Bloodstained Blade-Chapter 32 - A Chance Encounter

For the next four days, Ivarr fought orcs, where he found them in small groups. Other times he hid or fled when he found too many of them to deal with. He was wounded in almost every encounter, but he never again came as close to death as he had so recently. That had more to do with choosing the right battles than with improving his skills with the sword, even though he was getting better at both.

+842 Life Force

+17 greater monster souls

“I need to learn how to shoot a bow,” he griped as the four of them waltzed across an open field in pursuit of a small herd of elk while he hid in a tree.

To have a good chance of killing one of those creatures in a single shot, you would need more than a long bow, the sword explained. You would need a ballista.

“I don’t need to kill them from here,” Ivarr clarified. “I just need to slow them down.”

That point made more sense. When there were five together, removing one or two from the equation wouldn’t do much, but turning three orcs into two might make all the difference in the world in those first few seconds.

That was not the Ebon Blade’s focus, though. While its wielder focused on the world around them, it focused on its own priorities. Four days of battles had gotten it seventeen more greater monster souls from the orcs they’d slain, along with another 842 Life Force.

Last night, while Ivarr slept, it used 500 of that to level up Lesser Soul Reserves 1 and increase its soul storage by 10%. That left it with only 686/5000 Life Force and 26/40 souls, which meant that it was halfway to its next large goal. They were almost out of food, and Ivarr’s pack was nearly filled to the brim with yellowed orc tusks, but even so, he was loathe to leave any behind since they were worth several silvers a piece.

The blade’s problem had nothing to do with food or tusks, though it had to do with Life Force. At this rate, it was going to have to burn greater monster souls for essence before it could collect fifty of them. As it stood, its most recent upgrade had increased its soul storage by 5 at the cost of 500 Life Force. That was a pretty good deal, considering that spending 3500 Life Force recently for Increase Reserves 9 had yielded the same benefit.

The problem was that it now needed 1000 more Life Force to repeat the purchase and would almost certainly need either 1500 or 2000 Life Force after that to do it one more time. That was a lot of energy.

Lesser Soul Reserves 2: Increase your maximum Soul Force reserves by an additional 15%

I could just burn the dragon soul and solve half of that problem right now, it told itself for the tenth time.

It wasn’t going to do that, though, no matter how much sense it made, and the reasons were pretty obvious. Not only would it be very hard to replace, but given what the screens had told it, it was fairly certain that it would be required eventually for further progression.

If I get Lesser Soul Reserves twice more, that will either bring me to 45 or 50, it realized. That still isn’t enough if I hold on to the dragon soul. This conversation with itself always ended up going around in circles, and that frustrated it, but it was careful not to let that frustration arrive to the point where its wielder would be able to listen in.

None of this matters, it told itself. It will take one more trip into these mountains, or perhaps two, to get what I need, it reminded itself.

That was a bitter truth. Even now that Ivarr was getting several greater souls a day, it was still far too few for its purposes, which meant it might have to wait a month or more to finally unlock the next level of the Path of Death.

To make matters worse, there was no more killing that day. Orcs were seen several times, but never in small enough numbers to make attacking them feasible. Worse, by night, they were forced to retreat toward the upland slopes just to find someplace out of the way enough to sleep unmolested. That was all well and good, but it also meant that they’d started their return trip and were unlikely to go back to the valley in the morning for any more of the greater monster souls it so desired.

It will have to be enough, the blade thought wearily as they paced up the slope. However, before it could spiral any further on the issue, it noticed that its wielder had stopped and was looking around.

Do you see something? The Ebon Blade asked.

“No,” Ivarr said, “Smell something. Smoke. There’s a fire nearby.”

It is almost certainly orcs, the blade cautioned him.

“I know that,” its wielder whispered. “But if there’s only a few of them, or they're sleeping, the darkness will let us pull off one hell of an ambush.”

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That sentiment reaffirmed the blade’s decision to stay with Ivarr as a wielder up until now. It was that sense of daring more than anything else that made it appreciate the man compared to its other recent wielders.

Unfortunately, there were no orcs to be murdered when he followed the smoke back to the fire it was coming from. Instead, he found only three humans sitting around the fire, chatting quietly between themselves.

What should I do now? Ivarr thought loudly at the blade as he froze there, paralyzed with indecision.

Either slink away or lower your weapon and introduce yourself. It told him. Standing here in the dark is a good way to get yourself killed if they notice.

Ivarr’s mind considered both alternatives for a moment before he lowered his weapon and stepped forward.

“Well met, travelers,” he said stiffly. “I--I’m Ivarr, and I’m traveling to Kalraka.”

The strangers, for their part, were mostly calm. Only one sprang to his feet and half drew his sword, but when he looked at Ivarr, he relaxed and resheathed his blade.

