Death and the Sword Saint Volume 1: Death and the Sword Saint, #1

By Brian King

To say Wiess Fagan has lived a strange life is an understatement. Contracted with a succubus at the age of four. Meeting Azrael the Grim Reaper at the age of six and the deaths of his family that happened over the years on a specific day. Entering the military and being seriously wounded in battle he becomes a medical visionary in the field of cybernetics and nanotechnology. At the age of seventy-five, his old friend Azrael comes to collect his soul. though it's not for his final judgment but to be sent to a new world of swords and sorcery. How will a cybernetically enhanced veteran make his way in this new world and who will he meet?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Brian King
• Release date: Oct 7, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223075592

Book preview

Prologue

A bedside lamp lit the small private hospital room. A small boy sat in the lone bed with a small white mouse poking its face out of his shirt pocket. The boy read in silence as his mother slept in a chair next to the bed. The light beep of hospital equipment was interrupted by the turning of pages every so often, as the boy continued to read. 

mmm, the boy’s mother made a small noise of discomfort as she shifted her position in the chair. Looking at her, his gold eyes turned to the clock that hung on the far wall.

Eleven forty-five, huh? Normally I would be asleep now, but I just can’t fall asleep anymore. The boy thought as he looked at the clock.

That would be because you’ve been unconscious for the past few days. A feminine voice replied to him in his thoughts.

Yeah, Mom told me, but she wouldn’t tell me what happened. Do you know what happened, Misha? The boy’s eyes moved from the clock to the small mouse. Looking up at him with ice-blue eyes, it blinked a few times before the woman’s voice was heard in his head.

No... you just suddenly fell ill, and your mother brought you here. Whatever the cause, it seems you will be okay now. A slight tremor of nervousness could be sensed from the mental voice.

His eyes narrowed slightly as the small mouse hid inside his pocket. Deciding to let the matter go, the boy returned to his reading, leaving the small mouse at peace. Minutes later, as he started turning another page, the boy stopped as his eyes moved to the clock. Currently showing the time was just a few seconds before midnight, an icy chill came over the room as he noticed something strange. The normal light beeps coming from the green glowing screen of the monitor beside the bed stopped. Looking over, he saw the heart monitor he was connected to had frozen with a half-formed jagged pattern of his heartbeat on the screen. The boy’s small hand reached out as he prodded the screen with a finger, hoping the thing would start working again. His heartbeat quickened as his eyes turned from the monitor to the clock. Still showing it was a few seconds before midnight.

what’s going on? the boy asked out loud, not expecting an answer.

I merely stopped time for a bit so we can talk, young one. A gentle voice of a man said from the corner of the room. As the voice spoke, the form of a cloaked man stepped out of the shadows and solidified. Holding a crooked staff with a long sweeping curved blade at one end. The deep hood of the black cloak covered the man’s face as he kept his head low. Moving on, footsteps silent as a windless night brought the mysterious man closer to the boy’s bed. Stopping at the bedside, the man reached up and placed a skeletal hand on the bed’s railing and raised its head to look at the boy. Looking up, the boy’s gold eyes met red points of light set in empty sockets. A small gulp came from the boy’s throat as he swallowed, recognizing the ancient entity that now looked down on him. How could he not, especially as the book flipped closed and a matching face stared back up from the book’s cover.

So, it’s my time and you’re here to take my soul, The boy said as he looked at the book, his small voice sounding firm and unafraid.

"Hahaha... Heavens no young one, though I will admit that was my original purpose here today. The figure said as it lowered its hood. The boy’s shoulders tensed at the mention of his purpose.

So, if you are not here for me, are you here for my mother then, Angel of Death? the boy asked, fear finding its way into his tone.

No young one, I’m just here now to have a conversation and that is all, you... intrigue me, Death said with a chuckle as the man’s eyes fell on the book Wiess held. Oh, so that is how you recognized me. I’ll have you know Mr. Anthony’s work is just fiction. Death’s face became that of a man in his late forties with black hair containing streaks of gray after lowering his hood.

Yet here you are. The boy replied calmly.

True, anyway if you don’t mind, I would like to take a few minutes of your time. Death said as he summoned a chair with the wave of his hand.

I don’t mind, Sir. What did you want to talk about?

