Supreme Swordfiend

Before he could even rise from bed, Leon faced a pop-up.

“You were half-right. No participant should know the shark exists, let alone kill it. Not like that stopped you. +1 Fame!”

Threading his way across the floor, Leon caught Zerasos as he came off a call. The devil looked equal parts harangued and exultant.

A glimmer passed through the devil’s eyes, the mess of parchment vanishing with a wave of his hand while he addressed Leon.

“Morning, kid! You would not believe the night I’ve had. Grab me a coffee, eh?”

Swords clanking against his armour, Leon pulled one steaming cup from the fridge and one clear plastic water bottle. The paradox of the fridge serving hot drinks hardly bore scrutiny.

Setting both cups on the ping-pong table, Leon spoke first, rubbing his eyes.

“You look like someone just punched you in the teeth after handing over the keys to the kingdom.”

Zerasos drained the mug in a single pull, setting the still steaming cup down, his tone forcibly even, carefully schooled.

“Turns out that, uh, I may have underestimated, well, the magnitude of the response to your little fish duel. Look, your planet would have been a hot commodity no matter what. The place has got varied environs, human life and is the beneficiary of a Tutorial. Before last night, there were fourteen, maybe fifteen, factions sniffing around? Don’t give me that look, kid, I’m a reputable businessman, I sell goods and services, I don’t run a spy network, so sometimes my information isn’t always up to snuff!”

The devil paused.

“Well, I don’t run a good one, at least not yet. It’s a work in progress”

Leon calmly sipped on his water, cubes of ice clinking as he set his bottle aside.

“Cut to the point Zerasos. What’s changed?”

Wringing his hands, the devil continued.

“Well, for one, a couple hundred thousand people of some repute are looking to speak with you. Look, I already know your stance on outside interference. I got a team of guys telling ‘em all to sit and spin. There are a couple, only a couple, that you need to see. Look, just like last time, if these people weren’t important, I’d have burned the letters.”

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Leon extended his hand.

The sender had penned the first letter on scented paper. The sharp tones of a rose in bloom assaulted Leon’s olfactory system.

The flowing cursive reminded Leon of a recent experience with a most unpleasant scroll, a thought he brushed aside as he read.

“Stormbound Swordsman,”

Not the worst title the media could have chosen for him, he supposed. A nice confirmation that his identity remained somewhat obscured. Alternatively, a confirmation that these aliens just didn’t care enough to use his actual name.

The letter continued, Leon fighting the urge to crumple it with each new line.

“Your planet will be mine. Your world will bow at my feet, but you? You will have the honour of serving me in person. Submission is merely a matter of time. You will become the crown jewel of this paltry universe’s grandest harem. You will weep with joy from all of your eyes while you serve Caeda Sanguinia, Speaker Of Earth, High Priestess Of The Four Elements Cult. Look forward to me, doggie. I am your future.”

Zerasos incinerated the letter as its crumpled form impacted the table, Leon's first words aloud sounded remarkably jovial circumstances considered.

“That’s not her real name, right? No way, some grade-A bitch gets born with the perfect surname, right?”

Zerasos wisely withheld the second letter to explain.

“Unfortunately, it is her real name, kid, but don’t worry. She’s got a nickname even cornier than yours. The White Rose, she’s a woman who uses daddy’s money and status to snap up any guy who catches her eye. Probably the most powerful nature mage in the [G] Grade. Forewarned is forearmed, right? Also, you shouldn’t kill her. Her dad’s an [F] Grade and made it public years ago that he’d suffer through an Infamy point to avenge his daughter.”

“Please tell me this next letter is better.”

A shrug followed the handover.

“Probably about equal, kid- these guys don’t threaten to enslave you, at least.”

Written on plain paper, this sender had pressed in the ink with clear uniform strokes.

“To Leon Knox, first of his name,

Upon your return to Earth, we cordially extend an offer of membership, contingent upon successful survival, of course.

Our people will find you when you are ready.

TDS”

Leon neatly folded this one, hanging on to it.

“Sounded like a threat at the bottom, Zerasos.”

The devil remained taciturn with his reply, voice taking on that edge Leon knew meant he needed to take this seriously.

“The True Demon Sect. They don’t threaten people, kid. No warnings. If you piss these guys off, they burn your life down around you, then suffocate you with the ashes. Look, I know you don’t wanna play politics- I get it, you just wanna fight and have a good time. Do not fuck around with these people, Leon. They will bury you and everyone you’ve ever spoken to if you piss ‘em off. On the plus side? They’re all about loyalty. You get in with ‘em and it’s like a second family.”

“Doesn’t sound like I can avoid meeting them. I’ll hear them out at least. How strong are they?”

Zerasos shuddered.

“Rumours say their top people hunt [A] Grades. For fun. Not for money or prestige. For the sheer fucking thrill of it. I enjoy being alive, kid. I swear I’ll haunt the shit outta you if one of these guys kills me because you couldn’t keep yourself under control.”

“Message received loud and clear. Do not fuck with the True Demon Sect. Anything else before I head out?”

