51 A Weapon

**WARNING: MORE TORTURE THAN USUAL IN THIS CHAPTER**

Yoshio was in a miserable state. He was beaten and battered by Bucket and Barza. His leg was shattered by Dragan. And then Bucket had dragged him for a half-a-bell through the thorny undergrowth of the Mosswood Wilds.

His hair was stark white and in patches. His body was covered in bruises from blunt weapon trauma. His face was swollen and he was missing several teeth. His skin was raw or torn away from being dragged. Also, a strange blue discoloration had covered his entire shoulder and parts of his arm and chest. Had he not practiced his body-hardening art, he would have died a hundred times over.

Tycon was impressed, but not surprised at the young man's resilience.

Dragan whistled, "A tough guy! Too bad about his leg, though."

Tycon, Dragan, and the Young Master, Kimura Tamaki stood around Yoshio.

"Young Master?" Tycon asked respectfully, "We'll keep Young Master Hisato healthy and hale, as you'd advised... But for this one?"

Tamaki nodded jovially, "Yessiree! It don't matter none, what happens to him."

"Want me to happen to him, Boss?" Dragan stepped forward.

"Let's see what he has to say," Tycon picked up his halberd and placed it at rest. "Wake him."

Dragan laughed. He unstopped his waterskin and poured its contents onto Yoshio's face, coughing and choking the white-haired boy awake. Immediately, the young man began to scream in spurts, gasping for air in between.

"--You! ...Who do you think-- you are, Outsiders?!! ...Servants-- to the Kimura family's WHORE?!! ...How dare you do this to me!"

A string of rapid cursing, flowed from Yoshio's mouth while Tycon watched on with an impassive face.

"Release me this instant, you cowardly PEASANT!! I!! Demand!! To be rel--"

Tycon swung the halberd blade down onto Yoshio's shoulder, the crack of bone resounding throughout the forest, followed shortly after by Yoshio's piteous screaming.

Tycon frowned, lifting up and unsticking the halberd from the man's fresh wound. He had succeeded in cutting into his flesh and fracturing the man's shoulder.

Tycon turned back, "Mister Dragan, this isn't as easy as it looks. Is there some sort of trick to it?"

Cracking his knuckles, Dragan walked over with a smile.

...

Taree and Bucket had gone ahead to the Ivory Judge sect to report their arrival. Wroe and Barza were in charge of upkeep: washing the plates, feeding the horses, checking the supplies.

Tycon, Dragan, and Young Master Tamaki were responsible for releasing Young Master Hisato.

But first, Tycon was being taught how to sever a limb.

Dragan nodded, "Yeah, man! You're swinging it all wrong!"

Dragan and Tycon began to bicker while Yoshio moaned and cried in pain, "Please! Mercy, Young Master!! Merrrrcyyyyy!!"

Tamaki sat on a tree stump, looking pleased, "Y'hear that, Warrior Tycon, Warrior Dragan? Music to my ears."

Dragan drove the halberd through Yoshio's shin, severing the man's leg completely. Yoshio had screamed himself hoarse, his voice shrill and embarrassing.

"And that's how ya do it, Boss!" Dragan exclaimed.

Tycon scowled, snatching the halberd back. He corrected his body posture as Dragan instructed. It would be his fourth swing.

He brought the halberd down, cutting deeply into Yoshio's bone, further up Yoshio's leg. The screaming abruptly stopped, the man going into shock. He shivered and shook, frothing at the mouth.

Dragan elbowed the green-haired youth, "See, Boss? You cut much deeper that time!"

Tycon tried to keep a straight-face to hide his embarrassment, "Tss... I yield to your counsel, Mister Dragan."

He rubbed a heavy boot against Yoshio's cheek, "Is that the best you can do?"

[Inspirational Surge conditions met. Activate? Y/N?]

« Oh, yes. Please do. »

[Activating.]

Yoshio's eyes regained their clarity. His wounds began to visibly knit together, stopping the bleeding. His severed leg and arm didn't re-attach-- Tycon would have done so, if he could.

"You're... You're a demon," Yoshio cried in sobs of pain. "If you have any honor, let me--"

"Which is it? A demon or a... peasant?"

To emphasize, Tycon twisted the halberd, its blade stuck halfway through his thighbone. Blood spurted out as Tycon further wrenched the blade, tearing his flesh open. Yoshio's entire existence was awash in pain. His freshly healed vocal cords yelled with even more force and fervor.

Dragan laughed, holding his stomach. His eyes were red and he was wiping away tears, "Boss! Boss, haha... You're such a petty bastard!"

Tycon shook his head, pulling the halberd out of Yoshio's unbroken leg with a sharp, bloody tug, "Bloody business, severing limbs, Mister Dragan."

Dragan shrugged nonchalantly, grinning, "Yyyyyeahhhh, it's not for everyone."

"Can I give it a go, Warrior Tycon?" Tamaki hopped up, grinning hopefully.

Tycon nodded, "Of course, Young Master. Allow me just one more try, since I haven't successfully severed a limb yet."

Tamaki nodded, "Oh! By all means, by all means!"

Tycon began walking back to Yoshio, drawing his longsword, Shatterspike, out of its sheath...

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...

"I quite liked that Hisato gentleman."

Tycon and Guild Invictus had slowed their pace in the afternoon. With Young Master Tamaki's guidance as a tracker and forward scout, the group was in good spirits, hiking towards the Ivory Judge sect-- with the exception of one man.

Barza Keith grumbled audibly, "Before we released him, we broke his right leg and right arm."

Barza was hiking miserably, pale and still nauseous from the morning. His injuries still ached him, a dull neverending pain. Hunger pangs assaulted his stomach and he munched incessantly on nuts and berries that Young Master Tamaki had offered him out of pity. Breakfast was filling, but he had vomited after being forced to participate in the torture of Young Master Hisato.

Tycon pursed his lips, "Oh, come now, Mister Barza. Broken appendages heal! Humans are resilient creatures, after all."

A deep shudder overtook Barza's body as he remembered the sensation in his hands. Tycon had ordered him to break Hisato's fingers... No tools, no weapons, just brute force.

What Tycon did... Was torture. It was unfair. It was cruel. It was cold and calculated.

Maximizing Hisato's mental trauma, destroying his spirit-- Tycon performed it as a systematic process.

Too clearly, Barza could recall Hisato's broken look of helplessness.

Barza couldn't understand why Tycon chose him as his direct assistant instead of a veteran like Wroe or the violence-loving freak Dragan. He didn't want to grow accustomed to... that. He prayed to the gods that he could forget the depravity he'd witnessed.

He hated his weakness. He hated Tycon for exposing his weakness. He hated Tycon for trying to fix him.

He was a weapon. He needed to be, in order to function. He needed to survive and to excel.

He didn't need to think. He just needed to listen to orders. He just needed to do as he was told.

He was a weapon. He didn't need to lie awake at night. He didn't need to be miserable, afraid of the terror that sleep brought.

...Barza gazed over the gold and green horizon with sunken eyes. Invictus still had malms and malms to hike before reaching the sect.

Barza felt a hand on his shoulder, shocking him back to reality.

"One foot in front of the other, Mister Barza," Tycon pointed at his eyes. "And stay sharp."

Tycon pat him on the back and walked ahead.

Barza stared at Tycon's back for a moment before following.

He placed one foot in front of the other. And again. And again.