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ID: Nvh1BTbG/qst/6261156#6273975
7/12/2025, 11:11:01 PM
>>6273624
Elric is sitting off by himself, Mystletainn strapped to his back, casually enjoying the local cuisine without a care in the world. Upon spotting you and the others, he waves in a friendly manner. You march up to the boy, and smack the shrimp cocktail that he’d been eating out of his hands. He watches as the glass shatters onto the ground, and suddenly the attention of the entire room of contenders is focused entirely on the two of you.
“Hey, I was eating that…” The boy says sullenly.
>“Are you out of your mind?!” You and Cuthbert speak in tandem, the halberdier joining you at the front.
“I don’t think so?” Elric says, looking back and forth between the two of you. “I thought the letter I had left behind was perfectly clear. If you’ve come here to talk me out of this competition, then I’m afraid you are wasting your time.”
You stick a hand out to block Cuthbert’s path. The veteran lunges forward, only held in restraint by your presence. Making sure that he won’t lose his cool, you address Elric directly.
>“Was it you that left that left letter behind? Or was it the sword that you claim has been speaking to you?”
“It was me, of course.” Elric says, chuckling as if he could not believe you were asking him such a ridiculous question. “The sword may be giving me power and speaking to me, but only I decide my fate. It is merely a tool. A sorcerous one with great power and advice, but a tool nonetheless.”
>“Bullshit.” You retort. You hear the crowd of onlookers beginning to whisper amongst themselves as they watch your group closely. “You’d have never talked like this even just a few months ago. You’ve let whatever’s inside that sword get to your head, and it's the one calling the shots now.”
“If you say so, Tristain.” Elric sighs, leaning back. “I already told you that I respect you greatly, but my mind on this matter is made up. If you wish to drag me back to your camp so badly, then all you have to do is defeat me in the Competition. That should be simple enough for you, no?”
“Elric.” Cuthbert says, stepping up towards the boy. “Listen to yourself. This is not you. Cease this foolishness. Magic sword or not, look around you. These are all experienced warriors. The best that Fodlan has to offer. Many of them have been training longer than you’ve even been alive. Do you really believe some sword could cover that much lost ground? Toss the thing away and do not allow it to corrupt your mind any further.”
“You guys are worrying too much, honestly.” Elric says. “Yes, the sword speaks to me. But it is an ally. A friendly shade of Morfis’. He shows me visions of his past. How he was wrongfully imprisoned by the Sorcerer King and sealed away. When I wield him in battle, we are in tandem. One and one. He can see my mind, and I can access his incredible talent. There is no corruption here.”
Elric is sitting off by himself, Mystletainn strapped to his back, casually enjoying the local cuisine without a care in the world. Upon spotting you and the others, he waves in a friendly manner. You march up to the boy, and smack the shrimp cocktail that he’d been eating out of his hands. He watches as the glass shatters onto the ground, and suddenly the attention of the entire room of contenders is focused entirely on the two of you.
“Hey, I was eating that…” The boy says sullenly.
>“Are you out of your mind?!” You and Cuthbert speak in tandem, the halberdier joining you at the front.
“I don’t think so?” Elric says, looking back and forth between the two of you. “I thought the letter I had left behind was perfectly clear. If you’ve come here to talk me out of this competition, then I’m afraid you are wasting your time.”
You stick a hand out to block Cuthbert’s path. The veteran lunges forward, only held in restraint by your presence. Making sure that he won’t lose his cool, you address Elric directly.
>“Was it you that left that left letter behind? Or was it the sword that you claim has been speaking to you?”
“It was me, of course.” Elric says, chuckling as if he could not believe you were asking him such a ridiculous question. “The sword may be giving me power and speaking to me, but only I decide my fate. It is merely a tool. A sorcerous one with great power and advice, but a tool nonetheless.”
>“Bullshit.” You retort. You hear the crowd of onlookers beginning to whisper amongst themselves as they watch your group closely. “You’d have never talked like this even just a few months ago. You’ve let whatever’s inside that sword get to your head, and it's the one calling the shots now.”
“If you say so, Tristain.” Elric sighs, leaning back. “I already told you that I respect you greatly, but my mind on this matter is made up. If you wish to drag me back to your camp so badly, then all you have to do is defeat me in the Competition. That should be simple enough for you, no?”
“Elric.” Cuthbert says, stepping up towards the boy. “Listen to yourself. This is not you. Cease this foolishness. Magic sword or not, look around you. These are all experienced warriors. The best that Fodlan has to offer. Many of them have been training longer than you’ve even been alive. Do you really believe some sword could cover that much lost ground? Toss the thing away and do not allow it to corrupt your mind any further.”
“You guys are worrying too much, honestly.” Elric says. “Yes, the sword speaks to me. But it is an ally. A friendly shade of Morfis’. He shows me visions of his past. How he was wrongfully imprisoned by the Sorcerer King and sealed away. When I wield him in battle, we are in tandem. One and one. He can see my mind, and I can access his incredible talent. There is no corruption here.”
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