Chapter 18: Ancestral Roots

Kuro’s butler could never forget the day he received salvation.

The world around him was riddled with explosions, flying debris, and highly lethal attacks powered by great magical ability. Nowhere was safe for him, even before the advent of this war.

He protected his head with his arms as an explosion sent his frail body flying a great distance—a distance that would’ve killed any average adolescent upon landing.

His lungs burned, the air he breathed had been tainted somehow. He’d never experienced magic that attacked the body in such a manner. Frail arms tried to lift him up, but gave out. He dropped right back into the muddy soil.

Cries of agony came from every direction. Where they from his people, or the enemy? He had no way of telling—and no way of finding out, either.

He didn’t possess the power needed to do so at a mere Stage II.

He never met the persons known as “parents” since as far back as the moment he became aware of himself. All he had was a will to survive. Just seeing the sun rise and set was enough to ease his aches.

Again, he was flung to another direction like a leaf in a hurricane.

Was this the end?

Quiet.

What? That can’t be!

Such a thing could never exist in this time. Not in this chaotic, Heian war—

Then, he saw her.

He’d heard of gods and goddesses—of all their grandeur, all their splendor—

All of those great tales of their existence, paled to her mere presence.

Her hair flowed like a jet-black stream in the wind…

Her eyes looked empty—like orbs of nothingness…

She rode a mighty steed, looking as though it was born of void, its mane billowing in all its majesty.

She came down from her mount, and took a single step toward him.

Nothing.

Even with his Demonic senses, her footfalls were soundless. Was she a phantom? An illusion created to distract his desperation?

He looked around. It was as if her existence had plunged the world in darkness. No friend. No foe. Only she and he remained in this hallowed space.

She took another step toward him, and her ragged robe that was as if weaved from the same darkness that surrounded them, swayed. He had never seen a being so beautiful.

He was convinced that all of it was him hallucinating. Then he realized that, even if it was, no hallucination could ever come close to the events unfolding before his bloodshot eyes.

His doubts were banished to the bottomless depths, when this being—this presence that pushed the very concept of the divine to its very limits—reached out a hand, and caressed his face…

And he swore to himself that, from that day onward, he would devote every fiber of his worthless body to serving this person standing before him.

She asked for his name, and he responded that he had none.

With a curl of her lips, she graced his ears with the sound of her benevolent voice, telling him, “Your name shall be, Talmarius.”

● ● ●

Talmarius and Kuro stood with a distance of about ten feet separating them. A wooden sword—a bokuto—was tossed by Talmarius at Kuro. He plucked it nonchalantly from the air, before examining it.

Talmarius took in a deep breath, then blurted, “My Liege, attack me like you intend to cut me down. Use that practice sword just like you would use your real one. You have the blood of the greatest sword user I have ever seen flowing through you!”

Kuro heaved a sigh, with a face that said, “I know.”

“The sword you wield once belonged to her, and with it, she cut down countless adversaries and brought one of the most decisive victories in our entire Clan’s history—to this day! In less than a single day.”

Kuro’s eyes went up and down along the body of the object in his hands. Talmarius sighed, seeing the vestige of her spectacular image looming behind his Liege. “You really are a spitting image of her… If you were a girl, I’m sure there’d be no difference—!”

“Can we get started already?!”

“With pleasure.” Talmarius raised his voice, and shouted, “Multi-Location!”

Whump! Whump! Whump!

Multiple figures of Talmarius spread out in a circle around Kuro from the one that shouted. Ten of them to be exact. They all stared down at Kuro like hungry predators.

“Here I come,” the Talmarius (es?) echoed, charging at Kuro.

His butler got to him first—well, one of them anyway.

A leg clad in a Black Oxford shot forward, clashing with the sword with a gratifying clack! Normally, the weapon would be obliterated, but it remained intact.

The pre-established rule to limit their capabilities to that of a human’s—although the very peak of it—when practicing fighting styles utilized by them, was in full effect.

But the kick packed incredible strength, sending Kuro rolling backward through the air. Kuro landed firmly on his feet, lowering his core, and readying his bokuto. Talmarius dashed toward him in a pair—one on the left, and one on the right.

Kuro blocked a strike aimed at his head, then deflected it by spinning his attacker around with the bokuto. An exposed back made for an easy target which he brought his weapon down upon.

That Talmarius disappeared like a mirage.

The next one went for a low sweeping kick. But Kuro nimbly leapt into the air and struck his unguarded head—

Clack!

After the echo that rang out on impact, this Talmarius vanished in a similar manner to the former.

Kuro still found it mildly unsettling striking Talmarius like this. Though they were many, they were no less different from the real one—as he’d once explained, the spell allowed him to exist in several places at once.

So, he was in essence attacking his loyal butler. But it had to be done.

Three more charged at him, and he leaned forward into sprint.

Clack! Clack! Clack!

He had evaded their punches and kicks with superb agility, striking each of their sides individually in rapid succession. It all seemed elapse in the snap of fingers.

Kuro kept his momentum, making a beeline for the four assuming combat stances. Not a single attack landed on his body, each one intercepted by the provisional blade in his hands. He couldn’t afford to—that would mean his loss.

Countering every attack with an almost reflexive accuracy, he now stood erect. Just him, and a single Talmarius.

The air tremored. The abrupt influx of power was too much for it to manage.

Kuro tossed aside the sword carved from wood and it land landed elegantly in a corner. He stretched out his right hand.

“Come to me, Silent.”

The Odachi appeared in a burst of black within his grasp.

Kuro levelled its tip at Talmarius, who smiled dubiously.

They gave each other a nod of affirmation—and they charged at each other, with their magic of course.

Technically, their magic strayed quite far from the typical realm of human capability.

Kuro’s sword began to curve in a devastating arc.

Talmarius’s hands shimmered like glass prisms—

“Stop! It’s just not the same…my Liege…”

● ● ●

Kuronada Kurosu…

That was the deified name that she referred to herself as. Talmarius would say the name to himself like a prayer. She was his one and only savior.

When he saw her swing that magnificent sword, it was the passing of judgement. Nothing stood in her way. Anything that tried would be cut down without struggle.

So when he’d been given the honor to serve one of her descendants who’d become the Demon King, he was overjoyed. And when in an astonishing turn of events his son bore an unreal resemblance to his savior, his joy doubled.

When this child, though the circumstances were undesirable, became the current Demon King, he could not deny that the joy he felt had multiplied by infinite proportions…

Silent’s edge was a hair's breath away from slashing Talmarius across his chest.

Talmarius’s refractive hand had less than a millimeter separating it from grabbing his Liege’s neck.

They were still. Still as sculptures.

Both withdrew their attacks, and adjusted to less hostile postures.

Then…

“My Liege, your use of your blade is too… Stiff. You must let it breathe. Breathe alongside it! It is quite literally an extension of you…”

Kuro had to mentally drown out Talmarius’s lecturing. The problem was always: it wasn’t the same.

“Like she always said, ‘It’s more than just swinging a blade around. It’s swinging a blade around with purpose.”

Kuro furrowed his brow at the saying Talmarius quoted like scripture.

What does that even mean…?

“My Liege, you must try to find that purpose, and at the same time let that purpose find you. Do you understand?”

“……”

Kuro gazed at his butler’s eager face—a bit too eager for comfort—with a look of pity. Trying to recreate even the tiniest smidge of the art that was his savior’s fighting style was an extremely arduous task.

Talmarius might have well been fumbling in the dark in this endeavor. But, Kuro wasn’t going to let him fumble alone. They were in it together as master, and forever-loyal butler…