Chapter 255 - The Desert of Forgotten Weapons ( Part 1 )

The Celestial Battlefield did not spare the living creatures.

By now, Jennie Queens began to believe that it never had any mercy.

The massive stone warrior was gone after striking the first blow. It had left behind a cracked platform and a crater capable of swallowing an entire fortress. The only reason Jennie managed to survive was her willingness to hide under the shattered stone arch seconds before the falling blade sliced the air above her.

As soon as the dust cleared out, the warrior was gone.

There was only a narrow path left.

It led Jennie away from the clouds and towards the horizon bathed in the blood-red sun. Here the sky was bleeding, as its crimson color was too unnatural.

Jennie continued moving in the only possible direction.

She had no other options.

After several hours of walking the hard rock turned to black sand. It was becoming progressively warmer and drier, almost hurting her throat. Sharp formations of dark glass began emerging from the soil, reflecting the red sky in distorted and fragmented manner—the field was covered with a thousand broken mirrors.

Soon, Jennie discovered something even more unusual than all the previous things.

Thousands of weapons.

Swords, spears, axes, daggers, halberds, bows—they were everywhere. Most of them were broken, twisted or rusty. But there were those that had never corroded, shining brightly even after the centuries of abandonment.

The farther Jennie walked, the more weapons she saw.

Pretty soon, she found herself in a field of weapons.

It was hard to estimate their number—millions of swords formed a kind of steel cemetery under the bleeding sky. They grew from the sand as fingers of buried giants, their sharp blades catching and reflecting the red light of the dying sky.

Jennie slowed down.

A faint whisper reached her ear.

"Kashira ... Kashira... wait..."

She stopped.

The voice sounded distant and frantic, as if calling to her from the other side of some battlefield—from the other side of the death.

Another whisper came from behind.

"Don’t leave me here."

Then the third one.

"Remember my name."

Jennie frowned.

Those voices originated from the weapons.

A broken spear quivered in the sand around her foot.

"Arven..."

A rusty sword lying there up to its hilt whispered another name.

"Sera..."

Cracked shield rattled.

"Commander... we held the line..."

Jennie looked ahead into the desert.

Every weapon contained a voice. And every voice—fragment of someone’s life that ended somewhere on this battlefield. Warriors who fought until they could not hold their weapons anymore. Warriors who died, thinking their sacrifice would make sense. Warriors whose names were forgotten by the world above.

And somehow, their last words were still imprisoned inside the metal.

Jennie glanced at the dagger hanging from her belt.

It was a really ugly thing.

Its handle was wrapped in old leather, its blade had a chip near the tip, and the edge was so rough that it could not cut through anything except for the thick rope. Jennie bought it in Walden since she needed a weapon—to replace the five Divine Swords taken away from her.

Right now, carrying something like this through the desert of forgotten weapons seemed almost ridiculous.

A whisper sounded from a nearby sword.

"Leonis KingHeart..."

Jennie stopped.

The voice repeated.

"KingHeart..."

And suddenly the surrounding weapons began trembling.

From one hundred whispers in just seconds there appeared a thousand of them.

"Leonis."

"KingHeart."

"The Sword King."

"The Unconquered."

"Remember us."

Jennie’s expression darkened.

"Stop."

The voices did not obey her order.

"Leonis KingHeart."

"The king is back."

"The king will lead us."

"The king will avenge us."

Jennie tightened the fist of her left hand.

"I said stop!"

A gust of wind swept across the sand.

A few weapons began to rattle against each other.

And suddenly the voices became silent.

Jennie stood alone under the red sky, breathing unevenly.

She hated this name.

Not because it was a lie. Just because it was never the complete truth.

Leonis had existed. His memories were stored in her mind, his skills had molded her instincts, his past had accompanied her into the new life.

But there was not only Leonis standing here.

Jennie Queens was born into the family that loved her. She made friends, smiled at stupid jokes, fought for people important for her and created a life that never belonged to the legendary king.

She chose to become Jennie.

And she did not want the desert of dead weapons to change anything.

"Your legends belong to you," she mumbled.

She took a step forward.

"Just passing by."

The sand moved under her feet.

Something else responded to her from the sky.

High, terrible cry split the silence—like a sound of metal being torn apart.

