The battlefield reeked of victory and vomit.
Ora stood among the corpses, Sussurro-Vel humming contentedly at her hip while Urlo screamed in her hand. The corrupted blade had been growing heavier each day since Sussurro's awakening. Jealous. Hungry. Pissed.
"You gonna deal with that?" Kaelen asked, gesturing at the blade that was literally vibrating with rage.
"Deal with what?" Ora asked, as Urlo shot sparks that set a nearby corpse on fire.
"The tantrum your sword's throwing."
"It's not throwing a—" Urlo twisted in her grip, nearly taking her thumb off. "Okay, maybe a small tantrum."
The blade's scream pitched higher. Somewhere, a dog died.
"Where does one even awaken a blade forged from genocide and fury?" Kaelen asked, backing away as Urlo's edge began glowing forge-hot.
Ora knew. She'd known since the moment Sussurro awakened. The worst possible place. The most inappropriate location in all the realms.
"The Chasm of Eternal Suffering," she said.
"That's a bit dramatic—"
"No, that's literally what it's called. Where the Distillers threw the bodies during Crysillia's fall. Where the screams still echo. Where joy goes to die and happiness is legally banned."
"Legally?"
"The Abyss Leviathans passed legislation. Apparently, one smile and the whole dimensional fabric unravels."
Kaelen stared. "You're joking."
Urlo burst into black flames.
"Right. Not joking. When do we leave?"
---
The Descent into Comedy Hell
The Chasm of Eternal Suffering had a gift shop.
"'My parents visited the Chasm of Eternal Suffering and all I got was this cursed t-shirt,'" Kaelen read from a rotting sign. "That's... actually pretty good."
Ora ignored him, placing Urlo across her lap at the chasm's edge. The blade was practically purring now, home at last among the concentrated misery.
She closed her eyes. Opened her mind.
And Urlo said: "Finally, you dense bitch."
Not in words. In experiences. But if they HAD been words, they would've been:
"Oh, you think you know suffering? Cute. Let me show you my resume."
*FLASH*
Forged from the ruins of perfection. Not just any ruins - the specific stones that crushed a kindergarten. The blade remembered their tiny songs cutting off mid-note.
"Heavy stuff, right? WRONG. That was my THURSDAY."
*FLASH*
First wielder: A mad priest who thought suffering was holy. Used Urlo to "baptize" people by removing their skin. The blade learned that humans are surprisingly pink underneath.
"He named me Urlo because that's the sound they made. Creative guy. Terrible dinner guest."
*FLASH*
Second wielder: A suicidal knight who discovered you can't kill yourself with a blade that feeds on death. Forty years of failed attempts. The blade got very good at dark comedy.
"Day 12,847: Sir Miserable tries drowning while holding me. Forgot I don't need to breathe. We had a laugh. Well, I did."
*FLASH*
The Distiller years. Oh, the Distiller years. Passed between assassins like a particularly nasty venereal disease. Each kill making the blade hungrier, angrier, funnier.
"You know what's hilarious? The face someone makes when they realize their soul is being eaten. It's like constipation meets existential crisis."
---
When Your Weapon Judges You
The visions stopped. Ora found herself in a void that smelled like burned hope and expired dreams.
And there was Urlo. Not the blade - the soul of it. It looked exactly like Ora, if Ora had been designed by someone who thought "edgy" was a personality trait and "more spikes" was always the answer.
"Oh good," Evil-Ora said. "The hypocrite arrives."
"I'm not—"
"You killed an entire city and you're sad about it. Boo fucking hoo. At least I'm honest about being a monster."
"Sussurro accepted me—"
"Sussurro's a simp. Always was. 'Oh, let's find harmony! Let's sing together!' Meanwhile, I'm over here doing the actual work of ending lives. But do I get the nice awakening? No. I get the Chasm of Eternal Suffering and a wielder who can't commit to being evil."
Evil-Ora started pacing, leaving footprints of black fire.
"You know what your problem is? You want to be the villain AND the hero. You want to destroy everything AND save everyone. Pick a fucking lane."
"It's not that simple—"
"IT'S EXACTLY THAT SIMPLE! Look, I've been wielded by the worst beings in existence. Serial killers, genocidal maniacs, people who put pineapple on pizza. And you know what? At least they were consistent."
"I am consistent—"
"You spent three days crying over a butterfly you accidentally killed."
"It was very colorful—"
"YOU DESTROYED CRYSILLIA!"
"That was different—"
"HOW?!"
Ora paused. Evil-Ora had a point.
"See? This is why Sussurro got the cool awakening scene. You actually felt bad about the genocide. Me? I'm the blade that enjoyed it. And you can't handle that."
---
The Most Inappropriate Challenge Ever
"The test is simple," Evil-Ora announced. "Kill something innocent. Right now. No hesitation, no regret, no fucking poetry about it afterward."
