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The sword of the hero (part 1)

  Warning drunk speech in between

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  “I can’t believe you couldn’t see that switch,” I muttered as we approached the door at the other end, covered in blood—which was generally not a good sign.

  “As I said before, we don’t explore deep caves,” Feya grumbled.

  “We should have not gone.”

  Somehow, we hadn’t died from the rockfall. Instead, we ended up in an underground wetnd—or maybe a wetcave?

  Rocks jutted out from still water, the air was thick with dampness, and glowing mushrooms lined the cavern walls. A slow drip echoed from somewhere above. It felt… old. Wrong. Like we weren’t supposed to be here.

  I definitely should have gotten the point and left that pce, but we were lost.

  We wandered for what felt like several days, fighting off strange creatures—things that looked like bloated samanders but had too many eyes. A fish monster with humanoid arm-fin things tried to drag Feya into a deep pool, but Cyrus cut its fing—fingers off before it could.

  A monster with twisted, wiry bodies, faces too long, glowing eyes.

  Oh, and that weird shell thing?, it just screamed at us when we got close

  Then, we found it.

  A bunch of suspicious contraptions made of stone, metal, and magic, all humming with a faint energy.

  A click and then...

  I nearly got crushed to death by a huge stones that fell from the ceiling

  Traps... Because of course there were traps.

  We successfully trapped ourselves in a rock maze made by probably by an crazy mage

  If that wasn't bad enough there were also occasionally monsters behind the doors

  Like that one time another ogre greeted us in the next room.

  “Can’t we discuss this like civilized people?” I asked. “Please?”

  The ogre stopped, furious.

  As I would ter learn, in their nguage, “please” sounds just like “peas,” which was an insult that meant “big stupidhead.” This was horribly offensive to an ogre.

  Trust me, I was just as surprised as you were to find out that they even had a nguage.

  Anyway, we got more bruises and more Vos.

  Killed more and got more Vos.

  Killedkilkilkilleeddfand took all those wonderful mind-numbing bonnius Lavosss.

  Itttt wasd wecccrid Efweryt BOMNNJIE proecsutwd great posiomomf with fell. All toisngoigni.

  HAAA! Die, die, die!

  I didn’t reember when we sat rampaging, but wasd definitely dingi it now.

  Cyyyyrus was cutting down monsters like they were weeeeeds heh. Feya was flipping around, sshing left and right. And me? I was throwing magic at everything that moved.

  This was great.

  Everything felt amazing. Too amazing.

  “HAHA! TAKE THAT!” I cackled as another goblin exploded into green mist. More of that Lavos energy flooded into me, making my body feel light and overflowing with power.

  Too much power. Too much Zeal my brain tremblessss yesh.

  We rampaged through more monsters like craaaazy, fighting things that may not have even been there. At one point, Cyrus tried to wrestle a stagmite because he was connnvinced it was alive.

  It wasn’t... I found tat so fhunny that I faced ughing and then my foot slipped on something wet. My vision spun.

  SPLASH.

  Ice-cold water swallowed me whole.

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  When I woke up, my head was pounding like a drum. My clothes were soaked, and I felt like someone had wrung me out like a towel.

  Feya groaned next to me. “Ugh… never again. No more drinking ale.”

  Cyrus sat up, blinking… his face turned from purple to peach. His hand went to his sword—wait. His sword wasn’t there.

  Instead, it was embedded in a rock.

  A very shiny, suspicious rock.

  Now that you mention it, I should have told Cyrus that his sword was over there to the left, but I was too wasted to say anything.

  Cyrus tilted his head, then stood up. Walked over. Grabbed the sword.

  And pulled.

  A wave of golden light exploded outward. The ground rumbled. The rock split clean in half.

  “...Okay,” I admitted, “that was pretty cool.”

  Before we could celebrate, the cave wall opened up. Like a door.

  A voice boomed from the darkness. “Warriors. I have waited long for your arrival.”

  Silence.

  I groaned. “Can we at least get a nap first?”

  “We are really exhausted,” Feya added.

  “Oh, alright. What is a few hours anyway?”

  “Thank you!” I shouted and promptly passed out.

  And just like that, our very bad decisions led to even worse consequences.

  The first thing I saw when I woke up was a pale, wrinkled monster with a long white beard, long white hair, and ragged robes.

  I screamed. Feya screamed. Then Feya punched him so hard he almost became a ghost for real.

  The old man flew. He crashed into a rock with a very undignified “oof” before curling into a ball, groaning in pain.

  “Did I just punch a ghost?” Feya asked, still half-asleep.

  “You punched something,” I said, watching the old man wheeze.

  After a moment, he managed to sit up, rubbing his chest. “Is this… how you thank a host these days?”

  “Maybe announce yourself before hovering over unconscious people,” I shot back.

  He muttered something about ‘kids these days’ before standing up properly, attempting to regain whatever dignity he had left.

  “I,” he decred, “am Varthus the Bold!”

  Silence.

  Cyrus slowly signed, ‘Who?’

  I shrugged. “Never heard of him.”

  Feya gnced at me. “Is he important?”

  Varthus twitched. “I am Varthus the Bold! Guardian of the Holy Sword! Master of the Ancient Fme! The One Who Vanquished the Demo—”

  Feya raised an eyebrow.

  “…helped vanquish the Demon King!” Varthus corrected quickly. “But most importantly, I was once a companion of the great hero, Glenn the Hero!”

  This time, we all reacted.

  “Wait—the Glenn?” Cyrus signed frantically.

  “The hero from the war?” Feya added.

  “So you’re telling me he was real?” Feya asked.

  “I am surprised that you never met him,” Cyrus signed.

  “I am only fifty years old, human!” Feya retorted.

  “Yes! Of course he was real!”

  “Uh-huh. Right.” I narrowed my eyes. “And I suppose you’re over a hundred years old too.”

  “Yes! For all these years, I have guarded his legacy!” Varthus snapped.

  ‘That is a bedtime story,’ I signed. “This old man is probably cave-mad.”

  Varthus scowled. “Do I look like a bedtime story to you?”

  “No, you look like a nightmare!”

  Varthus clenched his fists. “Listen here, you little gremlins, I have been guarding the Holy Sword for centuries, waiting for the worthy one to appear. And now—”

  He pointed at Cyrus. “You have drawn it! That means it is time for the trial!”

  Before any of us could react, he punched Cyrus.

  And sent him straight through a rock wall.

  Varthus grinned. “Yes! The first test of the—ow, ow, ow, my hip—”

  He doubled over, wincing in pain.

  I blinked.

  Feya blinked.

  Cyrus groaned from the other side of the rubble.

  “Cyrus!!!” we shouted, realizing what had just happened.

  I immediately set the old coot on fire.

  “AAAAAHHHH!”

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