Supreme Swordfiend

Bolts of arcane origin streaked across the water, exploding into freezing blasts, forming platforms that William and Fred used to navigate the placid sea.

Snapping his head around, William forced back his growing concern.

A single tendril of mana trailed beneath the waves, extending from William's hand.

With it, he sampled the local mana, attempting to feel out any distortions in what he expected to be pure water mana.

Instead of mana, his tendril brushed against the top of a gargantuan beast's body.

Forcing more mana into the construct, William felt a gap in the water.

A gap that felt like metal.

He held a hand to forestall Fred's words.

"That's one big shark. I'm searching for him now."

Beneath the waves, Leon prepared his gambit.

A pair of swords materialised in Leon's hands, their rocky scabbards at his waist.

Slamming Silent and Scream into their holsters, Leon marshalled the roaring stream of energy in his body, dividing it in two.

His arms crackled with furious might and his silent laughter sent bubbles billowing to the ocean's surface.

Before the jaws closed around him, he leapt forward, launching into a coiled spin.

Animal instinct failed the shark, its teeth snapping shut on empty air as Leon unleashed his attack from within the creature's mouth, twin blades aimed towards its brain.

A halo of deep crimson and blinding white followed an explosion of mana that left Leon's arms broken.

The gashes left in the shark's mouth had failed to kill it.

Already the wounds began closing over, the shark's impressive healing factor rendering Leon's desperate attack worthless.

With a sigh, Leon slid down its gullet, burning the dregs of his energy to heal his useless arms.

Once done, he sheathed his blades and prepared for a disgusting end.

A tendril of mana closed around Wavecutter, William hauling the sword up.

Edgeless and dull, the two men looked at it with trepidation.

Fred broke the silence.

"Must be one of his."

William's [Arcane Insight] delivered a more detailed analysis.

"Wavecutter- The lost sword of a long-dead Swordfiend, this weapon's Aquatin blade channels water aspect mana with ease while inhibiting the flow of all other mana. A masterwork to be feared when in the hands of the right warrior. Bears the Self Repair and Sharp Scabbard enchantments."

Tying the useless weapon to his side, William nodded.

"Definitely. Now we just need to find the man."

A platform behind the pair vanished as the Megalodon rose to consume it, fresh blood still pouring from shallow wounds as it thrashed in rage.

Flopping back under the waves, Fred fixed William with a look.

"Time to leave William. We can't fight that thing off if we fall in."

Nodding in agreement, the pair began a harried retreat, with the Megalodon snapping up platforms as they ran, its rage growing as the prey evaded its grasp.

Spell bolts thudded ineffectually against its skin, William's knives slicing along the bloody lines Leon had left.

Once they reached the beach, they watched as the beast thrashed in the shallows, preparing for their inevitable return to the open sea.

Leon hadn't died.

Yet.

In the belly of the beast, within the burning lake of stomach acid, he lay, his armour dissolving.

Faintly, he heard the massive thumps of a heartbeat.

Pulling himself up, Leon ignored his pain.

This fight wasn't done yet.

Drawing Scream, he hacked at the stomach walls, blood splatter setting his blade aflame, the stomach's seared flesh giving easily.

What escaped his grip fell to the bubbling acid, what he could claim he did, eating his enemy from the inside out.

Chewing through a wall released a deluge of blood, Leon drinking from the scarlet stream, energy flooding his veins as it drained from the animal.

He carved as he followed the sound, breaching the heart chamber as the blood rose to his knees, a savage smile on his lips.

His bloodline roared in approval as he eschewed his sword, tearing lumps from the pumping organ with his bare hands, feasting on the raw organ to rebuild his broken body.

It took him a moment to recognise the laughter echoing around him as his own.

For all the levels the shark had over him, it had been little more than a dumb animal.

With bestial furore, he ripped apart the remains of the organ, watching as it ceased pumping.

"You have contributed to the slaying of a Level Ninety Megalodon! Experience split according to contribution:

Leon Knox- Ninety-eight per cent

William Butler- One per cent

Frederick Holmes- One per cent"

"Level up! You are now a Level Ten Chaotic Stormblade! +25 Power, +200 Speed, +25 Constitution +25 Intelligence, +25 Wisdom!"

"Capstone Quest unavailable- please complete all prerequisite quests!"