“Eh, more about the planet than about you. Can’t hurt to tell ya. You got about thirty System recognised factions parked outside your home world. Twice as many unrecognised. At least one that took on a quest to conquer it. Now, until the terraforming finishes up, no one can make landfall but it is still not looking good out there, kid. Imagine World War Two, but with no treaties, no allies and no chance of surrender. Everyone’s out to fucking eradicate everyone else and the weaker factions ain’t shy about dropping as many nukes as it’ll take to win.”

Cutting across Zerasos, Leon raised a point of interest to him.

“You guys have nukes?”

Snorting, the devil pulled up his crystal display, showing a video of a mage lasering a barbed wolf creature with light blue beams. The animal contorted as stretches of skin disintegrated, bulbous tumour-esque growths erupting from the holes.

The beast, at least, didn’t live long enough to suffer.

“Worse. Radiomancers. These guys are on the same level as a soul mage or chronomancer. You see one of ‘em? Run like hell. They de-populate entire planets in days, kid, then they just mop up any fallout and move on. Now, no one will deploy one of these guys lightly. Partially cause most of ‘em are mercs that can and will rob a faction blind, partially because escalation like this ends with more escalation, which starts a chain reaction that ends with your planet going kaboom. Then everyone’s left with sunk costs, mountains of debt and axes to grind.”

Zerasos lowered his voice, a hint of emotion creeping in.

“Look, I’ll be keeping an eye on this whole shebang. Worst-case scenario I’m predicting is the deployment of a necromancer or two by the few groups too weak to contest for ownership. Things go poorly, they start calling in the really scary stuff? I’ll pull you and yours outta there. For free, because you, kid, have made me more money in a couple weeks of relaxation than I’ve earned in nine decades of graft.”

The devil’s moment of genuine kindness passed, another contract materialising from the air.

“Which brings us neatly to this! Go on, read it. Tell me what you think.”

Once more, Leon felt surprised at the unambiguous and plain language of the contract.

Zerasos wanted right of first refusal on loot and gear intended to be sold through non-System channels, an official declaration of a friendship between Hellstone Incorporated and Leon Knox and continued exclusive access to Leon’s likeness and image, to be used solely in merchandising.

In exchange, Leon received a ten per cent stake in Hellstone Incorporated, a position on the board of directors, the right to claim an item from their VIP vaults once per standard year and protection for his family. A team led by one of Zerasos’ own sons would be assigned to guard any non-combatants around the clock.

The contract included a clause which stated its terms would go into effect upon signature and last ten standard years, with a stipulation that allowed Zerasos and Leon to terminate the agreement early with consent from both signatories.

The intent behind this lay plain to see.

Zerasos wanted to continue their association once the Tutorial concluded.

Leon would have signed just for the security of his family.

Keeping them out of the line of fire had always been an uncomfortably difficult problem on his peripheral radar.

Slicing his finger on Wavecutter, Leon pressed his bloody print into the parchment.

“I trust you Zerasos. You’ve done right by me and you’ve given me no reason not to sign.”

Throwing the scroll back to Zerasos, Leon forced down a swell of errant thoughts.

His ancestor, Auberon, the First Swordfiend. Seemed like the sort of thing Sha should have told him in their brief meeting.

The training sounded important. Muddling through on his own would never be as effective compared to genuine instruction from the one who’d mentored every Swordfiend in using their bloodline.

Everything about Earth’s bleak fate, the two letters he’d read- he’d bundle that up for now.

Nothing he could do, no sense worrying.

His fingers formed a fist as he stepped into the lively clearing.

The afternoon sun caressed Leon, a lover’s touch warming his skin where it lay exposed, fragments of conversation reaching Leon.

Bethany spotted him first, rushing from her seat to present a blank book and fountain pen.

Laughter followed with Mikael explaining for Leon’s benefit.

“Nice to see you alive, bossman. Busy bee there’s been up since dawn, yammering non-stop about how hard she’s gonna train and how badly she appreciates-“

Whatever Mikael had been about to say wound up cut short as Bethany drew steel, the brawler merely laughing even harder in response to a weapon in his face.

Leon took his seat, scrawling the Demonic Storm Style’s circuit and singular move down, alongside a primer on the thought process that guided its creation.

Tossing the book to the expectant student, he moved on to the next item on his list.

“Where’s William?”

A jerked thumb toward the training field led Leon to a most unusual spar.

Arrows formed of magic unleashed blasts of ice and flame, a vortex of whirling blades lashing at the agile archer.

Each arrow blew another knife off target, though neither man seemed concerned with taking any openings presented.

Clapping his hands together, Leon’s arrival stopped the fight.

“Enjoying your new power?”

William’s plethora of knives vanished into illusory smoke, two genuine silver weapons reappearing in his hands.

Fred’s new bow- a stringless device of coiled brass- took its place on his back, both men turning to regard Leon.

He saw them appraising him, measuring their might to his and did not begrudge them this.

Comparison, as ever, acted as the thief of joy when Leon allowed the barest hint of his bloodline to seep through the cracks.

The dormant beast cowed both.

William approached as Leon drew himself back together, knives holstered and expression apologetic.

“It’s fine William. Gather everyone up. Today we train.”

As his lieutenant gave a mock salute and sauntered off to rally the troops, Leon called out.

“William! Get me a whip while you’re at it!”