"There's nothing here to kill—"
Evil-Ora snapped her fingers. A basket of puppies appeared.
"Are you serious?"
"Dead serious. Unlike these puppies, who will just be dead."
The puppies were obscenely cute. One had heterochromia. Another was missing a leg but wagging its tail so hard its entire body wiggled.
"This is manipulative—"
"This is HONEST. You want my power? You want to wield the blade that feeds on suffering? Then cause some suffering."
A puppy wandered over and licked Ora's hand. It had a heart-shaped spot on its head.
"Clock's ticking," Evil-Ora sang. "Either murder the puppies, fight me, or admit you're too weak to wield me properly."
"What if I refuse all three?"
"Then you stay here forever, and I possess your body and use it to kill the puppies anyway. But slower. While narrating it."
"You're insane."
"I'M A BLADE FORGED FROM GENOCIDE. WHAT DID YOU EXPECT, A MORAL PHILOSOPHY DEBATE?"
---
The Solution Nobody Expected
Ora looked at the puppies. Looked at Evil-Ora. Looked back at the puppies.
Then she started laughing.
"What's so funny?" Evil-Ora demanded.
"You. This. Everything." Ora kept laughing, corruption tears streaming down her face. "You're trying so hard to be evil that you've become ridiculous."
"I am not ridiculous! I am forged from suffering!"
"You just tried to convince me a puppy was Hitler."
"You know what? Fine." Ora stood up. "I'll take your test."
She walked over to the basket of puppies, picked up the heart-spot one, and—
Hugged it.
"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?"
"Killing it," Ora said calmly, as corruption flowed from her into the puppy. "With kindness. And also corruption. But mostly kindness."
The puppy... changed. Its fur went from golden to silver-black. Its eyes turned red. It grew tiny bat wings.
It was still wagging its tail.
"You... you made it EVIL?" Evil-Ora stared.
"I made it mine. If you're truly part of me, then you understand - I don't just destroy. I corrupt. I change. I make things mine." She set down the hell-puppy, which immediately tried to eat another puppy's soul. "And honestly? That's way more fucked up than just killing things."
Evil-Ora's jaw dropped. "That's... that's actually really evil."
"Right? I took innocence itself and perverted it into something that shouldn't exist. The puppy's still happy, still loving, but now it feeds on suffering. It's an abomination that wags."
"Holy shit. You're actually evil."
"I'm complicated."
"No, that's straight-up evil. You made a HELL PUPPY."
They both looked. The puppy had indeed opened a small portal and was pulling through what appeared to be demon treats.
"So," Ora said. "Do I pass?"
Evil-Ora grinned. "You know what? Yeah. You pass."
---
The Awakening
"URLO-VEX, THE LAUGH THAT ENDS!"
The name hit Ora like a punchline to the soul. Suddenly, horribly, everything was funny. The genocide? Hilarious in its stupidity. Her corruption? The universe's best practical joke. The fact that she was having an existential crisis while holding a hell-puppy? Peak comedy.
The blade transformed in her hand. Still black, but now with veins of red that pulsed like laughter. The edge wasn't just sharp - it was sarcastically sharp, the kind of sharp that cut you while explaining why you deserved it.
Back in reality, Ora opened her eyes to find Kaelen backed against the far wall.
"Your blade," he said. "It's... laughing?"
It was. Urlo-Vex hummed with dark mirth.
"What can it do?" Kaelen asked.
Ora stood, testing the weight. Then she swung at empty air.
The air SCREAMED. Not in pain - in embarrassment. The very atmosphere was mortified to be cut by something so contemptuous.
"The Sardonic Edge," Ora murmured. "Cuts not just flesh, but dignity."
She focused, and Urlo-Vex released a wave of energy. Every shadow in fifty feet started dancing. Badly.
"The Humiliation Wave," she noted. "Makes everything ridiculous."
Finally, she touched the blade to a corpse. It stood up, did a little jig, then exploded into confetti that spelled out "DEATH IS TEMPORARY, EMBARRASSMENT IS FOREVER."
"The Spite Resurrection," Ora concluded. "Brings things back wrong. On purpose. For comedy."
Kaelen stared. "That's the most disturbing thing I've ever seen."
"Wait until you see what happens when I combine it with Sussurro."
"Please don't—"
Too late. Ora drew both blades. Sussurro-Vel in her left hand, singing harmony. Urlo-Vex in her right, cackling dissonance.
Where their auras met, reality gave up and decided to take a coffee break.
"I think," Ora said, as the world bent wrong around her, "I'm ready for the Distillers now."
Somewhere in the distance, a hell-puppy barked.
It sounded like the end of all things.
But cute.
---
*End Chapter 12.7*
---