Chapter Twenty-Nine

The wheels of the personnel carrier continuously spun, their crawling pace bringing them ever closer to the northern border. Too many things would happen after that, so Red sat in quiet contemplation, his mind deep within his inner palace.

Things had changed for the weapon spirit following Melony’s death.

Red promised himself to find a solution to his instability. With that promise came the resolution to have no other wield him in that time. A replacement sheath - a tacky common sheath - had been found for his blade, and Sabrina now carried him at her side.

But that mattered little. No, not to Red. The thing that mattered to Red was the ever-growing crack slowly chipping away at the side of the pyre. Every moment it grew, more and more wrath-flame dripped into the pool of lifeblood below.

And there was little he could do about it. The wrath-flame tainted the lifeblood, burning and bubbling as the two different Essences became something else. Something entirely foreign and unusable.

Quickly, Red realized that it would become an issue. The wrath-flame within him was a finite resource. His knowledge was severely limited. He didn’t know how to recreate the flames even if he wanted to, and he didn’t even know if he did want to.

Ever since getting them, things had done nothing but go wrong.

Verdant was a lifeline that he wished to speak with. Maybe even Valydir. The two weapon spirits were older than him, so maybe they could shine some light on his issue. Maybe they could give him some idea of where he should focus his attention and effort to be able to fix himself and become a weapon spirit worthy of a wielder.

So, here went nothing. Please, Sabrina, let me talk to Verdant.

No. Immediate rejection.

He’d made the request dozens of times, but for some reason, she adamantly refused him. When asked, she didn’t deem him worthy of an answer.

Unable to contact either of the weapon spirits, he did nothing but brood. He could feel that he didn’t have nearly enough Essence to throw at the problem, and he didn’t have anywhere to start fixing it otherwise.

A truly aggravating issue exponentially augmented by Sabrina’s refusal to aid him. He didn’t know why she had such issue with him, but he imagined that he’d have to get to the bottom of it if he ever wanted the chance to be able to fix himself.

But, that was far easier said than done.

Sabrina. Sabrina. Sabrina. Sabby. Sabel-eye. Sab. Sabitha.

No matter what he did or said, she didn’t give him attention. She only answered his questions with refusal. There was no way for him to determine the time they had left to travel, as the northern border had yet to come into range of his perception.

Speaking of which, his perception had grown immensely compared to when he was first birthed. He didn’t know why, how, or what caused it to grow, but grow, it did. It was a blessing, being able to reach out and sense things from afar.

When he was in his human form, that perception was limited to nearly a quarter or less. Nothing on his dais indicated why this was or that it was a thing that should happen. It just did.

Turning inward once again, he approached the dais. It had been awhile since he’d checked it, but his expectations -

Truly, he didn’t know what to expect. Though, looking into the sky, he knew that he would hit Gold in Power shortly.

Red Souldrinker, the Wrath-Touched | Weapon Spirit | C(E+)

Power - Silver | Durability - Silver | Attunement - Silver

Once a simple sword, this blade has experienced an awakening to a higher level of comprehension, developing as a weapon spirit. Lifeblood and wrath-fire tempered this spirit. It’s still very young, but it has been wisened by loss. Loss of self, loss of companions, and loss of confidence through its continued failure to protect its second master and temporary wielder from tragedy.

This spirit once took on the surname of its first master in honor of his ferocity in battle and overwhelming might when faced against unfavorable odds, a deep seed of adoration bloomed within the spirit, but that seed has been cleansed away and replaced by an ever-burning wrath-fire.

To become rid of my constraints, to become independent from the fragility of mortals, this is my only desire.

Bathing in the flames of wrath, this spirit has been Touched and reforged. Its spirit is split by its dichotomy, but a synergy appears between its lust for blood and its wrathful rebirth, empowering the spirit to a greater height.

My wielder will recognize my want of blood and wrath, even if they must be made to change to fulfill my will.

This spirit has experienced the conjoining between consciousness with its temporary, but it has been injured. It has drawn more power than its form can handle, causing its stability to weaken. Its capabilities are significantly hampered by this damage.

Innate: Two Forms

Passive: Reinforced

Passive: Sinful Wrath

Active: Heartseeker

Active: Wrath-Fire Incarnation

Power: Bloodred Blitz

Durability: Hemoplague

Attunement: Conduit

The first thing Red noticed was the split ratings. He knew from his growth that the ‘C’ must be his actual rating and the ‘E+’ being the limited extent of his capabilities. His status had even updated to reflect that limitation.

The biggest issue with the damage done to his stability was that he didn’t know what his limited power meant for him. Would using a skill further harm him? Would he have to draw himself back, control his output of power, so that he didn’t exacerbate this issue?

“Probably,” he groaned.

If that was so, then he would have to learn to control his power output and stop himself from giving into his bloodlust and wrath.

Far easier said than done.

Left to wallow in his frustrations, Red did all he could to search for an answer to his problems, but nothing came.

“This sucks.”

The personnel carrier continued to move until it didn’t. Coming to a soft halt, the trainees piled out of the back and formed up into ranks. A similarly ranked line waited for them, two soldiers stepping forward with extended hands signalling a halt.

“Who are you?” one called out.

