Nyx and Zyrith entered the weapon shop, the heavy wooden door creaking as it closed behind them. The interior was dimly lit, with shafts of sunlight filtering through cracks in the walls. The air smelled of iron, leather, and the faint scent of oil used to maintain the weapons. The walls were lined with an impressive assortment of gear—daggers, swords, spears, shields, and armor sets ranging from the heaviest tank equipment to the light, nimble sets for archers and assassins.
Zyrith’s excitement was palpable. Her violet eyes lit up like a child’s in a candy store. “Look at all of this!” she exclaimed, rushing to examine a set of sleek daggers displayed near the counter. She marveled at the variety of armor—heavy plate for tanks, medium chainmail for warriors, and lightweight leathers for assassins. She seemed almost overwhelmed by the sheer number of options available.
While Zyrith immersed herself in the rows of weaponry, Nyx moved with purpose. He approached the counter where an old, frail man sat, head bowed, seemingly asleep. His thick, bushy eyebrows obscured his eyes entirely, making it impossible to tell if he was aware of his surroundings.
Nyx’s voice was low and cold. “Hey, you awake?”
There was no response.
Nyx’s brow furrowed in annoyance. “Hey!” he said louder, but again, the old man didn’t stir. Irritated, Nyx reached out to nudge the shopkeeper, only for the man to suddenly jerk awake, his eyes snapping open beneath his thick brows.
“Ha! What? Who’s there?” the old man sputtered, looking around wildly, then chuckling to himself as if he’d just played a trick on someone.
Nyx remained unfazed, but his patience was wearing thin. “I need a sword,” he said flatly, placing his current weapon on the counter. “And I want to trade this one.”
The old man’s chuckling faded as he took the sword in his weathered hands. He examined it closely, squinting as though he could see something that wasn’t visible to the naked eye. “Do you even know what grade this sword is, boy?” the old man asked, his voice laced with amusement.
Nyx’s eyes narrowed. “Grade?”
The shopkeeper let out a raspy laugh, shaking his head. “Ah, youth! So blissfully ignorant of the world.” He placed the sword back on the counter and leaned forward. “If you’re going to be an adventurer, you need to know the quality of your weapons. Hold it in your hand, focus, and say ‘Info.’”
Nyx picked up the sword and, with a skeptical glance at the old man, muttered, “Info.”
A translucent screen materialized before him, floating just above the blade:
Weapon Info
Name: Iron-Edged Sword
Grade: Common
Weight: Moderate
Special Attributes: None
Description: A basic iron sword used by low-level adventurers. Functional, but lacking any special qualities or enhancements. Suitable for beginners.
Nyx stared at the screen. This was the same sword the warrior had used to behead the Gorehound in the dungeon. “Can a sword like this kill a high-level monster?” he asked, his tone betraying a hint of curiosity.
The old man scratched his beard, thinking for a moment. “On its own? Likely not. But if you pour enough of your mana into it, a skilled adventurer could make it do things you wouldn’t believe. With enough power, you could cut through a mountain.”
Nyx’s mind drifted back to the dungeon, replaying the moment he saw the warrior cleave the Gorehound’s head clean off. Something didn’t add up, but he didn’t dwell on it long. “Show me your other swords.”
Zyrith, overhearing the conversation, approached the counter, her curiosity piqued. The old man glanced between the two of them. “And what about your friend here? She’s got the look of someone in need of a good weapon.”
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Zyrith blushed, waving her hands dismissively. “We’re not friends…” she began, but before she could finish, Nyx cut her off.
“And daggers for her as well,” he said, his eyes closed, his tone cold as always.
Zyrith blinked in surprise, momentarily taken aback by Nyx’s unexpected gesture. She opened her mouth to say something, but Nyx had already turned and was walking toward the display of swords. Zyrith, left smiling softly, walked to the section with the daggers, still a bit flustered.
Nyx began picking up swords, one by one, inspecting each with a simple, “Info.”
Weapon Info
Name: Steel Gladius
Grade: Common
Weight: Light
Special Attributes: Increased Speed
Description: A short, light sword designed for quick strikes. Its edge is sharp, and it allows for fast, agile movements.