“Don’t mind, my friend,” one of the men said. “We’re the friendly sort.”

“It’s just a damn kid,” the other man grumbled.

“I… I was out collecting bounties,” he said, gesturing to the bundles of tusks lashed onto the outside of his backpack with his weapon before he realized he was still holding it and put it away.

“Well, the world definitely needs less orcs. So, you’re welcome to crash here if you like,” the strange man said, “We’re on our way to Kalraka to resupply, the same as you.”

Ivarr balked then, fearing a trap. In an area with so little traffic, bandits were unlikely, but not impossible. That dissipated the moment the third face by the fire looked up. It was a woman, but not just any woman. She had a definite aristocratic look about her that marked her as either a priestess or a mage.

No, not aristocratic, the blade realized. She’s not human.

Bandits wouldn’t be traveling with the likes of her, the blade whispered to its wielder. Elves can be just as evil as anyone, but those sorts tend to be filthy rich and travel with their own private armies. Someone like her… She’s on business of her own that probably has nothing to do with us.

The blade couldn’t recall spending any time with elves, nor could it remember any of them in the flickering memories that had washed over it more than once. Still, it had some definite impressions as to what they were about.

Ivarr nodded at that. Thankfully, he maintained the presence of mind to avoid answering it out loud, but it was clear to the blade that he was bewitched by the woman’s beauty. That made sense since she was probably the first elf he’d ever seen. He looked at her with more intensity than he ever looked at his busty barmaid.

“I— Well, how do you know I’m not dangerous myself?” Ivarr asked, tearing his eyes off the woman with great effort. “Maybe it’s not I that should be afraid of you, but you that should be afraid of me.”

“Anyone can see that you’re dangerous enough,” the man laughed, not bothering to rise from his seat, “No one collects that many orc tusks by being really nice to the green skins. But you’re a good sort. I can tell. I got a knack for these things.”

“A knack?” Ivarr asked. “What’s that—”

“His God would tell him if you were a villain,” the other man said abruptly, interrupting the first man.

“Forgive my friend, Elom,” the apparent priest said. “He’s a simple sort, but in this case, mostly right. My God does not speak to me often, but Ganara does allow me to see the color of men’s souls, and yours is as pure as they come.”

The blade felt Ivarr get vaguely offended by that. The statement amused it, but it also intrigued it. It had assumed that people with those sorts of powers would see the evil radiating off of it since it was cursed, but that was apparently not the case.

He mentioned nothing about Ivarr’s sword. His gaze didn’t even flick downwards once after that first moment.

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As long as Ivarr’s rag covered the faintly glowing ruby in its hilt, it seemed likely that the man would ignore it entirely, which suited it fine.

“Well, that’s very kind of you,” Ivarr said, eventually taking his pack off and setting it down at the edge of the firelight before joining everyone else.

The four of them chatted for a bit over the dying embers of the fire. The group was apparently out this far, searching for some ruins that were said to be in the vicinity. Ivarr couldn’t shed any light on where those might be, but he could tell them where there definitely weren’t any ruins, and they were able to strike several unexplored locations off of their map.

As the group chatted, it learned more about each of them. Only the elf spoke little, and when she did, her words were thickly accented. The other two were more social and pretty typical of priests and warriors in the blade’s dimly remembered experience.

That night, Ivarr didn’t exactly sleep soundly, but no one tried to hurt him, and toward dawn, when Dero woke him for the final watch, the other three slept as if he was no threat at all. Only the mage didn’t take a watch, but that didn’t stop Ivarr’s eyes from finding her several times in the dark. Wrapped in her red robes and her bedroll, he could see now details about her body, but that didn’t stop him from looking at her wistfully.

In the morning, they feasted on the last of Ivarr’s ham, and then when they broke camp, Elom asked, “So, are you going to travel with us, or do you want a head start?”

“Head start?” Ivarr asked, confused.

“You know, so you don’t have to see us again,” the other warrior said with a shrug.

“Oh, well, I figure since we’re going the same way, we might as well go together,” Ivarr agreed with only the smallest delay. “It’s not like I can do much more hunting. I’m out of space.”

“That’s the spirit!” the strange warrior said, clapping him on the back. “Honestly, I can’t believe someone as young as you is out here on their own anyway. That must be one hell of a hexblade you’ve got there.”

In this case, Ivarr said nothing, which was the right answer. He just helped everyone get packed up, and then they broke camp.

Though the blade didn’t really like the idea of teaming up with anyone, and especially this group, given the way the mage was looking at its wielder, it didn’t try to stop Ivarr from agreeing. It would have been stranger to refuse the offer of safety in numbers this far out into the wilderness.

It’s only until town, the blade assured itself. After that, it will be just the two of us again.