Simon was disillusioned in short order. A heavy tentacle smashed into the sword he held, and before he could even begin to react, the blade had been pushed back hard. Its silvery edge bit into the flesh of his nose, and he fought with all he had to keep it from splitting his head open. Once the sword was no longer threatening to kill its wielder, Simon swiped it downward and it clanged off the ground. The heavy bounce and loud clang seemed to be the sword’s way of protesting its servitude to a new wielder. They angered Simon a bit, and he channeled that into a powerful upward swing that brought the blade above his head and bisected the returning tentacle. ‘Yes!’, Simon thought, ‘I can do this! I can win!’

His confidence seemed to satisfy the weapon. It suddenly...

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