“Now lad, no need to be hasty with that decision.“ Bones said as he wiped his blades and took a good look around the ancient-looking temple of darkness. “There is a difference between plundering and pillaging and declaring all-out war. One will be forgotten. The other will haunt you for the rest of your life.“

“Do not be so dramatic, Bones.“ The Jester laughed. “What is life without rivals and mortal enemies? But if truth is what we speak now, let me give you the options. Take what Essence and Skills, and other knick-knacks we find and run for it before they can call in any ancient terror. Or we sever his connection to his Demesne, destroy his Core, take everything, and see it burn down around us while we stroll back to the Gate.“

“Will it kill him?“

“This weak idiot? If he was a god already - someone who had cut all mortal ties and only lived in his Demesne - yes, this place would be his anchor to the world and he would die without it. But since he was a Twice-Born, he has his mortal body to return to. He can rebuild.“ Bones said matter of factly.

“There is no difference to me.“ I finally said after a short moment of deliberation. “I am at war with the darkness already, as far as I am concerned. They may not have known, but they will learn of it sooner or later. Take everything, destroy the rest. One less pawn to be used against me and mine.“

My allies nodded, shared a look, and soon went to work. Every Demesne had a Core, something holding the rest together. It was not something you decided consciously, as you did not decide the kind of person you were. It just happened. Mine would be the wind-oak tree I reckoned. Once again, Dogma was the most effective weapon against the bindings and the Essence-woven structures of another entity's Demesne.

The Dogma of Freedom was ill-suited to the task, to be fair, but we could free the bricks from the prison of the mortar and let Bones, who also had the Dogma of the sea, wash away the rest, demolishing the ancient pyramid in a heartbeat. A massive manifested force of nature destroying human endeavor kind of heartbeat.

We found the Skills of the Heron in a graveyard buried deep beneath the pyramid, with every tombstone a representation of a Skill. A lot of the graves were empty, though, or at least without a tombstone. Which made sense, knowing that the Heron had been interested in Skillsmithing and had use for more Skills than others might have had in his situation.

It was time for diplomacy. I had made an interesting alliance here, but both of them were not even close to being friends of mine. The more I learned about them, the more I understood just how dangerous and maybe even unpredictable they truly were. Today I had learned that they did not only not fear the darkness at all, they had the strength to back up their arrogance. I may have won the first bout of the fight, back in my own Demesne, but that had not been me alone as well.

No, it had been the Betrayer saving the day. A factor they could not have predicted. I was weak alone and in dire need of friends. I needed them more than I needed strength. Strength would come sooner or later, but the allies would make sure I would reach that point. I wanted to appease them.

“Listen, I thank you again for joining me in this fight.“ I said, looking over the tombstones around me, but trying very hard not to read the names of the Skills. “As far as I am concerned, we are even. I dragged you into a war that was not your own and walked away the victor. I will not take part in the spoils, I renounce my claim. Divide it up between yourselves.“

Bones grinned greedily and nodded: “See Jester, that his how you make friends. Learned something today, I hope!”

The Jester meanwhile had a thoughtful look on his face. Finally, he smiled as well, albeit strained. “You have the little ball of doom and the smithy they used to open the Gate back to your Demesne. I can accept that balance.“ He bowed.

“I will leave you to it, then.“ I said. “I have something to take care of.“

“Leave the Gate open, we will have to return through your Demesne. No sense in fighting the defenses of this pitiful copy of a Demesne on our way back out.“ Bones said already nose-deep in the description of the Skills.

[New Title! Riposte of the Gods!

Not only did you defend your Demesne against a triumvirate of older and stronger godlings on your own, you struck back against the heart of the conspiracy against you with the help of mighty allies, risking war for your revenge.

It's acts like these the aeons, heavens, and hells recognize and reward!

Skill unlocked: [Thunder of War]

Additional Rewards: 500 Ep, 10 Shards]

I now had made myself two enemies amongst the godling, and one more who may or may not rebuild his Demesne and be a threat later on. That meant that I had to be more careful with everything - with the information I shared, the weaknesses I displayed and the gods I held counsel with.

I had been victim of an attempted robbery, as far as I could tell, but I turned it into mortal strife. They may involve mightier beings, or they might not, but I had to be wary of them either way. I was a person of interest now. Which I could turn to my profit when talking to the factions opposing the darkness, of course, but who was I to say who belonged to whom.

The Fulcrum was a place I wanted to avoid, in an attempt to lay low for a while and let the storm blow over, but I needed to do one thing first.

Visiting Belen, the Storysmith.

He, too, was a man I was not keen on meeting now. I had no idea of his affiliations, and while he had been nothing but cordial to me, he conferred with the monstrous entities of the Fulcrum and knew too much. He gave me the impression of being helpful and friendly, but that was not something to risk your life on, now was it? Not here, not among gods. Who knew if he was an ally of the darkness or even worse, had his own machinations against an unsuspecting young Twice-Born he led on for a while, like me.

But I needed Kingsbane. And I needed Kingsbane at the height of its power, not as a slumbering artifact, too much steel to wield with ease. I had the story of the sword, I wanted the sword to awaken now. The risk I thought manageable. Maybe the two surviving godlings of darkness would take some time recuperating their losses before they thought of taking action against me or even spreading the news of their own defeat. If I moved quickly and decisively, I could take care of my business in the Fulcrum and be gone by the time they made me a target.

