Many a crowd walked by a rolled-out piece of faded brown cloth, unbeknownst here lies the greatest being to ever exist.

Voidcutter. Bladehand. Deathbringer. Silent reaper…

Need I say more? My soon-to-be nicknames say it all.

God killer.

Possible. Possible, but not quite there yet with the last one.

To be honest, the coarse fabric I laid upon did not do me any justice. It did not flaunt enough of my dazzling figure. But it would be beneath someone of my renown to quibble with the fabric’s owner over such insignificant matters. I am the greatest being to exist, afterall. Benevolent too, I might add. I only gave the grubby Dylan, the old owner of the fabric, a side eye for my poor treatment.

Besides, I made everything look good anyway.

Lazing flat on an itchy fibrous blanket? No, not me. I worked that carpet. Made that plain old piece of fabric beneath me sexy because I was sexy. Picture this: me, a devilishly alluring god, drawing in the thirsting crowd by showing off my divine figure and flexing every inch of my body. 32 and ¾ inches to be exact, base to tip. I was like the great heavenly Spirit but descended upon the earth, gracing all its inhabitants with my breathtaking presence.

Behold! Witness my greatness!

My bare magnificence lay sprawled in the nude for all to see. And see, everyone who walked by did. I was not shy nor one to hide. I flopped there openly. There was nothing decent on this piece of cloth able to cover up with anyway.

But why be bashful?

I displayed everything proudly. Everything.

My base was thicker than most, meant to be held up by two hands. I may be cold and rigid, but I’ll quickly warm up if properly handled. From my base, I extended out long and straight. Sharp deadly lines defined the lengths of my gallant body, converging to a pointy tip. But be careful where you touch, you might get cut. Or worse, impaled.

People walking by peeked a look and quickly turned away. Too shy to openly stare, I bet. Not because they did not like what they saw. That cannot be. Who would not want to look at me?

“Stare, good people! Feast your eyes! I do not mind. ‘Tis no crime to gaze upon greatness!”

Even the beaming sun worshiped my great form.

Not only did my hard body glimmer under the light, I shined more resplendently than the others displayed around me. Hmpf. I would not lose to any of those useless trash this time around. They were not even capable of thought! That’s right! This time, I’ll find a proper owner! And not just some nobody like Dylan who wanted to discard me for some trivial coin. No! I will not sit around anymore! I deserve better! Someone who will understand my greatness and properly wield me to my utmost potential!

Ah! Here comes that someone right now! Someone who will understand me! She and I - we would be the perfect match!

I knew it the moment I saw her. More specifically, her fancy silver cuirass that was embellished with welded-on ivy moldings. Fate brought us together. It was meant to be. My destined future companion approached me from afar, down the cobblestone path in front of the fabric I laid upon.

Strong, confident steps from metal-laced boots clinked distinctly through the crowd. She donned a heavy set of metal armor that made her personage imposing.

Very good. She can wear me too. Peas in a pod.

I would complete her metallic set, sitting ready, attached to her curvy waist. Just like me, the hard pieces of metal lining the lady knight’s ample figure caught the beams of the sun and glimmered radiantly like shiny jewels. We would be the perfect couple! Shimmering and all!

The leader in her party of four, she took center stage, chest held high while leading her pack of followers through the crowd with confident strides.

I liked assertive people. Unlike old man Dylan. He did not understand my greatness. After tossing me haphazardly on the fabric with the others, he did nothing else. There was no angling of my body for my best half to be better seen. No adjustments or posing me for a better aesthetic. No effort was taken to appeal for the sake of marketing. How was I to show off my best features? I deserved a stage, but I barely got a street-side attraction.

Regardless, the others around me still couldn’t compare. But that Dylan… Ugh!

After Dylan sat back at the far end of the fabric, not a single word of promotion came out of his mouth. Everyone else who similarly set up shop peddled annoyingly to the crowd of passersby. But no, not Dylan.

Fine, Dylan. Be that way. But not me. I am unwilling to simply lay here.

