To understand how I ended up bound in these chains—shackled by the very essence of seven primordials—we would have to descend back through the ages.
Millions of years back, when I was nothing more than a mere mortal.
When my name used to be... what was my name?
It has been an eternity. Aeons of slaughter and the deafening roar of battle tend to erode the self. Who had I been before the blood? Did I have a family? A home? Or was I born from the dust of a battlefield? I can't remember.
All I remember is the Sword.
Just the weight of the steel. How to swing it until the arc was perfect. How to forge techniques that defied the heavens. How to breathe life into cold metal... and how to take life away with it.
Why a sword? Even that has been lost to the fog.
From what I can recall, I was born hollow. I could never touch mana—the fundamental energy of the cosmos, the light needed to ascend. But power? Power is a double-edged blade. And blades have always been my specialty.
Some believe power is the only road to freedom. For them, perhaps it is. For others, power is the first link in a chain. Once you taste that first drop, you crave the ocean. It changes you. It rots the weak-minded until there is nothing left but the hunger.
Ah... I am straying. What was the point?
I don't know.
I am tired. Tired of... what? I don't know that either.
Panic is a strange sensation for a God. This has never happened before. I am a Primordial Sword God—I do not forget. I do not stumble. Is this a trick? A psychic siege? Are my enemies closing in?
Wait... who are my enemies? Do I even have them anymore, or did I bury them all?
Are you my enemy?
...Who am I even talking to? Myself? No. No.
Who am I?
I am a Sw—
A what?
A Swo—
The word is caught in my throat like rusted iron. I can't hear you. Speak up!
A SWOR—
S-w-o-r? Yes. That feels familiar. It feels like home.
What am I? Who am I?
I am... I am...
I am a S—
What is the word?
Swo—
SWORD.
Sword. Ah... how nostalgic. A sword. My sword.
Where is it? Why are my hands empty? Why is there only the cold bite of these chains?
I need it. I need the steel. Without it, I am nothing. Just a manaless nobody.
A ghost in a suit of armor.
M-my sword.
Give me my sword!.
Give me my sword!!.
I SAID GIVE ME MY SWORD.
Argh. These damn chains.
Who are you?.
A sword.
Before that.
Metal.
Before that.
I don't kn-
What's your name.
I-I don't kn-
We asked what's you name.
I said I don't kn-
Think. Think what's your name?.
It's…
Yes think. What is it?.
It's v-
Yes… v what?.
My name is vaelthorym.
What else?.
Vaelthroym Aethernox–The Sovereign Blade That Breathed Before Time.
The primordial sword god.
Correct.
Who are you?.
Me?
You mean we.
Answer me.
We… we are the watchers.
What do you want?.
We are being's who love a good story.
We have a proposition.
What is it? I have nothing to offer.
We don't want anything material. Such things are useless to us.
Then what?.
In exchange for a second chance… entertain us. Live a life worth writing.
Live a life worthy of a story.
Worthy of us watching.
You just want me to live?.
Live. That is all.
Do you accept? Oh sword god.
Can I bring my sword?
Oh? If that's what you wish. How can you pave your own path if not with your sword?.
Then you have a deal, help me.
Deal… live Oh sword god. Live a life worth writing. Worth watching. A life worthy. Worthy of you.
Okay.
And with that Vaelthroym Aethernox was gone, wisked away to a foreign world.
A world hidden behind layers of reality.
Beyond the eyes of even primordial's.
A world called earth.
Home to the watchers.
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[END~]
[ENJOY(^;]