Voices in My Head are Getting Louder (And Sassier)
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The ruins of Ashfall were supposed to be sealed off to the public.
Keyword: supposed to.
In reality, they were "sealed" by a half-rotted wooden fence and a sign that read:
"WARNING: CURSED. GO AWAY."
Naturally, we went in.
---
"This is where the relics from the old empire are kept," Elise said as we stepped through a crumbling archway.
Dust swirled in the air. Broken pillars jutted out of the ground like forgotten bones. The smell of moss, old magic, and regret clung to everything.
"I was told we were going shopping," I muttered, poking a suspicious-looking rock.
"You're holding a sword now. That's technically shopping."
"I thought we were bonding!"
"This is bonding."
"Through grave-robbing?"
She didn't answer. Which I interpreted as a yes.
---
Blobbert, meanwhile, was bouncing ahead of us, glowing faintly. Ever since he evolved, he started… humming?
Not musically. Emotionally.
Like a magical Roomba with opinions.
He suddenly stopped and squeaked loudly, slapping a vine-covered pedestal.
I squinted. "What is it, boy? Timmy fell in a well?"
Blobbert vibrated.
Then the pedestal cracked.
Then it exploded.
I screamed. Elise shielded us.
And there it was:
A sword, hovering midair.
Black steel. Cracked hilt. Faint red glow.
And it was whispering.
"You. You who are unworthy. You shall bear my curse and—wait, are you listening?"
I blinked.
"…Did that sword just talk?"
Elise's hand went to her weapon. "That's a cursed relic."
"Cursed is such a rude word," the sword said. "I prefer 'spiritually complicated.'"
---
Naturally, I touched it.
Elise screamed, "REN, NO—!"
Too late.
The moment my fingers brushed the hilt, the world tilted.
A pulse of magic shot through my body like a shockwave dipped in sarcasm.
"Oh gods," the sword muttered. "You're an idiot."
I gasped. "It's sentient. It's sarcastic. I love it."
"I hate this already."
---
When I finally opened my eyes, Elise was inches from my face.
"Are you possessed?" she asked flatly.
"I don't think so?" I glanced down. "Wait, do I have cool tattoos now?"
"No."
"Darn."
Blobbert squeaked and licked the blade.
The sword actually whimpered.
"What is that thing?!"
"My son," I said proudly. "His name is Blobbert. He's a slime. And possibly a deity in training."
The sword said nothing for a moment. Then:
"...I need a vacation."
---
On the way back, Elise was not amused.
"You touched a cursed sword. You're possibly bound to an ancient evil. And now you're talking to it like it's your roommate."
"Wouldn't be the worst roommate I've had," I muttered.
"Excuse me, I am a legendary blade forged from the despair of a fallen star."
"You whined when a slime licked you."
"...It was cold."
---
By the time we returned to the city, I had a sword that wouldn't shut up, a slime that somehow got into my bag of snacks, and a party leader who looked like she was seriously reconsidering this partnership.
But hey—progress, right?
Right?
---
The Sword, The Spar, and the Sudden Declaration of Eternal Rivalry (Probably My Fault)
Let me make one thing clear.
I didn't mean to declare a blood feud in front of the entire training yard.
It just… happened.
Like most things in my life since waking up in this world.
---
"Again," Elise barked, sweat gleaming on her brow as our blades clashed.
We were training behind the palace. More specifically, she was training. I was… dying tastefully.
The cursed sword—whom I'd tentatively named "Edge"—was currently humming in my hand, glowing with sarcastic glee.
"I've been asleep for centuries and I've never seen anyone this bad at swordplay."
"I don't need your heckling right now," I hissed between parries.
"You swung backward. BACKWARD. Are you trying to intimidate her by moonwalking?"
"I panicked!"
"Ren, focus," Elise snapped, slamming her blade against mine with enough force to rattle my bones. "You can't always rely on your teleportation."
"Funny you say that—Shadow Blink!"
I vanished—
—and reappeared behind her—
—only to trip on Blobbert, who had helpfully brought me a towel and was now squeaking in confusion as I faceplanted into the dirt.
---
Elise stood over me, sword at my neck, not even winded.
I stared up at her.
"…So… do I pass?"
She sheathed her sword and looked away. "You're improving."
I gasped. "Was that a compliment?! Someone write this down!"
"He's pathetic," Edge muttered in my hand. "But in a very determined way. Like a wet cat trying to fight a thunderstorm."
