A Sword's Desire

The soldier limped along the dirt path, his breathing heavy as he used his worn and rusty sword as a cane, digging it into the ground and pulling his mangled body up the desolate hill he was being forced to climb. He was running; running from that awful scene that splayed out behind him. It was unlike anything the aging soldier had seen in his entire life. It all happened so fast, it was like a blur of lightening. One minute a small Banette stood in the middle of the battleground and the next minute the ground was running red from the blood of the soldiers.

No one survived. No one except the beaten soldier who desperately attempted to get away from that monster.

That thing was no Banette. There was no way a normal Banette could possess such power, it just wasn’t possible. That small Ghost Pokemon had evolved before the soldier’s very eyes. It evolved from a Pokemon into a monster. The red light had wrapped around the Banette’s grey body before disappearing, a new Pokemon standing before the once fighting soldiers as the light withered away. The man who sent it into the battlefield had let out a sickening laugh.

“You’ll pay for dirtying this world!” The soldier remembered the man crying out, his cruel laughter only getting louder as his Banette joined him. The soldier could still remember what that monster looked like. The Banette had evolved, growing much taller. Its hands turned into balls, the zippers on the new hands opening to reveal sharp, purple claws. Its pointy legs held it up as the monster held a sickening smirk on its face, that sadistic zipper mouth grinning at the soldiers it stood before.

He remembered the monster taking to the air, his trainer running off as the purple winds surrounded the soldiers, cutting through them as if they were made of paper. Their armor stood no chance, the winds were too strong. The blood sprayed from the new cuts, the soldiers letting out blood curdling screams as the winds slashed them repeatedly, the monster hovering above chuckling evilly at its work. The soldier could remember when he was first hit, the winds whipped around his legs, slashing and mangling them. He crumpled to the floor, doing his best to crawl away, making sure to stay beneath the winds that slashed furiously around.

The winds swept lower and lower, beginning to cut into his arms. He remembered the pain that seared through his body, but he kept crawling. He was a seasoned soldier and he knew a soldier did not give up until he was good and dead. It was dishonorable for a soldier to give up. As he crawled away from the scene, he pulled out his trusty sword, pushing himself to a standing position, his battered legs shaking and screaming beneath him. With slow movements, he began to move his sword forward, jamming it into the dirt before pulling his body behind it. He pulled himself little by little, leaving behind that monster and the carnage he’d seen.

He had to tell the village. If a monster like that was around, the villagers had to know. He spent his life protecting this village; he had vowed to give his life for this village. And that’s exactly what he’d do. He wouldn’t give up, not until the villagers were warned or until that monster killed him. He’d keep pushing forward no matter how much his body screamed in agony. His duty as a soldier came before everything else.

As the soldier finally made his way to the top of the hill, his blurry vision laid on a sword that fell in the middle of the pathway. It must belong to a fallen soldier. It wasn’t uncommon for some belongings of a soldier to be dropped when the villagers carried his lifeless body back for a burial. It wasn’t an easy task. Ever as slow, the soldier limped over to the sword, collapsing to his knees by its side. If he had another sword, it’d be easier to get back to the village. He could use it as another makeshift cane and if that monster came back, he’d had a better chance at defeating it.

The soldier shuddered at the thought of that despicable abomination coming back. That thing didn’t deserve to exist. It shouldn’t exist. It deserved to die. It was too powerful. It was too bloodthirsty; it would destroy everything in its path. Shaking his head, he reached out a hand, his frail fingertips gently grasping the hilt of the blade.

As soon as his fingers wrapped around the hilt, the soldier could see a single eye on the sword shoot open, the blue cloth attached to its hilt coming to wrap itself around the soldier’s arm. The soldier’s eyes widened as he saw the sword for what it really was. This was no sword. The soldier had just made a grave mistake.

The sword-like Pokemon took to the air, forcing the soldier onto his feet. The elder soldier cried out, tugging his arm as he screamed in a useless attempt to break free. The single eye and cloth began to glow a devilish red color, the searing pain returning to the soldier’s body. His screams got louder, his arm thrashing wildly. But the sword would not budge. It stayed floating, the eye staring intently at its victim. No matter how the soldier tugged, the steel blade wouldn’t move a single inch. It was much stronger than the frail and broken human it held hostage.

The soldier fell to his knees, the tugging beginning to stop. His breathing got heavier, his cheeks beginning to cave in. Looking down at his wrists, he could see the little meat on his bones begin to fade away, his bones soon beginning to protrude from the once full wrists. He coughed, the blood splattering onto the ground.

His life was being drained from his body.

He could feel his body growing weaker and weaker. The coughing continue, new splatters of blood appearing on the ground with every cough his frail body made. His skin continued to fade away, hugging his body so his bones popped from every angle they could. The soldier’s eyes glanced up as the sword floated downwards, coming to hover in front of him, its lifeless eye and emotionless face staring straight at him.

The soldier opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. His throat was filled with blood that wanted to spill over, talking was long over for him. In a swift movement, the sword Pokemon twirled its body around, slashing at the man’s neck. The soldier gurgled, his body slumping forward, the blood pouring from his throat and staining the ground below him.

His body convulsed as the body came to hover just above the ground, his blood staining the bottom of its silver blade. The convulsing stopped, the little life that remained in the soldier draining away, flying into the atmosphere. The Pokemon slowly floated into the air.

It wasn’t satisfied.

That man wasn’t enough; he didn’t have enough life left in him to satisfy its hunger. It needed more. It needed another meal. The Pokemon continued to float further and further into the air, its haunting eye looking straight at the lifeless man until its victim was out of sight. Finally out of sight, the Pokemon dipped back down to the ground rushing through the bushes, the other Pokemon running away from it as it flew.

Soon, it found another path away from the one its previous victim laid upon. Another seemingly deserted path, but it knew a meal would come along in due time. It could wait a bit, waiting was part of the fun. The sword fell to the ground, its eye shutting tightly as it laid in wait. It would have its next victim soon.

#679
Honedge
Ghost | Steel
If anyone dares to grab its hilt, it wraps a blue cloth around that person’s arm and drains that person’s life energy completely.