My name was Quentan!
I was an Intelligence Sword, a blade with a soul of my own!
And at that time, I was managing the Malice Furnace!
I was a sword created to strike down any and all enemies, yet because I possessed a soul!
Because I was immortal!
Because I was immune to the influence of the furnace!
I was treated as nothing more than a convenient tool!
Well, I was a tool, so I had no grounds to complain about being treated like one.
The problem lay in the application!
I was a sword; I wanted someone to use me to cut things!
Ah, no, Lady Death Mage, I didn't mean snipping the ends of strings or anything of the sort.
I meant striking down enemies!
Since this was a floating island, enemies wouldn't come?
That might have been true, but... ah, yes, very well. I would work hard.
I wondered how many years I stayed at that post.
I remembered the count surpassing five hundred years.
Perhaps it had been nearly a millennium.
The Malice Furnace remained trouble-free—always in peak condition.
It churned out a ceaseless stream of massive energy, which I funneled into the storage tank.
The tank was nearing its limit.
"Lady Death Mage! We need to swap the storage tank soon, or it's going to get dangerous!"
There was no reply.
Had she gone out somewhere?
At that rate, the island was going to explode, so instead of routing the energy to the tank, I simply discarded it.
It was a waste, but better than a detonation.
I figured she would return eventually.
She did not return.
Five years passed.
...Wait, what was going on?
Previously, no matter how long she had been away, she had checked on the furnace at least once a year.
Had Lady Death Mage died?
No, she was already dead, so... had she been purified? The semantics didn't matter!
Given that woman’s near-insane level of spite, self-termination was out of the question.
That meant someone else had purified her.
Or perhaps she had been sealed!
This was a disaster!
Ugh, how I loathed this immobile body of mine!
What could I do? What was I supposed to do?!
...There was nothing I could do.
The only thing I was capable of was tinkering with the Malice Furnace.
The most I could manage was taking the overflow energy and hurling it away.
I nearly hit a dragon once.
That was bad. It might have gotten angry and attacked the island.
...Wait.
Was that the answer?
If I could provoke something—maybe not a dragon, but something—into attacking the island, and if I could get them to touch me, I would be set.
Oh! That was a brilliant idea!
So, I set to work immediately...
Except there was nothing flying nearby.
Of course there wasn't. It had been peaceful here for ages.
That dragon from before had been an outlier.
And even for me, a dragon was too much to handle. I would leave those to the specialist dragon-slaying blades.
I wasn't bitter.
Regardless, I prepared myself for whenever something did show up.
First, I tried condensing the energy from the furnace... into myself.
It would be fine.
It was not fine.
I exploded.
The island fell, too.
It was a nightmare.
But I survived. I prided myself on my durability.
However, I was in a dire situation.
Right before me sat the storage tank, brimming with energy and riddled with cracks from the fall.
If it broke, it would blow.
And if I were caught in that explosion, I would surely die—if that's even the right word for it.
I was in a pinch.
As I panicked, a man I didn't recognize approached.
A chance!
Touch me! Touch me!
Wait, would it be suspicious if a sword suddenly spoke?
But I couldn't risk being ignored.
Time to be bold!
"There's a valuable-looking sword lying here!"
Success! I caught his attention.
He... he touched me!
Time to hijack his mind!
Grip me and run!
Wait, were there others?
"It's going to explode! Run! Get out of here!"
Somehow, I ended up caught.
Worse, the man I was possessing was treated as the culprit behind the explosion.
Sorry about that.
I had been pried from his hand, but I still maintained my grip on his consciousness.
I tried to help him escape. I really did.
But he was caught immediately.
The unit dispatched by the Korin Religion was far too strong.
As I fretted, an arrogant-looking priest appeared.
One look told me he possessed incredible power.
It was on par with a dragon, maybe more.
Possession was out of the question.
I had no choice but to feign being an ordinary sword and wait for an opening.
...This was not good.
Had they figured out I was an Intelligence Sword?
I was placed under heavy guard.
Or were they just storing me as a regular magic sword?
I did look expensive, after all.
...I was brought to a village deep in the forest.
Where was I? What was this place?
The people here... they were impossible.
Every one of them was a powerhouse whose consciousness I couldn't hope to take over.
Wasn't there anyone more fragile?
There had to be. If not, I was doomed.
Should I start praying?
Wait! There!
A villager! No matter how I looked at him, he was just a regular guy.
Please, touch me... wait, what was with this cat?
Get off! There was no point in taking over a cat's consciousness.
The man reached out to grab the cat that was playing with me and touched my hilt...
Fuhahahahahahaha!
...Wait.
What?
I couldn't take him over?
"What is the meaning of this?!"
I spoke out loud by accident.
The priest started throwing questions at me, but I had no intent to cooperate.
I had a goal: to avenge Lady Death Mage!
Until then, I would bide my time.
Fine, if I couldn't possess him, so be it.
You, villager! Display me in a proper place.
Don't just leave me anywhere.
He was going to hang me on the wall?
Not bad. But not in the corner. Put me right in the center!
...Hmmmm?
...I played dead.
Shut up, don't talk to me. I'm just a sword.
The sword already hanging on that wall was in an overwhelmingly different league.
It was presumptuous of me to even be in its presence.
Wait, villager, what are you doing?
He was going to swap me out with that sword?!
Wait a minute. Stop.
Wait!
Woooooah, listen! Please listen to me!
Don't look at me like I'm being annoying!
I forgot all about my revenge and tried to end it all.
I shouldn't have been able to move on my own, but I pushed myself.
I couldn't endure it.
What that villager was doing was like telling a peasant to take the King's throne.
Do you understand? No?
Of course not.
You were already calling the man playing with the cat over there the Demon King.
I shattered my own blade, but I didn't die.
However, I had been reduced to a useless hilt.
"Just leave me in a corner somewhere. In the garbage bin is fine."
Heh. A low-life like me belonged in a spot like that.
"Don't be so pathetic," he said.
He offered to repair me if I promised not to possess anyone without permission.
I agreed, but repairing me was no simple task.
I would need a master blacksmith... and it turned out there were dozens of them here.
I was resurrected!
Hooray!
And as it turned out, the villager wasn't a villager—he was the Village Head.
He even knew where Lady Death Mage was!
She was still around! Well, not exactly alive, but she still existed!
Thank goodness. Truly, thank goodness.
Yes, if I could see her again, I would tell them everything.
And so, I returned to the Death Mage's hands.
I was overjoyed.
Lady Death Mage, your atmosphere has changed, hasn't it?
Oh, I've changed too. Can you tell?
They used dragon scale powder to power me up!
Hahaha! I want to try a test cut on something.
Ah, no trees in the forest.
And definitely not the Dragon Scale Shield.
That would just be depressing.
Extra
Village Head, Village Head, what about that sword over there?
"That's the sword Urza uses as a body pillow. Carrying weapons is banned right now, so I can't really take it away..."
A body pillow?
"It's sheathed and tied so it can't be drawn. It's safe."
Well, maybe.
But even through the sheath, I could tell it was a sword of immense prestige—something that looked like it should have been sealed inside the body of a noble.
Not that I wanted to be a body pillow.
It was just... I strongly believed a sword should be used as a sword.
Yes, I simply felt that very strongly.