If you want it done right, you have to do it yourself.

I glanced back at my soon-to-be future home by the lady’s waist side.

But her stoic face looked straight ahead through the mass of moving people.

Not good.

The lady in armor was not browsing along the sides of the cobblestone road for another shiny companion. She would not even see me! I needed to catch her eyes, and Dylan was of no help. I needed to seek my new lady’s attention myself. This was destiny! I was meant to be hers! I know it!

There was only one thing I could do now.

Right when she walked across from me, I called out to her, “Hey, pretty lady in metal! Over here! Take a look at this handle! Use two hands, and I’m yours!”

Marketing with smooth words, the latest art form, baby! Everyone will love me!

“…”

Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.

No response. Not even a turn. The lady clanked on by as if she didn’t even hear me. Actually, no one could hear me. I had hoped she would have at least sensed my enthusiasm to be hers. But… Oh, woe is this wretched existence of mine. I could not move to wave her down nor speak words aloud to let her hear my passion.

Anyway, the lady and her entourage disappeared into the crowd. Our future together shattered. How short-lived. Our relationship as a sword and swordswoman stopped before it even started. But I no longer bothered to care. I knew better than to chase after those who did not want me.

Che. Whatever. Plenty of other fish in the sea, and plenty of others browsing this bazaar. I told myself, needing a little pick-me-up.

Not going to lie. A long time ago, I would of been butt hurt. But after being discarded by my father, then by my first owner, then the second, and so on, I built up a strong resilience to being thrown away and being unwanted. Especially now by that Dylan. Hmpf. What number was he again? I forget through the years. But regardless, being discarded like trash still stung.

Looking into the crowd where my lost destiny vanished, I shouted, “Hey, lady! Your loss! Not mine!”

There was no time to be bitter, which I was not, okay? I scoured the masses of people, looking for an ideal master, friend, and companion. Every day was a new day. And every new moment was an opportunity. Someone would want me! Preferably someone who could unlock my true greatness. But not many looked hopeful. They walked on by, not bothering for a second glance. Still, I attempted to show my worth to anyone with a possibility. And just for the notion, I was not desperate. Not all…

A towering family man with curly brown hair slowed to a stop, observing me and the others. Just as he judged us, I also judged him back.

A rather plain and simple man, he was, wearing a slightly faded beige tunic and dark brown trousers. I suppose he had a decent face compared to most, symmetrical and angular. Although, his thin hairline was slowly receding. Not necessarily a bad look. But I learned through the years with my previous masters, that it mattered deeply to some. Stoked the fleshy ones’ egos, I recalled.

The only other thing of note about the man was his muscled build that bulged through his fitted clothes. Maybe a laborer or farmer, seeing the dried mud caked to the bottom of his leather boots.

I was not particularly keen on the broad-shouldered man as I was with the previous lady. The lady’s soft waist looked more comfortable than the man’s rigid muscled back. Personally speaking from being manhandled before, I preferred the more delicate lady’s touch. But I’d still take the man as my master over laying around every day on a thin fabric covering cobblestones.

Yet, my final decision would truly depend on what the family man’s intentions for me were. I prayed I would not become a makeshift tree cutter again. What a terrible and frightening experience. Who knew some types of wood had a thing for being chopped? Especially impaled and then finely minced. Enough of that. Besides, I was not an ax and not into woodplay.

Horrid memories of blocks of wood forcing themselves through me made me shudder. Oh, dear gods, no more skewering and chopping flowering Nymph wood…

The Nymph and my once-adventurer owner-turned-woodcutter may have a taste for masochism, but not me. I was destined for…better things.

However, I was not so sure such a grand destiny would come along with the family man either.

“Careful, Leila,” the brown-haired father warned, pulling back his daughter who reached out for my dazzling self.

Her blonde, ponytailed hair and innocent face tilted to one side, confused by her father’s actions. Confused, I was as well. I must say the child looked nothing like her gruffy father, whose square chin prickled with stubby hair from an unclean shave.

“Don’t touch that rusted thing. If you get cut, you might get tetanus.”