With his usual industrious rustling, the Storysmith led me once again to his little cave, and the loom at the wall, after he had shut his stall at the marketplace down.

“Put it there, put it there!“ He said as he was busy dragging the loom closer to the stone in the middle of the room I now laid the sword upon. He was all business as usual, but I was nervous. I had no idea what to expect of him or the sword. Belen had talked a good deal about this now, but words were cheap.

“You have the story now? The good reason I could smell in the blade that took a king‘s head?“

I shrugged and cleared my throat. “What you smelled is true. There was a reason for the Betrayal of the King. The King had made desperate deals with forces alien to the kingdom and enemies to its gods. It was good intentions that corrupted the king and bad intentions of the man swinging the sword, albeit with religious fervor. Hatred leading the blade, not concern. The good reason you spoke of was just the excuse the man needed to bring his long-brewing hatred into reality and take the throne for himself.“

“Most delicious!“ The Storysmith cried out. “There is true betrayal in the sword then! But tasty tasty betrayal, colored with the spice of legitimate action. Betrayal tastes like ash, but mixed with the spirit of the oh so holy rage...this sword is a delicate composition, to be sure!“

“Is that enough?“

Belen shook his head under his rugs. “No, no, no. It is not. I fear you will have to tell your story and tell it true. I need it all. Names, dates, and the dirty little details. I am forging a masterpiece here, a sword worthy of being an artifact. I need it all or I will make mistakes not of my own shortcomings, but those of the story. Tell me everything!“

I hesitated. My mind was long made up, it was the reason I was here, after all, but yet it was difficult to say the things I needed to say. What kind of conclusions could he draw from the story? Did it matter?

I sighed and told him everything I knew. I was in it to my neck, no reason to hold back now.

“The last piece of the puzzle I know is that the man, Leon Raven, got the sword as a price from the emperor for winning in the arena.“ I finished the story of Kingsbane.

Belen literally jumped in joy, clapping his thin and hairy legs under the pile of rags he wore for clothing.

“I am sad that we do not have the complete story. Where did the sword come from? Who forged it? It does not matter now. We have a complete story, a beginning, an arc, an ending. All we need. Not all that would be possible if we knew more. Maybe it was a legendary blade before it came to the empire? No matter no matter.“ He waved himself off.

He rustled around the blade, not quite touching it here and there. “Yes! Yes...now I see it. Opposing the darkness, betrayal is strongest, of course, here is the blade that can cut everything, even King‘s heads, here is the price of the competition and the bloodied sands of the arena, here is the shadow of the sword‘s mysterious past. Burning hatred within and religious fervor on the outside. But the core is betrayal. There is also the name, Whisper...“

He was so busy, I stood there for minutes without getting a word in sideways, but finally, I interrupted his mumblings. “So what does that mean? What can you do for me and the blade?“

“Hmm?“ Belen shook himself awake, recoiling from the sword. I repeated my question to him. “Oh. Yes. Oh. The heart of Kingsbane is betrayal. It is unshakable. The very thing that formed its legend. Before it became Kingsbane it was Whisper, the sword that could cut anything. Both of those things are what made the sword what it is to today, that formed the legend. That would be the cores of it being an artifact if we can awaken it. With the story you gave me, I can forge something delicious. One thing and one thing only! You have to choose! Winning the competition, opposing the darkness, pinnacle of swordsmanship, burning hatred, religious fervor, twin brothers, shadows of mystery. Those are the strongest narrative colorings I feel and the best results I can promise.“

“How would I make a decision like that? How can I compare them?“

“You cannot. Even I don‘t know what will happen. It is the force outside of the purview of the gods, remember? Narrative weight! Just go with your heart.“

If I went with my heart, opposing the darkness was the most obvious and most boring of the choices. Was it better to choose boring and reliable? It was narrative weight that was being woven here, after all. Maybe the most exciting choice would be the best one? Or the most intriguing? The most mysterious? I could not let my heart make the choice, could I? My heart was emotional and unpredictable, even to me.

Opposing the darkness was stupid. It was boxing in a magnificent blade, limiting it instead of freeing its potential. The Betrayer wielding the sword was more than capable of opposing the darkness. And he used his swordsmanship to do it. He was a master wielding a blade forged for a master. I was not a master. Maybe I never would be one. I had never felt that insatiable thirst, that urge to be the best, to learn and train, to always strive to improve myself. Those were the features making a master. Pinnacle of swordsmanship was out as well. as far as my choices went.

“Competition.“ I said. It was me, the most me of all the points I could choose from. I had been thrown to the wolves and emerged stronger than them. I had been cast into the darkness and emerged its enemy. I had been cast into the wilderness and emerged its master. I would never give up, winning was not the point. I would not let myself lose.

„The bloodied sands of the arena. Defeated enemies, humiliation, victory, and excitement. Roaring masses and the razor-sharp focus to the one, single opponent, equal in skill. Overcoming one hurdle after the other, improving, refining, advancing, ascending. The blade who can take them all on. The blade to win the day. Excellent choice.“ Belen said and sounded as if he was grinning widely as he spun threads of light from the blade to the loom on the wall. Then, after a fine glowing net was spun, he turned to me and spun me into it as well.