Five figures sat in comfortable chairs around a large wooden table. The largest shifted uncomfortably in his seat as a slightly overweight and mousey man reads a report. Looking up at his twitchy colleague, Guy set down the paper and turned to face him.

"Ghul, I know you aren't happy about how things are being run this year, but it's not like we can just refuse the royal family. And the infrastructure they've provided will-"

Guy's speech was cut short as the large man slammed a hand on the table, startling awake the dozing priest on the opposite side of the table. "I know that, but... this is all wrong. Shutting down the dungeon early for some stupid tournament? And exhausting people needlessly days before the wave? What the hell is the king thinking?"

The captain of the city guard, a voluptuous mage in a purple robe, grinned at the Association Leader's discomposure. "Hey, isn't that treason? Maybe I should arrest you."

Thagi Ghul rounded on the guard captain. "This is no time for your jokes! That thing's going to be a disaster if I can't manage it properly! And now I need to waste hours tomorrow proctoring this farce of a tournament. All so that the First Prince can show off."

Mayor Fallow nodded slowly. "Indeed, this is about the First Prince. Ghul, you have a lot of clout, but setting up the contest for the sword in such a... unique way has already annoyed people in high positions." Fallow rapped his fingers against the table and slowed his voice to get his point across. "You will run this tournament how they want you to or things will go very badly for all of us, but worst of all for you. You understand that, right?"

Thagi Ghul let out an animalistic snarl for a moment, but regained control a moment later. Turning away, he waved his hand dismissively. "I won't do anything stupid, but I just... I'm worried about the town."

Breaking the uncomfortable silence that followed, the corpulent merchant Goldtooth leaned forward. "Speaking of the sword contest... has anybody heard from Cithlar lately? In case he chooses to ditch the whole event, we should probably get the sword early... as insurance."

Mayor Fallow looked at the lethargic merchant sadly. Ever since his grandson had gone missing, he wasn't his usual self. "His niece is staying with him now. A feisty young woman, at the very least he should send her out with the thing. We don't need to worry."

The head of the schools perked up at this new information. "A niece? I hadn't heard of this. How old is she?"

Fallow rubbed his chin in thought. "Late teen years? I think she's out of school already, Mrs. Bloodhammer."

"His younger nephew is also staying with him, though." Thagi Ghul added distractedly, staring into the distance. "Weird kid, probably around ten years old."

Mrs. Bloodhammer's eyes sharpened. "And Cithlar didn't inform me? Does he have a death wish?" The old woman leaned back and steepled her fingers. "Hmm, once this wave nonsense is over with I'll need to pay him a visit and rectify this situation."

A slight shiver ran through Fallow's spine. Although Mrs. Bloodhammer was certainly not the most powerful or influential person on the council, she was in some ways the scariest.

Having long since settled back into his slouched position, the head priest of the Chruch of the Venerable Gnostics drifted back to sleep.

Unfortunately, it seemed that time could not be spent efficiently in the human city until the tournament began tomorrow. According to what information Mud had gleaned, the day after the tournament would be focused on establishing defenses and finalizing plans for the wave. The day after that was the wave itself.

Mud considered its current options. Grinding for experience was unlikely to be a wise use of time. Unless it managed to find the Kobold nest, there were no sources of tier two experience readily available in the woods. The dungeon closing was extremely regrettable; if Mud had known about it ahead of time, it would have focused more on gaining experience. Or, perhaps it wouldn't have left at all.

For now, Mud decided to head home. There was one path to power it had not yet fully explored.

Upon hearing that they would return to the mansion, Jabrax was ecstatic. "Finally! I had to finish my project half-way done. It's super unsatisfying. Kept nagging in the back of my mind."

As they traveled west past the city walls and entered the slums, the demon looked to the side and smiled. There, rising from the rooftops far to the north, was a twisting black column of smoke. Jabrax's face twisted into a cruel smile. "Good job, kid."

Once they reached the woods, Jabrax flew at full speed back towards the house, not waiting for Mud. A short time later, swinging through the trees, Mud felt her enter the Domain and swiftly arrive at the basement, where she continued her strange ministrations on the scrawny human.

When Mud itself arrived at the home, he traveled to a particular shelf on the second floor. There, sitting exactly where the golem had placed it, stood a gleaming silver sword. Embedded along the handle were dozens of large, flawless gemstones, masterfully cut. Etched into the blade were runes, words of power engraved by The Master. Although Mud was no expert on runecraft, the golem recognized many symbols as the same kind subtly imprinted onto its own body.

Unfortunately, Almanac provided very little information on the artifact.

Before, Mud had merely considered this item a weapon, and one which it was not willing to risk using. Mud had no skill with a sword, and there was a high risk of losing or damaging the item if taken into combat. However, the training dummies of the blacksmith had given new insight. Despite not even having a soul, those machines could act almost independently. Rather than a mere weapon, this ego sword could be an ally. According to the poster in town, this item should have a soul. If it could be reasoned with, perhaps it could be persuaded to protect itself. The deciding factor was that even if the sword was not used in the wave it would still be at risk, due to the contest.

Mud reached up one muddy arm and grasped the sword handle, then held it aloft. Nothing happening immediately, so Mud attempted a few awkward swings. Still, no reaction came from weapon. Not giving up, Mud moved on to its next idea. Imprinting Mind mana with concept of controlling senses, Mud sent a message to the weapon.

"You are currently in danger. My goal is to protect you. If you assist me in combat then I will make you stronger and protect you."

No reply came.

"There is a contest with you as the prize. If you do not become my ally, others may take you."

Again, nothing. There were a few reasons this might be happening. Perhaps this sword did not understand language, or there was a specific method for using an ego sword. That seemed unlikely, however, because the overall design seemed extremely similar to Mud's own. Perhaps it simply did not care if it was taken by others.

In many ways, this weapon was extremely similar to Mud. It was too much, however, to assume it had the same goals. Mud decided to try a tactic that would work on itself when it was first constructed; a direct order. Although Mud was not a human or demi-human, it was worth a try. There was no certainty that this weapon was given the same orders, or in the same phrasing as Mud was.

"Accept me as your master. Do as I command. Become my weapon."

Finally, something changed.