Leaning forward, Death looked at him with eyes whose iris was the color of crimson. How old are you, young one?

Six, why do you ask? The boy replied as he tilted his small head slightly.

Because you speak like someone much... older. You remind me of my daughter.

... The boy looked up at Death with a raised eyebrow.

I understand your surprise at learning that even I have a child. Death said with a chuckle, before continuing. Anyway, who is that in your pocket there, young one?

Smiling as he coaxed the small mouse out of hiding. She’s, my friend. The boy said as the small creature looked between him and Death.

Oh, so that’s how you managed to change his fate. Death said with a pleased look, smiling as the little mouse trembling before him.

Change my fate? The boy asked.

Don’t worry about it young one, it is already done. Tell me how life has been for you these six years so far.

With that, the two fell into a friendly conversation as time stood still.

Chapter 1

Death Approaches

Death will come for you in three days.

Those were the words the visitor spoke in a voice that was both feminine and young-sounding. The resident of the home was an American man who had moved to Japan decades before. Setting down the small figurine and paintbrush held in his hands, leaning back in his chair while in thought for a moment.

Thank you for letting me know beforehand. Allow me to introduce myself. I’m Wiess Fagan, please call me Wiess. He said while standing and extending his hand.

You may call me Noelle, the figure said as skeletal hands became flesh while they lowered the hood, revealing the face of a young woman. Silver hair, and emerald-colored eyes, with a face that would make any man’s heart race. Lord Thanatos sent me to both inform you and to ... observe you until your time has come.

Observe me?

Yes, observe you.

You mean, make sure I don’t do something like killing myself beforehand?

Yes, but fa... I mean, Lord Thanatos instructed me to learn more about you.

With a raised eyebrow. So, you’re here to judge me? Wait, you were just about to say, father, weren’t you? Weiss asked.

... That’s not important, and no, I’m not here to judge you, just to learn about you, Noelle replied, while quickly adverting her gaze.

May I ask why?

He didn’t give a reason. He just told me to stay near you and get to know you.

Well then, would you care to take a seat and have a talk? Wiess gestured toward a pair of chairs with a small table in between while standing. As she took the seat closest to her, Wiess came around from the desk and poured two cups of tea. Before handing her one and taking the other chair. After they both were seated, a door behind Wiess opened, and a pretty voice came through.

Master, do you have a guest?

The voice’s owner followed right after. A young woman with black hair and ice-blue eyes, dressed in what appeared to be a maid’s uniform, complete with an apron. A chair clattered to the floor as Noelle shot to her feet while taking a stance. She raised the hood of her black cloak with one hand, as a large scythe appeared in the other. In the blink of an eye, the distance was closed, and the scythe was brought down on the young maid.

Hii- the maid screamed

....

The blade stopped a hair’s breadth from piercing the young maid’s neck.

Please don’t do that,

.... Noelle stared in wide-eyed shock.

How is this possible? She thought. After all, her confusion was for good reason. It wasn’t her who brought the blade to a halt. There was a hand grasping the haft of her scythe. The owner wasn’t the maid she attacked. It was that of the man she came to observe.

But how, how could that be? He shouldn’t have been able to move fast enough to get between us. Then there was the fact that a mortal could stop my scythe with just his bare hand. Mere contact is enough to cause a mortal to lose strength. But here is a mortal doing what should be impossible otherwise. Looking into his eyes, she then noticed something else strange about this man. Eyes the color of molten gold stared back at hers. Golden eyes with vertically slitted pupils.

Wha, what are you? Noelle’s voice leaked out.

Just a man who will die in three days. Now please put your weapon away. He said in a gentle tone.

Loosening her stance and relaxing her grip, Noelle dismissed her scythe and took her seat. After Wiess had settled in his chair and picked up his cup. Noelle shot him a questioning glare.

Why do you have a demon in your service? She asked, while giving a maid a wary glance.

With a warm smile. She has been with me since I was a young boy, Wiess replied.

#

A warm spring afternoon, in sunny California. Within a modest home, a young boy around the age of four sat on the living room couch, with a book in his lap. A young woman with chestnut brown shoulder-length hair was currently rushing around the house as if looking for something.