Jennie looked up.

Dark shapes circled the red sun. For a second she thought it was normal birds. But then one of them descended.

Its wingspan was equal to the width of the carriage. Every feather of this bird was like a sharp and long blade. The metallic plumage covered its body, while the obsidian-colored beak shined brightly. Its pale eyes were empty and not belonging to the living creature.

And then two other birds appeared behind the first one. And five. And twenty.

They circled above the desert, crying in chorus.

Jennie’s expression changed.

"Mourning Vultures."

She knew this kind of creatures from the legends. Giant scavengers who haunt the battlefields eating remnants of the ancient magic and memories of the dead warriors. According to the rumors, they did not eat the flesh.

They ate the essence of who a person was.

Memories. Names. Abilities. Experiences. All of it – anything which could be taken away without even leaving a scar.

One of the vultures spread its wings and flew downwards.

It went towards Jennie.

Jennie reacted instinctively and twisted, as its feathers which were as sharp as blades sliced the air. It passed so close to her that it cut several strands of her silver-white hair.

She took out her dagger.

"Alright then. Birds, it is."

The vulture circled her and made another pass. Jennie dodged under its beak and slashed at its wing. Her dagger met metal-like feathers. Sparks splashed around her.

The bird screeched and flew away, but something touched Jennie’s forehead. She could feel a cold sensation spreading inside her skull.

For a moment, she saw a different battle scene.

Younger Jennie stood on a blue sky day, holding a sword in her hands. Someone was speaking to her. A familiar voice.

"Your left foot is positioned too much to the front. Your ribs will be exposed to your opponent’s attack coming from the right side."

Jennie’s eyes widened. She knew this lesson. She trained it hundreds of times.

The memory flickered and faded.

Jennie faltered.

"...What?"

The vulture flew back and another creature swooped down.

Jennie lifted her dagger and blocked it. Her body moved before she realized that the attack was happening. She shifted her shoulder and weight to avoid the major damage. The feathers brushed her cloak.

She stumbled back. The bird hit her face with its wing. Her face felt the pain.

Jennie backed off among the broken weapons, using the blade protrusions to prevent the vultures from coming closer. One of them hit a rusted spear and was forced to fly away. Another hit a broken halberd, and its wing stuck to the weapon.

Jennie took advantage of the situation and slashed its leg.

Her dagger hit its leg. The bird screamed. Black pieces of feathers fell to the desert sands.

However, before Jennie could continue attacking it, another bird flew above her head. Its feathers touched Jennie’s temple.

The world around her changed.

Suddenly Jennie found herself inside a training room. There were a dozen swords floating in the air before her.

She recognized all of them.

Excalibur. Leviathan. Tempest. Eclipse. Gram.

Their blades shone under the white stones roof.

Somebody said from somewhere behind her.

"Do it again."

Jennie reached for the first sword. Her hand grabbed its hilt.

Then the vision shattered.

Jennie blinked. The training room was gone. The desert came back.

But something was missing.

She could remember the swords. She could remember their names. She could remember the feeling of wielding them.

However, the precise sequence of movements which she trained with them became somehow unclear. The position of some stance. A turn. A certain counterattack move.

The information was not completely lost, but somehow blurring – like when someone wiped a wet cloth over the pages of a book.

Jennie looked at her dagger.

The vultures were circling around her.

"So that’s your trick."

One of them screeched.

Jennie’s sight became more focused.

"You’re stealing memories behind the moves."

The birds attacked her.

She evaded the first, blocked the second and ducked from the third. Her dagger moved instinctively towards the opening in the nearest vulture’s defenses. However, her wrist did not move correctly. She missed the target.

Vulture’s wing hit her chest.

Jennie was thrown backward and landed in the black sand. Her dagger was flying away from her hand.

Before she could get up, three vultures flew down. Their pale eyes were glowing. Cold pressure covered her head.

Memories started to fade.

She remembered being in Seraiya’s palace. Lucas was laughing at something.

The image became unclear.

She remembered Rudy standing next to her and smirking at her with his usual irritating confidence.

The smile faded.

Jennie’s breath got stuck in her throat.

"No."

The nearest bird brought down its beak. It was trying to steal this memory.

Rudy’s voice. Her laughter. How she used to tease Jennie whenever the latter was becoming too serious.

