[ WP ] The hero dies and the unremovable macguffin jewelry suddenly jumps to his sickly childhood friend , making them the only one who can save the world . Sickly friend can not even support the weight of the holy sword or fight .

It had all happened so fast, Martin had started moving before I knew they were there. His greatsword, Demonslayer, had rasped free of its scabbard and already struck down one of the creatures by the time I had gasped and staggered back. There were so many of them with swords, knives, tridents, axes, maces, and more weapons I had never seen before, but Martin moved like death himself and they fell like wheat before the reaper. Eventually, I can not tell you how long, the fight ended, and the last of the demons lay dead. Martin, looked half a demon himself, bathed in the blood and gore of those things. He looked around, then noticed me and smiled. Then he fell to his knees, Demonslayer clattering to the ground. 
 
 `` Alan...'' 
 
 I rushed, as quickly as a cripple can rush, to his side, but I could n't lift even one of his arms. 
 
 `` Alan, I'm sorry, I was careless. Alan?'' 
 
 `` I'm here, Martin, calm yourself, Xor will be here soon, he'll help you.'' 
 
 He tossed his helm aside and shook his head, hair matted with blood, `` Not fast enough. Alan, I'm sorry, but the burden passes to you now. I can see that much still.'' 
 
 `` What...'' I blinked and looked down at Demonslayer, pristine among the corpses. Demon blood would not touch it, it was inviting me? `` I ca n't, I ca n't even lift the bloody thing, this is yours Martin!'' 
 
 Martin did n't respond, he was on his knees, head bowed. I shook him, or tried to, but he did n't respond. I rose unsteadily and looked again at Demonslayer. Everything was quiet, so quiet. I tried to pick up the blade, but could n't do much more than drag it out of that terrible place, and even that sent my hip and knee to screaming. I collapsed on a rock that I'd planned to rest on earlier. Why had demons been here? This was just a... a walk through the countryside, Martin had been taking me to the city. The demons should n't have been anywhere near here. Why had the damned sword chosen me? I could n't even lift it, I could barely lift myself! 
 
 That's where Xor found me at dusk. I do n't remember much. Somehow he got me to the city, dragging the blessed blade through the dirt and mud. None of the priests or magi could get Demonslayer to abandon me, and apparently killing me was not an option either for some blasted reason. And, of course, the demons are still coming. They get closer every day, and now a cripple who can barely walk is the champion of mankind. Perhaps the gods want us to fail. 
 
 But the legend says that a single cut from Demonslayer is all that is needed to close the way between. If I can get there, even I can cut something that does n't move. So we're still going. I'd planned to watch Martin leave from the walls and wish him luck, now Xor will be riding beside me with the best the city has to offer. I hope we can get close enough. I hope I can be strong enough, but either way I know that this is the last time I'll ever see the city.
