A rich, savory aroma permeated the interior of the minivan. If one paid enough attention, they could catch the scent of melted cheese and fried onions. Behind the steering wheel, a brown-haired young man with large, circular spectacles perched on his nose—giving him the signature look of a Hollywood nerd—was enjoying the source of that smell.
Click—
The monotonous munching sound was broken as a bald man entered the vehicle. A large motorcycle tattoo ran from his chest up to his neck, and he carried himself with the weight of middle age.
"Come on, dude. I told you to stop eating in the vehicle," the bald man barked.
The young man behind the wheel gave a thumbs-up, his mouth filled to the brim with chicken, sauce, and bread. "But hm I puth a towel mff—" he said with effort. "I put a towel under."
The bald man paid him no mind and gestured for him to move. "I thought we were done for the day. Why are you still going behind the wheel?" the young man asked.
Before the bald man could reply, the answer came from a red-haired young man who let himself into the backseat without fanfare. "We have one more impromptu delivery to run."
"But man, it's Saturday night," Noah, the spectacle-wearing young man with crumbs on his mouth, retorted as he moved over.
This was his first week at work, and he couldn't wait to receive his first real paycheck in a long time. After his mum's death over a year ago, he had shut himself away from society, finding solace in gaming, webnovels, anime, and fantasy shows. For some time now, he had been trying to make something of his life, but with an unfinished degree and a gaping hole in his resume, finding a job had been incredibly difficult.
He was at the end of his rope when he ran into Dane. Their history was anything but stellar; Dane was the cause of several injustices Noah had suffered during his high school days. He had extorted him, beaten him up, and often used him as the butt of his jokes. Funny how fate works. Noah had always imagined he'd be the one in a position to offer Dane help, but the roles were reversed. He had submitted an application to a local logistics company and was shocked when he received an invitation and saw Dane sitting in the interviewer's chair.
The words were still fresh in his mind. "We don't have any open positions right now, but for you, man, I'll try to work something out." That was how Noah got the job. Maybe Dane was trying to make up for his past wrongdoings.
"Why are you in such a hurry to go home, dude? Got some digital waifus to attend to?" Dane, the red-haired, wild-eyed man in the backseat, said with amusement in his voice.
"Hahaha, good one, Boss, very good one," Mason, the bald man who had taken the driver's seat, chuckled as he started the van.
Noah didn't care; he had grown beyond such petty jabs. He was already picturing himself after a warm bath, wrapped in his sheets, catching up on all the new episodes of his shows.
"Hope it doesn't involve any heavy lifting. I'm spent," Noah remarked amidst their laughter, opening his phone to his webnovel app for some light reading. 'Imagine having enough 'change' to unlock chapters without having to watch trashy ads and do silly tasks,' he thought to himself, the idea reinforcing his resolve to work the overtime.
"Dane, Boss, you know we're on overtime now, right?" Noah reminded him. It was the first time he'd had to take the initiative; normally, Mason handled that.
"Of course I'm aware. The client said he'll add an extra $500 if we make the delivery before 20:00. If we get that money, $150 of it is yours. For your 'weeb' lifestyle, four-eyes," Dane replied, triggering another round of laughter from Mason.
Noah didn't care. With that money, his savings for a new PC powerful enough for rendering would get a mega boost. His dream of indie game development was the one thing that kept him enduring the stress of his new life.
Before he could read much, they arrived at the airport.
"What kind of delivery are we picking up at the airport?" Noah asked, looking up from the cracked screen of his phone.
"Nothing for your weeb brain to worry about. The client wants it as anonymous as a dead cat," Dane said as he left the van, leaving them to wait in the parking lot.
Several minutes later, he returned with a long, dark, rectangular briefcase. The moment he entered the vehicle with it, Noah felt the temperature inside drop several degrees.
"Is it just me, or am I getting the chills right now?" Noah couldn't help but ask.
"It's just you, dude. You're probably experiencing withdrawal since you haven't had any 'weebing' stimulation for a while," Dane joked as he settled into the backseat. This time, Mason did not laugh.
The ride to the delivery point was silent. Noah couldn't even continue his reading. A certain sense of dread hung in the air, heavy and oppressive, as if they were in an elevator descending steadily into hell.
"What the hell is in that case?" Noah couldn't resist asking again during the journey.
"Discretion… Discretion," Dane replied, his tone commanding and final.
Their van came to a halt in front of a gigantic, black iron gate.
"Wow, for real!" Noah exclaimed with excitement, the gloom that had taken over him receding a little. "This is the Aristo Enclave! A house here costs millions of dollars."
"You know your housing, weeb," Dane said as he greeted the security personnel approaching their vehicle. Seeing Dane's face, the guard signaled for the controller to open the gate.
"Seems you guys are regulars here," Noah said, his excitement still visible.
"Kinda," Dane gave a single-word reply, his face becoming eerily serious.
As they pulled up to a massive mansion, Dane leaned forward slightly. "Noah, you'll carry the case yourself. It's your first time meeting this client. It will help make you feel less like a stranger to him."
"Who are we meeting? I might know him," Noah said, his excitement evident.
"Just shut up already," Mason barked, his mood souring all of a sudden. "Even if he lives in a fancy house, he's just a human like the rest of us. Maybe even a shittier one."
