Chapter 3: The Awakening of Muramasa, the Black Reaper
“Please! I’m begging you! Stop! Noooo!”
I was racing down the road to the village against my will, totally unaware that I was about to fight some jacked skeletal guy. My legs were swollen and sore, and I was wheezing, already completely out of breath, though I’d hardly been running more than a few minutes. Yet my feet kept going at an all-out sprint, speeding along like a hardy war veteran.
And in my hand was a deadly black blade.
“A-Are you doing this?! Is this your fault?!” I asked the sword. It was after I’d picked up the blade that my body had started doing its own thing, after all. What else could it have been? “What kinda weapon controls people?! Are you one of those aethereal arm things?! What do you think you’re doing to my body, dude?! Hey!”
My frantic cries went unanswered. I mean, of course they did. It’s not like swords have mouths or anything. But seeing how my feet were just doing their own thing, zooming along the shortest path to the village, it was clear the thing had a will of its own.
My body rushed past the village entrance at full speed, pointing the blade at the villagers, who all looked like they had their panties in a twist over some business or another.
“Whoa, hey! You’re not seriously gonna cut these people down, are you?!” I said to myself.
I felt some sort of alien intent form in my utterly horrified heart.
“HUNGRY. NEED TO CUT—EAT—SOULS!”
Yep, that confirmed it. That was definitely the will of the sword in my right hand.
“Wait wait wait, no! Are you actually cursed?! And you eat souls?! You’re seriously that vicious?! Ah, shit!”
Okay, yeah. That stupid-ass sword absolutely took the cake as one of the most dangerous aethereal arms out there, cursing its wielder and driving them crazy!
“EAT! SOULS! EAT!”
“Eat something healthier, dumbass!”
I tried to reason with it, but the thing would not stop complaining. It compelled me to lower my body into a thrusting stance and close in on the villagers.
Oh. Oh no. If I cut someone down like this... If people figure out I’m cursed with this thing, it’s game over! Bad end! Off with my head! Please, anything but that!
All I wanted was an ordinary life. You know, with a substantial amount of money and a moderately attractive girlfriend, living in a land without any aetherborn, just chilling in peace! Perfectly normal.
Hard pass on the execution ending!
“Stop this! Now!” I yelled, straining with every last bit of strength I had to stop my body from committing murder. My scream was so desperate that it echoed throughout the whole village.
I struggled in vain, however. My body rushed toward the villagers, unstoppable, under the sword’s thrall.
Nooo!
And then, just before it actually attacked anyone—
“OH. THAT ONE LOOKS TASTIER.”
“Say what now?”
My trajectory shifted slightly, and I just barely missed the villagers.
“Guh!” someone groaned.
Wha...?
The sword had thrust itself at a skeletal, jacked man standing in the middle of the village.
So it did attack someone! Oh, but he parried it with a huge sword... Wait a sec! Isn’t this the black magus that attacked my hometown?! What’s he doing here?!
“Wh-Who the hell are you?!” the man demanded.
“What?! Wait, you’re...Crow?!” asked the village chief in bewilderment.
The chief, the other villagers, and the man who’d somehow parried my thrust were all staring at me. Everyone was drenched in blood, and something that looked like the dead body of a villager was at their feet.
Oh...
Everything clicked. The village was in the middle of being attacked by the dark magus. That must’ve been why the villagers were kicking up such a fuss.
So this garbage sword changed targets for some reason and attacked the jacked skeleton dude. And it...saved the village chief and the others from being killed? Okay.
It was a total coincidence, mind you, but I knew I could use the situation to my advantage. Even if it did suck to try to intimidate a dark magus, and my butt was puckering so hard you couldn’t thread a hair through it.
Whatever. What’s done is done. All that matters is I can use this douchebag to keep everyone from realizing I’m being controlled by a cursed sword! I just need to exude an overwhelming aura of anger and try to sound as cool as humanly possible!
“Evildoer! For the sin of robbing me of my home, I hereby deliver judgment!” I decreed, flashing a perfect glare at the muscular skeleton. I would pretend to be a condemner of all evil, make it look like I was willingly trying to cut down the wicked man!
A genius strategy, if I do say so myself.
Except all my rave reviews are a facade! I can only willingly move from the neck up! And I’m not angry at all—I just want to run away! Why me?!
“Psh! Mind your tongue, punk!” the skeletal man yelled at me. “I remember you! You were in that other village I attacked! You saved those little kids, didn’t you?! I missed out on that tasty, tasty child blood because of your ass!”
Eep! That’s one intense glare! And his muscles are bulging even more!
“Hey! You! Goblins!” he shouted. “It’s this little shit’s fault we missed dessert! You all just gonna sit there and let that go? Huh?!”
“Graaar!” the goblins roared in response.
The swarm of cunning predators came running to him—the very same creatures who had violated my ass a few days before, mind you. I was about ready to shit my pants.
“Psh, look at you, trying to act all cool and shit. Bet that sword’s the source of all that confidence,” the man said.
