Desolate Mage: A Legend Reborn! 40 Unexpected Image

The blood-soaked boy walked back to his tent where a large, muscular moustached man's corpse still lay, untouched. He casually stepped over to the side of the body then slowly wiped his hands on the fallen bandit leader's clothes to clear the blood.

Then he carefully removed his clothing until he was down to just his inner pants, revealing six-pack abs, a developed chest and an overall well-muscled form full of vibrancy and strength. There was not an extra ounce of fat to be found anywhere.

He began to wash off the bloodstains from his skin with some water from his canteens then retrieved a towel from his travel bags to wipe himself off.

As he cleaned up and donned a new set of clothing - he had only brought 2 sets of attire - he looked around in thought as he realised that he no longer had a clean cloak to use. But that was solved in a jiffy as someone nearby rushed over to offer their own to him. For some reason, the kind and generous wagon worker looked very, very scared despite him being their saviour. Was there something wrong...?

He touched his chest and felt heat rising up as if there were another heart beating inside him as well as a small vortex swirling around that grew an infinitesimally small amount every minute as it greedily absorbed mana from the rest of his body.

He wondered if maybe his earlier hot-headedness was a result of the minotaur's marrow he had taken in; as it would make sense since the creature's marrow would produce stronger blood with far greater vitality. And also with far stronger instincts for blood-shed, as the creature was renowned for fighting with blood-boiling battle frenzy...

And as he finished dressing up to leave, all this time, not a single person dared to even look at him, much less stand anywhere in his path or speak to him.

Khalid snapped out of his daze and tried to gather his senses and directed the workers and guards to pack up and ready themselves to leave.

All this while, the camp was shrouded with a deafening silence.

* * * * *

[10:49 AM the same day]

The journey continued in monotony, the travellers unusually quiet for such a large group of men. Those who rode were silent except for the sounds of their steeds hooves striking the ground, while those seated in carriages spoke in hushed whispers to one another.

The slayer mage himself too rode without a word, having retrieved a docile Sar'peh from one of the fallen raiders.

'Congratulations, kid! I didn't expect you to be so barbaric!' He heard the male voice yawn as it spoke from inside his head; it sounded like the speaker had just woke up.

'Kizorik?'

Ignoring the lack of honorifics, 'Heh... It's just been a few hours since we last spoke but you've already made big waves for yourself! For slaying a hundred men with your own hands, you've unlocked the achievement and title of Beginner Slayer!'

The demon penguin explained that unlocked achievements from the Abyss did not need summoning circles or the contractor to access the Abyssal Treasury - the rewards could be claimed directly thru the contracted demon.

Additionally, AP were awarded for each kill by his hands - netting him about 800 AP for 1 Master, 6 Elites, 16 Adepts and 80-odd Normal level people slain.

Then the little bird mentally linked him to the Abyss to receive his reward. He heard what sounded like tens of voices speaking together as they whispered in his mind from every direction:

[Achievement Completed: Beginner Slayer - kill 100 individuals of contractor's own species.]

[Reward: Lucky draw! Determining reward...]

Lars heard a sound he hasn't expected to hear - the sound of rolling slots machine. Then he was further startled by a mental shout in his mental ear.

'F***ing sh*t!!!'

'??? Kizorik! Is something wrong...?'

'...Sigh. Nothing.' He saw the mental image of a penguin letting out a heavy-hearted breath of air with a look of disgust on its face. 'I just get really triggered and riled up every time I hear the sound of that bloody lucky draw... Every time you get your hopes high, you get a pile of dung. And every time you gave up and just spun it anyway, you still get a pile of bloody f***ing dung!!! OMG!!!'

Shocked at his partner's words that sounded like the rant of a seasoned compulsive gambler, Lars began to feel worried - he was unsure of whether to raise his hopes or to give up on it.

[...Congratulations!]

'Oh no... Here it comes... All my AP spent on those useless lucky draws... Damn my rotten luck... Just one more spin and I wouldn't be in this powerless state...' Tears started to flow down the ruthless cold-blooded penguin's eyes as it choked up.

Meanwhile the mage shivered as he started to realise just how bad his buddy's gambling addiction really was...

[Lucky! The reward is "Memory fragments of Draken Blacksword"!]

'....!!!!!!' Kizorik's jaw dropped, little beak hanging agape in stunned silence. The spirit projection of the floating demon penguin trembled then began to shake convulsively as it started to laugh - not joyfully but piteously.