Dane glared at Mason.
"I don't think I can go in there, Boss," Mason retorted.
"That wouldn't be courteous. He knows we're here, and he knows you're here. You think these cameras are just for decoration?"
Mason fell silent and walked behind Noah as Dane led the way. Guards stood at every corner of the house but let them pass without a word; Dane's face was the ultimate passkey.
Noah ogled every corner of the house as they proceeded, his first time experiencing such lavish luxury. The walls were made of polished marble and accentuated with gold. The air and furnishings were so rich you could almost perceive the scent of wealth itself.
Using an elevator, they descended to the lowest part of the house, an underground lair where Noah couldn't believe what he saw. Aquariums were built seamlessly into the walls, antique vehicles were displayed like marvelous pieces of art, and a white tiger was chained by a golden collar to a titanium peg hammered into the floor.
"Welcome, welcome, my good friends," a bulky man greeted them. He had dyed white hair and wore a loose, white wool robe. "You have brought the package, I see."
"Elegant! Elegant!" the bulky man exclaimed, his eyes fixed on Noah. "And what's your name?"
"N-Noah, sir," he greeted, feeling a strong sense of discomfort, maybe from the foul stench oozing from the man's mouth, or maybe from the bulge he'd noticed in the man's robe.
"Noah, you haven't told me your name yet. A name has to include a family or ancestral identity. So, what's your name?"
"Noah Asher," he replied.
"Ahh, an Asher. That's a befitting name. You know, in Hebrew, it means 'blessing.' So you are 'Noah the Blessed.' A very befitting name, don't you think so, Dane?"
"Yes, it is, sir," Dane replied, his tone tense.
"Now, let's witness art!" the bulky man said as he took the rectangular case from Noah, setting it on a glass table.
Click.
The case popped open after the man tinkered with the lock combination. A chilly gale spread from the case the moment it opened, and a strong sense of dread assaulted Noah's entire being. Every fiber of him wanted to turn and run from that lair, but he steeled his nerves and stood his ground. His hands began to vibrate intensely, the strength in his legs seeming to flow away. It might have been an illusion, but he saw Mason's charcoal pants turn several shades darker. 'Did Mason just wet himself?' his mind pondered, even as his own emotions turned darker.
The bulky man pulled a dark katana from the unlocked case. He held the blade in two hands as if it were a deity to be honored. At that moment, Noah felt an overwhelming urge to kneel and bow. He could barely hold his stand, but the bulky man seemed unaffected. With movements like a slow, deliberate dance, he brought his hands to the long handle of the sword.
"Witness 'Mawt,' blessed one," the bulky man said, bringing the blade's tip to point at Noah's neck. "The all-consuming blade," he concluded in a glorifying tone.
Noah felt more and more uncomfortable as the man brought the blade closer.
"They say the one who created 'Mawt' sought to create the most perfect blade," he began, his voice taking on a storyteller's cadence. "He forged a sword whose edge stood without rival, but he wasn't satisfied. He received endless praises, but his heart bled from the imperfection of the blade everyone adored. He melted this sword that stood without equal. For months, he knew nothing else but his hammer, anvil, and furnace as he smelted and forged, again and again."
"He was trying to form a blade without flaw. His wife couldn't stand his obsession, so she left him, but he did not stop. His children could not stand it, so they left him, but he did not stop. This smith forged day and night, his hammer tinkering away, until even his body could not stand it. Slowly and steadily, his own flesh became a part of the sword, but it wasn't enough."
"His spirit persisted, desperate to forge a perfect blade, but even it could not endure forever. It continued to tinker away until it, too, became a part of the blade. The void in his soul remained. It became a part of the blade. It became the purpose of the blade. The weapon gained a soul of its own—a soul borne from emptiness. A void that sought to be filled."
"So the Void Blade was born," the bulky man concluded with a smile. "A blade that consumes all. A blade with a hunger that will never be satiated. You see, that's why it has no sheath. It still seeks to make itself whole." He edged the sword closer to Noah's neck.
"That's one hell of a story," Dane chirped from behind him.
"Haha, Dane. You still don't understand me, despite our endless dealings," the bulky man said sarcastically, his mood switching to a demonic gloom that terrified Noah.
"So, the delivery is complete?" Noah managed to say, his voice trembling.
"Yes, yes, it is," the man said as he retracted the sword. "The blade is here… and so is its sheath. A 'blessed one' at that. Imagine."
Noah swore to himself he would never accept any delivery to this man again. Ever.
"Then we'll be on our—"
Swoosh!
Noah's sentence was cut short. He stared in disbelief as his own right hand made a lazy arc through the air before landing on the floor with a soft, wet thud.
"Ahhhhhhh!!!!!!"
A loud scream shook the underground lair, but no sense of panic followed. His scream echoed, eerily unaccompanied by anything but the sound of his own hitched, snot-filled breaths.
"Shut up already," the bulky man ordered. Noah didn't heed him.
"I said, SHUT UP!" he screamed, but Noah's consciousness was barely under his control.
Whack!
It happened all too fast. A shadowy kick rapidly approached his face, and in the next instant, Noah blacked out.