Sworded Affair

"When I get out of this basement I\'ll beat him black and blue," Emma swore, no idle threat given her three years and considerable height advantage on her duplicitous younger brother.

Despite her anger though, Emma still polished the vase to perfection: she was after all the eldest scion of the Knight family. Theirs was a heritage to be proud of, never mind that it had been centuries since the family lived up to their namesake on the battlefield. Inspecting the vase one last time, Emma judged it to be entirely clean, before moving onto the next item in the family\'s collection of antiques. This one, an unremarkable suit of ebony armor, was considerably taller than the vase and promised a good amount of work to remove the dust and wear built up over the years.

"No time like the present," Emma sighed, moving to resume cleaning, before frowning as something thumped against the door to the basement, a short distance up a flight of stairs.

Glancing up curiously at the wooden portal, Emma wondered what it meant. Despite threatening it on occasion, her parents had never actually locked her in the basement before and were unlikely to start today, so they shouldn\'t have needed to use force to open the door. Another thump, then another, each growing more forceful and desperate, and to Emma\'s consternation slight cracks began to appear at the hinges. Then the screams began, and Emma realized something serious was afoot. Turning back around, she began looking for a weapon to confront a presumably violent home intruder, only to freeze in place.

Why is the armor glowing?

Emma had never paid too much attention to the relics of her family\'s distant past. Whilst she\'d enjoyed listening to bedtime stories of her noble ancestors as they traveled the world, slaying dragons and waging war upon the enemies of King and Country; the material trappings attached to such tales had never interested her. Even so, she was fairly certain nobody had wired the old suits of armor with animatronics, like an exhibit straight out of a haunted house at Halloween.

Emma had no more time to think on it though, as an ear-splitting crack heralded the door\'s departure from its hinges, narrowly missing her as she ducked out of the way but successfully smashing to smithereens the vase she\'d spent the last hour polishing. Angry and fearful, she scrambled for cover behind the glowing suit of armor before turning to see the intruder at last. She\'d honestly expected one or more likely several men, perhaps armed with a portable battering ram between them, to be capable of such force. Instead…

"Aww, how cute!"

Emma cooed, unable to resist making noise at the sight of the massive golden retriever, easily taller than her as it squeezed through the door, contorting its form to fit. Once inside, it leapt straight down the stairs without a care in the world, landing with a crash but otherwise unbothered as it shook out its fluffy fur. Only the dog\'s extreme size and the violence of their arrival kept Emma from heading right over for some heavy petting (not like that, you perverts.)

Then it opened its mouth.

Is it raining? Emma wondered, feeling a wet patch beginning to spread across her shirt. Glancing down, Emma remembered that she was in fact indoors; a distant secondary concern to the impossibly long, prehensile tongue that had speared straight through solid steel plate to impale her right in the heart.

This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

"Oh."

There was no pain, to Emma\'s surprise, instead a creeping sensation of weakness and numbness was already beginning to spread from her torso across her wider body. Attempting to reach down and remove the intruding appendage, Emma found her limbs sluggish and unresponsive, unable to even grip the serrated tongue let alone move it. When it finally retracted, vanishing back into the dog-monster\'s maw of its own volition, the sheer force of withdrawal pulled Emma forward into the armor, sending both to the floor in a crumpled heap.

Is this it? Emma wondered, bleary eyes witness to a bright red pool now coating armor and floor alike. Dizzy with blood loss and heavily envenomed, Emma closed her eyes for the last time at the ripe old age of fifteen; her last sight being the mutated dog approaching her prone form, already drooling in anticipation of a good meal.

Yet as its jaws clenched, ready to take Emma\'s head off in a single bite, her assailant was most disappointed to find itself biting down on a cloud of black mist with a most vile taste. Rearing back in disgust, it watched in muted anger and curiosity as the mist slowly seeped into the fallen suit of armor, till naught remained outside. At last, the constant glow of the armor ceased, and then it began to move.

—

[System reboot initiated.

Date/Time synchronization underway.

ERROR. Ambient ERROR below minimum threshold, ERROR connection unavailable.

Date/Time re-calibrated, designation: Year 0, Day 0.

Genetic material detected, sequencing underway.

Emma Knight, 33rd generation lineal descendant of the founder.

User access granted.

User status: puncture wound, exsanguination, multiple organ failure.

Death imminent.

User deceased.

...Revenant class unlocked.]

Am I dead, or just hallucinating? This looks a bit too modern for the afterlife. An empty black void and a computer screen? Where\'s the shining tower, or the pits filled with hellfire?

[Emma Knight - Level 1 Revenant

Anima: 100

EXP: 0/100

Abilities:

Summon Unholy Sword {Epitaph} (Cost: 50% current Anima)

Traits:

Undead: Immune to the petty concerns of the living. Only Anima matters.

Arcanivore: The living restore Anima when wounded or slain.]

I am dead, right? I felt myself bleed out and everything.

[Indeed you are, but fret not, young Revenant. The founder designed your line to endure; and as the latest wielder of her System, mere death is not the end of your duty. Now wake up!]

Abruptly the black void faded, leaving her back in the familiar basement. As she clambered to her feet, she saw the creature that had caused her death staring unblinkingly at her, seemingly confused at her presence.

[Parasite Demon - Level 1]

A floating tag above his head helpfully proclaimed, finally giving a name to the evil. Ignoring it for the time being, Emma took the chance to examine herself. She was clad in a suit of armor remarkably similar to what she\'d been about to polish, a few minutes and a lifetime ago. Not exactly the same: the original had been designed for a male wearer, whereas hers had been reshaped in an approximation of her form in life.

"Not realistic at all," Emma muttered as she examined the breastplate; still sounding like herself despite the lack of lungs and vocal cords. "Oh well, at least it\'s not bikini armor."

At that point, the Parasite Demon decided it had seen enough; its maw opened, aiming to repeat the attack that had struck Emma down before.

Oh wow, that\'s quite the change. Emma marveled.

Before, she hadn\'t even been able to follow the Demon\'s tongue as it moved. Now? She caught it mid-flight, halting the appendage in its tracks. Gripping tightly, she pulled the Demon towards her with one hand, making good ground despite its struggling. What was she doing with her other hand, you ask?

"Let\'s write your Epitaph."

Emma could have summoned her blade with a thought; but adding an incantation felt right somehow, the legacy of a chuunibyou never entirely exorcised. With a single forward thrust, Emma buried Epitaph into the Demon\'s eye.

"Payback time."

[Combat tutorial started.]