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[ task given — build a weapon ]

( warning: mentions of bleeding, blood )

❛ i am the weapon. i don't need to make one.
does that count as my assignment or— ❜

𝐋𝐔𝐂𝐈𝐅𝐄𝐑, at the news of having to build a weapon, was thrilled. finally something of actual work and distribution. but then again, he didn't expect anything less from professor achelois. 

although the boy wasn't a natural forger as many of the other students and royals, he was quick to pick up on skills he lacked. so not only as he planning on learning how to forge, perhaps for the first time ever, he was also going to complete his assignment in one go. he already had a special something in mind that he knew was bound to scare and fascinate a lot of people, much like the presence of lucifer himself. but of course, for such a task to take place and to be done with esteem perfection he had to learn from the best of the best, elite of the elite. and who better than his brother raphael, the slayer of men and wielder of weapons?

so on he went on, to fearann bais, to meet his little brother on a free day in order to finish his assignment. informed and ready, his brother awaited his return and prepared the day to be full of possible pyromania and metal bending.

surprisingly, fearann bais was no stranger to atraxia, so the travel was not long. especially with the trained horses who's specific purpose was to travel long distances in the shortest of the time possible. if the crystal academy allowed, he could have practically traveled to and fro from his home to school, arriving in time and leaving as well. but it wasn't that kind of school, and lucifer was quite content with its way. well, more like used to but the sapphire dorms weren't terrible. although, he knew that if he were to bump into his grandfather, the grand myster, on his visitation, he was bound to be bashed for being second best, the first loser. but even his grandfather knew that if lucifer came as nothing but the best, there was a reason behind it. the boy was more than capable and that was very obvious. more than often, reason behind was lucifer's own enjoyment and pleasure that he got out of risks and challenges, even if he knows the consequences.

although the reasoning held no actual logic, it pleased the myster greatly to see the boy be so exhilarating rather stupefied and nonsensical, what he considered most people, especially royals, to be like.

arriving at the forgery the moment he stepped out of his carriage, the dark haired boy couldn't help but smile at the sight of his brother, already drenched in sweat and occupied with what seemed to be his brother's own personalized weapon, anam marbh, a weapon of fascination really. lucifer was often quite enchanted with anam marbh, its structure so pleasing and marvelous that who wouldn't be, really? a pressurized object with the ability to morph into any and all weapons with just a command, raphael's ability amplified with what he had created. it was almost an extension of himself.

and that's what lucifer wanted. he wanted a weapon that was him objectified, a true part of him that individually could be personified into lucifer himself. he wanted to hold a connection with the weapon so deep, it stung when they weren't together and burnt when they were. they had to be conjoined, molded as one another so that when the weapon was in used, it didn't seem like lucifer using it but rather it being a part of lucifer himself. that was the beauty he saw in a warrior and his weapon, that was the beauty he wanted for himself and the weapon he carves.

but in order to do so, he had to start out as any other had. he had to scrape from what he had and mold from what he could. but first, materials. he knew from tools and scrap laying around that lucifer had forgotten to take one important thing into consideration: material. great. so proud of you lucifer, you thought of what you want to make and how but you didn't think of with what? proves how intelligent and careful you are, a pat on the back for you really.

but he stopped himself from more sarcasm, he knew that he was just wasting such precious time by not moving along to find what he needed to. so backwards he moved, quietly and awkwardly shuffling out of the forgery in search of the perfect mix of tools needed for his weapon.

in order to make his weapon, lucifer truly didn't need a lot of material. the finest wood available was to work, meatailt gun anam — the country's strongest, most refined metal, along with being one of the rarest metal to grace the planet, and some ashes of the lost dead souls that haunted the nation, although they were now more tourist attraction than materials of fear really. and blood. couldn't forget the main star of the evening today, now could we?

it was early afternoon, so there was still a lot of time for lucifer to get his material and start his work. he planned on finishing the work today itself, no matter how long it took. he was ready to stay up all night if he had to, he was capable of that. after all, night was the time he thrived in. so it was all the same to him, clambering upon his royal horse and tutting away to the village, in search of the items that he so desperately needed.

first thing on the agenda was finding wood that he needed. and he knew exactly which tree to aim for.