Where are they? Where are they? The young woman was muttering to herself, in a flustered state.

What’s wrong mommy? The little boy asked, looking up from his book.

You haven’t seen my keys, have you, sweetie?

The gaze of a small pair of golden eyes moved from the face of the young woman, over to a small table with a telephone and bowl on top of it.

Are those your keys, Mommy? The boy asked as he pointed to the bowl.

Quick footsteps brought the woman to the small table. Inside the bowl, were sitting the keys she had been searching for. Expressions going from flustered to irritated to relief quickly painted her face. If anyone were to see her right now, they surely would be snickering. Keys now in hand, the woman spun around and kneeled in front of the little boy.

I’m sorry baby, I know I said we were going to the park today. But one of the other girls got sick and we are shorthanded at the restaurant now.

It’s ok mommy, I can just finish my book instead.

Looking down into the small golden eyes, the woman couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride and love when looking at her son’s face.

Thank you for being such a good boy. She said as she patted his head with one hand. While enveloping him in a motherly hug in the other. Ok Wiess, while I’m at work, Uncle Robbie is going to look after you, okay?

Where’s Uncle Will, and Uncle Mike?

Will is currently at practice and won’t be home until later this evening. As for Michael.... well, let’s just say he’s in no state to look after a rock, let alone you.

Even at the young age of four, little Wiess understood his family’s habits. His mother, Lauren Fagan, age twenty-six, was the manager of a small yet upscale restaurant. The eldest of the Fagan siblings, Robert, was an author with a few works that had received publication. Currently, he was locked in his room, researching his next book.

Michael the Third of the Fagan siblings was a hopeless drunk. He was hurt in a work accident a few years prior and managed to receive a sizable settlement from the resulting lawsuit. Due to losing mobility in his left leg and his left arm. Depression had set in, and he ended up drowning his sorrows in a bottle. He was currently residing back at the Fagan home due to Granny Fagan not being able to turn her family away.

William, the Youngest of the Fagan siblings, is currently in his second year of Highschool. He was a bright young man who had a bit of a meathead attitude. Currently, he was at practice. Normally practice for most school sports would be over around six pm. William was on the school’s rodeo team because of the number of events that club members would participate in being higher. Practice time needed was increased as well and he wouldn’t be home till after seven-thirty or eight pm. Granny Fagan, the family Matriarch was at the hospital. Recovering from surgery and would be home in two days.

After kissing her son on the forehead, Lauren quickly stood up and walked down the hall toward the door set the furthest back and its end. Lauren lightly knocked on the door, calling out. Robert, are you awake? I got called into work. I need you to look after Wiess until I get back.

Mwah?  A sleepy voice answered back, immediately followed by a more alert. Weren’t you supposed to have today off? The voice asked back.

Yes, I was off, but Mary got sick, and we are already short-staffed. I’m sorry Robert, but Will is at school, and well, Mike is... Mike. I know you said you had some things to do today involving your new book and all. Lauren replied apologetically.

No, no, it’s fine. I’ll get dressed and be out in a minute, okay?

Thank you, Robbie. I knew I could count on you.

Walking back to the front of the house. Lauren stopped in front of her young son.

Okay, Wiess, I’m heading to work. You be a good boy and listen to your uncle, okay?

Yes, Mommy, Wiess replied while looking dejected.

What’s wrong sweetie?

Uncle Robert has been acting ... creepy lately,

What do you mean, creepy?

Well, he just locks himself in his room all day and night when he’s home.

Your Uncle Mike does that, sweetie.

Not the same Mommy. Uncle Mike drinks. Uncle Robert is different. Then there are those strange books he brings home.

Giving him a complicated look. Well, sweetie, you are four and reading Alfred Hitchcock and Piers Anthony, Lauren replied

Thinking for a moment, young Wiess replied. Well, okay, a four-year-old reading these books is weird, but Uncle Roberts’s books are almost... evil.

Shaken, Lauren looked down at her young son. E.. evil, what do you mean, sweetie?

Well, just a glimpse of the cover makes my skin crawl, as if they shouldn’t be read by anyone. Looking back at his mother, who, for the moment, was left without words.

Can I just go to work with you instead? I’ll be good, I promise.