"No!"

Jennie thrust her left hand upwards.

Wind burst from her palm and tossed the birds up into the air. They were beating with their metallic wings as hard as they could, trying to fight against the current of air.

Jennie rolled and crawled towards her dagger. Her left hand grabbed its hilt.

She turned as another vulture flew down.

This time, Jennie did not try to repeat any of the sword techniques.

She observed.

Each of the bird’s right wings dipped a little bit before attacking. It was tilting to the left, exposing its breast for a moment.

Jennie waited until the last moment.

Then she dodged the blow and slashed its underbelly with her dagger.

Blade slipped between two layers of its metal feathers. The bird screamed. Its body convulsed sharply, throwing Jennie down on the sand before crashing itself there.

Black feathers were falling down in the desert. The bird tried to rise.

Jennie pulled herself up and looked at the dagger. Its already broken blade was bent. Long crack was running along the blade from the tip till its center.

Jennie nearly laughed.

"Of course."

The vultures were circling above her.

Jennie looked at the broken dagger, at the approaching creatures and then at the desert landscape. Sharp and irregular black glass formations, numerous weapons which were sticking here and there. Some of them were buried into the ground at odd angles, creating narrow gaps between the blades.

The vultures were fast and big. And their attacks were predictable.

Jennie’s eyes narrowed.

She could not count on sword techniques which she learned for many years. Each encounter with those birds took a part of the knowledge.

However, she could still observe. She could still think. And she could still decide what to do with the information which she had in front of her.

"Fine."

Jennie tightened her grip on the damaged dagger.

"We’ll forget how to fight properly."

The nearest bird screamed.

Jennie smiled without any humor.

"After all, I’m never been very good at doing things properly."

She started running.

The vultures followed.

As Jennie ran through the passage between two groups of black glass, the first bird crashed into the spear while the second one managed to catch a broken axe in its feathers. The third vulture attempted to fly higher, giving Jennie a clear look at the bird descending towards her.

She watched the shadows moving on the ground.

As soon as the vulture descended, she dropped to the floor.

Its sharp wings passed above her head.

Jennie rolled over and cut the joint under the wing with a dagger. The bent blade got stuck between metal feathers. Instead of attempting to pull the dagger out, she turned it.

The dagger acted as a hook now. Its force made the bird crash into one of the formations of black glass breaking its wing.

Jennie pulled the dagger out and ran away before the creature had a chance to attack again.

A new vulture descended on her. She moved back towards the group of broken spears and avoided the attack by moving left and suddenly shifting right. The bird’s beak grazed over her face.

She stabbed the gap between the creature’s neck and wings. The vulture screeched and fell to the ground.

Jennie stumbled backward and gasped for air.

Two birds were left.

The first one was circling around her while the other landed on a broken tower of weapons looking at her with pale, intelligent eyes.

Jennie could feel the memories lost. She remembered all techniques but was unable to reproduce some of them. She could recognize the stances of master swordswoman but was unable to repeat them.

Vultures took parts of her past.

However, they did not take her vision or instincts or her stubbornness.

Both vultures attacked at once.

Jennie lifted her left hand and sent a small flow of wind towards the bird flying above her as expected. The spell increased her weight. Her knees bent. The ground cracked below her boots.

However, the wind changed the direction of flight of the bird making it move closer to the ground.

Jennie used this opportunity to crouch as low as possible.

The second vulture flew above and crashed into the first one. Both birds collided.

Jennie moved forward and attacked. She did not strike any vital points but hit the gap between their overlapping wings. It meant that the place was unprotected and bladed feathers were unable to block the attack.

Her broken dagger struck twice.

The first vulture collapsed. The second one freed itself and flew off towards the sun screaming in pain.

Silence returned.

Jennie sat down near the group of broken weapons and watched them gasping for air. Her shoulder hurt badly. Her cheek was bleeding and her right hand was still crippled.

However, the dagger in her left hand seemed to be falling apart even when she was holding it still.

She looked after the retreating vulture. Then she looked at the dead creatures.

"... I survived."

This phrase sounded unbelievably. She survived without a Divine Sword. Without her techniques. Without the power that once had made her terrible enemy on the battlefields.

She survived because she adapted.

