Bloodstained Blade-Chapter 73 - The Witchhunters

The first souls that the Ebon Blade questioned were those that it suspected knew the least. Of those, it asked only the most basic questions to get the broad answers that it needed. Those weren't always useful, but they would give it the scope it needed to ask the more complicated ones.

Of the servants and squires, it asked, who are these men, how long have they been hunting me, where have you been, and where are you going. Those answers told it much. Sir Arren Delada and his apprentice Willard hadn’t been looking for it, at least not at first. They had been questing through the area, searching for heretics, nightmares, and other things that should not be, when they had heard of the orc rampage.

That had drawn their attention only in that they’d steered well clear of the areas under threat. “Rampaging monsters are the province of the Kingdom’s army and other heroes,” the older Witchhunter had said to the younger one in the presence of the cook. “We search for subtler threats before they can take root and despoil the land.”

They might never have taken an interest in the orcs if they hadn’t heard the evil rumors from survivors of Var’gar’s rampage regarding the warchief’s black blade. After that, the Witchhunter and their movements with great interest, and as it turned out, they’d been shadowing the Ebon Blade’s movements since Ogden.

It was there that the blade had a bit of luck. It learned from the mage soul that they’d gone there to spread the word that the Ebon Blade had been unleashed once more upon the world. The tower that its wielder had toppled in its fight with the mages had contained a speaking stone that had been destroyed in the chaos.

The blade hadn’t known that, or even that such things existed, but it was glad that things had worked out the way they did. Apparently, they would have been able to speak to widely separated branches of the Aetherarchy, who would have, in turn, warned the Witchhunters, who could have then created a noose so strong that the blade might not have been able to cut itself free.

According to the mage, that one chance happening was worth more to the blade than most of its other victories put together. “Messengers have been dispatched,” the soul warned as it dissipated, “But they are slow and uncertain. They may not provide enough warning in time.”

The Ebon Blade wasn’t happy to hear that, of course, but as long as it continued to move quickly, it might yet be able to outrun the news of its arrival. It considered all of those facts as Var’gar and his companions finished their meal and returned to their army before finally turning to the soul of the Witchhunter’s apprentice.

This soul, he, didn’t ask about the plans or strategies regarding itself. Instead, it asked about the order of the Witchhunters, for it had much to learn there. Truthfully, it had wanted to ask the mage a similar question about the Aetherarchy, but that would have to wait for its next victim because right now, it needed to know more about what danger it was in than about the world. Still, there was no way it could properly interrogate Sir Delstorm without more knowledge, so it tore apart the man’s apprentice to get it.

Willard tried to resist, but in the end, that was impossible, and he vanished, screaming into the void as his youthful soul came undone. Someone like him might have been a good wielder, the blade realized as it looked through his life. He was a brave, hard-working young man, but he was also hopelessly poisoned by the idea that evil must be punished and that abominations like the blade must be destroyed or hidden away forever.

Still, none of that desire to do good kept him from telling the blade everything he knew about his order, which was a more complex topic than the blade had first considered. The Ebon Blade remembered being locked away in Vergozza’s temple. It had presumed that these were her worshipers, but apparently, very few Witchhunters worshiped the Goddess of the Underworld. They came from all faiths, and every one of them had different specialties regarding the kinds of evil they hunted. Some fought evil spirits and necromancers, while others sought out witches and diabolists. They only used temples like the one it had been imprisoned in to hide away the darkness and keep such things out of mortal hands.

The blade watched young Wilard’s training with approval. It was martial, more than ideological, and the boy had been trained well with the blade. He would have certainly beaten Ivarr in a dual if magic wasn’t involved. Still, none of that skill had saved him from a surprise attack by an orc that was stronger than any ogre.

The blade’s gaze drifted across the places that he’d been trained and the temple he’d visited with his master. It even glimpsed the books the man read, like the Liber Immundus, and the little black volume it had seen before in the minds of that mage, The Eighty-One Relics of Forbidden Power.

With the mirror gone, I suppose we’re down to only 79 relics besides me, the blade quipped as it glimpsed the young man studying the thin tome. It was at that moment the blade dearly wanted a copy of it, but according to Wilard’s memories, it had been in the wagon that the orcs had used for kindling, which was disappointing, but it seemed to be a common enough book.

