The moment my fingers touched the manual, the world twisted and blurred into all different types of distractions.
I stared around in both shock and apprehension.
Nothing like this had ever happened in the game.
When Kevin received the book, it was just a flashy achievement—then voilà, item acquired.
I’d prepared myself for something, but this was not what I had in mind.
I spun, taking in the warped, nightmarish landscape.
Eventually, everything snapped into focus: a barren battlefield, mountains and corpses strewn across the scarlet-stained earth.
Among the carnage stood a lone form draped in the dark, a katana strapped to his waist.
Confusion bothered me—this vision was obviously tied to the manual, but I struggled to comprehend its purpose.
My bewilderment only deepened as the man remained motionless, until suddenly, he moved into a stance.
His right hand held the katana’s hilt, left resting on the tsuba.
He bent his knees, settling into a poised, lethal posture.
I recognised the stance instantly—the opening form of the Void Splitter art.
I watched, transfixed, as the man inhaled deeply, then exhaled with deliberate calm.
A faint click resounded—then, without any dramatic flash or spectacle, the terrain beneath him split, a sharp scar cleaving the battlefield.
My gaze followed the fissure meandering across the blood-soaked ground—it stretched for kilometres, vanishing into the far-off mountains.
Awe and disbelief raged inside me.
I’d seen devastating attacks before, but never delivered with such precise accuracy.
The game had shown me attacks even more catastrophic, but what left me stunned was the move itself—the first form of the Void Splitter style.
I’d never imagined it might unleash such focused devastation.
Kevin never reached that level with the Void Splitter sword art—the style simply didn’t suit him, and it held him back.
But that realisation led to another: how the fuck am I supposed to replicate a small version of that?
I didn’t even see when he drew the katana.
How, for the love of god, was I supposed to replicate something even close to that?
As I pondered my predicament, the earth suddenly shifted again—and I was back in the grand hall.
The sword manual was gone—as if it had never existed.
Wait, was that really it?
Did they expect me to memorise the first move at a glance?
And what about the other forms?
There are six in total; why did I only witness the first?
I ruffled my hair wth my right hand in frustration.
What now?
Should I just leave and hope I can replicate the move?
Why did I even expect to master it instantly?
This isn’t the game, damn it—I need to remember that.
Tsk.
I glanced up at the door I’d just entered through, then turned to face the equally massive door behind me.
I didn’t linger and walked towards it.
In the game, you could never walk through this door.
It was a restricted area, but almost everyone had an idea regarding what lay behind it.
Each eight-star sword manual had a sword specially crafted for it—one of the fourteen legendary swords, the most powerful and dangerous weapons in existence.
But out of the fourteen, I’d only seen ten in the game.
It wasn’t hard to guess another was hidden behind this door.
I placed my hand on the huge door, then squared my shoulders and pushed with all my strength.
The door squeaked open at a painfully slow pace.
I kept pushing, my face reddened with effort.
When it finally opened wide enough, I stepped through without hesitation.
Darkness pressed in from all sides.
I had no idea where I was or what waited ahead.
“Do I really have to use that?
Tsk, fuck me—and fuck the one who gave me this damn Aspect.”
With a reluctant scowl, I dropped to my knees, feeling the hard floor dig into them as I channelled essence through my body.
I enabled my pathetic excuse for an Aspect: night vision.
Amber light glowed around me as I channelled my essence, and the darkness shifted—a green hue revealed the world in eerie clarity.
I spotted stairs going further down.
Rising from my humiliating position, I made my way down, careful not to trip.
Once I reached the bottom of the stairs, I knelt again and channelled my essence to use my Aspect.
The room was empty except for a single shelf.
Atop the shelf rested a single tachi katana, arranged with exact care.
I couldn’t make out the colours—everything was washed in green—but it was undoubtedly beautiful.
I stood and made my way over, unable to hide the eager smile pulling at my lips.
I wondered what sort of personality this blade might possess.
All legendary swords had their own quirks—each inspired by one of the seven deadly sins or seven virtues.
There were only four legendary swords I hadn’t witnessed yet: Wrath, Temperance, Pride, and Sloth.
I suspected one of them waited here.
Why would anyone abandon the sword manual and venture deeper to claim the blade?
The only logical answer was that no one had ever managed to claim it.
Hopefully, it’s not Temperance.
Temperance was one of the seven virtues and was called the Holy Sword, unlike the seven deadly sins, which were called cursed blades.
And I doubt any holy sword would accept me.