Collapsing to the waist-deep blood pooling around him, Leon allowed himself a moment to adjust.

Everything hurt.

He ignored the notifications.

They didn't matter anymore.

His brain felt like he had set it aflame instead of his sword.

With the fight over, realisations struck him.

This hadn't helped.

Things were now worse than ever.

The high intensified the low.

The moment passed and the victorious Swordfiend hauled himself up, beginning the arduous journey backwards, chopping through the dead flesh of the fallen shark.

Upon the beach, a stunned William and Fred stared at a similar notification.

Both their Classes had maxed out from only one per cent of the total experience points.

The ocean ran red as the Megalodon spewed thick blood, its corpse drifting ever closer to the beach.

Within the creature's mouth, the sharp snap of breaking bone rang out.

One man, drenched in crimson gore, prying open the mouth he'd leapt into.

His gilded armour bore patches of disintegrated metal, pink skin peeking out from beneath.

His fierce aura swept the beach, finding only weaklings.

One last application of force carried Leon onto the golden sands, waves lapping at his feet.

The titan's mouth snapped shut behind him.

Minutes passed as Leon lay panting in the fresh air, his fresh-cut hair covered in slick blood.

His bloodline suppression slowly vanished, allowing William to approach.

Leon spoke as his air sense spotted his lieutenant.

"Drag me into the water William."

"You'll drown in that armour."

"Just do it."

Grabbing him from under his armpits and pulling him into the shallows, William watched as Leon knelt under the water, hands occasionally moving to dislodge strips of flesh.

Ten minutes passed as Leon scrubbed his skin using the soft sand.

When he arose from the water, he came out clean, the mad fire in his eyes replaced with dying cinders.

"You good?"

Leon paused.

The flames flared.

"The fuck kind of question is that? Am I good? Yeah, I'm fucking peachy, William, thanks for asking. I went out there expecting to die or have some fucking grand awakening, some profound realisation about life. All I learned is that I'm the same as everything I've killed, strip away my ego and I'm just a bloodthirsty bastard, addicted to the thrill of the kill like all the rest."

William made to interject, though found himself cut short as Leon drew steel.

"You've heard that bullshit as well right? How awful murder would be, how the guilt would torture you after committing such a heinous act? I mean, yeah, I've thrown up a few times, but once you're past those first couple bodies it starts to feel good. Then it starts to feel great. I've never felt more fucking alive than when I'm staring down death and slicing through skin. I love it. I'd sacrifice the population of Earth for this experience, a thousand times over."

The sword clinked against its sheath as Leon's mood spiralled further. What embers remained flared in his soul, fault lines and cracks ripping him apart.

"That's the exact problem. I'm so fucked up Will. I don't know where I stop and where the beast begins. The lines got blurred, then they vanished. Everyone looks like meat. Walking, talking, meat that's begging to be cut. I don't know when it started, but I know how this ends. I'm not the good guy man, I'm the guy who gets himself killed picking a fight he can't win. Some group of holier-than-thou fucking assholes will cut me down for cutting someone open. Hey, why don't you cut me some slack, man, cut me a break!"

The Swordfiend knelt in the sand now, wet grains clinging to his knees, manic laughter unnerving both William and Fred.

"I thought I could hold back, thought that would help. It did until it didn't. Does that make sense? Fuck it, who cares right? I'll have to starve it out, but I have to make it home. Can't fight. Have to fight. I'll die if I do and die if I don't. Thought I'd made peace with death down there next to 'ol Bruce. Then the fear came roaring back, lying in that stomach acid. I wonder; is there even a home for me to go back to?"

He'd begun grabbing handfuls of sand, treating the watery silicate in his hands like a stress ball.

"Don't mistake my actions for bravery, Willy. See, brave people, they look, then they leap anyway. I just leap and rely on the beast to see me through. Feels like I'll go crazy if I stop for even a moment. But I can't do this anymore. Every time I close my eyes I see them, man. They weren't even real, but they could have been and I still sliced 'em. Sliced 'em good, sliced 'em clean. My son. My daughter. My wife. I butchered them like fucking animals. Jesus, I really am just another fucking monster."

Cautiously approaching, William saw the rapid flicks of Leon's pupils, the way his hands strayed to his blades. Kneeling down beside him, William began his own desperate gambit.

Leon had devolved into mumbling.

