The Duke’s Reborn Daughter Sometimes Chooses Violence.

The blade asked, my body answered. It asked me to defy, and right now, there was only one thing here worth defying: the bastard in front of me. I launched myself forward, the shining blade in my hand moving in a clean arc towards his throat. He was caught, apparently stunned by what he saw. He flinched.

The blade twisted off course just a second from beheading him. I corrected myself instantly, twisting and using the momentum to try to knee him instead. It moved off course, again. He finally snapped out of whatever daze he’d been in.

“You fucking bitch!” A mana-infused punch came, slamming into my gut. I skidded back on the floor. There was pain; I ignored it, just as I ignored the sound of bone breaking.

I charged forward again. The Fox Mask had his sword out. I wasn’t using my Gift, and yet I could see every tiny flaw in his stance. His hips gave him away as he swung forward. My body moved, stepping back just out of the man’s reach. I slashed forward at his arm. The blade twisted again. Unlike before, I didn’t overextend myself. I had prepared myself for missing.

It wasn’t a skill I had. It was an echo in my mind, one coming from the sword.

Defy.

A single word, yet it seemed to carry all the weight of the world behind it. Mana made you want to move. This was forcing me. I obeyed. Mana pooled at my feet, shooting me forward faster than I would have thought possible. There was another crack. I ignored it. The blade hummed, this time slashing right across the Fox Mask’s midsection. He didn’t even bother raising his own sword to defend. He attacked.

It was stupid to take a blow in exchange for one that wouldn’t hit. The Godblade didn’t care. My sword arm flinched down to the ground at the last momentum. The Fox Mask’s sword stabbed into my shoulder blade. More mana in my feet. I launched to the side so hard that I crashed into a wall. Pain. Agony.

My shoulder burned. I saw that my wrist had snapped. This was stupid. Why was I doing this?

Reject. It.

Easy for you to say. Damn blade. The blood still pooled down my chest. My fingers settled on the blade again, despite my wrist still being broken. It looked unnatural.

“What the fuck are you?” The Fox Mask said in confused horror. “You had a Gift. I’m fucking sure of it so ho-”

I launched forward again. I knew this was stupid. Why would this attack work any better than the last one had?

Break.

It echoed in my mind again, almost like the Godblade was demanding something. My sword thrust towards Fox’s heart, my body twisted just underneath the slash that should have severed my head. The blade twisted again, inches away from impaling him. The pommel of his blade slammed into my back. I fell to my knees. A foot slammed into my face, and I was launched into a wall again.

Crack

More bones broke, shattered, or fractured. It was hard to tell. My body was breaking.

Break!

I now knew what it wanted now. It wanted me to give myself over to its demands. It wanted me to defy, even if it meant breaking every single bone in my body. Even if it meant dying right after.

“You know that’s…quite the contradiction, little blade.” I barely managed to whisper. Even breathing came with its own dull pain.

I was going to die here anyway. If this blade wanted me to give everything I had to take this bastard down first?

Then I would.

The Fox Mask stared at something that shouldn’t have been possible. Something that had never been possible.

A Gift user with a Godblade. It was like mixing fire and snow. It simply made no sense.

That hadn’t even been the only impossibility tonight. This girl, this bitch had landed a hit on him. How? How? It didn’t make any sense. It was the first time Fox had been struck in his entire life. It hurt like hell. Thankfully, he knew a little bit about using mana to help with healing. It still bled, but it could have been worse. How did everyone else live like this?

The Girl in front of him was in the throes of the blade’s intent. Her body was broken, twisted. Each time she attacked, it twisted and mangled even more. A body like that wasn’t meant to handle the weight of a God. It was probably a simple intent like Survive or Persevere. The Fox Mask didn’t have to worry. The girl would break herself on him completely soon. He didn’t even have to move a muscle.

Right. Everything was fine. He needed to be calm.

“...quite the contradiction, little blade.” The girl whispered.

Oh dear. The poor thing was starting to talk to herself now. The Fox Mask decided to put her out of her misery after all. He raised his blade and channeled his mana into his feet. The girl’s movements might have been fast, but there was something oddly stilted about them. Now that he knew what to look for, he’d get her.

The Godblade grew brighter, so bright it was almost painful to look at. It filled the room, bathing it in light. The girl just disappeared.