Honestly, I can’t name one holy thing about me.
I prayed it wasn’t Pride either; that would be a nightmare, as a Dragaoth—I was already as prideful as they come.
Add a sword that embodied pride itself, and there’s no way we’d ever see eye to eye.
Wrath would rob me of my self-control, making me lash out at the slightest provocation.
No thanks.
That only left Sloth—I would definitely choose it if I got a choice.
After weighing my options, I finally stopped before the sword.
Even in the gloom, I glimpsed traces of gold shining on its surface.
I reached out my hand to touch the sword, but just as I was about to make contact, a voice rang in my head.
“Boy.” The voice—sharp, feminine—made me freeze, hand suspended in midair.
Her tone quickly shifted to irritation.
“Did I permit you to touch me, you ugly brat?” Great, fucking great.
It had to be Pride.
Of all the possibilities, I’d drawn the absolute worst legendary sword.
Yeah, good luck reasoning with that.
There’s no way in hell she’ll let me become her master.
With a sigh, I pulled back my hand and reluctantly turned towards the exit.
“Hey, brat, did I permit you to leave?” the voice rang in my head, but I completely ignored it and continued walking.
“Hey, come back here, you brat.
I’m not finished with you yet.” The voice rang out again more demandingly.
I still ignored her, almost standing before the stairs.
“Don’t leave,” the voice pleaded.
It had lost its demanding edge—now there was something vulnerable, almost desperate beneath the pride.
I stopped in my tracks, face twisting in shock.
Did she beg?
“Don’t leave” isn’t usually considered begging, but for someone who embodies Pride itself, saying it with that tone proves the closest she’ll get to actually pleading.
But why would she be begging?
I couldn’t wrap my head around why such a prideful being would be so desperate until I remembered something important.
My grin turned maniacal; a plan now formed in my head.
“Why shouldn’t I?” I asked.
The woman seemed startled by my sudden reply.
“You’re in the presence of the strongest legendary sword; you should bask in my glor- wait!” the voice screamed out when she saw I was heading out.
I stopped again and said with a demanding tone.
“This is your last chance,” I warned.
“Don’t act so arrogant b- okey okey wait I get to the point.” I inwardly smiled; it looked like this situation wasn’t hopeless after all, I mused.
“I will allow you the honour of wielding me, boy,” she uttered, pride dripping from every word.
“No.” I immediately replied.
Even though I could only hear her, I felt her irritation building up inside her.
“What do you mean no, boy?
Don’t you know I’m giving you the highest honour in existence?
You dare reject me?
“Wielding you means I’m under your mercy; not only will you be able to switch wielders whenever you please, but I also won’t be able to use your curse.”
“So,” she replied, not getting my point.
“So I will have to become your master if you want to leave this place.” I felt the air turn heavier.
A shudder ran down my body as her next words rang in my head.
“Don’t push your luck, boy.
In my whole existence, no one has dared ask to become my master.
Yet you, with pitiful strength, dare demand such a thing?” she said, her voice harsh and furious at the same time—no doubt wounding her pride.
“Is that a no?” I asked, already knowing her answer.
“What do you think, boy”
“Very well,” I said, stepping away.
“Enjoy a few more centuries alone, then.” A smile came upon my lips as I delivered the killing blow.
“Maybe I should just destroy this place, so no one else ever finds it.” That pushed her over the edge; she started spitting every insult in the book at me.
“YOU INULENT BOY YOU DARE THREATEN ME.” I walked up the stairs as she continued hurling insults at me but with less elegance this time.
“YOU MOTHER FUCKER I’M GOING TO RAPE YOUR DAD WHEN I GET OUT, JUST YOU WAIT I WONT STOP THERE I KILL YOUR FUTURE CHILDREN IN FRONT OF YOU THEN AM GOING TO-”
I was genuinely shocked by the filth she threw my way—though I couldn’t help but laugh.
The farther I climbed, the more her voice changed and faded.
By the time I was halfway up, her insults were little more than echoes.
Just as the connection was about to break, I heard her speak.
“I accept.” The words I’ve been waiting for all this time.
I halted my steps then.
“What was that?
I think my ears might be malfunctioning.
Can you say that again?”
“Don’t push your luck, boy.” I shurgged and threatened to take another step, but her desperate voice rang out.
“I accept.
I accept.” My mouth turned into a grin I couldn’t hide—even if I’d wanted to.
Without hesitation, I turned and strode back down the stairs.
So that’s how you tame pride, huh?
I mused to myself.
A/N
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