2 Mysterious Sword

“Ace.”

“Hm.”

“Aaace...”

“Hmm.”

“We’re lost, right?”

“We’re not lost, just a bit off route.”

“So we’re lost.”

“...probably. Don’t get angry, your cheeks get puffy like a mochi, whenever you do. It’s cute though.” The man called Ace showed a playful smile as he teased the other, seemingly younger male.

The youth gave a shallow “Haha” before he continued in a deadpanned voice, “I can give you a mochi, a spicy one. But we have to return for that first. Now get that ancient vehicle to run or we will never reach civilization by sunset.” 

He paused for a second and contemplated whether he should ignore the flirt approach or rebuke Ace for it. In the end, he chose the former and simply threw the other a meaningful look. 

His tone was much calmer as he asked, “Is it really here?”

The childish expression on Ace’s face was replaced by a smile that was yet a smile. He didn’t comment on the question, but his eyes radiated an unshakeable certainty, that made not believing him an act of atrocity.

The other averted his gaze and his face heated a tiny bit, “How can you be so damn handsome while dodging my question…” he murmured.

***

The gaming console was totally worthless, utter trash and unusable package— that was the conclusion, the youth came to after fidgeting with for a good half an hour.

“Aaargh!”

He didn’t cuss like a normal person would do, instead, he let out a scream of anguish and rage. 

THUD!

A fist slammed down the broken console and formed cracks on the smooth surface. Now it looked truly wrecked. Electricity was a scarce resource in a post-apocalyptic world and he actually wasted it on a lump of garbage.

Thanks to this pointless distraction, he wasted a good amount of time. Not one thing got done, but it was already noon. Taking the season into account, he only had some few hours left before the sun would set and the whole city would be engulfed in darkness.

Being without light was no problem, but the night often invited nasty intruders into the city.

The realization of this rotten fact, made the youth gnash his teeth in annoyance. The day went downhill from the moment he had laid his hands on the cursed movie.

He wanted to curse. He really wanted to cuss out his soul. His mouth parted more than once, but in the end he shut it without a word.

However, it didn’t mean that his anger had subsidized. To vent his frustration, he took out his baseball bat and wreaked havoc in the city. The dilapidated billboard with the stupid toothpaste advertising was battered into abstract art. The broken cars on the street had their side mirrors and windows smashed into tiny pieces, while the rusty bicycles were bent beyond recognition.

Just as he wanted to smash another window to smithers, a lilac gleam caught his attention. Although the glimmer lasted not long, he could still tell exactly where to go; as if the path was marked with directions. 

It was the stroke of fate that would change his life completely. 

He followed his instincts and found himself in an antique shop, a place he normally wouldn’t step in. One flighty scan told him all he needed to know. 

F*cking sh*t, what’s this trash?!

Actually, the goods in that shop would be worth a small fortune, if it had been sold before “that day”. Too bad the apocalypse happened eight years ago, leaving only a 15-year old teen on earth. A teen who had a bad temper and didn’t seem to be out of puberty yet.

He wanted to swing his bat on those vases that had become no more than littered trash and dust collectors. Both arms were already lifted up and the tip of the bat itched to hit something. His abuse of the bat would make baseball players shake their heads in disgust. The only redeeming quality would be his trained body that would make up for the power lost due to poor technique.

Shatter! Shhhh…

It’s said that shards will bring luck!

But that’s utter bullsh*t.

Why was he left alone on earth? Where did every soul disappear to overnight?

If shards would bring a sh*t bit of fortune, then he would have had a harem filled with beauties long ago and he definitely wouldn’t be best friends with his right hand.

The thought of being left alone, living day by day like a garbage scrapper and having nobody to talk to apart from his poultry livestock, made him furious again. The movements of his swings became more fluid and wrecked everything in its track indiscriminately. The mayhem didn’t stop until the shop was nothing more than a junkyard.

His rage disappeared, however, the void in his heart remained.

Was he actually living? 

He didn’t know anymore.

No, he stopped thinking about it long ago.

A pair of golden eyes lost their luster, replaced by apathy and languor. They swept over the pile of porcelain fragments and dust. He became nauseated.

The more the world decayed, the more he became sensitive to dirt. Even though he had all the resources of the world to himself, everything was bound to age. Thus, whenever he came to a new place, there would lay a thick layer of dust everywhere or some disgusting tenants would have taken root already.

When resources were used up, he would move.

Whenever he would move, he would need to clean his new place.

It was annoying, a never-ending cycle.

I'm not going to stay here any longer. 

Just as he wanted to leave that cursed place, his temples throbbed with sharp pain. A bright glint exuded from his eyes and his line of sight involuntarily locked onto the darkest spot in the shop, which sucked him in like a black hole.

The pressure on his head made him unable to think straight, but he could feel the pain diminish the closer he came. His body moved on its own and he reached for the item that had emitted the lilac light from earlier— a katana.

It was undoubtedly a cimmerian katana, yet the moment his fingers touched the smooth surface, a surge of soothing energy rushed into him. 

Starting from the palm that was holding the amethyst sheath, the energy made its way through the vessels of his arm; Spreading into every ounce of his body. It felt like the purification of his blood, flesh and bone marrow.

He regained his vitality and felt stronger than ever before. However, the sudden power boost didn’t last long, before the surging energy evolved into a raging storm. The pain, that was enough to turn anyone insane, clouded his common sense, and a dangerous thought crossed his mind:

Let me die.

With a blurry vision, his free hand reached for the swords handle. He unsheathed the katana and the scabbard was thrown away. A silvery white blade aimed for the youth’s belly, and the blackish cutting was only a thumbs away from his skin. But, before he could harm himself, the energy shot up to his eyes. 

It wasn’t simple pain, the sensation could be described as cruel torture— The experience was akin to cauterizing his eye sockets by inserting a blazing iron stick. Unable to stop the pain, the youth dug his nails deep into his face. He pulled at his skin until blood was oozing out from the ripped parts.

“AAAAAAAAAAAHHH—“

A blood curdling cry reverberated through the ghost city. Every living being could sense it and quivered in fearful reverence. They dared not to come closer to the source of divine energy...

By the time the pain subsided, his senses were completely numbed. A golden stigmata was imprinted into his wide open eyes, but only his subconscious still held him standing. When the katana finally stopped its mana supplement, his body wobbled and he passed out for good.