Jennie lowered herself and examined her dagger. This weapon was nearly ruined. The tip of the blade was bent. The edge was chipped, and the handle was loose.

Any better warrior would throw this dagger away. Any better warrior would spend days or weeks searching for a worthy weapon.

Jennie turned her dagger and tested its balance.

The broken tip made it impossible to use this weapon for thrusting attacks. Bended edge made it hard to cut something. The loose handle was changing its position whenever Jennie was attacking.

It was a bad weapon.

However, it had a hooked point. Narrow profile. And changing balance.

Jennie performed several moves with this dagger. Short cuts, turns, backward steps...

She changed her technique and compensated the loose handle with the heel of her palm. She stopped using long cuts and began concentrating on short strikes, hooks and using the opponent’s momentum against him.

This dagger would never become a legendary weapon. It would never turn into a Divine Sword. It would never acquire the strength of Excalibur or ferocity of Gram.

However, it did not need to do this.

It just needed to work.

Jennie held her dagger in front of her. For the first time since her arrival on this battlefield, she did not look at it with shame.

"You are ugly."

She rotated the dagger in her hand.

"You are damaged."

She pulled the handle gently.

"And you are going to break at the wrong time."

A pause.

"...I think we will get along."

She inserted the dagger in her belt.

And then the desert started to shake.

Silence descended over the desert. Every single weapon that was broken sank deep inside the dark soil, as if something under the surface was inhaling.

Jennie stood up.

The surface of the desert cracked some few meters in front of her. There was a rumbling sound coming from the depths of the desert, making the dark glass formation shake as though they were enormous bells.

The sand was moving.

Under it there was a battlefield.

Not a collection of abandoned weapons. Not an assortment of dead bodies scattered randomly.

An army.

Thousands and thousands of bodies dressed in armor, lying buried in the depths of the desert. Some were holding the swords in their skeletal hands. Some were kneeling behind the shattered shields. Fallen flags were hanging above their armor. Their symbols were already faded due to the passing of time.

In the middle of the buried army there was a huge black monument. Its surface was filled with names.

There were too many names for Jennie to be able to read them.

These bodies have not been buried by chance. These bodies have been remembered. Or maybe sentenced to stay forever.

A voice came from beneath the desert. This was not a voice of a man or woman. This was the voice of thousands and thousands of people talking through one throat. This voice was old enough to remember the first war. This voice was bitter enough to remember each and every defeat.

"You seek a weapon to kill the Demon Emperor."

The expression on Jennie’s face grew serious. She took a step closer towards the revealed battlefield.

"Yes."

The bodies under the sand began to move. Armor rubbing against armor. Thousand of skeletons grabbing ancient weapons. The sound was spreading over the desert as a sound of an approaching storm.

The voice spoke again.

"Then you understand the price of your desire."

Jennie looked at all those corpses.

"What price?"

The black monument split in two pieces. Crimson light came out of it, illuminating the faces of dead soldiers. In one terrible moment Jennie saw their last expressions. Frighten, enraged, desperate and determined faces of those warriors, who have not surrendered even when there were no chances of winning.

The voice answered.

"Every weapon is the remnant of a choice. Every battlefield is the grave of a thousand convictions."

The sand was opening further. More corpses were emerging from beneath. An army, which died before the creation of the kingdoms above.

"Power is always taken at a cost. The stronger the weapon you seek is, the more truth you will have to face."

Jennie clenched her left hand. She thought about Rudy. About Lilia. About Snow. About the five divine swords that used to answer to her.

Jennie lost so much that the term "sacrifice" sounded quite cynical for her.

But she knew what was waiting for her beyond this desert. Zuko had Astraeus. The Demon Emperor murdered the people she loved and declared war on the world.

If she returned now, all these dead would stay dead. And many others would join them.

Jennie could not afford to turn back now.

Even if the battlefield asked something else from her. Even if the trial forced her to face some uncomfortable truth.

Jennie approached the buried army.

"Tell me what you want."

The dead started to stand up. Thousand of empty eye sockets were glowing in crimson light.

The voice below the desert replied.

"Then show us what you are ready to sacrifice to gain one."

The entire battlefield opened before her eyes.

And from the lines of dead warriors thousand of swords slowly turned towards Jennie Queens