"It'll never end. Never. Can't cage the beast, can't put that genie back in the bottle. Do you hear the whispers? It wants more. More blood. Always more. It lives in the blood after all."

Keeping his voice as calm and level as he could while facing down a monster in human skin, William spoke.

"Close your eyes and breathe in."

Against the odds, Leon obeyed, chest swelling against his armour as he did so.

"Now breathe out."

Visibly, Leon's panic reduced after a single exhale. William repeated the process until Leon returned to a lucid state.

His first words when he finally opened his eyes weren't what William expected.

"Thank you, William. I'm sorry. For dumping all that on you."

Shaking his head, William rose to his feet.

Whatever semblance of normalcy Leon had pulled together remained fragile, the cinders in his eyes still smouldered with madness.

"Don't be boss. Look, maybe it's not my place to say so, but you should dump all that on someone. Bottling it up will eat you alive. I mean, you know my story, but everyone back at camp has one like it. Even you boss. Here, your sword I presume?"

The broken man grabbed Wavecutter like it would preserve him and keep him safe from the circling sharks.

"I thought I lost it. I owe you a favour."

Waving his hand, William gestured to Fred.

"Get us off this island and I'll call it square. Fred helped me out, wouldn't have found it without him."

Nervously, the archer approached.

Leon regarded him with much less hostility than normal.

The swordsman spoke first.

"Thank you, Fred. This sword means more to me than either of you know. Find Pierre and have him open up a treehouse for you. You've earned it. Anyone gives you shit, drop my name."

A glance in William's direction, a conversation in subtle movements under Leon's nose.

Fred spoke as he retreated, tone respectfully subdued.

"Appreciate it, Leon. I'll keep my mouth shut about this."

For a second, both men felt Leon's aura flare before it abruptly vanished.

"Good."

Taking the dismissal as intended, Fred made his way back to the clearing.

Patting the sand beside him, Leon tucked himself into a lotus position.

"Sit. May as well tell you my entire story, William. You and Fred are tied for second strongest after me now and it beats cutting up Bruce over there."

So William sat.

Leon recounted his blood-soaked tale, omitting only the parts which touched on his heritage. He'd need an oath to share that information.

William had interjected, when Leon had mentioned maiming a man and slicing a woman's hand off.

"Wait you hurt these people, just to send a message?"

Leon's features remained bored as he explained his rationale, as though he had been asked about the weather.

"Violence William. The universal language. It's the key variable when calculating costs and benefits. Imagine you're a thief and you've a choice of two targets. One guy's a pushover who talks out all his problems and wouldn't hurt a fly. The other is a mad dog who'll hunt you down for crossing him, with a reputation for unnecessary cruelty. I'd rather be the latter than the former. That's all. I always have a reason. Might not always be obvious or good, but it's always there."

A pregnant pause followed as Leon chose to elaborate.

"I don't enjoy cruelty William, but I accept the necessity of it. I love fighting, love tempering my swordsmanship in the fires of battle. My parents, my sister? They won't love fighting the same way I do. Once I start fighting stronger enemies they'll become targets by association. So I make them untouchable through a reputation for excessive violence. A necessary evil."

The sun crossed its zenith as the recounting concluded.

William digested the information.

The man's past contextualised Leon for him.

Impulsive, arrogant and stupid. More likely to shoot than ask questions.

Almost unnervingly simple at his core. He enjoyed fighting, disliked being ordered around and had so few moral boundaries he may as well have had none.

If Leon thought hurting someone would serve him, he'd do it. No hesitation. He'd sent that message with his previous group and thankfully had chosen a different path going forward.

A man who'd wholeheartedly embraced the bloodshed and built his strength on the corpses of his lessers.

The parts covering the trials were of interest to William.

Both sounded impossible to clear. Yet Leon had done so, even returning to the first trial in search of a foe worthy of his skills.

He'd been quieter, reserved when he spoke of the second trial.

Killing illusions shaped to look like an idyllic family had broken a wall Leon had used to cordon off his emotions, one that he'd relied on to face the violence so far.

It had fractured when he'd murdered his kin and driven him to an act that was either suicidal or hubristic.

Jury remained out on that one.

Hopefully, the worst of the fallout from that break lay behind them.

Deciding to push his luck, William asked the million-dollar question.

"Your aura, that intimidation wave we feel when you want people to shut up and sit down. You gonna explain that?"