there was a grove near the bottom of the hill where lucifer's palace lay. it was dark and muddy, thick with anger and fog as his horse prodded deeper into the venturing lands of the thicket. deep in the grove, right in the middle was a tree that was said to be made of the dead, bones as its roots and hair as its leaves, it grew and grew until it became one with the hill. only the royal family has the luck and fortune of seeing the tree, the only survivors of the vicious nature of these particular land of woods. maybe for the first time, lucifer was thanking the stars that he was a royal and no other, for he knew only he was to get out of the thicket alive. the only living soul to escape tonight.

what a pity really, he didn't want to climb rest of the way back but that might have been his fault, bringing in the horse. or maybe he did it on purpose. who knew.

right in the middle, laid next to the hill as if it was what the hill was depending on to live for, the climbed down from the horse and walked to the tree, popularly known as craobh dìoghaltas, the tree of revenge. an interesting name wasn't it, grown with such delicacy with its hair-like leaves and possible roots of bones. the bark was dark, a shade that might be even duller than night itself and lines swirled like desperate claws, digging in and scratching as if someone was trying to escape. and maybe they were.

not many came into the grove, its legend known way beyond the land of fearann bais and those who did, were the ones with such hate, such passionate wrath that they were ready to suffer intense pain to carve in the name of those they want revenge against as the take their last pained breath. ah, the sweet release of death finally ridding them of their pain and sufferings. 'twas a tree of inhumane nature, and lucifer was here today to take it all for himself.

his fingers running along the sharp thorns of the dangerous shrubberies that grew. a drop of blood fell to the ground as his finger pricked one of them, a smile making its way to his face as he let an array of blood drip onto the forest floor with an innate peace that almost scared him. why was this fascinating for him? truly a wonder of a work.

but as soon as enough blood had been forced out, he took the finger in his palm and let it heal, closing up to form the layer of skin as if he had not even been touched. with eyes trained on the blood, it willed it to take shape, an ax forming out as the blood gracefully flitted up and took a shape. although a liquid, the weapon formed was almost as sharp and as solid as it were real, a swing at the tree making crack that showed that it definitely worked as one as well. and with that he continuously swung, hard and hard each time.

but the question was, why did lucifer need the wood of revenge to make his weapon? the answer was as simple as the twinkle in his eyes as the crack of the tree widened. its because he wanted his victims to feel the most pain they can, he wanted those struck by the weapon to have such fear that not a sound, not a tear fell. he wanted to create such a tremor with just his weapon that he should be able to see them shaking, uncontrollable with a mind so paralyzed, that it wouldn't even register the pain when he did strike.

THUD! the fall of the tree broke him from his trance, his eyes violently buzzing before settling in one the fallen tree in front of him. yes, this should be enough. cutting into pieces that he could actually carrying, straying the rest away from maybe another occasion, he set p his back with log woods to forge.

the thing was, everything that that lucifer needed to make his weapon was all available right at the spot that he was on. the fallen tree which was meant to be the handle, the oozing sap of the wood which was actually liquid metalloid form of meatailt gun anam, this grove being the only natural place that it is found in, and the soil he stood on in which where the remnants of the dead souls. in one smart go we was able to carry out all his materials, and the sun wasn't even setting yet. to say that lucifer was pleased with himself was an understatement.

gathering the sap and the ashes mixed with soil, the man set afoot on his journey back to his palace, the horse long forgotten and gotten rid of. maybe if lucifer had been focusing a little more, had been a little more aware he would have noticed the vile vines that took hold of the creature, but his main focus were the materials, the animal already dead and lost in his mind.

back to the forgery it was, time to make the weapon he had already designed so formidably in his mind. if the sun wasn't setting when he was cutting the tree, it definitely was by the time lucifer reached the forgery, his brother now out of sight and instead a note placed near the burner, the tips already fringed.

the note read:

you weren't here and i got hungry so i left. now you get to suffer on your own, so have fun <3 but don't worry, i prepared the entire process for you, just follow what you remember me doing. if you fail, its on you. if you pass, well i mean i am you brother aren't i? its to be expected. but do know that if i had helped, it would have turned out way better.

the informal use of language and lazy handwriting proved that it was indeed his brother who had written the note, no doubt out hunting at the moment for a prey of his own. tsk, what was the point of coming here if he wasn't even going to get the help he actually needed? but then again, he wouldn't have gotten the materials if he hadn't come so there was some fruit to coming to fearann bais after all.

now, finally the thing he has worked oh so hard for. the forging.

the fire was already burning, the last crisps of the note his brother had written now a part of it. the dark haired boy set up his work shop, the tools now laid in front of him with the materials handy next to it. rolling the sleeves of his shirt up, the boy took one last look at the set sun and got to work.

he took the wood he had brought and set out carving, hands elegant as they grazed the body of the bark and twirled around the inching claw marks. he wasn't going to remove those though, he wanted the sight of escape and pure fear etched into every place that he could. the wood was long, about 170 centimetre in height, which put it at 5'5, taller than a few people as well. but it was the perfect length for him to wield at, the boy himself being just a little taller than the snath.

thin and tall, the snath was then put aside as he turned his focus on the cooled down metal that had now frozen, the moment it had escaped as ooz from the tree sap. now finally forming the shape of a metal, lucifer set to work as he approached the magma and grabbed the hammer. 

