Overlord: Sword of the Forgotten Demon

The forest had long since fallen behind them, but the memory of bloodshed lingered like a shadow.

Carlos adjusted the sword strapped across his back as they approached the gates of a small frontier town. The wooden palisades were weathered and splintered, barely standing against the harsh winds of the open plains. Yet, behind them, life stirred—merchants calling out their wares, blacksmiths hammering at their forges, and guards eyeing every traveler with suspicion.

*"This is it, boy,"* Kilineiram's voice echoed in Carlos's mind, cool and confident. *"If you want to grow stronger, you'll need more than just my blade. You need a reputation."*

Carlos nodded, though the nervous flutter in his chest was hard to ignore. He had never set foot in a town like this, let alone with a **talking sword** whispering in his head.

*"And how exactly do we do that?"* Carlos muttered under his breath as they approached the gate.

*"Simple,"* Kilineiram replied. *"We make sure they remember your name... and mine."*

---

**Inside the Town – The Rusted Boar Tavern**

The tavern was alive with noise and heat. Laughter mixed with the clatter of mugs and the crackle of the fire. The scent of roasted meat battled with the stench of unwashed bodies and spilled ale. It wasn't glamorous, but it was exactly where Kilineiram wanted them to be.

Carlos took a seat at a corner table, trying to blend in. But with Kilineiram strapped to his back, the sword's dark, shimmering blade catching the flickering torchlight, it was impossible to go unnoticed.

The tavern's patrons eyed the unusual weapon with a mix of curiosity and suspicion.

*"Good,"* Kilineiram murmured. *"Let them wonder."*

Before long, a grizzled man with a thick beard and a missing eye approached. His leather armor was worn but functional, and the sword at his hip had seen its fair share of battles.

**Grizzled Man:** *"That's an interesting blade you've got there, kid."*

Carlos straightened in his seat, his heart pounding.

*"Confidence, boy,"* Kilineiram urged. *"Now's your chance."*

**Carlos:** *"It's more than just interesting. This sword will be the last thing any fool sees if they cross me."*

The tavern fell silent for a heartbeat before erupting into laughter. The grizzled man chuckled, shaking his head.

**Grizzled Man:** *"Big words for someone who barely looks old enough to hold a sword."* He leaned in closer, his breath reeking of ale. *"Why don't you prove it?"*

The room hushed again, the challenge hanging in the air like a spark waiting to ignite.

*"Accept it,"* Kilineiram hissed. *"Let them see what we're capable of."*

Carlos stood, his hand moving to Kilineiram's hilt.

**Carlos:** *"Name the place."*

---

**The Duel – Town Square**

A crowd had gathered under the pale moonlight, eager to witness the spectacle. Word of the duel had spread like wildfire, and the entire town seemed to have come out to see the boy with the strange sword face off against the seasoned warrior.

Carlos faced the grizzled man in the center of the square, his heart pounding in his chest.

*"Stay calm,"* Kilineiram whispered. *"Let me guide you."*

The man drew his sword, a wicked grin on his face.

**Grizzled Man:** *"I'll make this quick, boy."*

But Carlos wasn't afraid.

As the duel began, the man charged, his blade swinging in a wide arc. Carlos sidestepped effortlessly, Kilineiram's guidance making his movements fluid and precise. With a swift motion, he brought the sword up, deflecting the next blow and sending a shock of energy through the man's arm.

The crowd gasped.

The grizzled man's grin faltered, replaced by a scowl. He attacked again, faster this time, but Carlos was ready. Kilineiram's power surged through him, and with a deft spin, he **disarmed** the man, sending his sword clattering to the ground.

Before the man could react, Carlos pressed Kilineiram's blade to his throat.

**Carlos:** *"Yield."*

For a moment, silence reigned.

Then the man raised his hands in surrender.

The crowd erupted in cheers.

---

**After the Duel – The Beginning of a Legend**

Back in the tavern, people approached Carlos, their eyes wide with admiration and curiosity. They wanted to know who he was, where he came from, and most importantly, **what kind of sword he wielded**.

Carlos answered their questions carefully, weaving a tale of a cursed blade and a boy seeking revenge for his lost village. But he never revealed the sword's true nature.

*"Let the legend grow on its own,"* Kilineiram advised. *"Mystery breeds fear. And fear breeds respect."*

By the end of the night, the name **Carlos the Demon's Blade** had begun to spread.

And Kilineiram could feel it—the subtle pull of **Wielder Essence** flowing into him. The boy's pride, his growing confidence, his hunger for more… it all fed Kilineiram's strength.

But as the night wore on, Kilineiram sensed something else.

A **presence** lurking on the edge of his awareness. Someone had noticed their rise. Someone powerful.

*"We've made our mark,"* Kilineiram whispered into Carlos's mind. *"But fame comes with a price. Be ready, boy. The real challenges are just beginning."*

And so, under the pale moonlight, the echoes of a demon's return began to ripple across the land.