“Reinforcements from Vanguard. We’ve overcome the enemy encampment and have a report for the House of Barvon,” Sabrina called back.

“Step forward,” the other soldier called out.

These two were significantly better dressed than those behind them. The rank and file on both sides looked similarly wartorn and experienced.

If what Hendricks had said, long ago, then those soldiers were probably only a little older and slightly more trained than the ones Red fought with.

Sabrina stepped forward, Koronor and Felicity stepping after her, and approached the guard. “We’re friendly. I swear on my life.”

“That’s good to hear,” the first soldier called out. “What is your name, soldier?”

“Sabrina Lothik, daughter of Lady Mira Lothik of House Lothik.”

Recognition passed over both of them. They respectfully nodded toward her.

“Your presence is welcome, Lady Lothik -”

“Please, just call me Sabrina,” the seasoned warrior interrupted.

“Okay then. Sabrina, I’m Valkyr and this is Mortecai,” the first soldier said, pointing at both of them as he made introductions. “I’d like to apologize for the stern welcome, but Rathor’s scum have caused all of us to be rather vigilant against guests.”

Mortecai nodded in agreement. “Without the regular shipments of goods from Vanguard, we’ve been struggling to survive.”

“We’re well aware,” Koronor said as he stepped forward. He pulled a rolled up parchment wrapped in twine from the small magic bag and handed it forward. “Emperor Abernathy will be sending immediate relief supplies in two day’s time. That’s a list of all the supplies with the report I’ve sent back to the Royal Emperor.”

“Thank you. I’ll get this to Baron Barvon as fast as possible. Mortecai will show your people to the barracks where they can heal, regenerate their Essence, and rest.” Kalkyr nodded, giving a respectful bow, before running off.

The line of soldiers broke now that the procession was identified as a friendly entity. The soldiers and trainees quickly started to mingle, some even recognizing each other, and disappeared behind the large estate.

Calum shot an angered glance toward Red, but the weapon spirit ignored the grieving mage.

The estate itself was a long collection of buildings with the family’s housing proper centered in the long strip. To Red, it seemed like the House had been here first and everything else had stemmed up around it. The materials used differed greatly, the quality of craftsmanship telling of the time and care that went into the manor.

In comparison, the majority of the common grounds was monolithic platforms of earth, raised to serve a purpose. There were enchantments smattered across the foundation, over the doorways, and above every window. Red couldn’t parse the importance of these enchantments with an initial scan.

Sabrina waited with Mortecai, conversing about the weather and the impact the lack of supplies had on the northern border. As time passed, Red started to wonder if some kind of pitiful human political game were being played.

The urgency of the information they had - in his mind - would demand greater haste, but they spent nearly two hours waiting outside the manor before Valkyr came rushing back out.

“Baron Barvon was in council with the other Lords and Ladies of the front, but he’s ready for your attendance now.” Valkyr waved them forward, prompting them to enter.

Neither of the two soldiers followed Sabrina in, eyeing Koronor and Felicity with suspicion. Their armor obscured all their features. If it weren’t for Verdant, Red would know nothing of either of them.

If Sabrina hadn’t been present, he suspected that the whole ordeal would’ve been far more difficult, but it would appear that Lady Mira’s House name carried some weight. Sabrina being her kin naturally gave her a similar noble backing, if not a larger backing due to her mother’s reputation as the Mad Moon.

Two servants waited on either side of the walk way, the two to the left older and more refined than the two on the right. They kept their eyes low, backs straight, and stayed absolutely still. Red was almost convinced that they were statues, but he could feel their breath and how it affected the air.

A long rug, free of stains, spanned the length of the manor’s main corridor. Either wing fit the primary color scheme and blended in naturally. The architecture was incredibly detailed, portraying different massive monsters and carvings of conflicts unheard of.

What is that? Red asked, taking his human form.

He gaped at the painting that hung on the wall, drinking in every last detail. The coloring was brutal - harsh splatters of various reds and blacks blended seamlessly with ephemeral wisping blues and greens.

‘The Final Sacrifice of the Runic Paragon’. A red demon, with an elegant crown of horns sculpting its face, embraced the form of a human, a hulking man with a second layer of armor and a sword emanating boundless power. A massive array tore at them both and the world around them.

Turning to the next picture, he saw that it was a continuation of the one before. ‘The Fall of Kuul’Than’. The doom and gloom of the prior picture faded slowly, a ray of light shining over the land. The sword, previously powerful beyond belief, lay shattered. Gone was the human, and the demon’s wounds would claim its life in due time.

Despite imminent death, the demon beamed triumphantly, its silver hair whipping around wildly in the wind.

There was one more painting in the sequence, but Red couldn’t tear away his gaze from that shattered weapon, boring a hole in the painting with his intensity. It was unclear to him the history behind the events, but the paintings made it clear that the demon was some kind of valiant savior and the sword-wielding human the enemy.

That mattered little to him. Walking back to the first picture, he looked at the sword closely. It looks like me.

There were minor differences, the most prevalent being the blue-green wisping energy wafting off of the blade, but otherwise, the dual black-and-red was there in its entirety. A flickering black-flame, a blade of crimson-black, and oddly, an aura of desire for destruction.

Red felt himself being drawn into that painting, his mind wandering away. The world started to blur around him, the colors fading slowly like -