched the sword. "Sleep sweet Shinobi, sleep and dream."
"Toki . . . needs . . . us . . ." And then on his dying breath, Kado screamed, "Taki!" But she couldn't hear him.
Taki's face contorted slightly, her hands slowly started gripping the dirt and leaves beneath her, and her body squirmed and tensed up as if she were having a night terror. "Dream, Taki, and let's explore your fears together." With Mekki-maru at his disposal, Taki had no way to resist the demons' mental probing. She was entirely at his mercy, and, oh, how it made Tenebrarum and the essence of Soul Edge laugh . . .
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In the slums of a small city in Eastern France, bodies littered the vast second story room. Dead at the hands of a Japanese mercenary, Mitsurugi, who stood in the center of the chamber, holding a rifle in his hand. He shook his head in disgust, unimpressed with these overrated pipes of gunpowder, and he sliced the thing in two (barrel and all) with Shishi-Oh.
His employer stood in the doorway, observing Mitsurugi's actions as he leaned into the doorframe with his arms crossed. A cigarette hung loosely from his mouth, and an epee hung at the man's side. He wore somewhat flamboyant clothing. "You don't like guns, non?"
"You might say that."
"Heh, heh, heh, I don't blame you." The sleazy Frenchman slipped into the room, stepping over the corpses and making his way around the room, "I trained with guns for years. 'Weapons of the future' they said, 'will change war forever' they said. Rubbish!" Taking a long drag on his cigarette, he exhaled a stream of smoke before continuing, "They're loud as armageddon, and you need fifty men to hit one target. No stealth. No strategy. They're horrible weapons."
Mitsurugi nodded, "That's becoming more and more apparent with every encounter." Every passing day convinced him more and more that Tanegashima's victory came from pure luck. Nothing more.
"Guns are for cowards who can afford an army. A real man proves himself in a duel with swords." The Frenchman kicked a rifle out of his way, and flicked some ash unto the body nearby, "This rubbish will never replace the sword. It's a fad that will fade out. You'll see. A hundred years from now these mistakes will be forgotten from history entirely. You can take my word on that."
"The sooner the better."
The Frenchman laughed, "I like you, foreigner. I like you. In fact, there's an issue West of here I need resolved by capable hands." From his breast-pocket, he produced a slip of paper with something scribbled in french. "Some state officials have gotten desperate, so it looks to be one hell of a paycheck" He held out the paper to Mitsurugi.
But the Japanese man shook his head, "I don't plan on staying in France that long."
"So be it," the Frenchman shrugged as he knelt over the dead leader of this rebellious faction that Mitsurugi had slain, and he took a sack full of metal that clinked together. Tossing it to Mitsurugi, "As we agreed, the fragments of the Soul Edge."
Mitsurugi caught the small bag, then cocked his head to the side, "You knew?"
"Oui. I knew what they were, and they mean nothing to me." Removing the cigarette from his mouth, he flicked the ashes onto the dead man's face beneath him while continuing his conversation. "I must confess, and you must forgive me: at first I mistook you for a unskilled fool like all the others who believe in the Soul Edge. The infamous Soul Edge." And he made a mock grand-gesture (paper still in one hand, cigarette still in the other), "the great and mighty spirit sword, Soul Edge!" Then he just shook his head at the whole mumbo-jumbo, as his eyes came to rest upon the corpse beneath him. In disgust, he pressed the lit cigarette into the corpse's eye. "Where did Soul Edge get you, you dead bastard? Huh!"
The Frenchman spit on the dead man's face, and there was little doubt of his feelings towards these rebels. Back to Mitsurugi, the mercenary stood up to keep talking, "And I thought you would get yourself killed and I not have to worry about payment. But non, you are skilled and you are no fool which makes me wonder what magnificently persuasive lie was told to you to make you seek the sword? Here."
The Frenchman then removed a money pouch from his own belt and handed it to Mitsurugi, which Mitsurugi reluctantly accepted (never breaking his gaze from this man's eyes)
He put his hand on the Samurai's shoulder, "Take my advice, foreigner, and I give this only because you are the only man I've met who would be a worthy challenge in a duel. Forget Soul Edge. Men like you and I are a rare breed. The men around me seek after guns because they are lazy dogs and want to be lethal without training. They seek after Soul Edge, because they want power without dedication, without focusing their mind. A good sword is vital for a warrior if he wishes to call upon all of his skills, but no sword can make a warrior any more of a warrior than he already is. I believe Soul Edge is a well crafted weapon, perhaps the best weapon ever forged, but I laugh at the thought that it has supernatural power. Ha!"
Mitsurugi looked down at his own sword, Shishi-Oh, resting peacefully in its scabbard. Indeed, the sword showcased incredible craftsmanship, and had never failed him. This man's words made sense, in fact it made more sense than the legend of Soul Edge in Mitsurugi's mind. Did he pursue Soul Edge because he wanted easily obtained power, or did he pursue Soul Edge because it was the only sword that could reflect his true potential? Had his skill outgrown Shishi-Oh's craftsmanship? Or was he committing the same sin as Tanegashima and the other dogs who relied on guns? "I'll think about what you've said." Mitsurugi said quietly, as he started to leave.
But the voice of his employer stopped him, "Strength spawns from constant challenge. The unchallenged warrior's skills shall atrophy." The man lingered, waited for Mitsurugi to face him before finishing, "Even if the stories of Soul Edge are true, if the sword were so great it handed every battle to you on a silver platter, would you as a warrior want that?" Again he held out the slip of paper to Mitsurugi, "My offer still stands."
Turning his back to this mercenary job once again, once and for all, Mitsurugi answered, "It's appreciated . . . but a warrior, a true warrior, must find and face his own challenges." And with that, he left. Still searching for Soul Edge, but now for an entirely different set of reasons.
The frenchman sighed and lit up a new cigarette as Mitsurugi disappeared down the corridor. He opened up the paper, and briefly read over the note again. "Why have the high and mighty nobles come crawling to me to find you, monsieur Sorel?" Then after a moment he crumpled the page up, and tossed it onto the floor with the rest of the trash in the room. "Bah. Nobles are even worse double-crossers than gutter-folks."
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AUTHOR'S NOTE: As always thanks for the feedback.
