The bastard's blade

Ran stumbled through the gates of the town, his body still sore, his breath uneven. The battle was over, the crowd long gone, and yet his heart—that thing inside his chest—kept beating as if demanding more. He reached his inn, dragging himself up the stairs to the second floor, his mind clouded by pain and exhaustion.

He shut the door behind him and collapsed onto the bed.

The room was quiet. Too quiet.

The silence only made the thoughts louder.

The monster was dead, yes—but something kept clawing at him from the inside. That… state he had entered during the fight. The bloodlust. The twisted grin. The way he kept slashing even when the enemy was already dead. He clenched his chest, feeling the unnatural rhythm of the grotesque heart—pumping steadily, unnaturally, a cursed rhythm only he could hear.

'I can't lose control like that again. Not during the academy test.'

He needed that scholarship. Without it, he couldn't enter Fafnir Academy. He had no coin left, and no noble name to fall back on. The scholarship was his only way in—free residence, formal swordsmanship training, resources he could never afford otherwise.

But if he went all out during the mock battle… if he gave in to that bloodlust again…

'I'll kill someone. Maybe even without meaning to.'

Ran sat up. There was only one person in Valmonth Estate who might help with something like this.

Ms. Orifis.

The name alone sent chills through the commonfolk. A famed shaman who had been around for decades, dwelling on the edge of society. Some called her a witch. Others, a prophet. But those who knew of the strange and supernatural—of curses and things that whispered in the dark—knew her as the real deal.

He decided to visit her in the morning.

But first… sleep.

Ran closed his eyes.

______________

Darkness took him.

It was silent.

And cold.

Ran opened his eyes, only to see nothing. A void stretched endlessly around him. Black and absolute. His feet found no ground. His breath echoed like a whisper in a tomb.

"No… not again."

He started to run. Away from the cold. Away from the void. But his legs moved as if through tar, and something was behind him.

Something he knew.

He didn't want to look back, but he did.

A pale, grotesque figure appeared in the distance—lanky, tall, and inhumanly slender. Its long limbs swayed unnaturally as it walked toward him, slowly, like it had all the time in the world. Its face—a hideous, stretched grin with teeth too sharp and too many. That madman's laughter rang in the void like a bell of madness.

The demon.

The same one who tore his arms off, who forced him into a contract, who ate his severed limb like candy.

Ran screamed and turned to flee, heart racing.

But no matter how far he ran, it kept getting closer. Its laughter grew louder, more manic. His steps faltered. His breath shortened. And then—

The demon was on him.

Its arms wrapped around him like chains, and darkness poured into his mouth, his eyes, his soul.

"AHHHHHHH! F-FUCK!"

Ran shot up, gasping, drenched in sweat. His hand gripped his chest, trembling. The pseudo-heart pounded too hard, making his ribs ache. His breaths were ragged, short.

He was alone.

No one to scream to.

No one to vent to.

No one to pull him back from the madness creeping inside.

He wiped his face and stood up, ignoring the soreness in his legs. Morning hadn't arrived yet, but he had to move. Had to do something. The nightmare wouldn't let him rest anyway.

He left the inn, walking through the still-sleeping district. A few lamps flickered weakly along the stone roads. Shops were closed, and not a soul stirred.

Eventually, he reached the old hut on the outskirts. A crooked building covered in dried herbs, beads, and talismans. Smoke drifted out from a pipe chimney, and the wooden door was half open.

Inside, Ms. Orifis sat in the center of her chamber, cloaked in black, cross-legged on a rug filled with strange symbols. Dozens of totems, bones, and incense sticks surrounded her. Her face was half-hidden by the hood, but a single yellow eye gleamed through the shadow.

"You finally came, I've felt your presence for weeks. You reek of dark energy, boy."

Ran stepped forward.

"I need to know about demons."

That made her raise her head.

"Oh? A strange question from a boy who reeks of one. What do you want to know?"

"Everything, about demons. About curses. And about blood oaths."

Orifis narrowed her eyes. Her voice dropped into something slower, more deliberate.

"Demons… haven't walked this world in centuries. They were wiped out during the Hundred-Year War, five hundred years ago. All slain by the one they called The Wise One—a nameless saint whose face was never revealed."

She exhaled and continued.

"The blood oath is a sacred pact. It binds both parties—demon and human. Neither can escape its terms once sealed. A contract of that level? It's irreversible."

Ran's fists tightened.

"And the curse?"

Orifis chuckled.

"Ah, yes. The price of power. Demons rarely give gifts without leaving a stain. That's how they work. Every blood oath shares more than just power. It gives the contractor a fragment of the demon's will… their personality… their darkness. It starts small. But eventually, it takes hold."

Ran's gaze dropped. The bloodlust. The rage. The madness. It was never just him.

The shaman smirked.

"Tell me, boy… did you make such a pact?"

She was playful, but there was no mistaking the undertone—she knew.

Ran didn't answer.

His silence was enough.

Orifis leaned back, staring into the ceiling.

"You've seen them, haven't you? Even if you tell yourself it was a dream or a lie. That kind of power, that kind of aura—it doesn't come from training or talent. That thing beating in your chest—it's not human."

She looked directly at him now, her yellow eye glowing faintly.

"I've seen many cursed children in my time. But you… You're something else entirely."

Ran didn't flinch.

"I need to survive, I need to enter the academy. I need to kill that demon one day."

Orifis tilted her head, intrigued.

"You want to kill the one who gave you power?"

"I never asked for it."

There was a moment of silence between them.

Finally, the shaman gave a small nod.

"Then listen carefully. That heart inside you? That's the cage. One day, your soul will be its meal. You can delay it, but never stop it. Unless…"

Ran looked up.

"There's only one way to break a blood oath. The devil must die first."