FIDGET, BATRISHAN PRINCE OF DARKNESS
The Blade That Rips Through The Soul
"A prodigy, I'm telling you. A prodigy."
It had been several weeks since Fitzgerald Denada Cortés had entered Aldorada's Military Academy after De La Espada went to speak with the Batrishan's adoptive father during Fidget's birthday celebration; Hernan and Geneva were full of pride as they accepted to have their son in the efficient academy. As De La Espada expected, Fidget was using his hidden spark while fencing with his peers, but what the professor didn't expect was that the four-year-old lad was effortlessly able to beat his classmates with barely a few thrusts and strikes of his practice sword and didn't even fall down at least once.
What really surprised both De La Espada and the Academy's principal occurred during the senior-freshman prep rally. The prep rally was when the four-year-old freshman got a special swordfighting, training session with the soon-turning thirteen-year-old seniors while the freshman and senior teachers and the principal observed them from an upper platform. It was normal for freshmen to fail a bit and for seniors to not go easy on them during those prep rallies, but this year was rather shocking, for not only did Fidget not fail a single confrontation with the seniors, but he actually managed to defeat the seniors' best fencer, who had been undefeated by his peers ever since.
"I bet he got that from Hernan Denada Cortés," one of the senior professors told De La Espada. "Like father, like son, only much improved. You've taught that pupil very well, De La Espada."
"Thank you," the proud professor nodded.
"Are you sure he didn't get this from his Batrishan heritage?" another senior professor asked. "I mean, legends say that Batrishans used to be a very evolved civilization before their recent extinction."
"I don't believe that a person's strength comes from blood but by raising, determination, and self-discipline," De La Espada replied. "I wanted the child to be enrolled in our academy because I saw that he had the inner determination to fight for what's right."
"And you made a great selection," the principal said. "Once this session is done, we must organize a conference. With all the potential he has, Fitzgerald shouldn't be among the low ranks of freshmen."
Time skip
Since Carmen didn't pick him up from school until an hour and a half after classes (Fidget was granted the privilege of staying a bit longer after school in order to play with the other children), the young Batrishan went to hang out with a few classmates and a couple juniors at St Martha's Cemetery.
St Martha's cemetery was the rare, grim place in all of Aldorada. Rows of tombstones, statues, and shrines were lined up in an army style across the deep hills and ending at the deep cliff that neighbored the sea. It was a rather creepy place to go to when the sky got cloudy and gray, but for children, it was a perfect place to go to in order to play hide-and-seek.
Although he loved playing hide-and-seek, Fidget felt a sudden uneasiness as he stepped inside the cemetery. For some reason, faint screams were jamming in his small head as he walked further into the gloomy place. Not feeling like he should express his thoughts to his playmates in fear of being mocked, Fidget didn't say anything.
While one of the juniors was counting, Fidget and the others went to hide throughout the cemetery. The young Batrishan was quite a pro at hide-and-seek and instantly found the perfect hideout: the south wing of the buried ones. Of course, back then, how was the little Batrishan supposed to know that this the area where Aldorada buried its most dishonorable and cowardly disgraces?
As soon as he stepped into the area, away from his classmates, Fidget felt a sudden force drawing him.
Come to me.
Those hissing words were so terrifying, yet so…entrancing to the small Batrishan.
Follow me.
Fidget gave a robotic nod as he walked away from the tombs and into a field of gray, sorrowful willows. Their gray, withered branches tried reaching the small Batrishan who paraded through the rows of willows, hypnotized by the entrancing voice that called him.
Finally, he reached a clearing with willows surrounding it like the wall that surrounded the garden of his home. In the middle stood an odd-looking altar made of stones, ruined columns, and twisted, dark ivy and mandrake. Out of nowhere, a glow appeared on the altar's stone table.
Approach me.
The small Fidget stepped up the altar and walked in front of the table. A flash came and a sword table appeared in front of him.
