Chapter 3: The (Un)Fortunate

Masamune was thirsty. She was hungry. 

And worst of all, she was lonely.

Her master stopped responding one day, seemingly out of the blue right after a hard-won battle, and she has been alone ever since.

She could still feel his hand on her handle, but she couldn't understand why didn't he start wielding her again like before.

Was there something wrong? Did something happen?

Why didn't he use her to cut through his problems?

Her intelligence was extremely limited, being a sword, so she had no idea that Davis had succumbed to the Chimera's poison just a few hours ago, after paralyzing himself from the neck down from hitting the ground from such a long fall.

Even now, as birds and insects picked at his carcass, his head was pointed to look at Masamune. 

Masamune was thirsty. She was hungry.

And she had no way to satisfy either of those urges.

With the mental capacity of a young puppy, she quivered in Davis's cold hands, trying to send some message that she was still here, hoping that he'll start feeding her again.

And so, the sun sets on the open clearing, with the corpse of the would-be future champion of the world holding the last thing he treasured dearly, Masamune.

...

"Gob." A small, green-skinned creature wandered through the forests.

His ancestors had told him and his tribe that venturing outside of these walls would be a fatal mistake, but they did it anyways.

'The grand harvest' is what his elders called the event. Food supplies had boomed ever since the 'Lion of Lightning' was killed half a year ago. They no longer had to pay tribute, nor did its frequent thunderstorms appear again, leading to a burst of population.

Now, he, and several other young ones were tasked with finding suitable logs and stones for the expansion of their little town.

"Yes, Frel?" His companion turned to look at him.

"Did you find any logs?"

"No. Keep looking. Elder Baw said that the logs need to be as wide as 2 goblins side by side."

Frel nods his head. These logs were rare, more common deeper into the Jungles.

Suddenly, Frel came up with a great idea. "Gob."

Gob sighed. "Yes, Frel?" 

"Let's go to the Lion of Lightning's den." Gob turned around and looked as if he was crazy. "If you want to die then go yourself. I wish to be promoted, you know?"

"Come on Gob! You know that if the Lion is truly dead, then there must be at least some bones we can use as weapons!" 

Gob sat there and thought for a while, before groaning and facepalming. "Alright, but if the Lion isn't dead then I am feeding you to him."

"Heh, let's go then!"

"Tch."

The two walked north, toward the approximate location of where the Lion's den was. 

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It wasn't that hard to spot, with the charred soil and rotting plant matter.

"This place stinks."

"Just a bit further ahead Gob."

Gob groaned in response. 

As the two moved the vines and leaves away, they finally stepped into the clearing several kilometers wide.

They were here, at the Lion's den. Their previous god's massive corpse lay at rest, without any kind of decay visible on its body.

"God remains." Gob gasped. The two spent another minute both admiring the damage their god had done and trembling in fear of what could possibly bring down such a beast.

Gob was the first one to break out of his stupor. "Its god remains, Frel! GOD REMAINS! If we eat that, we'll become even more powerful than the elders!" Gob grabbed Frel's hand enthusiastically and ran towards the hulking corpse.

But Frel wasn't focused on the corpse, no. His eye had caught something glimpse near the foot of the corpse, and he was sure that it was what killed their god.

As they approached closer and the corpse grew in size, and Frel finally confirmed his theory. 

In the grip of a decomposed skeleton was the most beautiful blade he had ever seen.

A pure white blade etched with inscriptions and drawings foreign to him, its handle wrapped in cloth and gold dragons. 

It felt out of place in such a grim atmosphere, more proper in the hands of someone like the king...

In a trance-like state, Frel walked towards the sword. 

He felt as if it was calling him. He was destined to be its new master. Together, they can accomplish anything he could dream of. If only he were to pick up the blade.

Ignoring Gob eagerly trying to tear a piece of flesh from the corpse, Frel carefully separated the deceased man's hand from the blade.

He wrapped his hands around the handle and picked it up. He screamed.

Months of torturous hunger had left Masamune rabid, and now, she transferred that hunger into her wielder.

She was so hungry. So thirsty. She needed blood and forced Frel to obey.

"AAAAAAHHHHHH" Frel kneeled over, his gut tearing itself open with hunger. His eyes turned a dark crimson, the color of dried blood, as saliva fell from his open mouth.

"Frel?!" Gob hurried over. "Frel? Are you alright?" Gob saw the sword he was clutching in his hands and instantly determined that was what was causing his friend to be in such great pain.

"FREL! LET GO OF THE SWORD!"

As Gob went to reach for the Sword, Frel swung it. 

A gust of wind blew through the clearing as Gob's upper torso suddenly disconnected from his lower half. Gob's face was a mixture of shock, pain, and betrayal. 

"Why?" With his last breath left in his lungs, he muttered. His view turned towards the sky as his body hit the ground face up, and the last scene that he saw was the sky. 

The sky was very pretty today.

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