Black Rose

I woke with a fidgeting strain on my back.

Raising myself with effort, I found myself in an expanse of snow.

Perfectly white.

My hands scraped around as I tried to look for anything that could help me.

All that was before me was white.

No allies, senses, or emotions.

Jerking my head around, my breath broke down as my eyes narrowed down onto the only thing that had stayed upright.

A black blade. Gleamless and odd.

As my hand danced upon it, I found my senses returning, my emotions scrambling and my world losing its protective film.

My fingers were eerily cold as my legs creaked.

I could only spin my head around in search of anyone.

Frila, Red Dragon, Vigar anyone.

The senseless cold stripped me down as goosebumps had formed valleys surrounding my pale skin.

But no.

Just no.

All that was close and visible, was the black blade.

It seemed undisturbed by the environment as it merely slumped straight into the snow.

"Vigar,"

I called.

My call remained lost and unreturned as the last traces of my voice were outcast by the strong cruel winter gusts.

Well.

I might as well pick up the blade, right?

Any weapon would be an immediate help clause for me right now.

Stubbornly, I tugged at the black blade.

Despite being in quite soft and limp snow it remained wedged in.

As though it had been solidified in an unbreakable stone.

My efforts only increased as my right arm began pushing and pulling further and further.

Just a little further...

I felt as the blade became easier and swifter to move.

My confidence only rose as my efforts ensued.

Soon, as expected. The blade came loose.

As soon as it was slid out, I felt a heavy weight drop from the blade.

From that weight, came a ghost.

A phantom.

A... Vigar the great?

"Guaaah."

A neutral voice laced with fear and shock turned shrill.

The last I saw in that innocent moment was a transparent white mass that I could only hear due to its frustrating camouflage ramming into me supposedly.

The black blade had flung upwards, vibrating madly before hitting the ground with its point piercing the snow floor.

Evidently, my body was sent flying through the air backward.

Poof.

A small cloud of white snow rose before crumpling into my crimpled suit.

I sighed as I looked at Vigar with eyes tense with disappointment.

Now?

Was now really the time for such child play?

I shook and wiped off as much snow as I could, in fear of hypothermia before greeting Vigar sourly.

"Thanks for the entrance."

My voice was too tired to sound of any emotion so a dry chorus of cracks was pretty much all that sounded.

Vigar, who had apparently only just woken merely did the phantom method of rubbing his head.

"You're... welcome? I don't remember doing an entrance but if it's me then I'm sure it was spectacular."

There was the arrogant phantom I knew.

I didn't pick myself up.

Using the moment that had fallen with me to catch up with my memories and mind.

The last sight that I remembered was darkness.

I could only fathom the scene of myself and companions staying in a snow dome.

Within the sullen snow-dome was a small brand of darkness.

A patch.

A leak.

I couldn't describe it.

But there was darkness.

Not that of a shadow, a rotten emotion, or magic.

But pure, ravaging darkness.

And then my mind was stolen away by the darkness.

Two silver-rippled eyes had opened and remained fluorescent despite the darkness writhing and tediously smearing the dome, yet I hadn't registered due to the spell. Or whatever it was.

And well... now I was here I guess.

From my current situation, it was safe to assume that Red Dragon had not successfully fended against the darkness.

Frila too, on that matter.

If I had to take a weak guess then I would assume they had also been scattered around the Dungeon.

Red Dragon should be fine.

But Frila?

I feared for the girl.

Her runny mouth would not save her from dooming peril.

I suppose I might be able to find her with a fat flick of luck but I still had questions for while I was down here.

Why had the darkness spared us?

Or me, at least?

Could it not kill?

Or was it sentient?

"Vigar."

My voice croaked with confusion and dehydration.

A white mass shifted like an invisible tundra.

"Do you have any idea about what happened before and during the darkness?"

A solitary moment of silence creased the atmosphere as my ears perked for an answer.

And an answer they received.

Just not one I had expected.

"Darkness?"

Vigar spoke as if he was even more questioning himself than me.

"There was no darkness. Just a crown. In truth, I was quite drowsy and droopy before my consciousness slipped but I do remember a crown. It had the design of the old-elven royals but lacked the gold or shine that theirs had. The robes too might've had similar origins, but I wouldn't take my word too seriously. The tire can affect even the greatest of phantoms."

Discerning the facts from self-compliments I garnered enough.

There was no darkness.

But a figure.

And the figure contained darkness.

This view absorbed both of our viewpoints and seemed quite realistic.

To me, at least.

Accepting my answers, I pulled myself up using my now red and burning hands before setting off North.

Why?

Because I was going to starve if I didn't find some monsters to kill and eat.

That or the cold would take me over the passage of time.

Neither option was too appeasing from my perspective.

My footsteps were light, I picked up the black sword on the way and chucked it to Vigar.

Watching in amusement as the sword floated and drifted through the winds, I asked Vigar to examine it.

He should be pretty experienced and knowledgeable.

Therefore he could potentially answer a question or two.

Right?

Praying on the poor ex-great Phantom I continued my stray before I felt a somber and moodful voice swerving past my ears and the winter-sound scape.

"The blade has been forged from Death-Metal. It hasn't aged or rusted or dulled a day since its the creation and it seems to be far different compared to just a slicing chisel. Seeing this basic and flawed design, yet such valuable and expensive materials reminds me of blades."

I waited for the point he was trying to make.

"Blades from the Old Age."

I nodded discreetly.

"I see."

So it was from another Era?

I tried to push Vigar further on this topic as we continued piling snow trails behind us.

"Do you have any idea how it functions or something like a curse?"

My voice felt rickety as I was in bewilderment at the words coming out of my mouth.

There was no possible way that Vigar knew.

It was a blade.

There were probably millions of blades in the world.

He wouldn't know of its properties.

"I am unaware of how it functions or a curse that has been placed, but there is one thing that may lead you to both of those answers."

My neck leaned towards the source of Vigar's flat-toned voice.

"Scriptured on the back of this blade, unseeable unless one skims their skin along it is a set of words. Written in the language of the Old Age and clearly engraved in the Death-Metal that molded this fine blade. It has 2 meanings. The first is Death Raid. The kind of name that a low-ranked knight would give his blade for hopes and dreams. But the second is... strange. I feel as though I have heard it before."

"Black Rose."

I felt a sharp string of jolts prick my brain.

Black Rose.

I had seen both roses and black from this blade.

Although it now seemed like an artistic and vivid recalling, I had remembered what had happened when the Black Rose met blood.

The forming of a red lotus.

The explosion of blood that cursed the ground below.

The true name had to be Black Rose.

I was sure of it.

But still.

It felt strange.

Vigar had heard of it?

In the Old Age?

"When was the Old Age?"

My question seemed to strike a sensitive nerve as Vigar's shapeless form swallowed itself whole.

"The Old Age was when war seethed heinous capitals and struck down righteous blades. The Old Age is too far back to be of relevance or usefulness now, but not small enough or far back enough to be forgotten."

I hadn't received an answer.