It wasn't like the swords he saw his father or anybody at the Academy carry. The blade looked so smooth, yet so sharp with its silver metal that shone in the darkness. The grip was pitch black and the cross-guard was shaped like dark, twisted bat wing membranes.
Let me be yours.
Fidget nodded as he let his small hand make way towards the grip until a pale hand restrained him.
"Don't," a female voice said. Fidget nearly froze. Why did that feminine voice sound like one that he had heard years ago?
He looked up and saw a young woman, who could have been around nineteen, wearing a dark cloak above what Fidget could barely distinguish as cyan blue attire. Never in his life had the young child seen a lovely person with snow pale skin, dark swirly green eyes, and long, hazel hair with one magenta streak going all the way down to her waist. Of course, Fidget saw Isabella as a very lovely, charming girl, but this woman had beauty that could only be divine.
"Who are you?" he asked hesitantly.
"Someone from your past," the woman said as she let go of his hand. "You don't remember me. You were only an infant when I left you at the steps of St Alejandro's Chapel."
Shock traveled throughout the young child's body. Now he understood why the voice sounded so familiar: he heard that voice in his head whenever he slept. You poor wee thing! Who would leave a little baby Batrishan like you out in the wild? I sincerely wished I could have kept you, little Batrishan.
"W…what do you want from me?" Fidget stammered. He trembled until he felt the goddess' pale hand stroke his cheek. Her skin was cold, yet her touch was warm.
"Nothing yet. But in the meantime, avoid this curse at all cost."
Fidget looked at the sword. "Why?"
"The Blade That Rips Through The Soul. As its name states, the sword only lets those whose souls were ripped by pain wield it."
"But…I'm not in pain. Why did I follow it?"
"You felt the pain of your people's death once you entered St Martha's cemetery. The sword censed it and used that pain to lure you here in the hopes that you would take it."
Fidget walked stepped back away from the stone table. "I don't want a weapon like that! Tell it to go away!" Right when he said those words, dark ivy twirled around and over the table and slowly turned into a dark silver prison encaging the sword.
"It's not a question of whether or not you want to wield it, Fitzgerald," the woman said. "It's a question of when you're going to have enough pain in your heart to make you determined to take that sword, wield it, and use it against your foes. Judging from your past, the reason the sword would want you as its owner makes sense."
"Why does that sword even exist if it's so bad?" Fidget asked indignantly.
"Ever heard of the Dark One?"
"Mean man with lots of magical powers. That's what my Auntie Carmen told me."
"We'll your Auntie Carmen is true, except that she and most people don't know that the Dark One can be killed by a special dagger and that there was once a godly Dark One."
"You mean that…the mean…uh…Dark One was once a god?"
"More like one of the Dark One's avatars was once a god. You see, there was this evil god who wanted to prove so badly that he was more malevolent than even the most wicked deity in all the realms. And what better way to do so than to use the Dark One's dagger to kill the Dark One and absorb all of his powers in order to become the first divinity to possess such dark powers?"
"What does it have to do with the sword?" Fidget asked, more confused then ever.
"When the evil god killed the current Dark One millenniums ago, the energy that he created caused one small silver luster to get separated from the dagger. So small that neither the deceasing Dark One nor the evil god noticed it flying away and landing at a normal blacksmith's shop. The mortal used the luster to make a sword that eventually became a dark weapon."
Fidget glanced one more time at the sword looking more terrified than ever. Could it really be possible that this cursed blade would lead him to a dark fate? Just thinking about it made the young Batrishan want to leave.
"I want to go back to the academy," he whimpered. The goddess looked at the small child and nodded in approval.
"Indeed. Your Auntie Carmen will be arriving soon to pick you up. And remember what I said, Fitzgerald: DON'T WIELD THE SWORD UNTIL YOU ARE READY TO LET YOUR RIPPED PAIN GUIDE YOU THROUGH YOUR ACTIONS."
She snapped her fingers and Fidget found himself instantly at the academy's courtyard right a few seconds before Carmen came to pick him up. The only thing he could deduce was that everything he just saw was nothing but a dream.