The Greed of the Black Sword

I dropped the sword to the ground, dumbfounded by its sudden comment.

The merchant and nearby customers narrowed their eyes and glared at me.

Their gazes said it all: What the hell are you doing? If you're not going to buy

something, scram.

But I was far from caring about any of them.

It talks. The sword talks. What is this…? I'd never heard of a sword with a

personality—a soul?

I analyzed it with Identify.

Greed Type: One-handed sword What? That's it?

Identifying other weapons showed me information like durability and attack

stats, but for the black sword, all I could see were its name and type.

I carefully examined the mysterious blade. It was filthy, caked in oil and dust.

Honestly, it was just like me, especially in the way it was regarded as trash.

When I thought of it like that, I felt a kind of affinity for the sword.

And I'd definitely heard a voice. "Buy me," he'd said.

There was an arrogance to his tone, but I didn't sense bad intentions. And if

the sword was going to do something troubling to me when I touched it, it

would have done so already. I didn't see any immediate risk in handling it again,

so I gripped it decisively.

"I thought you'd run away. My, you are an interesting one. So what's it going

to be? Will you buy me?"

I took a last glance at the other old weapons. The only worthwhile blade

among them was this black sword, Greed. A sword that could speak. I could

make that work.

"We're not too different, you and I," I said. "Consider yourself sold."

"Is that so? Well, pay the fat man his money. Looking at his face makes me

sick."

I took Greed to the merchant, who was talking to another customer, and I

placed my two silver coins on the counter. The merchant's eyes flickered

toward the coins. Then he shooed me away like I was a mangy stray. Horrible,

right to the end. I left the stall, and I would not be back again.

I took a rag from my pocket to wipe down the newly purchased Greed.

However, the blade's oily residue was stubborn, and it wouldn't come off. If I'd

had some soap… But I no longer had the money.

"I'm counting on you, Greed!"

"Our meeting is fortuitous," said Greed. "Or is it…fate, I wonder? What is your

name?"

Come to think of it, I still hadn't introduced myself.

"I'm Fate Graphite."

"Hm. Fate indeed. I will not forget it. Well, what now?"

I had known the answer to that question since last night.

"I just got a weapon. What do you think?"

"Hunting?"

"That's right! Monster hunting!"

With my new partner Greed by my side, I headed from the Merchant District

straight to Seifort's southern gate. That gate was much larger than those of the

other districts. A great deal of cargo and produce passed through it to the

Merchant District, and it was wide enough for ten caravans to roll through

simultaneously side by side.

Not far from the southern gate was a territory called the Goblin Grasslands.

Numerous goblins called it home, and spent their days attacking passing

caravans to steal food. As far as monsters went, goblins were the bottom of the

barrel, which made them perfect for rookie adventurers.

There was one thing you had to be careful of when it came to goblins: they

liked to attack from tall grass. Sometimes people chased one goblin down only

to find themselves surrounded by others that had been hiding. That was a

death sentence. This tactic was so well-known, it was a proverb: "A goblin in the

open means a hundred in hiding."

I'd heard all this from an old adventurer who sometimes forced me to drink

with him at the local bar. I never imagined his advice would ever actually be

relevant to my life.

My path to becoming an adventurer would begin with a goblin hunt. Thanks

to the stats I'd earned from the bandit I killed, I would be able to slay a goblin,

devour its soul, and make its power mine, too.

Weaving between caravans, I made my way to the gate, where I found a

sizable crowd of adventurers. Men and women alike were equipped with armor

and weapons. I'd stumbled on a meeting place for adventurers, all of them

looking to join impromptu hunting parties.

A hunting party… That sounded nice. I had always been alone in my village;

the only time I wasn't by myself was when I was bullied. Even since arriving in

Seifort, Rafale had worked me so hard I never had the chance to make any

friends.

Hunting parties were like the groups of heroes my father had told me about in

his old stories. Fighting side by side, cheering each other up in the hard times

and shedding tears together in the sad. As a young boy, listening to those

stories always brought enraptured light to my eyes.

"Friends," I said without thinking. "That sounds nice."

"You've got me," said Greed.

"Uh, yeah… Yeah, I do."

However, Greed was an object. What I wanted were bonds with real, living

people. The difference felt pretty stark. So I took a deep breath, plucked up my

courage, and walked into the crowd of adventurers.

It's okay. I'm no longer one of the forsaken , I thought. After all, now I knew

the truth about Gluttony. With that, I could make a monster's power my own.

Surely I belonged here in this circle of brave fighters. Surely a group would

accept me.

Right as I thought that, an adventurer about my age approached me.

"That sword's telling me you're ready for a goblin hunt!" he said. "How about

it? Wanna team up?"

"Would that be okay?!"

I was so happy I could have burst. I barely knew what it meant to be needed

by another person. Merely being asked made me happy beyond belief. I was

helpful, useful!

"Well, you see, my usual hunting partner can't make it today, so I'm stuck.

What level are you, anyway?"

"Level 1!"

The young adventurer flinched. He scratched his head and said he'd just

remembered some errands he had to get to, at which point he slowly backed

away and skittered off. I was left with a strange, awkward emptiness.

"Fate," Greed said, "give it up. While you're Level 1, everyone will be like him.

Would you want to go into a life-or-death battle with someone you thought

wouldn't have your back?"

My breath caught in my throat. I'd thought I was strong because I'd gone

from all ones across the board to stats in triple digits. But really, I was just

starting out. I was so used to being treated like trash that, for a moment there,

I'd lost touch with what "normal" even meant.

"I had my head in the clouds, didn't I?"

"Indeed. And, in any case, Gluttony isn't a skill you should be showing to other

people. That is as much as I can say."

"How do you know about my Gluttony…?" I hadn't said anything about it, yet

somehow, he knew.

Greed let out a sly chuckle. "Because we truly aren't so different, you and I. In

time, you will understand, whether you like it or not."

With that pompous little riddle, Greed fell into silence. I still had questions,

but for now, I suspected he was right. Things might break bad if other

adventurers learned about my unique power. If it became known that I

devoured the skills of those I killed, some adventurers might start worrying I

would try to take theirs. It wouldn't be outside the realm of possibility for

people like that to want to preemptively kill me. They'd want to get me while I

was still weak. This was exactly the way a person like Rafale would think, and he

couldn't be the only one of his foul kind.

Putting my own safety first meant hunting alone, just me and Greed, until I

became so powerful nobody could touch me.

We would start with goblins.