Failure 87 (1): My Origin

The Creation: 

My creation is an unimpressive tale, I was forged by a human. He had been contacted by a demon and was tempted to help with their great goal of bringing about a demonic incursion from the nether world. He dedicated his life to creating a weapon capable to ripping through the fabric of reality for the demons.

He'd spend a year on each piece working tirelessly melting down and remaking these weapons time after time to make a the blade that will achieve this great goal. For 87 years he did this, the great broadsword I originally was, shrinking slowly, losing my martial capabilities as the time passed but growing in magical power. Till he finally passed away at the forge but a hammer away from finishing my new blade. I laid there in the heat but a mere dagger.

My black blade and crude spikes covering my body. Bloody tear drop shaped rubies in my hilt and a small blade in my handle to stab into anyone who would try wielding me. But more than anything, my eye my portal like eye that lays in my blade.

He didn't even test me yet, I needed to know. Did he succeed finally with his dying breath. All my other 86 forms were failures but surely with his death this was a sign that I finally succeeded I was finally a success. I could open the rift and end the human race as it's known. I just needed someone to use me. Someone must find me please wield me and use me, activate my great ability. So I waited. I waited for my first keeper to find me.