Chapter 4

The lizardman was huge, much larger than a human, clothed in black canvas-like cloth except for the face, which was covered in grey green scales that gleamed in the light. But for the tail trailing behind him, nearly as thick as one of his legs, it looked human shaped under his clothes, but the face was the face of a lizard, blunt nosed, slit eyed, and at his throat a pouch of some kind, deflated, nearly flat against his neck.

It was perhaps ten feet from the sword, but he still had a good look at its weapon, which was more interesting to him anyway. The short blade was of the same grey green color as the lizardman’s scales, single edged, free of rust or nicks, well maintained. It looked like a soldier’s sword. Solid, made to last, the kind of thing you inherited from the last guy in the squad. Usually from his corpse.

“Ok,” the [Demon Lord] said, his voice a little less forceful than it had been before. “So, there is a [Scout] here. Uh…is it a student?”

The lizardmen swung its head from side to side, yellow slitted eyes flashing, the pouch at its throat inflating slightly. It saw the sword.

“I don’t think so,” the sword said calmly, as the lizardman paused to consider him, alone in the hall. It kept its blade in front, on guard, which the sword approved of. Very professional.

“I’m really not getting any sleep tonight am I?”

The lizardman increased his speed, he was quite good at not making sound as he moved, the sword observed. Even at a full run, his feet hardly made a sound as he hit the stone floor, and none of his gear clacked at all. Very well trained.

“Well, feel free to do something really impressive,” the boy said.

Closer.

“Anytime now.”

The sword tilted his head to one side, as the lizardman abruptly slowed, maintaing distance between them. Why would he interrupt his attack like that?

The lizardman seemed to agree with him, his body tensed, as he prepared for the real strike.

The sword waited. Empty of thought.

“Oh for [God’s] sake,” the boy on the other side of the door said, “Get inside.”

The door lit with a glassy purple light, then swung open. The sword, without any other ideas, slipped through. The door swung itself shut immediately.

With a class like [Demon Lord] the sword had been expecting something a little more grandiose. But past the door, the room looked nearly identical to his own dorm room, although it lacked windows.

With a class like [Demon Lord], he’d also been expecting a little more of the speaker, though he shouldn’t have.

He was just a boy. A little shorter than the sword. Dark skinned, a spray of pimples marring an otherwise symmetrical face, short hair, buzzed at the sides. He kept turning to look dubiously at the sword, and then at the door.

“Didn’t you say the door was locked?” The sword asked.

“It was locked,” the [Demon Lord] said, “I unlocked it again. Ok, you have about a minute to get over whatever dumb trauma you were dealing with out there. That door won’t last for long once it occurs to the [Scout] they can just break it down.”

The sword fround, he didn’t think he was getting over a trauma. “I don’t understand.”

“Do you want to die?” The [Demon Lord] asked.

The Sword found this to be a more difficult question than he was expecting. In the first place, he wasn’t used to think of himself as being alive.

The door rattled. The [Scout] was trying to get in.

“Never mind. Look, I don’t want to die. But I can’t do anything, so you have to do something about the monster with the sword out there. Got it?”

“Do you want to be my wielder?” The sword asked.

“Well that’s a personal question,” the [Demon Lord] said. “You’re really a sword, not some kind of warrior?”

The sword nodded.

The door shook again.

The [Demon Lord] clicked his tongue. “Can’t, then,” the [Demon Lord] said.

“What?”

“Class locked,” the [Demon Lord] said, “I’m only allowed scepters and whips, which is a real pain in the rear, let me tell you. Do you have any idea how useless a whip is?”

“Then I can do nothing.”

The [Demon Lord] snorted. “Don’t be ridiculous. You have skills don’t you? Use them.”

“Swords don’t fight without wielders.”

“Then you’ll die,” the [Demon Lord] retorted. “And then I’ll die, and that’ll suck.”

The door fell open with a rip and a splinter, sending up a cloud of dust as hinges were ripped from the wall. The hulking form of the lizardman waited in the entrance for the cloud to clear.

“Come on!” the [Demon Lord] said. “You must fight!”

It was not right.

But as the dust settled, and the lizardman advanced into the room, his sword replaced with a much smaller knife, the sword found himself acting regardless.

The lizardman’s knife shot towards him, fast, but predictable. He turned to one side, letting it slide past him. Instinctively, he slashed back, striking with his right hand. He hit thick cloth, and bounced off, his hand stinging in pain.

Such an annoyingly useless body. What was he supposed to do without an edge?

“Skills, numbnuts! Use a skill!” He heard from across the room. The [Demon Lord] was pressed against one wall, face twisted into a grimace, teeth bared.

Right.

Skills.

Shadow Strike was for the wielder. But he was a [Unique Sword], part of his rarity was that there were skills he came with that required no wielder. The greatest of his wielders had realized the power of those skills, and had taught him to use them autonomously, without even needing a command from the wielder.

He’d forgotten that somehow. This wasn’t so different, if he thought about it in that way. He was just using the skill until he’d found the wielder.

The lizardman wasn’t easily rattled. He continued his slow advance into the room, edging the sword backwards with measured strikes, refusing to be baited. He had to time it right.

A slight stumble, as the lizardman bumped into an overturned chair.

There.

Now.

“Snuff.” There were three sources of light in the small dorm room, a standing lamp, and two overhead lights. He took the light from them all.

The room went dark as the light poured into his outstretched hand, forming a pale yellow ball that, once complete, turned completely black.

The lizardman was still righting himself. His guard was ever so slightly askew.

The sword charged into the opening, slamming the black sphere directly into the lizardman’s chest. The lizardman shot backwards out of the room, crashing into the wall with a stiff thud that knocked the wind out of him.

Gasping for breath, he staggered back to his feet, as the sword advanced out of the room, using Snuff again to take the nearest lights in the hallway.

The lizardman had lost his grip on his knife when he’d been knocked backwards. In the wider hallway, there was room for his sword, he drew it from its scabbard with a soft shing.

The lizardman was fast, but the sword saw through his movements easily. But his own returning strikes were constantly insufficient, and the lizardman was too wary to be easily caught by Snuff again.

At last the sword parried a sloppy strike, and got one good reposte of his own in, sending the black ball of light directly into the lizardman’s shoulder. The lizardman flew further back down the corridor, tried to rise, and failed.

The sword advanced, this would be the end of it.

But for some reason his vision was getting blurry. He felt light headed. His thoughts, and, now that he noticed, his steps, were coming slower.

He staggered, fell forward so that he hit his chin on the hard stone floor. His vision doubled, and he found it harder to keep his eyes open.

“You idiot, you blocked a sword with your arm,” the [Demon Lord] called out from somewhere behind him. “Now there’s blood everywhere, and he’s totally going to get away.”

“So stop him,” the sword wheezed, as the lizardmen staggered upright, and began dragging himself down the corridor.

The world was growing darker. He thought his eyes were open, but somehow his vision was narrowing.

“Uh…alright. Can I have your blood? I’m supposed to ask. Oh, darn, too late.”

The lizardman turned a corner at the other end of the hall and disappeared.

“Hey!” the [Demon Lord] said brightly. “Actually, if you die, can I have your body?”

The sword closed his eyes. Suddenly his arm really, really hurt. Stupid arms.

Earth was a terrible place.

As his awareness faded, a blue and white status message appeared in front of him. Congratulations on your duel! Wielder skill [Shadow Step] is now available.