Ah. So he’d noticed the dumb sword.
The source of my confidence? The source of all evil, more like!
“Heh heh! Don’t get cocky just because of some aethereal garbage you found somewhere,” he sneered.
Cocky? Me? Trust me, I’d like nothing more than to drop the damn thing.
Also, the only reason my body wasn’t moving was because the demonic sword was busy getting a read on the situation. It hadn’t killed the dude with that first thrust, so this time it was focusing its strength.
In fact, it was pushing my feet so hard against the ground my bones were creaking. Guess it’s getting ready to swoop in and one-hit kill this guy, I thought.
“Too bad for you that aethereal arms have different power levels! And Dáinsleif here is better!” he bragged, lifting his huge crimson sword as some kind of red, bloodlike phosphorescence oozed from its blade.
“Geh heh heh! Look how it overflows with magic power! Your dinky little sword doesn’t even glow! Poor baby found himself a shit-tier weapon!” said the dark magus, cackling.
I glanced at the village chief, who knew a lot about that kinda stuff. He was hanging his head dejectedly.
Oh, I see. So this weapon is shit-tier. And it curses its wielder on top of that. Cool, cool. I couldn’t have chosen a worse weapon to pick up. But you know what?
“Silence, filth,” I said, sounding as assertive and confident as I could manage.
“What was that?!”
It wasn’t like I could just apologize to that guy and we’d just kiss and make up, anyway. Besides, the sword in my right hand was raring to go. At that point, one of us wasn’t gonna make it out alive.
“You damn punk! That’s it! Get him, goblins! Get his ass!” yelled the dark magus. He’d finally snapped.
Obeying his command, the vicious green creatures let out a roar and rushed toward me, like ants swarming their prey.
Honestly, I was terrified.
But, if I was going to hide the fact I was cursed and, more importantly, get myself out of that situation, I had no choice but to fight. I had to become a paragon of justice. A condemner of evil.
“Embrace your doom, vile fiend!”
As I uttered those words, I stopped trying to resist the sword’s influence.
“Fine! Use me, but do it well, you hear?”
For the sake of the future, for the sake of peace, I surrendered myself fully to the black blade of death. And, in that moment, a voice reverberated deep within my soul.
“MY PUPPET. SAY MY NAME. CARVE IT INTO YOUR SOUL.”
“Muramasa, the Black Reaper!”
The moment I uttered those words, my movements transcended the limits of human ability. Running so fast the ground cracked open beneath my feet, I closed the distance between myself and the goblin horde in an instant.
“Die.”
With one flash of the sword, so blindingly fast that sound itself couldn’t keep up, I cut multiple enemies in half.
The remaining goblins froze in place. Whether they stopped from the shock of their fellows’ deaths or in an attempt to preserve their lives, I don’t know, but it left their guard wide open for me. And with the level of power I had, they didn’t stand a chance.
Two, four, six, eight more flashes. My arms moved in every direction with each step forward, reducing the goblin horde to chunks of flesh and blood, cutting through hundreds of them in mere seconds.
“Wh-What the hell are you?! Stay away! Stay the hell away from me!” yelled the dark magus as I drew closer. He brandished his crimson-red blade, sending a powerful blood-hued streak flying in my direction. “Die! Die! Die die diiie!”
He kept slashing, and arc after reddish arc flew toward me. It looked like a wall of blood closing in on me and was, frankly, horrifying. Which was exactly why I chose to do absolutely nothing.
As I cried internally, keenly aware of just how much exhaustion was setting in, my body filled with even more power. Muramasa made short work of the curtain of red blades hurtling at me, and my feet finally closed the distance between myself and the dark magus. I was right up in his face.
“Wh-What?!” he yelled, his eyes wide. Reflected in them, I stood, blade in hand, a veritable god of war.
I wondered if this was what I looked like to other people. I didn’t want to fight—and that just happened to also be the reason I was strong. It was only when I’d completely given up control of my body that the Black Reaper’s power over it had reached its apex. My elite warrior-level movements had become even more precise, and despite not having any special abilities, I’d cornered the black magus.
C’mon! My muscles are falling apart! Just die already!
“Eeek! I’m sorry! Forgive me!”
Just as he was about to meet his end, the man finally broke down. The overflowing malice from when he’d first attacked the village, or when he destroyed my hometown, was nowhere to be found. He was crying, frantically babbling, begging for his life.
“I-I-I didn’t mean to do any of those evil things! I was being controlled by this weapon! You’ve heard about things that curse people and drive them mad, right?! Yeah! That’s what this was! My body just moved on its own!”
Uh, sorry, bud. I don’t think any of that makes a difference. I’m cursed, you see.
“Enough. Die.”
“Eeeeek!”
And then, with one final flash, the black blade sliced through the man’s neck, cutting his head clean off. It was done.
Now, for a brief interlude, allow me to explain how our strategic decision-making went.
I was like, “I’ll do my best to stare off into the distance during combat!”
And the sword was like, “...”
Yeah, our strategy was garbage.