The Unseen Blade

The blood on Coker's knuckles had already dried, but the heat in his chest wouldn't fade.

He walked ahead of Rina and Vann now, eyes locked forward, jaw tight. Behind him, the burned fields stretched endlessly, a reminder of what the last village had become after the enemy ambush. The ashes danced in the wind like mocking spirits.

They didn't talk.

Not because they were angry… but because none of them had the strength to say what needed to be said.

They had seen the boy inside Coker shatter again. And in his place, the world had glimpsed something else—something darker.

They camped by a cracked stone altar—ruins of the old gods, half-buried in moss. Rina patched Vann's arm while Coker sat apart, staring into the woods.

Rina finally broke the silence. "You didn't just fight back there. You... slaughtered."

Vann flinched. Not at her words. At how true they were.

Coker didn't turn. "I didn't ask to be born rankless."

"And now you're what?" Vann said. "A god?"

"No," Coker whispered. "A blade."

The fire crackled between them, cold despite its glow.

That night, Coker dreamed.

He stood on a sea of mirrors. Each reflection showed a version of himself—laughing, crying, bleeding, killing.

And standing before him was a boy with his face. Same eyes. Same crooked grin.

But the smile was... wrong.

"Do you get it now?" the boy asked, tilting his head. "They called you rankless. But that wasn't a curse."

Coker narrowed his eyes. "What was it then?"

The boy giggled. "A disguise."

He snapped his fingers.

And the mirrors shattered.

Coker woke up gasping. A searing pain buzzed under his skin.

Not the second seal.

The third.

His veins glowed faintly gold beneath the surface, flickering like fireflies. He clenched his fists.

"Not yet," he muttered.

But the seal whispered back.

Soon.

Morning came fast. Too fast.

They reached the edge of Dreinhold's crater—once a magic city, now a black hole of destruction. Vann stopped short, squinting at the emptiness.

"Nothing's left," he muttered.

"No…" Rina stepped forward, voice tight. "Something's moving down there."

Below, amidst the broken streets, shadows stirred. Dozens. No—hundreds. Robed figures, dragging twisted staffs made of bone and metal. Eyes glowing blue with corrupted magic.

Vann cursed. "Cult of the Dead Wand."

Coker stepped forward. "I thought they were wiped out."

"Guess not," Rina said. "Or they heard you were coming."

Before they could move, a shape appeared before them. No sound. No presence. Just there.

A tall man in a robe of black feathers, face hidden beneath a cracked porcelain mask.

"You are late," the figure said.

"Who the hell are you?" Coker stepped forward.

The masked man tilted his head. "I am the Unseen Blade. The silence between spells. The shadow behind your strength."

"Cool name," Coker muttered. "Shame I'm gonna break your teeth with it."

But the Unseen Blade didn't laugh.

"You are cursed," he said. "But curses are only seeds."

"Yeah?" Coker grinned. "Then I'll be the tree that eats the sun."

Without warning, the masked man vanished.

No blink. No wind. Just gone.

And then Coker staggered back, clutching his chest. Blood spilled between his fingers.

"What the hell—!?" Vann rushed forward.

"No wound…" Rina gasped. "But he's bleeding."

Coker dropped to one knee. The ground trembled under him. He looked up, sweat pouring down his face.

"He cut me," he said.

"But he didn't touch you!" Vann shouted.

"He cut my soul."

Silence. Then the wind blew. And far away, laughter echoed.

Not mocking.

Welcoming.

"Third seal…" Coker whispered. "I can't hold it."

Rina stepped forward. "Then don't."

He looked at her, shocked.

"You keep trying to hold it back," she said. "But maybe that's not the way."

"You're saying I should let the curse take me?"

"I'm saying," she said softly, "maybe you're not cursed."

Coker stared at her. For once, words failed him.

Then Vann added, "Maybe you're the punishment."

Something inside Coker shifted.

He stood.

Wiped the blood off his hand.

And laughed.

Not out of joy.

Out of clarity.

"I'm not a mage anymore," he said.

Rina and Vann stared.

"I'm not a rank."

He turned to the crater.

"I'm the reason they built ranks in the first place."

As the three descended into Dreinhold, the cult stirred.

And somewhere deeper, in a place where light feared to exist...

The Demon King smiled.

"The blade awakens," he whispered.