Weapon Info
Name: Iron Bastard Sword
Grade: Common
Weight: Heavy
Special Attributes: Increased Durability
Description: A long, double-edged sword forged from iron. Durable and capable of withstanding heavy blows, but its weight makes it slow to wield.
Weapon Info
Name: Bronze Falchion
Grade: Common
Weight: Moderate
Special Attributes: Increased Cutting Power
Description: A curved blade ideal for slicing through armor and flesh alike.
Weapon Info
Name: Silver Longsword
Grade: Common
Weight: Moderate
Special Attributes: Magic Resistance
Description: A finely crafted longsword made from silver, offering moderate resistance to magical attacks.
Weapon Info
Name: Serrated Edge Blade
Grade: Common
Weight: Light
Special Attributes: Bleed Effect
Description: A sword with a serrated edge that can inflict bleeding wounds on opponents. Best suited for someone who prefers a tactical approach, wearing enemies down over time.
Weapon Info
Name: Iron Claymore
Grade: Common
Weight: Very Heavy
Special Attributes: Increased Range
Description: A massive sword designed for wide, sweeping attacks. Its long reach can keep enemies at a distance, but its sheer weight makes it difficult to wield for anyone who lacks considerable physical strength.
None of the swords impressed Nyx. Though functional, they lacked the power and uniqueness he sought. His growing frustration was evident as he turned to the old man once again. “Do you have anything else?” he asked, his patience wearing thin.
The old man’s eyes gleamed as he stroked his beard. “Ah, I was wondering if you’d ask that,” he muttered. Hopping off his stool with surprising agility, the shopkeeper trotted to the back of the store. Nyx watched him disappear into the shadows, listening to the sound of rustling and clinking metal.
After what felt like an eternity, the old man returned, carrying a sword wrapped in thick, dusty cloth. “This one,” he said, his voice low, almost reverent, “has been in my family for generations.”
Nyx raised an eyebrow. The sword didn’t look like much—just another piece of metal wrapped in an old cloth. He reached for it, and the moment his fingers brushed the hilt, the air around him shifted.
A powerful gust of wind burst from the blade, causing loose objects around the shop to rattle. The sword pulsed with energy, waves of air emanating from it, and before Nyx could react, it began to drain his purple mana, pulling it from his body with an almost sentient hunger.
Nyx tried to release the sword, but his hand was stuck to the hilt as though it had fused with the weapon. Zyrith, watching from a distance, felt the surge of mana and moved closer, her eyes wide with a mix of concern and awe.
Minutes passed before the sword finally calmed. The violent pulsation stopped, and Nyx was able to regain control. He glanced at the sword in his hand, his mind racing. “Info,” he muttered, half-expecting nothing.
But the screen appeared:
Weapon Info
Name: Whispering Edge
Grade: Diamond
Weight: Light
Special Attributes: Soul Resonance (Increases strength based on the wielder’s emotional state)
Description: An intricately crafted sword with an unusual aura surrounding it. The blade is etched with faint symbols that seem to shift when viewed from different angles, almost as if the sword is alive. Its origins are unknown, though some say it was crafted by a bloodline that no longer exists, from a kingdom lost to time. Legends speak of its ability to resonate with the soul of its wielder, growing in power based on their emotions.
Nyx stared at the screen, the words “a bloodline that no longer exists” sending a shiver down his spine. He turned to the old man. “Where did you get this?”
The shopkeeper stroked his beard again, his expression thoughtful. “This sword has been in my family longer than I’ve been alive. My father passed it down to me, and his father before him. They always said someone would come to claim it one day.” He looked Nyx in the eyes. “I suppose that someone is you.”
The two stood in silence for a moment before Nyx finally nodded. “How much?”
Zyrith, who had been watching in awe, approached the counter with a set of daggers. She still couldn’t shake the feeling of wonder from witnessing the sword’s reaction to Nyx.
“I’ll take care of hers as well,” Nyx said, not looking at her as he counted out the coins from the pouch he had taken off the Crimson Claw.
Zyrith’s eyes widened in surprise, but she didn’t say anything. Instead, she smiled softly, clutching the daggers she had chosen as the two of them prepared to leave the shop.
As they stepped out into the street, Nyx felt the weight of the sword on his back, the pulsating energy still faintly resonating with his own mana. Something told him this was more than just a weapon. It was a part of him now. And soon, he would discover just how powerful that connection could become.