Dagan's eyes widened as he read the words. His best friend, Toren, sharpened the sword with a whetstone in the blacksmith shop they ran together. Toren was the blacksmith hammering out the swords, while Dagan was the Artificer who enchanted them to meet the customers' needs. The sword Toren was working on was Dagan's new sword, which he planned to take with him on his expedition to Mount Lakiah to find the Learned Man.

  He reread the words with unbelieving eyes.

  …to gain the power to slay ghosts, one must imbue their sword with the same otherworldly power that the spirits possess…to make a holy blade, the goddess Kehamia demands a willing human sacrifice…

  +1 Knowledge

  Dagan almost chucked the book into the furnace. "This cannot be."

  "Hmm?" Toren looked up from the blade.

  "In order to make a holy blade, I need to make a human sacrifice," Dagan said.

  "Are you sure this is the Artificer's Book of Holy spells and enchantments and not the nefarious god, Hetain's Book of curses?" Toren joked as he did in most situations.

  "Toren, I'm serious. Come, take a look yourself."

  His friend barked a laugh. "Unlike His Lordship, my father was a blacksmith. Oh, and I cannot read, remember."

  "But I've been teaching you the letters since we were kids," Dagan protested. "Anyways, without this enchantment, the sword won't have the power to slay evil spirits."

  The leather curtain that separated the front of the shop from the back opened, and a richly dressed boy with a smug smile stepped in.

  "Slay evil spirits?" asked Musgaar, or Musker as he was known in the village, thanks to the pungent odor that always came from off the plumpy lad. He was the son of a petty noble who had the deed of this village. Like all nobles who let even the faintest of power go to their heads, he was a brat and a bully. "What evil spirits are you planning to slay, Dagan?"

  "That is not your concern," Dagan replied, biting back the curse that was on the tip of his tongue.

  If it were just Musgaar, he was of no concern, but he had brought two of his lackeys with him. They were tall and strong, bigger than Dagan and Toren, and if it came blows, Toren might as well not even be counted. He was pathetic in a fight despite his beefy arms. So, Dagan would have to endure him for as long as he must.

  "Oh, come now," Musgaar said. "Don't be such a prude. After all, don't I own this shop?"

  "We rent this shop from your father," Dagan shot back. "You don't own a single thing in this shop."

  Toren squeezed his arm, telling him to calm down. He jerked his arm away lightly, and his friend let go of it. He could've held on to it if he wanted to, as his grip was like iron.

  "Tch, tch, tch, looks like the dog's teeth have been broken, but it continues to bark at its master," Musgaar said.

  Dagan breathed in deep. "What did you say?"

  "I said, or shall I say, I meant that your family's been kicked out of your ancestral home. All your estates and properties have been seized, yet almost fifty years later, you still act like a noble."

  "I am a noble!" Dagan exclaimed.

  "In name only." Musgaar walked about the place and picked up a helm. "Soon, even that will be stripped from you, and then you will tumble out of existence and roll around in the muck." He let the helm drop, where it clanged loudly on the ground.

  Dagan's hands trembled, and before he gave Musgaar the excuse he was looking for, Toren stepped in. "My lord, Dagan and I were discussing how to create a sword that could vanquish evil spirits. It was just idle talk. You see, Dagan found this book that says for us to create a sword, we need a willing human sacrifice. See, look here." He held up the book.

  “Toren!” Dagan hissed.

  "It's okay. I'm sure His Lordship was just curious," Toren said.

  "Now, here is someone who understands how to give respect to his betters." Musgaar gave Dagan a side-long glance before snatching the book from Toren's hands. His eyes quickly inspected the open pages, and he barked a laugh. "Now, that is funny indeed. Whoever would be mad enough to sacrifice themselves for a bleeding sword."

  "Which is why I am not attempting to infuse this enchantment with the sword." Dagan moved to take the book back, but one of his brutes stepped up between them. "If I wanted to harm your master, I would've killed you first."

  Musgaar snapped the book shut and rubbed his chin. "If I can get you that willing soul, will you make this sword for me?"

  "What?" Dagan cried. "Are you out of your mind?"

  "Watch your tone," said the brute blocking Dagan's path.

  "You need a willing soul," said Musgaar. "I'll provide you that soul, take this sword off your hands, and give you a hundred gold coins. So, you don't think you've been cheated out of a good sword."

  "Not for a thousand gold coins would I do such an evil enhancement," Dagan said. "Looks like you didn't read the whole thing. If you had, you would know that the sacrificed soul would be trapped in the sword forever. That's how the blade will gain the power to harm spirits as it would house something of the same make as them."

  Musgaar waved a hand. "Who cares about the details? Just get it done."

