The Birth of Revenant

The crow of a rooster broke the darkness before dawn, waking Andre from a troubled sleep. He straightened up, his muscles groaning about the activities of the day before. Today, they were planned to leave Nefari and proceed with their journey towards the Azurean border.

He was startled by a loud bang on the door of his temporary tent. "Corporal Andre?" came Malkof's booming voice.

Andre quickly put on his boots and rushed to open the flap. "Malkof, its quite early ain't it? What's wrong?"

The elderly blacksmith remained in place, with a sly sparkle in his eyes. "Wrong?" he boomed with a laugh. "Just the opposite, lad. Your sword is finished."

Andre blinked in astonishment. "Finished? Already? I thought it would take longer."

Malkof's smile grew bigger. "Call it a blacksmith's pride. Couldn't wait to show you this beauty." He gestured for Andre to follow him deeper into Nefari.

They reached Malkof's workshop, the atmosphere thick with the lasting smell of scorched metal and wet soil. Malkof pointed to a workbench where a lone item was illuminated by the golden morning sun.

Andre's breath hitched. The guard, shaped like a cross, It was an intermediate sword, longer than a short one but shorter than a long one, ideal for both one-handed and two-handed combat. The blade was a dark black color, like obsidian, and had a subtle hint of purple luster.

was adorned with intricate Dwarven designs.

Along the fuller, a groove running down the center of the blade, small crystals were embedded, glowing with a faint blue light. The pommel, hefty and black, was etched with a single rune, the one he had shown Malkof – the symbol for amplified force.

Malkof's voice broke his daydream. Careful, lad," the blacksmith said, his voice low and serious. "This one packs a punch. It can be used one-handed for faster attacks, but its true power lies in two-handed swings."

He touched the shining crystals on the fuller.

"Those are Mana conduits. They channel your magic directly into the blade, increasing its potency. But be warned," Malkof's eyes narrowed, "it's a two-way street. The sword can amplify your Mana, but it can also drain it if you're not careful."

His hand quivered slightly as he touched the sleek, chilly black metal. As he touched the crystals, they began to pulse with an even brighter blue light. He felt a rush of power, a link to the sword that was both thrilling and frightening simultaneously.

He walked out. He needed a place to test his new sword. It was too beautiful, too powerful, to simply hang by his side. He needed to feel it, to understand its weight, its potential. But first, it needed a name.

His thoughts raced as he studied the Dwarven runes carved into the pommel.

A good sword deserved a good name, one that sounded catchy and held power and the darkness it was meant to combat. Silence, he thought, too generic. Shadow? Too edgy. He pondered some more, Phantom sounded too edgy and Razor sounded like something a serial killer would name his sword. Then, it hit him.

"Revenant," he whispered, the word heavy on his tongue. The crystals on the fuller seemed to pulse ever so slightly, a flicker of recognition. A wry smile played on his lips. Perhaps it was just his imagination, or maybe, just maybe, the blade itself approved.

He swung the sword cautiously, using only one hand. It was unexpectedly light and perfectly balanced for quick attacks.

However, it was the use of both hands that really brought out its full potential. When he firmly grasped the handle with both hands, a rush of energy flowed through his body. The sword seemed to vibrate with hidden energy, ready to be released.

Andre focused, taking a deep breath. He imagined the Mana as a swirling vortex of energy within himself and directed it to move into the sword. The gems on the sword suddenly lit up, shining with a brilliant blue glow similar to tiny suns. He sensed the energy pulsating within the sword, a manifestation of his own determination.

Andre let out a battle cry that reverberated through the training field before delivering a downward slash. A surge of dark energy, a manifestation of the sword's power, burst from the weapon, cutting through the atmosphere and creating a significant indentation in the ground. It left him speechless, and his arms were tingling with the aftermath.

He gazed at the smoldering hole in the earth, feeling a combination of wonder and fear churning in his stomach. Revenant served as more than a mere weapon; it embodied a force of nature, serving as a channel for his increasing power.

...

As the villagers of Nefari gathered to say goodbye to Andre and his men, the early morning sun filled the sky with a golden light. There was a gloomy atmosphere present, tinged with a hint of optimism. These individuals had looked directly into the depths of despair, and Andre, along with his motley crew of soldiers, had emerged as their unexpected hero.

Malkof, the strong blacksmith, moved ahead, his aged face showing a blend of thankfulness and worry. "Corporal Andre," he rumbled, his voice thick with emotion, "you've given us back a piece of our lives. Don't forget what you've done here."

Andre grasped the blacksmith's hand firmly, feeling dwarfed by Malkof's larger, calloused fingers.

"We won't," he said, his voice firm. "And neither will you. Keep training, keep this village strong. We may need your help again someday."

With a last farewell gesture, Andre climbed onto his horse, with Revenant safely fastened to his back. He looked at the villagers, seeing a range of emotions on their faces – gratefulness, fear, and a hint of defiance. He raised his chin, determination shining in his eyes.

"Alright, men," he barked, his voice ringing out across the clearing. "We move out! Destination – Azurean border. Time to meet up with Corvus and the rest of the 10th Legion. The real fight," he added, his voice dropping to a low growl, "starts now."