His first sword was his own flesh and bone. When the sparks of war descended upon the village, they kindled an…
His first sword was his own flesh and bone.
When the sparks of war descended upon the village, they kindled an all-consuming inferno.
In the frantic flight of the masses, he alone remembered his sister, left solitary within their home.
The door bolt was far too heavy for a mere child.
And so, for the first time, a desire took root in him, the longing for a sword.
Heavens, of course, would not grant a sword from the void.
Thus, he used his own body, shattering the bolt with the raw force of his frame.
With hands as searing as branding irons, he seized his sister and plunged forward in a reckless sprint.
His second sword was a withered branch.
His sister seldom replied, yet he knew his words reached her.
He shared his heart's desire with her: he wanted a sword.
"Sister, a sword is long and sharp, a thing to keep people safe!"
Thus, on another day, she brought him a branch, one exceptionally straight and keen.
So great was his joy that he slept with his "sword" clutched to his chest.
Until that day, when some word of hers, no one knew what, offended the villagers who shared their exile.
They rose as one against her, baring the malice in their hearts:
"What use is there in dragging such a fool along!"
"Mute and frail as she is, she won't last long. Better she becomes fodder for the wolves!"
He stood fast before her, leveling his wooden sword at the crowd. "I will never forsake her!"
Later, Mother Halcyon led him into the mountains to study under her. In their relentless sparring, they shattered forty-nine blades.
Raven, the father, watched with a sigh and a shake of his head. He eventually forged twin blades of Lapis Lazuli, one for him and one for his sister.
He cherished it beyond all else. Before his kin, he swore a solemn oath: "I shall treasure it with my life. While the sword remains, so shall I!"
Mother gave his head a sharp rap. "What 'life for a sword'? You've put the cart before the horse! A sword is but a tool to protect people!"
Alas, fate willed otherwise.
In that catastrophic inferno, even the Skyward City, the crowning achievement of the Mohist, was shattered like a derelict hut.
With hands searing like brands, he gripped his sister and fled headlong, but this time, the flames outpaced him.
Thus, he broke his first vow: he cast his sister away from the heat.
Soon followed the second: his father's gift, the sword, broke in the blast before he could fall.
...
Amidst the enduring darkness and agony, he struggled to open his eyes and reached a final decision.
His final sword would be his own flesh.