Within the heart of an expansive hall adorned with a myriad of treasures, a serene tranquility hung in the air, wrapping the scene in an aura of ancient wisdom and untold potential.
This idyllic calm, however, was shattered without warning. Like a discordant note in an otherwise harmonious melody, the rhythmic actions of a young boy abruptly fractured the peaceful ambiance.
With every touch of the katana, a few seconds passed before an urgent gasp for air escaped his lips, a frenetic touch to his neck a hauntingly familiar ritual. After a few precious moments of respite, he would whisper with resolve, “One more time,” his hand gravitating to the hilt of the katana that stood sentinel before him.
Yet the dance remained unaltered, a ceaseless cycle playing out as if trapped within the relentless coils of fate itself.
Inside the katana’s realm, Atticus finally reached a breakthrough. He managed to block the man’s initial strike!
To achieve this, he channeled his mana to fortify his body, employ air to enhance his speed, fire to propel his arms into swift action, and earth to steady his stance, allowing him to stand his ground against the formidable assault.
“Hahaha, finally!” Atticus burst out with exhilaration. Before this, Atticus had struggled to wield all four elements simultaneously. He could, for at most two, but all four? It was impossible.
However, the constant brush with death had pushed him to the brink, triggering an instinctive response that allowed him to command all four elements at once for a split second.
The man seemed to show an expression for the first time. Then… there was no then, Atticus was swiftly beheaded and his consciousness expelled from the katana.
Clutching his neck and gasping for breath, Atticus muttered in frustration, “Damn it! I thought i passed some kind of test or something. Looks like i have to defeat him.”
And then, an unending cycle of demise and mounting exasperation unfolded. The man’s relentless onslaught resulted in Atticus repeatedly losing his head, yet within this seemingly hopeless repetition, a transformation took root.
Gradually, Atticus’s perception sharpened, and the enigma of the man’s techniques began to unravel.
With each successive beheading, Atticus gained insight. Micro expressions within the man’s movements became apparent – the tense flex of muscles, the subtle repositioning of balance, a prelude to the fatal strike.
After enduring the chilling embrace of death time and again, a moment of clarity blossomed within Atticus’s mind as his head fell. Amidst the abyss of defeat, he thought, ‘I see.’
If Atticus had examined his status at this very moment, he would have spotted a new stat added to the list.
Atticus stood before the Katana, his chest rising and falling with deep breaths as he sought to regain composure. As the echoes of his breaths gradually settled, a determined whisper escaped his lips, “One last time.”
With resolute resolve, he extended his hand to touch the hilt of the katana, and his consciousness was once again drawn into its enigmatic realm.
Upon entering the ethereal realm, Atticus’s hand instinctively found its place upon the katana’s hilt on his waist. His stance, an exact replica of the man’s. A serene smile graced the man’s features as he stood, clearly excited about what Atticus was trying to do.
With a whispered command,
{Transcendent Slash: Godspeed Grace}
Atticus’s intent ignited. Like a lightning bolt, he surged forward at supersonic speed. In the blink of an eye, he materialized behind the man, the katana’s deadly arc leaving no room for defense. The man’s head fell, lifeless.
With a practiced fluidity, Atticus sheathed the katana, his movements imbued with a sense of cool elegance.
In a seamless transition, the realm suddenly shifted into a serene dojo, an aura of tranquility enveloping the scene. A venerable figure, adorned with white hair that whispered of ageless wisdom, presided over the tableau.
Atticus’s awareness expanded, confirming that he had returned to his familiar attire.
“Boy, come. Have a seat,” the man’s voice resonated, the timbre of experience and sagacity carrying through the stillness.
A moment’s contemplation, ‘Well, it’s not like I can escape if he decided to do anything to me’ Atticus concluded. With resolute steps, he approached the table and took a seat.
The man appeared to appreciate Atticus’s decisiveness. “Haha, I already like you, young one. I’m certain you’re brimming with questions.”
Atticus replied nonchalantly, “Not really, just one.”
The man’s curiosity was piqued. “Oh, pray tell, what might that be?”
“I passed the test, right? So, can I have the weapon?” Atticus inquired.
The man’s surprise was fleeting before he erupted into laughter, his amusement evident. “Hahaha! What an intriguing lad you are!” he exclaimed. Composing himself, he continued, “Yes, you’ve indeed passed the test, and it is now yours to claim.”
Atticus’s face lit up, a radiant smile betraying his elation at finally obtaining the sword he sought. “You’re a Ravenstein right, senior? What are you doing in a sword?” he inquired, his tone becoming more respectful.
Atticus was curious about a lot of things, but he wanted to confirm if the katana was guarantee first before anything.
The man smiled “You’re right young one. My name is Cedric Ravenstein. And this thing you call a ‘sword’ is a life weapon”
“Life weapon?” Atticus asked
“These are no ordinary tools of combat, but companions that evolve alongside their wielders.” His eyes seemed to glint with a spark of ancient reverence as he unraveled the essence of these extraordinary artifacts.
“They bear no arbitrary grades or limitations,” the man elucidated, his voice resonating with a sense of profound truth. “Instead, their power is intrinsically tied to the growth and potential of their users. A life weapon doesn’t merely halt its progress at a predefined threshold; it journeys alongside its wielder, ascending in strength as its bond with the user deepens.”
Atticus’s mind whirred with understanding as the implications of this revelation unfolded. ‘Absolute jackpot!’ he thought. The concept defied conventional norms, transcending the boundaries of rank and classification.
“Even if one were to attain the paragon-rank,” the man affirmed, “the life weapon would continue to grow, unwavering in its commitment to match the heights reached by its master.”
Atticus was elated! He now had a sword that can grow with him, it was a huge gain!
The man appeared to perceive Atticus’s excitement, and a smile played on his lips.
“Listen, young one,” the man’s voice resonated, “I shall fade away now. Once I depart, you shall return to your body, and the sword shall forge a bond with you. Its usage will become second nature. I’ll leave the rest as a surprise”
“Yes, Elder!” Atticus responded with fervor. As swiftly as he had appeared, the man vanished. The surroundings seemed to blur and shift, and Atticus found himself back within his physical form.
In an instant, the katana soared into his grasp, and an undeniable connection coursed through him. A tingling sensation danced within his mind, as if foreign memories were weaving their way into his consciousness.
