The Ashford army did not stop running until they reached the plains below.
Ethan watched from the gates as the black and gold banners disappeared into the distance. The spectral form of Arthur Blackwood still blazed above the mountain—a beacon of silver light that could be seen for miles.
But even as he watched, the light began to fade.
"Arthur?" Ethan called.
The spectral warrior turned. His eyes burning coals in a face of ancient stone met Ethan’s gaze.
"I cannot... hold this form much longer."
"You have to. The Ashfords will return."
"They will return. And I will not be strong enough to stop them."
The light flickered. Arthur’s form began to dissolve, fragments of silver drifting into the wind.
"There is another way."
"What way?"
"My true sword. The one I wielded in life. It was buried beneath the mountain. Find it. Bring it to the Nexus. And I will be whole again."
The light vanished.
Arthur was gone.
Ethan stood in silence, the sword in his hand suddenly feeling cold and empty.
『 Story Credibility: 85% 』
『 Family Faith: 90 』
『 Arthur Blackwood’s manifestation progress: 85% 』
『 Warning: Arthur’s strength is fading rapidly 』
『 New Quest Unlocked: Retrieve the Sword in the Stone 』
『 New Location Unlocked: The Depths of Blackwood Mountain 』
He turned to the family.
"The Ashfords will regroup. They’ll be back by morning. We need to act now."
Thomas stepped forward.
"What do you need?"
"The Sword in the Stone. Arthur’s true weapon. It’s buried somewhere beneath the mountain."
He paused.
"I need to find it."
The elders gathered in the main hall.
For the first time since Ethan returned, Marcus did not argue.
"I saw him," he said quietly. "The Iron Ghost. He was real."
He looked at Ethan.
"I was wrong. About everything."
Ethan nodded. "I understand."
"No. You don’t." Marcus’s voice was rough. "I spent years doubting. Years questioning. I let my skepticism blind me to the truth. And now..."
He paused.
"Now I will do whatever it takes to make things right."
Elder Agnes stepped forward.
"The Sword in the Stone is a legend. I remember stories about it from my grandmother. She said it was hidden in the depths of the mountain, guarded by ancient trials."
"What kind of trials?"
"The kind that kill the unworthy."
Silence.
Then Thomas spoke.
"I’ll go with you."
Ethan turned to him.
"You don’t have to."
"I know. But I want to."
Thomas met his gaze.
"I’ve been standing on the sidelines my whole life. Watching. Waiting. Letting others fight my battles. Not anymore."
He drew his sword.
"Let me stand beside you."
Ethan studied him for a long moment.
Then he nodded.
"Together, then."
They left at dawn.
The path into the depths of the mountain was not on any map. Hemlock had marked the entrance on an old parchment—a tunnel hidden behind the waterfall, descending into the darkness below.
Ethan carried Arthur’s rusted sword. Thomas carried a torch. Behind them, the family watched in silence.
"Be careful," Eleanor said.
"We will."
"And Ethan..."
He turned.
"Bring him back. Please."
Ethan nodded.
"I will."
The tunnel was narrow and cold.
Thomas’s torch cast flickering shadows on the walls, revealing ancient carvings and symbols—the same symbols Ethan had seen in the hidden chamber. The same murals.
"These are old," Thomas murmured.
"Older than the family. Maybe older than the first ancestor."
They descended deeper.
The air grew colder. The darkness pressed against them.
Then they reached the first trial.
It was a door.
Not a physical door—something made of light and shadow, blocking the passage ahead. On its surface, a riddle was carved.
"I am born in fire, but I am not flame. I am born in fear, but I am not danger. I am born in faith, but I am not belief. What am I?"
Thomas frowned. "What kind of riddle is that?"
Ethan closed his eyes.
He thought of Arthur. Of the Iron Ghost. Of the stories he had told.
Then he spoke.
"Courage."
The door dissolved.
The second trial was a bridge.
