Next story, part 1

I don't know the name of this yet. There are probably going to be two more parts, as I said before, coming tomorrow and Friday.


Law enforcement higher-up than the village guards walked into Ling Chu’s sword shop, both men tall and broad-shouldered, carrying greatswords on their backs. Turning from polishing one of his wares, Ling sighed. “What do you men want?”
“Not to buy,” the one on Ling’s left said. “We’re here asking about a sword you might have sold.”
“What is the significance of this sword, and who exactly are you two to know?”
“We are regional defenders, who are in search of a bandit—but not an ordinary bandit. By the reports, he is terrifyingly powerful, wielding strange powers. He was looking for a blade of Damascus steel, with which he would be able to wreak havoc on the very land. He would become a force strong enough to kill the Emperor and his heirs.”
“I did sell a blade of Damascus steel, but I don’t believe it’s to the person you think it to be.”
“How would this person differ?”
“Well, the one I sold the blade to…she is not a bandit, but a revolutionary. She is terrifyingly powerful, wielding the arcane and controlling dragons. She was given the blade by me, actually, with which she will have the strength to destroy the judicial system of this land, and annihilate the tyrannical Emperor, and every last one of his heirs.”
“GET HIM!” the guard roared. Ling realized the guards were going to wreck his shop, so he grabbed two longswords and ran out the back and around the side of the building. This way, the guards would be sure to split up and he could easily take them out one at a time.
“We must stop this!” the other guard shouted. Hearing footsteps pounding his way, he relaxed and switched to a stance where the blades both curved down in front of him, known in his time as the Praying Mantis. As the guard turned and jumped around the corner, Ling lunged forward and caught the guard’s blade between his swords, and threw both one of his swords and the guard’s out of reach. He made the death merciful, wiped the blood on the grass, and grabbed the sword he had thrown.
Climbing to the roof of his shop, Ling crept along and found the other guard easily. He dropped one of the swords from ten feet above the other guard’s head. A cut-off scream and a thud told him all he needed to know. Hopping down at the back, he picked up a better blade: a long, sharply curved Damascus steel beauty. Requiring two hands, this was forged at the same time as the one he had given the revolutionary. He went outside, whispered a goodbye to the town, and jumped as high as he could, imagining himself going even higher.
The sensation of turning into a falcon never ceased to exhilarate him, the beauty of seeing life from the air, with the wind rushing through his wings. The sword had markings on its hilt, Chinese for “Bird Demon”. These were etched in red on Ling’s back. He had to find Sora soon. She was going to have too much fun without him. After all, the fun was just beginning.