I gasped. Never have I ever…

“Excuse you! How dare you!” I barked.

“What’s tetanus, Daddy?”

“A disease. Terrible one. So don’t touch the dirty piece of metal, okay?”

“M’kay.”

I snapped. Never through my countless years of questionable existence have I ever been so insulted!

“Oh, hell nah! Rusted? Thing? Diseased? Dirty piece of metal!? Get your balding head down here so I can give you a real shave, ya bastard! I’ll show you tetanus! Calling this grand shining body of mine rusted? Rusted?! I cut off all your remaining hair! Your half-shaven face isn’t going to make up for your vanishing hairline!”

Suddenly, the girl giggled. “Hehe! Haha! Daddy, he’s funny. Can I have him?”

“Huh? Who? Who is, Leila?”

“The dirty thing! He’s funny! He called you bald, Daddy.”

And with those miraculous words, instantly my exploding emotions faded away. “Huh? You can hear me, little girl?”

“Haha! Hi, dirty thing! You’re funny!”

The man ignored his daughter and jerked his head at Dylan. Scowling at the old man, the girl’s father growled an octave lower, “Repeat your daring words, merchant.”

Dylan showed a rare surprised expression, wrinkling eyes stretched wide that soon narrowed as his face darkened. The change shocked even me. I’ve never seen Dylan’s ancient face contort with so many deep lines. But screw Dylan. More importantly, the girl! She heard me!

Dylan roared back, “What’cha talkin’ ‘bout, boy!? Ya be bark in’ up the wrong tree. I ain’t said nothing! And there be a plenty of witnesses! Ya best ain’t be startin’ any trouble, or I’ll bring over ‘em guards!”

“You calling me and my daughter liars?! My daughter said you called me bald!”

Before old man Dylan could reply, the little girl used both arms and grabbed her father’s leg. “No, Daddy! Not grandpa! The dirty thing!”

“Ahem. Girlie, let me correct you. I am not dirty. I am the greatest being in the world!”

“The greatest?” The girl questioned while clinging to her father’s leg. “But daddy is the greatest.”

“Your insulting pops with his vanishing hairline? The greatest? No, no. Did you know, little girl? Greatness does not have hair. Why? Greatness only shines. Who’s shinier? Me or your father? Obviously me, so I am definitely greater.”

“But. But…” the girl said, trying to rebuttal my profound logic.

Seeing his daughter pointing at me while talking, the father frowned and interrupted, “That rusted sword? Leila, swords don’t talk. Stop imagining things.”

“No, Daddy! This one did! He said he’s the greatest and your hairline is vanishing!”

Now the man glared at me but shook his head after looking for a while.

“Leila, no matter what you see around you, you can’t be saying anything that comes to mind. Some people will not take it as a joke. So don’t talk about Daddy’s hair, ok?”

“But Daddy-!”

“Come on, let’s go,” the daughter’s father said, trying to cover his balding spot before turning to Dylan. “Apologies, old man.”

“Bah! Ya more senile than us old folks! Go! And don’cha come back!”

However, I desperately shouted at the little girl dragged away into the crowd, “Wait! Little girl! Come back! You can hear me, right?! Talk to me! Please! Please! You’re the first to-“

Before I could finish shouting at my vanishing destiny, a looming shadow abruptly hovered over me. Before I knew it, I was lifted into the air. A firm, pale hand gripped my base, turning my hilt side to side as a pair of glowing yellow eyes set within a pale face thoroughly checked out every inch of my body.

“Ahh! Pervert! Stop! What are you doing?!”

Suddenly, I stopped yelling and froze. The yellow gaze seemed to penetrate through my metal casing and peered into my soul.

“How much, Mister?” Asked a young man hidden within a black cloak.

The guy was definitely strange, donned in an all-black attire, which contrasted starkly against his light skin. Bits of deep ebony hair poked out under his hood. But the most weird was the large, stuffed backpack he carried. It was nearly his size.

Was I now going to be stuck with this weirdo?