Chapter 1: Ch1 The Last Cut

Flint is sitting in his living room with his sword in his hands. He won't lay it down even while sleeping.

 

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A knocking sounded from the door, telling Flint that his greatest nightmare finally caught up to him.

 

Armed men stood in front of the door with a small truck full of swords on the street.

 

Flint remained unmoving with a blank face and mind, despite clearly being spotted with his sword through the windows that make up a wall of the living room.

 

'This is it... Will I now have to forever part from her?' He thought while looking at his sword in pain.

 

"Open the door or we will have to break it!" A man shouted through the door.

 

'Just one more fight. I can't part just like that!' To Flint, the sword isn't just a weapon, but a part of himself. He doesn't care which sword or what shape or type. As long as he holds a sword, he is happy. Without a sword, he feels incomplete, as if his body is missing the blood that flows through his veins or the skin that covers his body on every corner and wherever he goes. He fears the moment that his only reason for being happy is getting taken away. That moment is now.

 

The armed men have already broken the door down without Flint noticing. The moment they surround him, his body acts on its own, trying to protect itself, which means protecting his sword.

 

Flint's mind is clear of any and every thought that has to do with anything else than this moment.

 

The men are already pointing their guns at him and ready to shoot the moment he unsheathes his sword.

 

"Hand over the blade sir. We don't want to hurt you. The law does not allow the possession of swords and other weapons..."

 

Flint, who is already standing however isn't listening anymore.

 

No one is moving.

 

Almost a minute is spent like this. At this moment, Flint's body starts moving.

 

Unsheathing his sword, he slashes at the nearby men and doesn't let anyone any time to shoot.

 

A slash in the throat can kill a human instantly. If you are able to execute said slash fast enough for the enemies to not be able to react, not even the most dangerous weapons can kill you.

 

Men have already died left and right all around Flint in a matter of seconds.

 

The latter however feels nothing and thinks nothing.

 

He is already alone in the room. Surrounded by corpses. Covered in blood that isn't his.

 

'Just... one last cut. One cut to end a person's life... One cut to stop this nightmare from affecting me.'

 

Knowing that he can't live his life without the joy he can only feel by swinging his sword, Flint saw no point in continuing.

 

He brought his sword to his throat...

You are reading story Mytheria: The Hero’s Sword at novel35.com

 

...and cut.

 

His corpse fell to the ground. His blood started spraying. The spraying blood mixed with that of the people around him.

 

His nightmare didn't end his life and neither did his enemies. It was his own swords that brought him to where is now. To the forge of a palace with bricks of gold and an old man that was covered in more muscles than he was covered with blood just a moment ago.

 

Flint looked around. Not to look at the place, but to search for a sword.

 

Luckily he notices the walls full of weapons of all kinds, including swords.

 

At ease, he now looks around the place. His eyes fall on the old man that has a mysterious smile on his face.

 

"Welcome to my forge, Flint the sword saint, the most skilled swordsman. I am Ulfberht the strongest god of blacksmithing." The old man said.

 

Flint having a mind as sharp as the blades around him, catches onto what Ulfberht said and came to the conclusion that he was indeed dead. He sliced his own throat after all. He was just wondering why a god like the apparently 'strongest blacksmithing god' was now welcoming him.

 

"Am I meeting you for a particular reason?" He asked with curiosity.

 

"Of course! You see. I want to forge a weapon." Ulfberht explained.

 

"It is a weapon that I want to give to the hero that we gods have tasked to slay the anti-gods and demons that hide in the 'main world' of the universe. The others and I have gathered the best materials of the universe to forge the sword, however, there is still something missing that only you can provide us." He said, grabbing Flint's interest.

 

"I'm curious what that 'something' is that apparently only I can provide you with." Flint asks the blacksmith.

 

Ulfberht began explaining "In order to make a weapon that we can proudly call the strongest sword of them all, we need 3 crucial things. The first is the best blacksmith of all time. The second is the best materials of all. No matter how rare."

 

"And the third?" Flint gulped.

 

"The soul of the most skilled swordsman of all times." The god continues "A weapon can also have a will and its own magical strength. The sword doesn't need to only be a tool. It can have its own 'sword spirit', which basically is the manifestation of the sword's sentience. The spirit and the sword are the same being. To give it the best sword spirit, we need the soul of the best sword wielder. There are many more things that can be achieved only by using a soul to make a sentient weapon. The hero's sword having a strong sword spirit also means that the hero can have the most competent teacher in swordsmanship and a guide and companion. I think you are getting what I am trying to convey to you, lad."

 

Flint's mind started racing. Does this mean the buff blacksmithing god in front of him wanted to make him a sword?!

 

Flint got excited. Ulfberht basically offered him to become what he loves the most.  He didn't even think much and instantly replied "I accept!"

 

"Hahahaha" The old man broke into laughter at his quick response and said "Good You will wake up as soon as I am done. Let's get this started!"

 

Ulfberht was just as excited as Flint was.

 

Forging the strongest sword that the universe has ever seen and will ever see? Which blacksmith would ever refuse that?

 

The soul that he wants to use also readily agreed.

 

What better feeling for a blacksmithing god like him to start his work?