She reappeared in front of him. Fox knew he was safe. He’d known it all his life. He still felt fear. The girl’s mangled sword arm moved. Fox tried to move his blade in time. He was far, far too late. The blade stopped half an inch before it slashed across his chest.

He let out a deep breath, slashing at her even as she backed away.

The girl’s legs were spasming. How was she even standing? She moved again. He almost thought he could hear bone break. He barely spotted the slice aimed for his neck.

Something in the air cracked.

The impossible sword found him.

He was flying through the air, though he didn’t remember moving. He only just saw his body crumple to the floor before everything went dark.

The masked man’s head flew. My sword slicing his head off right at the neck. I pulled back. His headless body staggered, swayed, fell. Blood spurted from the wound in a messy arc. Much of it fell on the ground between us. Much of it fell on me.

I fell too. The pain came. It had been dulled before by adrenaline or the Godblade, and now it attacked me all at once, from every side. I didn’t even have the strength to scream. The world swayed. My body throbbed. Shook.

I reached out to my Gift. Even the mental effort brought agony with it. I could barely feel it. The knobs were there, but I couldn’t touch them. Even as I tried, they seemed to retreat.

My broken fingers somehow still held onto the sword. It felt heavy once more.

My body was broken in ways I didn’t even know it could break. I didn’t feel the regret I’d expected. At least I’d killed that bastard first. Because of that, Damian would live. That was something, at least.

“Oh my, this isn’t what I expected. Not at all!” An oddly cheerful voice cut through the silent air.

I couldn’t even move my head to look. Quiet footsteps moved away from me. There was a thud.

“He really went and got himself killed!” It was a woman, I recognized that now. “Hah! I always told him he relied too much on that Gift. He never listened. That’s not how you become a Concept, fool man.”

Those footsteps came closer. A figure entered my peripheral vision. Leaned down. Silver hair glistened in the light.

Beautiful.

It was an odd thought to have, and yet I had it all the same. The woman looked oddly puzzled. Her head tilted.

“Now, how did a little thing like you manage to kill Sarim, hmm? Chopped his poor little head clean off.” She reached out with a finger and touched my head. I couldn’t move, couldn’t even answer. “Doesn’t look like you’re that far along to overpower his intent. Your little friend couldn’t either. A shame what happened to you. You’re all twisted and bent. ” She prodded my cheek. Paused. “Oh, could it be….” She reached out. The weight in my hand was gone.

The woman held the sword out in front of me. The white sheen was gone. It looked as rusted as it had before.

“How interesting.” She continued to stare down at me. “A Godblade, huh? I don’t think you have a Gift. How lucky.” The woman grinned and rose. She tossed the blade down on my chest. It landed with a thump.

My vision was swimming and blurring. Darkness crept around the edges of my eyes.

“A shame I can’t take you with me. He would have loved you. Let’s see- how do you do this again?”

Everything went dark.

Willem Cross was having the worst day in the history of bad days.

He stared at the immutable barrier in front of him. Ten of the city guard’s elite stood in front of him, pouring mana into the barrier. Without finding the Artifact itself, the only way was to flood the barrier with so much mana that it cracked. They had been at this for ten minutes now, and so far the damn thing hadn’t even shimmered once.

At this rate, Willem was going to have to bring in one of the S-rank adventurers. If he did that, the higher-ups would hound him for wasting so much money in the first place.

Willem hated being a Guard Captain. Willem had almost resigned himself to giving the order anyway when the strangest thing happened. The barrier started to fade.

“...Good job, boys!” That was all Willem could say. Maybe the louts under him weren’t as bad as he’d thought?’

“Sir, it wasn’t us.” One of the men looked back at him.

That was strange. It hadn’t even been that long. This was some kind of auction heist. How could it have ended this early?

The barrier kept shimmering, and then it was gone.

Many of his men took a step back. Willem Cross did too. The ground between the barrier and the auction hall was simply gone. It was now just a large trench, at least a dozen feet deep. That trench extended all the way to the auction hall itself. There was just one raised patch of dirt.

Willem stared. He channeled mana. He ran forward, and he leapt. Willem landed right on the small platform. Even the air here felt oddly still, like something immaterial had been drained right out of it. Willem stared down at the body.

His stomach twisted and clenched. He leaned down. The figure was still breathing, though from what he could see, it might have been better if he wasn’t.

His gaze fell on the man’s wrinkled hand. On the unmistakable ring there.

It had been a very long time since Willem had been afraid.