Blobbert squeaked in agreement.
---
Unfortunately, the peace didn't last long.
Because that's when he appeared.
Rival character unlocked: Aldric Flamehart.
Noble. Tall. Golden hair. Muscles everywhere.
Basically the kind of guy who comes with his own dramatic wind.
He strolled in with his fan club of junior knights and smirked at Elise.
"Still training your stray dog?"
I stood up, brushing off my cape. "Excuse me. I am at worst a trained raccoon."
He ignored me. "Elise, your talents are being wasted. Join the Flamehart Order. Let go of this circus act."
She didn't answer.
That's when he turned to me.
"And you. Still playing at being a hero's shadow?"
Oh no. He poked the ego.
"Let me stab him."
No.
"Just a little."
NO.
I raised my chin. "I'm not playing anything. I'm Elise's Shadow—and I'd rather be at her side than licking boots with whatever sparkly cult you call a knight order."
Gasps.
Whispers.
Edge vibrated with excitement.
"He's gonna hit you."
He did.
I dodged.
Then I shouted—louder than necessary:
"THEN I CHALLENGE YOU! TO A DUEL!"
…
…
Crap.
---
The yard exploded with noise.
Elise pinched the bridge of her nose. "Ren."
"It just came out."
"You challenged Aldric Flamehart to a duel."
"Yes."
"In public."
"Yes."
"In front of the royal guard."
"…Yes."
"I'm so proud of you," Edge whispered tearfully. "You stupid, beautiful disaster."
---
So now I have exactly one week to train for a duel with a man who probably bathes in protein powder and reads war poetry for breakfast.
But you know what?
I'm Ren. I've got a talking sword, a sassy slime, a moody knight lady with trust issues, and a very specific skill called "Refusing To Die Out Of Spite."
I'm going to survive this.
I think.
Maybe.
Hopefully.
---
Death Flags, Duel Prep, and the Emotional Support Slime Who Believes in Me More Than I Do
The training yard was empty.
Moonlight spilled across the cobblestones. My limbs ached. My lungs burned.
I swung my sword again. And again. And again.
Clang. Step. Parry. Trip. Try again.
I was bleeding. Not in a serious way. Just the standard "my entire body is filing complaints" way.
"You're still here," Elise's voice said behind me.
I turned, panting. "Couldn't sleep."
"He was muttering to a training dummy for twenty minutes," Edge added helpfully.
I shot the sword a glare. "I was giving it an inspirational speech."
"It's a scarecrow in armor."
"He needed to believe in himself!"
"...I worry about your brain."
---
Elise walked over, handing me a flask of water.
She didn't say anything. But she sat on the bench beside me. Which was a lot, by her standards.
"I'm gonna get obliterated," I said honestly.
"You might."
"…You're not supposed to agree with that."
Elise glanced at me, then looked away. "But you might not."
"…Was that a pep talk?"
"I'm logging this moment. Your tsundere is showing."
She ignored the sword. "You're reckless. Undisciplined. You talk too much."
"Don't hold back, tell me how you really feel."
"But…"
I blinked.
"But?"
"You have heart. You stand up when others wouldn't. You fight like someone who refuses to lose. That matters more than talent."
My brain short-circuited.
"He's short-circuiting," Edge confirmed. "That was either extremely touching or he's having a stroke."
---
Later, back in the room I shared with Blobbert (yes, he had a bed now), I collapsed onto my mattress.
Blobbert slithered onto my chest and squeaked.
"…No, I'm not gonna die."
He squeaked again, more insistently.
Then something incredible happened.
Edge—the sass sword—glowed faintly. Not cursed red this time. But… warm. Like starlight.
"You actually believe you can win," it said softly. "Even after seeing the odds."
"Yeah," I whispered. "Because she believed in me first."
Edge didn't reply for a long moment.
Then it said, almost shyly:
"Maybe… maybe we're not doomed."
Blobbert squeaked and nuzzled the sword.
Edge let out a shriek. "He's slimy again—WHY."
---
I woke the next morning with my sword slightly warmer, my slime slightly smugger, and my heart…
A little more steady.
I might be a fool.
But I'd rather be a fool who stands, than a genius who kneels.
And I'd definitely rather get launched across the arena than let that smug sparkle knight win.
So yeah.
Let's duel.
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[End of Chapter 3]