AN: No wasting time, you guys have waited long enough. Though if you want to wait until my wonderful PR gets a chance to look at this chapter, it will probably take a couple days.... (PRN: Lies! I did it after only 3 hours!!!) and without further adieu, the chapter!

https://youtu.be/LAMiX5EEbFU

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The wind moving through my hair. The ground speeding below. The sense of exhilaration that running full pelt gave!

Oh, how I've missed this.

Oh? And what is it that you've missed?

I felt confusion from my sword. My own feelings had become more connected with Azariah’s, and sometimes I could guess what my sword was thinking. Though some things I stay away from...

So, to tell my sword what running felt like, I ran like the wind.

The drumming of my feet, the scent of a hare, and the leafy canopy above made me want to yell, to scream with delight. But, it had to stop.

Slowing down and inspecting the ground, I saw to my delight the strangely glowing footprints. From my status screen, a weird blue thing, I had discovered that my job -Tracker- had been gaining experience. Now that I was actively using my job, it had actually leveled up about six times or so, and I was going to use those levels.

I felt a smile coming on.

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-Two hours later-

I was closing in. I could feel it in my bones, and smell that lovely sharpness. I ran, dodging trees like they were bullets. Just for the fun of it, I would scratch my claws against every tree I passed, spinning and laughing like a child. I think Azariah was starting to understand, but He/She needed more. Much more.

A snort that sounded like a horse, a heavy step, the flapping of canvas in the wind.

If my suspicions were correct. This was either a highly successful bandit group, or a detachment from the kingdoms army. But, it didn't matter which it was. I could smell it, that flesh I crave. In the middle of the sounds. Surrounded by smells so dull it made me want to retch.

Like I said, it doesn't matter whether the camp was bandits or the king's men. Either way, I would get my meal. If they were part of the kingdom's forces I would kill every last one. If they happen to be bandits, I'll let a couple get away, to let the rest of the kingdom know about me.

I smiled.

I was coming close to the camp, and hid behind a tree to survey my killing field.

From what I saw, they were bandits. They wore no suit of arms, and their equipment was second-or-third hand. The one-man tents were laid out in a horseshoe shape, with my position at one of the tips. at the top-middle of the horseshoe arch was a tent that could easily house twenty men. I naturally assumed it was the leader's tent. It was also where that delicious smell was coming from.

I smiled wider.

Azariah was getting excited, and I was too. It had been a month since I had last eaten something as strong as me. But, I have to calm down. "The essence of stealth is calm-"

No. I forsook my memories of that world. Even if my master meant the world to me, was, my world. I now live in a different world.

Besides, Doing this stealthily wouldn't be fun. Now would it???

So, I stepped into the light. Feeling the sun on my face, and looking at the eyes of around two hundred men in front of me. I thought to myself.

This will be fun...

I couldn't agree more.

But, you know I can't draw you.

I felt alarm. Why the fuck not?!

If I use you from the start, it'd be too easy. Right?

I heard grumbling, but eventual agreement. Then I turned my attention to the large group of angry men with sharp pieces of metal.

I breathed in.

"...Intruder! Intruder! Sound the alarm, the kingdoms found us!..."

"...Get your weapons! Quick, you maggots!..."

"...Form up! Form up if you don't want a flogging!..."

Amazing. How can a single person agitate so many?

I breathed out.

I shot forward, moving like an arrow shot from a bow. Ever since my evolution had occurred, I'd had trouble keeping up with myself. My legs would move too fast, and my arms would unbalance me when I swung them with any force. But, the best way to get back into things is to just jump in. Right? If you're re-learning how to swim, you jump into the ocean.

The same is true of combat.

I pulled my fist back, and looked into the eyes of the men I will murder.

Hesitation. Anxiety. Nervousness. None of those are what I want.

I shot my fist forward, crushing the skull of a young man. I turned, hook kicked, bringing my leg into, and then through, the body of a man well past his prime. My punch had made me lean forward more than normal, and the following kick had nearly made me fall over. But, I think I understand now.

My claws came out.

I spun, cutting the throats of three men in an instant, then leaped over a sword that was swung for my legs. I stood for a brief moment on my would-be attacker’s shoulders, then jumped off, letting another man decapitate my momentary stool. I turned back, just in time to catch that beautiful look of horror on the face of the man who had just committed murder.

Delightful.

I charged forward, smashing apart the flimsy shields that my foes held up. I turned to my right, and slashed his throat, turning and grinning as he gargles on his own blood. I jump to the right, avoiding a dozen weapons that would have skewered me, and lash out with a side kick, crushing the ribs of a man to my left, then switching legs and knocking off the heads of two more, to my left and right.

Come on, leave me some, will you?

I grinned. You wouldn't like cutting these. They're far too squishy.

*sigh* Fine, but I at least want to cut something. Alright?

You got it-

The scent came closer in a flash. Only jumping to the left let me survive, as a blade scythed through the place my belly had been. As it is I still got cut, and had to hold my side to keep myself from bleeding too much.

I turned to the side, looking my new opponent up and down. He was bearded, and looked to be around forty years of age. In his hands, he held two swords. The one in his right was straight and long, a broadsword. In his left, he held a scimitar. Trouble.

I straightened my back, and let go of my side. I would need all of my skill to kill this man.

Yes! Pull me out!

Not yet.

If I reached up to my earring, then the man would have me spitted on the end of his sword before I was halfway.

"Who are you, intruder?"

I felt a little surprise, that such a man was so polite.

"I am known as Shadowpelt. Would you tell me who you are?"

A blade.

I jerked my hand up, barely stopping the man's scimitar from parting my neck and body.

"My name is Xerxes, and I'm the man who will kill you."

