The Story of the Unbreakable Sword

One upon a time, when dragons ruled the earth and chivalry still burned in the hearts of men, there lived King Thorian. His kingdom was once peaceful and full of promise as a shining beacon of freedom and prosperity. The people loved King Thorian and the land was filled with food and abundance that no one went hungry.

However, the light has slowly faded as the kingdom began to disintegrate due to never ending battles with barbarians, goblins, and bloodthirsty giants that raged the countryside and brought havoc to the lives of the people.

These spawns of evil was released by King Thorian’s only surviving nemesis, Count Plethorus, who have laid sanctuary on top the highest mountain in the East. His kind has lingered in the deadliest dreams of men because of the powerful control he weaved over black magic, and King Thorian is well aware of this.

“Something must be done,” said the King “ to break this never ending cycle of death.”

“We must cut this poisonous siege from its source. We must destroy Count Plethorus’ sanctuary and end this evil once and for all”.

“But dear King Thorian”… said one village elder, “our numbers have dissipated, our resources are way below our people’s needs, and we cannot muster enough soldiers to fight Count Plethorus’ army of the undead.”

“We don’t need soldiers. I cannot sacrifice the lives of my men anymore. This is something I will do alone?”

“Alone you say?! This is absurd, we cannot go on without a King!”

“But I will not die…” he said this, while hurrying outside the castle walls…” I hope.”

Quietly he went through a door at the left side of the castle, which led to a scarcely opened dungeon. When he arrived at the door, a big lock greeted him, covered by cobwebs spun by giant spiders of long ago. He carefully unbuttoned his shirt to reveal a key, tightly knit in his over alls, which slid quite easily in the lock. It opened and fell to the floor with a loud thud that could have awakened the sleepiest mortal.

Going down the stairs, he lit the torches and hurriedly opened the door at the end of the corridor. “Father, I swear I will never do this again.”

He opened the door and saw a golden coffin inside, which was big for its size and could have housed a small ogre. Opening the coffin once again with his discreetly hidden key, he took out the coffin’s most unlikely tenant.

“The unbreakable sword…. Let justice and freedom reign with every swish of its blade.”

This sword was not made of steel, nor did any mortal blacksmith make it. It was forged by the titans to serve as the final line of defense against the minions of evil on earth. It cannot be broken because it is made of the finest diamonds, melted by Vulcan himself and fashioned with the blessing of the gods and formed with a drop of blood from Mars, the god of war. Its sheath was made of matter from the nine planets given by messengers of the unknown.

And so, with this fear and courage fighting to gain dominance within his heart, King Thorian put on his heavily crusted armor and set forth with hist fastest steed to the dark realm of Count Plethorus. It was not an easy journey because the Count’s spies have alerted him earlier and so the Count made sure of greeting the King with sand storms, freezing snow and hurricanes, and a barrage of deadly monsters along the way.

But King Thorian destroyed all of them with one mighty blow from the unbreakable sword, which seems to have taken a life of its own.

The King arrived finally in front of the castle gates, ready for whatever would happen.

The gate opened… eerily, which was not expected after the onslaught of roaring wind and unnamable creatures he met along the way. But still, the King entered, with sword in hand and with God in his heart.

From out of nowhere, an army of raging arrows fired from above, from the left, the right, and even below, trapping the King from where he stood. With one quick swish of the sword, an invisible force field shielded his body from the sharp blades of the arrow, which temporarily blocked out all light. When the attack subsided, the King saw himself five feet below a conundrum of broken wood and steel.

He suffered a few bruises but nothing mortal. While waiting for the next attack, a big, cracking voice was heard from above. He looked up but saw nothing but a black raven staring at him.

“Show yourself Count! We will end this now!”

And so the raven transformed into a seven-foot behemoth with tentacles almost twenty feet long, and with each tentacle covered by sets of jagged protruding teeth.

“You will not defeat me King Thorian, you are weak, and feeble, and your sword cannot cut through ancient ethereal flesh.”

The King reached for his shield to block three incoming tentacles which were not altogether injured in whatever way. Everything the tentacles touched turned into ethereal matter, including the shield. No blood was spilt and no flesh fell to the ground.

“My blade cannot cut through him. My shield is useless, I cannot use it in this condition”. So he threw the shield instead against the next barrage of tentacles coming at him.” He heard a faint shriek of pain.

The shield, which became ethereal matter, was able to pierce through the ethereal tentacles of Count Plethorus. “Now, I know what to do, I will let his tentacles touch the sword to make it ethereal.”

With cautious abandon, the King readied himself for the next attack and, grasping firmly the sword, swung it towards the almost invisible matter.

His plan worked. Before the sword can fall from his hand, he threw it with all his might directly into the roaring mouth of Count Plethorus.

The Count roared with the power of a thousand thunders which shattered all windows and broke the wooden roof of the castle. The Count was dead.

When the dust and smoke subsided, all that remained standing was the King. “The sword will remain here" he whispered, "for I could no longer touch its ethereal frame. I will have to guard this palace for all eternity so that the sword will not fall into the wrong hand.”

And so the King sent out his soldiers to guard the unbreakable sword inside Count Plethorus’ castle.

The King lived to become a very old man and his stories about the wars and battles he fought was told and retold to children and old people alike. But nothing was more awaited than the story of how the King finally rid his realm of Count Plethorus’ evil curse.

The sword remains in the castle until this day.