CLANK! CLANK! came the loud noise of the metal being hammered down, spread to make such an arc that it arched to form a wing-like structure that almost took the boy's breath away. hammering it down, sweat gathered around the boy's face and slicked down towards his chest, dripping as he brought the hammer down on the metal again and again until it had formed the strength and shape that he had wanted it to take. but lucifer was yet to be done now.

there was a wound on lucifer's body that he never to got fix, never got to heal properly and it was a true mystery on how that wound was even formed or why it couldn't be healed, over time or with magic. but for now, he was glad to have it. willing the wound to be open once again, blood starting pouring out but instead of falling to the ground like it should, it rose up, floating like dancing waves of water as it glided over to the molten magma that flowed surrounding the metal. the blood flowed around lucifer's hand, twirling and forming a swirl before melting into his skin and slowly flowing into the hammering metal and merging to form one.

with one last blow, he tossed the metal aside and picked up with the seething hot metal, his skin piercing through it but his glinting eyes just showing how little he care about that for the moment. the metal was bronze with hints of silver, but with the red of the blood so graciously mixed in, it seemed darker and unnaturally so maroon, the sight of massacre. it brought such pleasure to him, it was scary and haunting. but it was also oh so beautiful.

but he knew that to start its carving and making a proper structure out of it, sharpening it to form the style he needed, it needed to be cooled down. so setting it aside, lucifer took hold of the ashes, the muddy soil making it more clay-like and easier to mold to what he wanted it to look like.

you see, the soil of the grove was often used to make what people called 'golems'. but lucifer wasn't going to use it to make a muddy monster that serves one purpose, no. he was going to use it to make his weapon so much more hauntingly beautiful that death from such a weapon made you weep with joy as well. his fingers crafted what he formed, flowing with grace as he molded it into structures like feathers, so light and life-like that once it got heated and stoned, it was bound to look like a gargoyle like wings that would take over, making it look like it could almost fly if he wanted it to.

letting the structure bake, he got just in time for his metal to cool and set out sharpening it, taking it to form what he wanted it. by the time he was done, it was all ready and baked, structured and carved, the moon was shining high up and the city was bustling with joy and energy, a sense of the nocturnal citizens overtaking the the quiet that had been eerily present all through the time the sun was shining. despite not being actual vampires, the citizens were too alike to be one and could easily mistaken for such really.

there was just one last thing to be done. fix them all together to form the weapon he had dreamt up in his mind: a scythe. holding them all together, the boy closed his eyes and let the blood flow free again, knowing full well that he was probably going to collapse after that due to increasing blood lose that he was suffering through. but this was the last strike, the sweat and ash dust glistening on his face as the blood flowed like a dancing river, binding them all together to form the weapon he had worked so hard after, all the literal blood, sweat and technically no tears lost.

eyes opening to marvel at the weapon, it took everything in his will to not drop on the spot and faint, his body fighting to stay alive as he pushed himself off the counter and took of the apron, dusting with laze as he closed up the forgery with a pleased smile and headed for the carriage, no courtman ready there but then again, the horses never needed one to move. they were far too smart for one.

as he admired the beauty of the scythe, he could feel his eyes drooping low to sound of the bustling music and loud laughs of the content citizens of fearann bais. though it might be dark and dull in the morning, lazy and almost dead, that was nothing next to the bustling souls of the happy and very much alive people, the brave yet mindless looks that set them different from normal people embracing it as midnight struck and the actual party began. the real was always when the night was neigh and moon was high, their ecstasy the wild sensation that the night sky brought, their drugs not narcotics but the sweet high of simply being.

after all, vampires ruled the night, didn't they?

❛ did you know that the metal its made from—
holds the souls of all that it has killed? ❜

( maybe he was a little tainted. but in this gruesome world, was it a con or a pro? )

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TO.

professor athena achelois

- CRYSTAL ACADEMY -