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Where there are two copies, there will be more, it assured itself as it turned to the final soul in its collection. It’s not like I would be able to get my current wielder to read something like that, anyway.

Throughout all of its questioning up until now, the Witchunter had been its real target. The hour it had spent questioning the rest of the souls it had siphoned from this sacked convoy all led to this one singular moment. Tell me how your peers will try to capture me next. The blade commanded. Tell me what their tricks are so that I might hide from them.

The old man tried to struggle in its grip, but he had no strength left and collapsed in a spray of information and self-loathing at what it was doing.

Battle tactics, formations, history, resources, and artifacts that might yet be useful in restraining it poured into the Ebon Blade’s mind, along with flickers of past conflicts. To the weapon, it seemed that most of the man’s conflicts in the past had been with ghosts and haunted locations more than artifacts, but he seemed very proud of seeling away something called the Green Hand of Glory and surviving an encounter with a true demon, even if it had cost the lives of three of his brothers in arms. freeweɓnovel.cøm

He’d led a long, righteous life, but that had ended the moment he’d shown interest in the Ebon Blade, whether he’d known it or not at the time, and by the time the images started to fade, it had a much better idea of some of the tricks and toys these zealots would use against it in future encounters.

Even after the orcs finished their feast, it wouldn’t let them leave the site of this battle. Not until it had studied the blades that the two men had carried. Though it had no wish to contact Sir. Delada’s blade ever again, it was curious what the difference between a Hexblade of Penitence and a Hexblade of Lesser Penitence was.

Even if the lesser one proves as resistant to my touch, at least it won’t hurt so much, the weapon told itself as it bid its wielder to draw the grayish long sword and touch the two of them together.

When that happened, there was an arc of magic between them, but this time, instead of pure shooting pains and a huge Life Force draw, there was only a burst of cyan energy and a few Life Force spent, followed by a new message.

-5 Life Force.

You have connected to a blade of Lesser Penitence. You have learned Disruption.

Disruption 1: For the cost of 50 Life Force you may temporarily disrupt nearby minor magical items. This ability costs half as much if you are in direct contact with them. Items that have been disrupted do not function for 10 seconds, and operate in a reduced capacity for 1 minute.

The blade’s runic structure changed very slightly to accommodate the new power, but it ignored that and instead studied the words in the pop-up box with great interest. Instantly, it reconsidered the Penitent Blade that was lying nearby where the elder Witchhunter had dropped it. It tried to use its newfound power, but even as it felt the energy leave it and its runes swirled with power, it fell flat.

-50 Life Force.

Resisted! Your disruption had no effect!

Nonplused, and with almost no delay at all, it spent 600 Life Force to bring it to level 2 so it could try again. That reduced its current reserves to 2299/9600, but the blade was unconcerned. This whole time, it had found little to desire beyond improving its core abilities, but this new capacity was different from the others. If its enemies were going to use this power on it, then it needed to know how it functioned.

Disruption 2: For the cost of 50 Life Force you may temporarily disrupt nearby magical items. This ability costs half as much if you are in direct contact with them. Items that have been disrupted do not function for 30 seconds, and operate in a reduced capacity for 90 seconds.

For a moment, it seemed like the upgrade had been a complete waste. The words were nearly identical. It was only a moment later that the absence of a single word stood out to it. Minor.

This time, the results were better. The blade knew that it was going to work even before any words appeared to confirm it.

-50 Life Force.

Disrupted! The weapon’s magic has been temporarily nullified!

With glee, it almost yanked itself out of its wielder’s hand as it swung Var’gar’s arm to contact the other blade while it was still nullified. Now I will see if there’s any difference! It whispered to itself, sure that it had figured out some clever trick to steal real power.

Only, there wasn’t any to be had. As it connected with the quiescent weapon, the only message it received was: You have connected to a blade of Penitence. You have already learned Disruption.

Ah, the blade exclaimed as it realized what was happening here. The old man was the real threat all along. The boy had the wrong weapon to hurt me. It was just a lesser copy of his master’s.

The blade, studying the runes on both blades visually, then. It still didn’t know how to read the runic language that inscribed these weapons, but it was certain that the relative complexity of both would give it some hint to the differences in power.