Coming back from the sudden change of subject. I’m sorry, sweetie, but we are going to be pretty busy tonight. You will have to stay here.

Okay, Mommy.

That’s my boy. Be good for your uncles, and I will see you tonight after work.

Have a good day at work mommy, bye.

Bye, sweetie. With that, Lauren left the house. Robert came out of his room finally dressed. Robert stood just over six feet, dressed in jeans and a black t-shirt. With a gentle face and hazel eyes that looked down on his young nephew, before crouching down

Say I have a few errands to run. You want to go with me, kiddo?

Wiess shot a glance down the hall towards his uncle Mike’s room, before responding.

Okay, Uncle Mike won’t be getting up anytime soon, will he?

Probably not. Go get your shoes and jacket.

Okay, I’ll be right back.

Watching his little nephew hurry off to the room he shared with his mother. A thought came to Robert’s mind.

Hmm... will it work if I use him? Maybe but I will have to be careful. If sis were to find out, she would kill me. No, I can’t do that. I’ll just have to do it with what I have.

Still lost in his thoughts, he barely noticed his nephew’s approach. Tugging at the hem of Robert’s shirt, Wiess looked up at his uncle.

I’m ready to go.

Robert and Wiess returned home a few hours later. The sun now starting to set in the early spring evening.

Wiess, go get yourself something to eat. I still have some work to do.

Sure, do you think there is any pizza left from last night, or did Uncle will eat it all? Wiess asked half to himself, as he headed off to the kitchen.

"Now I should have everything I need. Robert thought as he picked up the bags filled with that afternoon’s purchases and proceeded to his room.

Ring, ring, ring, Suta, Suta, Suta,

The ringing of the home phone, accompanied by small steps, could be heard. A small hand picked up the receiver.

Hello, this is the Fagan house.

Wiess, it’s Mommy, is Robbie there?

Yup, right now he’s in his room working, I think.

Oh, still working, huh? Did you eat yet, honey?

Yep, I sure did, ate the last of the pizza from yesterday,

Pizza? Well ok, anyway I just called to say I’ll be working later than expected tonight. I’m sorry baby, I know I promised to spend time with you today,

I understand Mommy, things happen.

I guess you can stay up an extra hour tonight.

Really?

Yes, but you need to make sure you get a bath, and get to bed after that, ok?

Yes, thanks, Mommy.

I love you, baby.

Love you too Mommy, have a good night at work.

Thanks, sweetie bye,

Bye,

Click. The call ended, and Wiess returned the phone to the cradle.

Wiess? Robert called from his room at the back of the house. Who was on the phone?

It was Mommy. She called to say she had to stay a few hours later than expected, but she did say I can stay up an hour later today.

Oh? A glance at the clock sitting on the nightstand in his room showed it was almost eight.

Well, in that case, go take your bath, then you can watch some tv.

Giving his uncle a small nod, Wiess turned toward the bathroom to go take his bath. Meanwhile, Robert checked on his younger brother, Mike. Unlike before, when they had left earlier that afternoon. Michael had moved from his bed to his armchair in front of a small tv. A pile of fresh beer cans sat next to a small side table containing a dirty dish and a half-filled liquor bottle. Michael, once hardworking and dependable, had become like this ever since his work accident. At the time of the accident, Michael was a manager of a local manufacturing plant. Some pieces of equipment had a catastrophic failure, resulting in an explosion and a large fire that ensued. Though he had survived and managed to save a co-worker. His left arm was mangled. The resulting surgeries had only been accomplished in making it look less like something from a nightmare. Severe nerve damage had left it will little function or mobility but did nothing to abate the pain that followed due to those injuries. After repeated failures from various doctors and surgeons, trying to relieve his pain and restore function. Michael held little to no faith in modern medicine and decided to drown his pain and sorrow in booze. He had received a large settlement from the company, as well as the equipment manufacturer. He no longer needed to work. Now when Robert looked at his brother, feelings of shame and sorrow would well up. Sorrow for his brother’s condition, and shame at his lack of resolve. Still, Robert could not fault his brother after all. He was not sure how he would handle the same situation.