A narrow stone arch stretched across a chasm so deep that Ethan could not see the bottom. There were no railings. No ropes. Just a thin strip of stone, slick with moisture.
"One wrong step," Thomas muttered.
"Then don’t take one."
Ethan stepped onto the bridge first.
The moment his weight settled, a sound filled the chasm—a deep, rhythmic rumbling. From the darkness below, something was rising.
A creature. Vast and formless, made of shadow and hunger. It reached toward the bridge with tendrils of darkness.
Ethan drew Arthur’s sword.
"Run."
They sprinted across the bridge, the creature’s tendrils snapping at their heels. Thomas stumbled, nearly falling—Ethan caught him, pulling him forward.
They reached the other side just as the bridge collapsed.
The creature screamed, a sound of rage and hunger and retreated into the depths.
Thomas lay on the ground, breathing heavily.
"What... was that?"
"A guardian. The trials are real. We need to be careful."
He looked ahead.
The tunnel continued into darkness.
"The sword is close. I can feel it."
The third trial was the hardest.
They found themselves in a vast cavern, its ceiling lost in shadow. In the center, floating above a stone pedestal, was a sword.
It was beautiful. Its blade was made of silver steel, engraved with runes that glowed with inner light. Its hilt was wrapped in leather, worn smooth by centuries of use.
The Sword in the Stone.
But between Ethan and the sword was a figure.
A man. Tall. Broad-shouldered. His face hidden in shadow.
He spoke.
"You seek the sword. But the sword does not belong to the living."
Ethan stepped forward.
"I seek it for Arthur Blackwood. The Iron Ghost. He needs it."
The figure tilted his head.
"Arthur is dead. He has been dead for three hundred years."
"He is returning. And he needs his sword."
The figure was silent for a long moment.
Then he laughed.
"I am the guardian of this blade. I have protected it for a thousand years. The one who seeks it must prove his worth."
"How?"
"By defeating me."
The figure drew his own sword.
"Or by dying."
The battle was brutal.
Thomas tried to fight, but the guardian was faster, stronger, more skilled. He was knocked aside within moments, crashing into the wall.
Ethan was alone.
He raised Arthur’s rusted sword.
The guardian laughed.
"That blade is worthless. It cannot harm me."
"Maybe not."
Ethan lunged.
The guardian blocked easily, sending Ethan crashing to the ground. His ribs screamed. Blood filled his mouth.
But he rose.
And lunged again.
And again.
And again.
Each time, the guardian knocked him down. Each time, Ethan rose.
"You are a fool," the guardian said.
"No. I am a Blackwood."
The guardian paused.
Ethan lunged again—and this time, something changed.
The rusted sword in his hand blazed with light. Not the light of steel, but the light of memory. The light of belief.
The guardian’s eyes widened.
"That sword..."
"It belonged to Arthur. And now it belongs to me."
Ethan drove the blade forward.
It pierced the guardian’s chest.
The figure dissolved—not in death, but in release. His form crumbled into light, scattering across the cavern like a thousand fireflies.
And then—
Silence.
Ethan stood before the Sword in the Stone.
His body was broken. His mind was exhausted. But he was alive.
He reached out and grasped the hilt.
The moment his fingers touched the blade, power flooded through him—Arthur’s power. Arthur’s memories. Arthur’s promise.
"You found it."
The voice was strong now. Whole.
"Now let us finish what was started."
Ethan pulled the sword free.
The mountain trembled.
And somewhere, in the darkness, Silas’s shadow stirred.
『 Story Credibility: 90% 』
『 Family Faith: 95 』
『 Outsider Faith: 50 』
『 World Rebuttal: 38% 』
『 Ancestral Debt: None active 』
『 Arthur Blackwood’s manifestation progress: 95% 』
『 Silas Blackwood’s manifestation progress: 55% 』
『 New Relic Acquired: The Sword in the Stone 』
『 Arthur’s strength is restored 』
『 Next Milestone: 100% Credibility — Full Manifestation 』