Such conviction. I like it.

I snap forward with a kick, which he parries, then brings up both swords toward my legs. I hop up, barely cresting the blades. While in the air, I use a scissor kick, aiming for his face. He bends backward, my leg passing over his face, and touching his nose. At the moment of my landing, I have to take a moment to stabilize, which lets him get an additional strike. His swords come at my neck, uncrossing as they do, coming faster than I can dodge. So, I don't dodge. Instead, I use my hands to redirect his blades from my neck. Making them cut across my cheeks, leaving two identical, deep cuts. Then, I kick him in the stomach with the ball of my foot, and he flies back a dozen feet.

We both stand, not breathing hard. This is not a battle of endurance, but one of tactics. His swords extra reach and momentum give him the advantage, and he knows it.

"So, do you accept that I will be the man to kill you, Shadowpelt? You seem like a worthy opponent, but you are outmatched."

I reached up, and felt at the cuts across my face. They start at either ear, and end just before my nose, at which point he had been kicked.

"What you say is true, Xerxes. I am indeed, outmatched."

He smiled smugly. Then I wiped that grin off his face.

"Or, I would be, if I was alone."

Xerxes looked around, seeing only his own men in a circle around us, giving us plenty of room. "So you have companions? Do you think ten, or even twenty more men will make a difference against me?"

He sounded cocky, but I wanted to savor this moment.

It was the moment I unveil Black Moon to the world.

"No, not ten," I reach up to my ear. "Or twenty," I touch my silver earring. "Not a thousand either."

"Oh? So did you bring ten thousand?" He didn't seem impressed.

I smiled. for the first time since I had laid my heart out bare to Azariah, I felt the voices still. Like they were holding their breath.

I eyed Xerxes. I looked at the man, and saw something. He was proud, and arrogant. He was skilled, and experienced. But there was something he did not have that I did.

"You are alone, Xerxes. even surrounded by your men, you are the only one on your side."

His face got red, and he looked angry. "Of course not, I-"

"I said that you are alone, Xerxes. Not one of your men tried to help you when your life lay in the balance."

His face got even redder, and he started spluttering. "N-no, you're lying! They would all die for me, right!?" He looked around, his angry gaze sweeping over his men. They all pipe up, but even Xerxes can hear their dishonesty. This just makes him angrier.

"You're no better! You came alone, with no one! At least I can command men, you don't even have that! You're more alone than I'll ever be!"

I listened to him. I didn't listen to his words, but to his voice. It was scared, and afraid.

"No. On that account, you couldn't be more wrong. At this moment, there are three people out there who will always stand by my side."

"Ha! But they're not here, are they?" He sounded taunting.

"No. But..."

His face had a single moment of doubt.

I flicked my earring.

And the shadows gathered.

In my hand, I held a blade of black. vines crawled from the blade, and at the end of the hilt was a jewel so dark it seemed to suck any and all light.

And I told Xerxes what I had, that he did not.

"In my hand, I hold someone that held my soul in their hands, and gave it back. I will never be alone."

He screamed, yelling at the top of his voice.

"Charge!"

At first, no one moved. So, Xerxes chopped off the head of the man closest to himself, and held up the bright red blade. As one, all the surrounding men charged at me.

And I remembered. A single moment, an instant of memory that should have stayed forever locked away.

I remembered a piece of my style.

"Demon Sword set I"

*Inhale*

What promise did I make, again?

That you would love me. Dummy.

No. That can't be it.

What?!?!?!

Promising to love you would be redundant, since I already do.

Azariah huffed, and turned away. I just smiled.

Then the killing began.

Step to the left, and make a broad sweeping stroke.

Four men died.

Step to the right, and twist, adding as much force as possible.

Six men died.

I activate Shadow Manipulation. A funny side effect of the jewel on Black Moon was that it created shadow. But not just any shadow.

This shadow kills.

I hold Black Moon in a one-handed grip, sliding my finger along the blade, covering it with blood and shadow. Then, I unleashed it to my left.

I didn't bother to count how many died.

A swing to my right.

I saw what I had wanted from the start, that emotion that feels like a drug.

Fear

I laugh, and Azariah laughs, and I continue. A man falls, first one half, then the other. A man is split apart. Another is divided into thirds.

The Demon Sword Style. It was not fast. It was not strong. It did not have complicated swings of the blade to confuse the eye.

What The Demon Sword Style did was simple.

It cut. And it cut damn well.

Men fell like grain to a farmer, their blood like rain, their screams like a waterfall. Never ending, ever growing louder and more shrill.

Finally, I stood. Panting, laughing, smiling like a crazy person. I love my sword.

Ch, you don't have to keep saying it. Shut up will you? It's embarrassing.

I chuckled. Do you understand now?

Azariah thought for a moment, then nodded. He/She appeared in front of me, observing the blood and gore splattering the ground.

"I think I understand why running is fun. Before, in your first life, you thought about every step you made, and the next seven steps too. Everything came, not as a surprise, but as an expected outcome."

"But, running through the forest, with no idea what lies ahead of you... it's exhilarating."

I just nod.

"Now..." I turn, looking at Xerxes. He stood, in the same place he had before. I step forward, and no words are said. We approach, but at the same time we look like we're not anywhere close to each other.

One stands at the edge of depression, alone in his pain. The other stands in the pit of insanity, surrounded by himself and one other.

They walk, not noticing the others existence. Not acknowledging that they will pass within a few inches.

They pass... and one falls dead. His head cut from his body by a blade blacker than shadow. The blade melts, until only one man stands in a field of death.

From that killing field, five men ran, two limped, and three crawled. five percent of their original number, and leaderless. They are broken men.

But not as broken as the man who slaughtered the other ninety-five percent.