Remembering the last time Michael had left his room was almost two months ago. Michael had been left to care for their nephew, while everyone else had gone to go visit Granny Fagan at the hospital. When they returned, they found Michael and Wiess in the middle of a drinking contest. Twenty-two empty beer cans lined up in twin rows of eleven sat between Michael and Wiess. Both of them were locked in a race to see who could finish the twelfth and last cans first. Lauren screamed while rushing over to her young son. Yells of anger directed toward Michael. Little Wiess had finished first and was placing his can on the table as his mother reached him. When she reached out and picked him up, it caused a loud belch to come from Wiess’s small body. All screaming and yelling came to a stop, just from that sound. After a brief silence, Lauren rushed her boy off to the hospital. Strangely the doctors couldn’t find anything wrong with Wiess. A few hours had passed between the start of the impromptu drinking contest and his visit to the ER. He showed no symptoms of alcohol poisoning or intoxication. Since that day, a rift had been made in the family structure of the Fagan household, and Michael had taken to sealing himself in his room. Closing the door, Robert turned and headed to his room.

In the center of the room, a pentagram was drawn on the polished wooden floor, and a single candle was placed at each of the star’s points. Concentric circles of runes ran along its outside. The pentagram and runes were enclosed in a circle of salt laid out in a fine line. Robert stood just outside the ritual circle. One hand held a large leather-bound tome. Pages yellowed with age, inked in a brownish-red. In contrast, pages of white stuck out in various places. His voice raised in a commanding way, broken and halting words in some long-forgotten language issued forth from his lips, then silence.

....

....

Damn it, why didn’t it work. I should have everything needed. Maybe I translated it wrong. Checking over his notes while flipping between pages. Robert stopped and started scrutinizing the page of notes, noticing something new was written at the bottom of a list of items needed for the ritual, blood of one who is pure Robert’s eyes flew wide in shock as he read the words aloud.

I, I... I didn’t write this. What does it mean, the blood of one who is pure? He knew with every fiber of his being that he didn’t write those words. Robert had spent months translating the writing of this book. Endless trips to various libraries around the state. So many sleepless nights going through so many books, just to translate this small set of pages concerning the ritual of summoning he was desperate to accomplish.

"What does it mean by one who is pure? Could it mean a virgin? If that’s the case, I’m out. He thought. Michael was engaged before his accident, so he was out. William was a jock, so it was doubtful in his case. Lauren didn’t qualify, she had Wiess after all. Hold on.... would that work? Would his blood work? Well, only one way to find out. I’m only going to get a drop or two and no more. I’m not going to murder my nephew for this. Setting aside the book, Robert turned and headed out into the hall. By luck of timing, Wiess had exited the bathroom just before and met Robert in the middle of the hallway. While drying his hair with one hand as he held a book in the other, dressed in blue footie pajamas.

Ah, Wiess, I see you finished your bath and are ready for bed.

Yup, but because Mommy said I could stay up for an hour, I thought I would just read a bit more.

Oh, back to reading again. Must be a good book?

It’s one of the best. It’s got dragons and red mages. Lots of swords and sorcery stuff. It’s cool!

A sly grin crept over Robert’s face. Say, Wiess, you want to see some real magic,

R, real magic, did you say real magic, uncle?

Yep, real magic.

Of course, I want to see.

Back in Roberts’s room, both Wiess and he were in the center of the pentagram.

Okay, Wiess for this trick to work. I need a drop or two of blood.

"My blood, will it hurt? Wiess asked back timidly.

Just a finger prick is all, I promise.

Hmm... well, okay. Wiess stood there, one hand tightly gripping his book at his side. His other hand extended toward his trusted uncle

Okay, I’m ready.

Robert picked up a small hairpin and took Wiess’s hand, gently but firmly. The silver needle’s point pierced the tender, uncallused fingertip. Fresh blood welled up from the small, pierced digit. Turning Wiess’s hand down allowed gravity to take hold of the crimson drop, pulling it down. Breath held by both uncle and nephew as that singular drop hit the floor. Like a stone breaking through a calm water’s surface. Ripples of crimson light emitted out from where the blood had contacted the floor. Both stepped back outside of the circle. Unnoticed, a tiny pajamaed foot wiped away a small portion of the salt circle. Robert picked up the leather book he held before. Turning to the page for the ritual he was trying to perform. After locating his page, he was about to attempt the incantation again. Words replaced runes on yellowed paper. Somehow, an unseen hand was translating the ritual’s text. Robert’s grip tightened on the book, eyes already wide, as he excitedly took in this new information. In a voice mixed with shock and excitement, Robert began the incantation.

