Chapter 0-1: Yes, Purely for Scorn. Hundred Percent Pure Spite. Just Malice

I come from a long line of 'Legandary' swordsmen lost in time and history. Apparently.

 But now... we're just managing members of society holding up a rundown dojo. 

But who the f*ck wants to learn swordsmanship these days?! 

No shit! We've got nukes! Choppers that rain down lead pallets! Laser technology! Fuck, I can even swear China will keep it coming!

So, who the fuck would want to learn swordsmanship?! When I'd rather spend the time grinding levels on my Call Of Duty account. I was only a few more grinds before I hit the Grandmaster rank now. So many years...so many sacrifices. I gave up my first kiss for that.

That was what I, Huey Blade, first son and Heir to the Blade Sword Family thought. How I genuinely felt. What I believed. What I still believe. 

But of course, as many other heirs born into such similar families, I had to 'uphold' some shitty tradition and keep up the lineage. To 'carry on the legacy' and some other almost philosophical sounding bullshits like that. My stinking old pops wouldn't let me breathe till I did so.

The damn old man had his time to live out his life, and now he wouldn't let me. It was at times like these I'd envy my father's condition.

Luckily or unluckily for him, my father was born with a rather weak and frail constitution that greatly limited his experiences and physical capabilities throughout his lifetime. And that included taking up the sword. So one might say our ancestral traditions ended up to my stinking old relentless Grandpa, who, throughout the heavens and the earth, will do whatever it takes, even cheating death (Twice! Bro was born with some broken plot armor!) To ensure, by his words, 'our bloodline runs strong and out traditional runs long', by continuing from me.

And trust me when I say, he wasn't going to die before making sure of it.

And to make matters worse... I'm actually quite talented with the sword. Fuck! It's both a terrifying gift, and a horrifying curse. It's all because I'm so awesome! Damn me!!

In my family, I was what we called a genius. Even among other recorded geniuses in our ancestral history (of course they wouldn't admit that, but It was quite obvious). 

I was athletic, agile, had incredible reflexes, unfairly good lucks and held a perless body among those of my age. Bitch, I was 'him'! So to someone like my old pops who was beyond obsessed with continuing our legacy and traditions, I was fresh meat.

But it must be said again, I had zero interest in our ancestral Blade traditions, and even less interest in swordsmanship. And my grandad could only beat the shit out of me in all of our 'sparring' sessions.

Eventually, word spread around. The heir of the 'renowned' Blade Sword Family...was a failure.

But hey... take a good look at me handsome face. Do I look like I give two fucks? Two mellow words.

Heck! No!

To all those who spoke shit behind my back, I showed them the middle finger. To my grandad who beat the shit out of me during each session, I showed him the middle finger...then I got the shit beat out of me for the second time that one time I did...

Until finally, the supposed day of reckoning arrived.

In accordance to the tradition that bound our family, there was a 'coming of age' ritual, and a 'rite of passage' to be held for the main heir as soon as said Heir turns 13 years of age. In this case, me.

You could imagine how I felt getting dragged out of bed that morning.

To be fully acknowledged and deemed suitable and eligible for the Patriarch position, on the thirteenth year of the 'Heir', said Heir was going to be set out 'into the world.' As soon as we were of age, we would be chased out of the house on some philosophical journeey of self-discovery for the rest of the years left to be our childhood.

And within that time the said 'Heir' was supposed to venture out and improve and bring to new heights their swordsmanship and even go further to 'create' a personal sword technique and style! And only then can they return.

...see how wack that sounds?!

The worse part is, when you're out, you're entirely on your own. Other than the minimum amount of funds given to you by the family that would only last the first year, the heir is meant to survive and fend for himself in the 'outside world'. They could receive no support or anything else from the family or any relative, except keeping in touch to keep track of progress once every six months, twice only in a year.

Yeah, yeah. I know what you're thinking.

What a barbaric ritual in the 21st century!! Sending off kids barely in puberty out to live out life on their own, that's just child abuse! It can be judged by the law, right? I swear it can. I also swore I was going to sue that smelly old geezer of mine when I get back!

I could already imagine the smug grin that relentless old geezer would have on his face. Just the thought of it...just the thought of it...just the thought of it...

But of course, never in all of all my pride was I going to let my stupid old man get one over me. 

That was why just before I left I stole our family's most prized secret tomes

Legendary scrolls and letters detailing all of the sword techniques and styles created since the 16th century along with all of the created sword styles of the previous patriarchs that date back five to six hundred years ago, and the true 'essence' of our family sword technique.

...Or so my smelly old pops would fanatically spout like a teenage BTS fan.

Usually I would only get this once I've fully and successfully returned back from the ritual, but...what can I say, I'm a grudging fine lass. I wasn't going to be satisfied if I at least didn't get one over them like this for what they did to me.

This along with our family's most prized and sacred Treasure.

"Ten O Yaburu Ken" (A/N: Directly translates to "Heaven Breaking Sword"), the blade which belonged to my great-great-great-great-great-great-grandfather, our first anscetor,and patriarch of the "Hyaku Muso No Ken" (A/N: Directly translates to "One Hundred Peerles Sword" which is the name of the Blade family's sword style and thecnique: "The One Hundred Peerless Sword Technique".)

...The name was a tongue twister so I just decided to name it "Pointy" cause of the ridiculously pointy and sharp tip.

So I stole our family's most prized Treasure, Pointy, used only by the first Patriarch, and our 'Legendary' tomes, Scrolls and Letters recording all of the established sword styles and techniques created since the 16th century and sword styles created by past heirs and patriarch.

And with all this, I was going to create my own variant of the One Hundred Peerless Sword Technique and shame all of those bastards who mocked me. 

And that smelly old man.

Make no mistake, I still had no interest in swordsmanship. I was only going to accomplish the Ritual and create a variant of my Family sword style to mock my Grandad and those jealous pricks who talked shit about me behind my back. Yes, purely for scorn. Hundred percent pure spite. Just malice.

***

Authors' Note, I wasn't gonna, but here's the First chapter to test the waters.

This is a novel that takes only second priority to me. I just had an interesting idea and plot and decided to write it down and created Swordsman in the Apocalypse. I might officially publish this if I see people like it, but I wouldn't know without reading comments or reviews, or watching the collection count rise, or the power stones double.

Which is why, if you've liked what you've read in this chapter, and are curious to see the next, indicate in the review section below.