  "I won't do it for you."

  "Nice choice of words." He dropped the book and left without another word.

  Toren breathed a sigh of relief. "For a moment, I thought you were going to cut him open right here in the shop."

  "I was going to cut him open right here in the shop."

  "Dagan, you need to let it go," Toren said. "And I didn't like the look in his eye when he left. He's sure to cause some mischief. It's best to put whatever enchantments you want and hurry on your way."

  "What? Now? It'll be sundown soon," Dagan protested.

  "Trust me on this, friend. The sooner you leave the village, the better it will be for everyone."

  Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  "Then, let's get to work."

  Dagan and Toren spent the next several hours perfecting the blade. Toren put the finishing touches hastily. He grumbled about not having enough time to finish it but did his best. Meanwhile, Dagan readied the ingredients for the enchantments he had planned to put on the sword. If he had the time, he would've done his due diligence and ensured the sword was infused with all the necessary enchantments to take on any monster.

  By the time he finished, it was dark outside, but his sword was gleaming. The firelight reflected in its blade as if it were a shiny mirror, and the sword's stats were almost as good as any legendary sword.

  +15% Chance to cause Bleeding

  +15% Dismember Bonus

  +20% Bonus damage against monsters

  +20% Critical Hit Chance

  +50% Critical Hit Damage

  "There you go," Toren said. "A perfect sword to take on any monster, though you might have a hard time with wraiths, but then you always have your legs for that. Run as fast as you can, just like you should be doing now."

  Dagan nodded. "Thank you, brother. I could not have done it without you."

  "Aw, you're going to make me cry. Now, quickly head home, grab your pack, and hit the road."

  There was a muffled sound coming from the shop as if a woman had been gagged. Dagan tightened the grip on his sword. A moment later, the leather curtain furled open, and Musgaar returned.

  "Oh, no need to hurry," he said. "I've come myself to collect my sword, and look, I've brought a willing sacrifice."

  He stepped aside and held the curtain aside as one of his brutes dragged in Dagan's wife.

  "Raemina!" Dagan cried and sprang for her.

  "I wouldn't be too hasty, for you haven't seen all your guests," Musgaar said.

  His second brute walked in with Dagan's sons, Deihan and Raelmir. His scummy hands were around his sons' throats, and their mouths were gagged with a dirty cloth.

  "Unhand my sons!" Dagan roared. He moved to kill them all, but what Musgaar said next chilled him to the bone.

  "Boys, if he moves without my consent, slay his family."

  Dagan stilled. His anger threatened to burst outwards and destroy the brat for hurting his family, but he cared more for their safety. He couldn't risk it even if he could take them all.

  +1 Wisdom

  +1 Patience

  "What is the meaning of this?" Dagan snapped.

  "You asked for a willing soul that wouldn't mind being sacrificed for your sword." He flourished a hand towards Raemina. "Here you go, but don't take my word for it. Let's ask her."

  The brute drove her to her knees and yanked the gag out of her mouth. Tears streamed down her bruised face as she called out his name. “D-Dagan, what is happening?” She broke down into whimpers.

  Dagan didn't dare move, not even to comfort her. His boys weren't any better. They cried and called out for their father, but the gags muffled their little voices.

  "It's okay, my lady," Musgaar said. "After all, you are a noble lady, even if you were born a filthy peasant. But that's not what we've gathered here to discuss. Let me ask you the same question that I asked you in your home—would you give your life so your sons could live?"

  "Y-Yes."

  "Of course, you would. Which mother wouldn't." He turned to Dagan, flourishing his arms wide. "And hence, a willing sacrifice. Imbue her soul into my sword, or I will slit your boys' little throats."

  "Why?" Dagan said through gritted teeth. "Why are you doing this?"

  "Because your family used to do this to us when we were beneath you. When we had to lick your boots. Oh, my grandfather told me many stories of your great family, and I used to pray that a day came when I could return the favor."

  "You're taking revenge for imagined slights that may or may not have happened half a century ago," Dagon shouted and would've cut the vile man's throat if Toren hadn't gripped his sword arm.

  Musgaar breathed heavily. "Are you calling your Lord a liar?"

  Toren stepped in. "My Lord, it doesn't need to be her. I'm sure we can find someone else."

  "No, we cannot. Where else will I find such a willing sacrifice?" Musgaar smiled viciously. "Now, shall we get to sacrificing, or would you like to choose one of the boys?"

  Raemina gasped. "No…" She crawled forward on her knees. "I'll be a willing sacrifice. Please don't do anything to my children."

  The boys wept, Raemina begged, Toren tried once more to reason with the cruel brat, and Dagan was in his personal hell. He stared at the sword, and the more he stared, the more he knew it was the root of all his troubles. With a mighty roar, he chucked the sword into the glowing furnace.