O spirits of the other world, hear my plea. I seek a dark servant, the consort of his majesty most high. Being of immense power, come forth and heed my call.

Crimson light began to pulse and ripple outward through the patterns drawn on the floor. Each pulse caused the light to grow brighter and brighter. Till it flared brighter than the sun, before becoming a steady glow. A spot of inky blackness, about three inches wide, appeared hovering in the air, just feet off the ground. The silence was broken by the sound of a sickening, wet tearing as the spot expanded out. By the time the disturbing sounds died down. The small circle of darkness had grown to a height of three meters, with a width of two meters. From within what could be called a doorway leading to a world of pure darkness, a feminine voice that could easily enthrall any man called out.

This scent, could it be? Is my eternity of waiting finally over?

Pressure flowed out from the doorway, forcing Robert to his knees, as if in prayer. Young Wiess remained standing, unaffected like a willow against the wind. A form started emerging from the other side. Twin horns rose above hair the color of crimson. Ice-blue eyes, set in the face of a goddess. Skin pale, like fine porcelain. Ample breast threatened to spill out of the black leather corset, its hem stopping just above the navel. Black underwear, that didn’t leave much to the imagination. Large, dark leathery wings sprouted from her back, at the base of which was a long prehensile tail ending in a wicked barb. A succubus, mistress of evil, master of pleasure and desire. The very embodiment of lust. That is what they had called out.

I... I did... I did it!

The first to speak was Robert, even though he was still forced down to the ground by the pressure the succubus exuded. A gaze colder than the arctic wind snapped to Robert’s kneeling form. Quicker than the eye could track, it moved to Robert. Hoisting him in the air by his throat with a single hand. Leaning its face closer to his. The succubus’s nose twitched as it took in his smell.

Sniff, sniff

This scent, it’s different but similar.

Sniff

Relative perhaps, still trash compared to his scent!! Muttering aloud, half to herself, half to Robert as she gripped him by the neck. Still smelling the air like a bloodhound. She spun with otherworldly grace, her ice-blue gaze falling on Wiess. Dropping Robert before moving closer, her nose next to Wiess’ ear, she inhaled again. Her figure shivered in ecstasy, while she ran her hands along her arms suggestively.

After all this time, Master, I have finally found you! She proclaimed with a wide smile on her beautiful face.

Huh?! What?! Wiess and Robert replied in confusion

‘But... but I summoned you. I’m the one you must call master." Robert’s voice was now hoarse from her grip, frustration apparent on his face.

Spinning back on him, she reached down and wrenched him from the floor by the front of his shirt.

Her other hand pulled back and stiffened straight, as if she intended to pierce his heart with her fingers alone. Her voice was now a low growl.

It may have been you that summoned me, but it was his blood that brought me here, and it is him alone I shall serve.

Plea... Please don’t hurt my uncle.

....

Please?

As you wish. She replied as she dropped Robert once more. Released from her grip, he fell to the ground with a loud thud. The succubus returned and kneeled before the small boy.

My lord, if you make a contract with me, I will treat you like the great king you are fated to be, and I shall serve and protect you for all eternity,

I don’t want to be a king.

What?!

I don’t want to be a king; I don’t want to be special.

But, why? The demoness asked, her seductive expression now one of utter confusion. Wiess gripped the book tight to his chest with his small head hung down, his gaze fixed on his tiny feet, as he spoke.

Adults always say I’m special, but everyone else is mean to me. They call me names like a freak, weirdo, demon boy, and I have no friends. All I do is stay here and read all day even though I like to read. It’s not the same as having a friend.

Then I’ll be your friend as well.

You, you will?

Yes, if you make a contract with me.

What do I have to do?

Just give me a name.

You don’t have a name? Wiess’ eyebrow raised in question.

No, because I was born to be yours.

Other than a name, is there anything else I have to give you?

No, all you need to give me is a name. She replied as she stared him in the eyes, a warm smile spreading on her lips.

Aren’t demons bad?

"We