Book 3: Chapter 15 (2/2)
The woman sighed as she positioned herself into a combative stance. “That’s what you always say.”
“If you weren’t so weak, I wouldn’t have to tell you to train harder. Train harder!”
The woman swung her sword, cutting the air, leaving behind a line in the space in front of her that vanished a second later. “One of these days, I’m going to replace your ego.”
“That day won’t come unless you train harder!”
“Right, of course.”
“There is no problem in the world that can’t be solved with violence. The stronger you are, the more problems you can solve. To freely roam the world in a carefree manner, you need strength! And strength comes from training. Train harder!”
The woman’s eye twitched. “If you weren’t such a powerful sword, I would’ve melted you down and turned you into scrap. Shut up and let me practice in silence.”
“…Train harder,” the sword whispered in its high-pitched voice, practically squeaking.
The woman sighed. After a hundred swings, she paused and looked down at her sword. “Hey, if I gave you some blood, would you answer a question seriously?”
Blue light flickered along the sword’s edge like a dancing firefly. “Instead of giving me blood, you can train harder!”
The woman grimaced as she sheathed her sword before grabbing the edge of her gauntlet. She removed the armor around her left arm and laid it onto the ground by her feet. The sword glowed with a blue light as she slid it out of her sheath, but it took on a purplish tinge as she pulled more and more of it out. By the time it left the sheath, the sword was emitting a bright-red light reminiscent of blood. The woman’s expression didn’t waver as she pressed the sword’s edge against her forearm and pulled, cutting a deep gash from her elbow to her wrist. Her blood flowed freely, dripping onto the sword, staining its red hue black with every drop.
Once the sword was pitch-black, a deep growl came out of the sword, and a raspy voice asked, “What is it that you wish to know?”
The woman’s forehead wrinkled. “If I were to fight a fully-grown dragon by myself, who would win?”
A deep chuckle echoed out of the sword. “With my help and all of your precious blood, it’d be easy to slay a dragon. But whether or not someone could bring you back to life after the fight…, heh-heh.”
“As I thought,” the woman said as she sheathed her sword. She pressed her thumb against her elbow and traced a line along the gash down to her wrist. Her blood stopped flowing as the wound disappeared, leaving behind a thick scar. She gripped the hilt of her sword, her face pale. “It looks like I have to train harder.”