  Musgaar yelled an order to his brutes to get the sword out immediately. He wanted to kill Musgaar. Long had he wanted to put this brat out of his misery, but his brute still had a knife at his sons' throats.

  Despite the shouting, Dagan didn't hear anything. His eyes only beheld his wife's weeping eyes. He vowed that Musgaar would pay for each of her tears.

  Then, the sword came back in Dagan's vision. Musgaar was holding it with a pair of tongs by the blade. "I'm sure it's quite cool."

  Dagan glared at him with murder in his eyes. He gripped the sword, and fumes hissed out from his hand. The hilt burned, but Dagan did not let go. He wanted it to burn, for this would be his sacrifice. Raemina and Toren cried out, but he didn't let go of the hilt.

  "It's okay. I'm fine," Dagan lied. The pain brought tears to his eyes, and the blade was seared into his hand.

  "I was going to be nice, but since you decided to destroy my blade, I'm going to destroy your soul," Musgaar said.

  "I'll do it," Dagan said. His eyes couldn't meet Raemina's. "I'll k-kill—"

  "Oh no, you didn't let me finish. I'm not going to sacrifice your wife. No, as punishment, I'm going to sacrifice one of your sons, and the best part is you get to choose which one."

  Dagan went cold. A fear like none other seeped into his soul. He looked at his boys, and they quivered as they wept. Their mother tried crawling to them, only for the brute to pull her back by her hair.

  He could do nothing but watch, frozen in place by the knives at the throats of his children. But then someone moved beside him.

  Toren gently lifted the sword by its blade and made a cut on his neck. Blood sprouted immediately. He placed a hand on his bleeding neck and fell to his knees.

  "You mad fool, what have you done?" Dagan cried.

  Toren smiled a bloody smile. "As if I would've let you harm my nephews. I'll be the fucking sacrifice. It's not like I have anyone to weep after me."

  Dagan dropped the sword and hugged the man who was like a brother to him. "No, no, no…"

  "He was going to kill you all," Toren huffed, his eyes growing hazy. "I go willingly. Now pick up the sword, plunge it into my heart, and say the damned words or my death will be for nothing."

  He gently laid his friend down as his wife wailed, and his children watched in horror. He picked up the sword with a quivering hand and placed the tip over his friend's chest.

  "I love you, brother," Dagan whispered. "Thank you…"

  Toren was in no condition to reply. His breathing slowed, and his eyes rolled up into his head.

  Dagan drew a deep breath and plunged the blade into his heart, ending his life.

  "Now, say the words," Musgaar said. "You don't want his death to be in vain, do you?"

  Dagan's rage returned. He spoke the words as he glared at the noble brat.

  Holy Magic Added: You can destroy the wicked souls of monsters and evil spirits and hurt ethereal beings.

  He held up the sword to Musgaar. "It's done." He reached for the sword, but Dagan pulled away. "First, let my family go."

  "I was hoping to destroy your family, but I suppose he was family, too.

  "He was," Dagan said. "Now, let them go."

  He waved to his men, and they did. His family rushed to him as Musgaar snatched the sword from Dagan's hand, and he let him.

  They crashed into him, and he hugged them tight as they huddled over the body of the man who gave his life for them. He was more than a brother, and he was wrong. They would weep for him and carry this grief in their hearts, for they owed him a debt they could never repay.

  "Raemina, hold the kids tight," he whispered.

  She frowned at first but nodded and put her arms around the boys.

  Then Dagan drew Silverfang and fell into the Lion Slasher stance.

  "Then what?" Roverin asked, lifting his feathered quill from a leather-bound book.

  "What do you think I did?" Dagan replied.

  The old ghost smiled. "Oh, I'm imagining lots of justified vengeance, but that is a heavy price to pay for a thing of metal." He grew quiet for a long time. "What did you name the sword?"

  "Soul Breaker."

  "Ah, because it vanquishes wicked souls."

  Dagan shook his head. "No, because it broke my soul to create it."

  Roverin gave Dagan a sad smile and scribbled something in the book.

  "What are you writing in that book?" Dagan asked. The ghost had been writing away even since Dagan began his tale.

  "Your story," Roverin replied. "How else am I to remember all that you've said? This way, I'll pull out this book and remember you when I get bored. Eternity is a long time, and I want lots of reading material. Say, who taught you how to fight?"

  Dagan opened his mouth to refuse, but the ghost replied.

  "It's just another story, and I assure you your treasure is not running away. It'll still be there."

  Dagan sighed. "Fine, but it's the last one."

  "After yours, I'll tell you one of mine."