“Ah!” Iris exclaimed, her eyes widening. The people, too, turned their gazes from the beasts toward a solitary figure. Trembling quietly, none could take their eyes off the swordsman with a black sword in hand.
“You came!” Tears escaped Iris’s eyes. Terror faded away in the face of the man standing gallantly before her.
The aura of despair quickly vanished. No longer did fear remain in the hearts of the citizens. No, it was the aetherborn themselves who trembled, every last one frozen in place. Iris and the others cried out excitedly.
“He came for us! Crow Titus came for us!”
Thunderous clamor resounded throughout the city. The people shouted with joy at the arrival of the most powerful man in all the land.
Thus dawned the hour of reckoning. Spurred on by the multitude’s hopes, the highest-ranked of the imperial magus knights—Crow of the Dark Blade—began to move.
“Let’s do this!” he declared. His voice reverberated alongside his thundering footsteps, so powerful that they cracked the ground beneath his feet.
Crow was upon the enemy army in an instant. With a fierce flash of his blade, he dispatched the surrounding creatures, whose roars of agony echoed across the battlefield. Chunks of tainted flesh scattered through the air.
And so the carnage began. Swinging his sword with ease, he shredded scores upon scores of monsters in mere moments. The people’s gazes followed the movements of the peerless man known as the Condemner, their fear all but forgotten.
“For your crimes against the people, all of you shall pay with your lives!”
Crow’s anger unleashed his superb swordsmanship, each move so swift that even sound seemed to have trouble keeping up. A wall of slashes reduced all around him to pieces in an instant. Such inhuman skill left the monstrous army in disarray.
“Die! No evil can escape my blade!”
His arrival had sealed the aetherborn’s fate. No attacks could touch him—from ambushes to powerful blows, he avoided them all with ease. Any arm questing for a hostage was sliced to bits in the blink of an eye. Evading flames, gusts, lightning, and invisible curses, he destroyed all who dared oppose him.
“Prepare yourselves!”
Black blade in hand, Crow swiftly moved from foe to foe, striking the necks of creature after creature. As long as evil remained, he would not rest! As long as there was life to protect, he would be unstoppable!
“Embrace your doom, vile fiends!” cried out Crow the Condemner.
For the sake of peace—for the sake of his people—he continued to fight. His heroic figure ignited a fire in the throbbing hearts of the citizens.
Yet, unbeknownst to them...
Ahhhhhh! I don’t wanna fight anymore! Make it stop!
Despite the fierce determination in Crow’s features, deep within he was screaming and crying. Beneath his cool but meaningless one-liners, he was actually terrified, exhausted, and ready to throw up.
Indeed, Crow—esteemed the world over as the Condemner of All Evil—was in reality nothing more than an ordinary man.
In fact, he was the kind of lowlife who would sneakily slip lost change into his pocket. Risking his life for the sake of others was dead last on his list of priorities, and even in that moment, all he wanted to do was run.
“Grooooar!”
“Come at me, fiend! I’ll be your opponent!” Please don’t, actually!
Why was such a man fighting aetherborn, you ask? Well, that was the doing of the jet-black blade in his right hand, Muramasa.
“Hey, uh, Muramasa?” said Crow in his mind. “All this slashing and running is making me, you know, sore? All over? Like, the ‘muscles falling apart’ kind of sore all over?”
“SOULS! SOULS!”
“Hello?! I’m talking to you!”
It was no use. All the sword did was repeat “SOULS!” This particular blade was cursed, you see, and consumed the souls of those it killed. Oh, and it could hijack the body of anyone who held it.
Why did I have to go and pick up this stupid nightmare of a sword?! I hate my life...
While his head swirled with such thoughts, Crow kept lopping off enemy heads with magnificent technique, his body completely under the influence of the sword.
I freaked out so bad the first time it took over my body. I almost turned into some kinda serial killer!
A year earlier, Crow Titus had happened upon Muramasa. The instant he’d taken the sword in hand, his life had changed. From that day on, he’d been destined to fight.
I guess the silver lining, if I could call it that, is that Muramasa’s favorite flavor of soul is evil with a dash of wickedness, so it automatically goes for the bad guys.
In other words, the sword had a taste for the souls of criminals, aetherborn, and the like. Thanks to that, Crow had avoided becoming a mass murderer. Furthermore, once Muramasa was satiated, the young man could regain control of his body.
That was not cause for relief, however.
Man... If this thing gets hungry with only civilians nearby, it’ll just go right ahead and help itself to their souls. So I have to keep taking progressively riskier missions. Just my luck...
With the one eye he could freely move, Crow shot a glance behind him. Tens of thousands of civilians and knights were gazing at him in admiration.
Why?! Why me?! I’m so sick of fighting! Why do I have to be the hope of all humanity?! I’m just some dude cursed by a weird sword!
All the fighting to satisfy Muramasa’s appetite had elevated him to the position of most powerful knight in all the land. Internally, however, Crow was screaming.
“Oh, Sir Crow, you’re our ray of hope!”
“Fight on, Sir Crow!”
“Save this city like you saved my hometown!”
The uproarious cheers of the crowd and the countless expectant gazes, washing over him like sunlight, made the perfectly ordinary Crow’s stomach churn. Still, he couldn’t tell them that he was just cursed, a mere accessory to his magical blade.
For in truth, he was fighting against his will. All the beheading and snappy one-liners? Just an act, pretending to be a paragon of justice so no one would find out that he was only fighting to satisfy his hungry weapon. He couldn’t simply tell people that his reasons for fighting were incredibly stupid.
Now on the verge of tears, Crow continued to relentlessly battle the aetherborn.
Wahhh... It hurts... I just wanna take it easy! Damn it, this is all Muramasa’s fault! Screw you, stupid piece of scrap!
Crow shot a dirty glare at the sword. The people, meanwhile, upon seeing his fighting stance—both hands at his weapon’s hilt, its tip aimed at his opponents’ throats—got the wrong idea entirely.
“Wow, he’s really going after those aetherborn!” they said. “He’s pissed at them for daring to hurt us!”
Their respect for him only grew—to Crow’s chagrin.
If only I’d left this thing where I found it...
As he fought relentlessly, a sharp look etched upon his features, Crow thought back to the past. To the day, a year earlier, when he’d taken Muramasa in hand and begun his saga as the Condemner.