'Ha... Hahaha... Hahaha hahaha!' The laughter sounded hysterical, and soon devolved into sobbing as the bird spoke to itself, '1,762 draws and I got nothing... More than 500,000 AP thrown down the drain... This whipper-snapper got something Legendary in his first draw... Oh my poor heart... My poor poor broken heart...'

The penguin wiped away it's illusory tears and stopped moping, shaking its beak to fend off the sorrow, then spat out spiteful words that made Lars wish the contract didn't prevent him from strangling the bird. 'I guess a person with such lousy luck in love has gotta have *some* area he's lucky in after all...'

'So that's what demons do with their portion of their AP...' He couldn't help but feel that the designer of the Abyss exchanges was truly an evil, evil genius, successfully enslaving countless demons to do its bidding through the inhumane lucky draws.

And though he was miffed to be poked at his sore spot, he chose to be the bigger man (which he was) and asked the penguin, 'What's next? What does that reward do and what do I do?'

Sighing once more in resignation at its lousy fortunes, Kizorik explained with a dour tone.

'Draken Blacksword was a figure of legends. He was famous for being elusive and secretive about his strength - no-one knows what realm he was in, for he never exhibited cultivation or power levels as we know them. However, he was also famous - even more so - for another thing. With just his one large black sword, he wreaked havoc across the multiverse, undefeated and all-conquering in his entire lifetime.'

Then the penguin shrugged as it continued, 'But every silver lining has its cloud; eventually, even his big black sword could not conquer everything. He finally encountered a hole too deep for him to fill, and his large black weapon was sucked in, along with him, never to be seen again.'

The little bird shook its head in pity as it scratched its chin, 'Who knew that the Abyss would have remnants of his memories! If any of his skills with his big black sword could be found inside...'

Kizorik's voice trailed off, but Lars could get the idea by now. It was extremely valuable, a heaven-sent opportunity that perfectly complemented his weakness in physical and close combat abilities.

Only, the boy couldn't help but think of other images at the little black and white birds mention of a big and black instrument entering a hole... He shuddered and tried to dismiss the image from his mind and focus on absorbing the reward.

As the Memory Fragments began to diffuse into his consciousness, Lars' mind was filled with the image of shooting stars flitting by. The vision continued with bursts of light streaking past him, a great dark wave spreading across the starry sky, followed by the sight of every star it touched collapsing and imploding in on themselves.

Darkness all around, punctuated by inkwells spiralling in an even blacker than black darkness. Interspersed in this darkness endlessly in every direction were specks and motes of white, yellow, orange and red light - countless stars, suns and planets stretching out in every way the eye could see and even those that could not be seen.

It was only then that he realised what he was seeing.

One man with one black sword.

Suspended in the void of space. He had his eyes closed and was faced up against millions of enemies who launched billions of shooting stars at him that appeared to be converging on him from trillions of kilometres around him.

As the heavenly bodies soared towards him threateningly like bullets, he stood his ground in position and remained tranquil as if he were meditating peacefully even in such a critical situation.

And then all of a sudden, the muscular but well-proportioned man released a casual swing of his black blade.

All hell broke loose with just that one motion. The stars were blotted out, the myriads suns and moons all around disappearing as if covered up by a godlike hand that spanned the heavens; a sight that would reduce any watcher to a trembling mess of fear.

And as he completed the relaxed sword move that was devoid of any killing intent, the space where his sword passed fractured and twisted crazily, before an impossibly fast wave of black nothingness swept across the entirety of his surroundings.

The dark ripples crossed the void in the twinkling of an eye to the ends of the horizons and emanated forth endlessly around him as if it would never reach an end.

Then there was darkness once more - only this time much deeper than before.

There were no longer any stars, suns, enemies or planets around him.

Only one man with one black sword.

As the vision ended, Lars swayed and wobbled on his Sar'peh, barely steadying himself before he fell off.

He was glad that no one saw him at the back of the travelling group.

The young mage now was unsure of his own path, for when he beheld the spectacle of the majestic swordsman sweeping clean the cosmos of every adversary, his blood boiled and rushed to his head. The desire, as well as the budding recollections of the sword move, sprang forth both deep within his body's muscles and cells, as well as in his thoughts and imagination.

It was almost as if he could just reach out now and wave his hand and send forth the space-splitting sword strike that would eclipse the heavens and the earth alike!

He sighed, raptured in the epiphanous experience.

Yet there was one thing he was even more glad about.

That was that the name and description of Draken Blacksword were accurate and truly memory fragments about an omnipotent swordsman ruling over the heavens with his - ahem - big, black sword.

Chapter end