There are weapons that slice flesh.
And then there are weapons that carve souls.
I found the second kind that day.
It was buried beneath the ruins of an old cathedral, hidden under stone and bone, wrapped in chains that still bled magic.
I shouldn't have gone down there.
The Guild had it sealed off for years.
But the flame inside me… it pulled me there.
Like a string tied around my ribs, dragging me deeper into the dark.
Lunelle warned me.
"Don't chase every whisper," she said.
But I wasn't chasing this time.
I was remembering.
The cathedral smelled like old war.
Dust. Burnt paper. Mold. Rusted blood.
Pillars had crumbled. Statues were headless.
And in the center of it all was the altar.
Shattered.
Just like the god who once knelt before it.
I stepped into the center.
The flame burned hotter in my chest — not painful, but… awake.
Then I saw it.
Lodged in the stone.
Still humming with power.
The blade was jagged, chipped, wrong in shape — almost like it never wanted to be a sword.
But something deeper told me what it really was.
The blade that killed Ash.
The weapon that ended the flame.
My hands moved before I could stop them.
I touched the hilt.
And the world changed.
[Memory Fragment: Ash — Final Moments]
Ash knelt in the same cathedral.
His armor was cracked. His right eye gone. His breath shallow.
In front of him stood her.
The woman from the river.
The one with the broken sun on her forehead.
She held the sword.
"I don't want to do this," she said, voice trembling.
"Then don't," Ash replied, smiling weakly. "Stay."
But her hand shook with guilt and rage.
"You're not you anymore."
Ash looked down at his hands. At the flame pulsing through his veins.
"No," he said. "I'm something worse."
She raised the sword.
Tears ran down her face.
"I loved you."
He nodded. "I loved you first."
And then—
Steel met soul.
And everything burned white.
I gasped and stumbled back.
The vision was gone.
The sword still hummed under my fingertips.
And I realized something:
She didn't kill him out of hate.
She killed him to stop him from becoming what he feared most.
But now that name — Ash — lives inside me.
And the sword that ended him?
It calls to me like an old friend.
Doru found me later, outside the ruins.
His face was pale. "Do you know what you just touched?"
I nodded.
"The Soulcutter," he said, voice tight. "That blade doesn't kill bodies. It kills what makes you human."
I swallowed hard. "So why didn't it kill me?"
He didn't answer.
Because we both knew:
It already had once before.
Back at the Guild, things got quiet.
Too quiet.
People started whispering again.
"He's changing."
"His eyes look different."
"He hasn't slept in days."
They weren't wrong.
I hadn't slept.
Because every time I closed my eyes… I saw her.
The woman with the broken sun.
Holding the sword.
I wanted to forget.
But the flame wouldn't let me.
Because memory is a weapon.
And I was becoming its blade.
Lunelle confronted me one night.
"You went to the ruins," she said.
I didn't deny it.
"You touched the sword?"
"Yeah."
She cursed and turned away.
"You don't get it, do you?" she snapped. "That blade is cursed. Anyone who touches it carries the last thing it killed."
I stared at her.
"…Which was Ash."
She nodded. "Exactly. And if you carry him too deep into yourself… you won't come back out."
I left that night.
Not because I was angry.
But because I needed air.
And because deep down…
I knew she was right.
That's when the demons came again.
This time — not one or two.
A whole nest.
They swarmed the outer village before the alarms even rang.
Screams echoed through the trees.
Blood soaked the soil.
And standing in front of them was something worse than all of them combined:
A demon with no name.
It stood tall — taller than a house.
Its body was made of stitched human arms.
Its face — blank. No eyes. No mouth. Just smooth skin pulled over a skull.
And carved into its chest…
Was the symbol of the broken sun.
Lunelle arrived first.
She charged in with her blades flashing.
Doru followed, roaring like a beast.
I stood at the edge of the hill, watching them fight.
The demon moved like wind.
Effortless.
Cruel.
Then I felt it.
The sword on my back — the one I took from the ruins — began to glow.
Not with heat.
But with hunger.
"Draw me."
"Let me finish what I started."
I hesitated.
If I used this sword, I wouldn't be me.
I'd be Ash.
Or worse.
But then I saw Lunelle go down.
Her side sliced open. Blood sprayed.
And something in me snapped.
I unsheathed the blade.
The world turned white.
The flame didn't just burn — it roared.
My voice wasn't my own when I shouted.
My footsteps weren't mine as I ran.
The sword felt light. Too light. Like it wasn't made of metal anymore — like it was part of my arm.
I reached the demon in seconds.
And I saw it flinch.
It knew this blade.
It feared it.
"Say my name," I whispered.
It didn't speak.
Because it didn't have a mouth.
But I heard its thoughts.
"Ash."
Then I cut.
The blade tore through it like paper.
Not just flesh — but spirit.
The demon shattered in one slash.
No scream.
Just silence.
Pure, final, absolute.
I stood there, panting.
Lunelle looked up from the ground.
"You used it."
I nodded.
"You shouldn't have."
And then the sword pulsed in my hand again.
Harder this time.
Like it wanted more.
More blood.
More death.
More names.
I dropped it.
But it didn't stop pulsing.
It just kept whispering in my mind.
"One cut is never enough."