There were eleven types of swords that his master brought out. All of different forms, and shapes. Even their sizes were different. Some of them were almost as long as he was, while some of were of only half his height. Some of them had just a cloth wrapped around the base of their blade as a grip. Others had proper hilts, with rather dramatic hilt guards. The only thing common that Alnea could see in between all of the swords was the fact that all of them were single edged. And all of them called out to him. Or maybe it was the Aspect within him that they were calling out to.

In any case, Alnea finally understood what his master had meant by the fact that a sword had to suit him in order for him to make the best use out of it, and his Aspect. He had not even held the sword, and they were already trying to attract him. The wooden sword that he had practised with for nearly a week had never so much as even squeaked. However, it was exactly because of those feelings that he could not help recalling what his master said about single edged swords.

“…A sword to protect, and a sword to kill.”

Was he really going to kill?

“…Even if it means to kill.”

He may have said that, but he did not know if he could do it. However, there was one thing he did know. He was not going to let anything, or anyone hurt the people he loved. And if, to ensure that no one would dare to dare to hurt them, he had to kill, then he would kill. For the moment, that was enough. As long as his conscience, and Heart were Clear, that was enough.

Taking a deep breath, Alnea reached towards the sword closest to him. It was one of the shorter swords, even shorter than his wooden sword. And yet, it was at least four times as heavy. Other than that, it also had a strange charm shimmering along its edge, ending at the tip of its hilt. One that invited him take hold of the blade, and turn around. To swing. To thrust. To become one with it. To let his Aspect seep into its edges, and draw out its meaning…

This was a sword made to protect. What it protected though, was completely different from what he wished to protect. And though it was a sword meant for killing, it would kill only those it would come across. It would never actively seek out his enemies. For it was a free, and unfettered sword, made for people who were just as free, and unfettered as it was. What they protected was not the people close to them, but the memories of those people in their Heart. This sword… was not for him.

Exhaling lightly, as his Aspect return to its Aspect Well, Alnea let go of the sword, with his master catching it just in time. Seeing the look of dejection on his face, she could see that the sword did not suit him, so she put it away in her ‘Dimensional Pocket’.

Meanwhile, Alnea walked up to his second sword. This time, he chose one that was a little longer than the rest. After all, not all the people he wished to protect were by his side. Like his mother, and big sis Serena. But the sword… Its length was not to reach the people he wished to protect, but to reach out to people whom he wished to kill. It could still protect… but its killing breath was too extreme. With a curve in its spine, and waves in its blade, this sword was made to kill. This sword… was not for him.

Another sword discarded, another sword picked. Alnea swung his third sword in the darkness of the canyon. And within that darkness, he saw a flash of light on the tip of his blade. It was Orn’s light, soft, and beautiful—

Alnea shivered, as he looked at the sword once again. At the moment, it had been only a few hours since the rise of Enn. He had not even been to the Origin Sea yet. How could Orn’s light possibly be reflecting of the blade? Unless… it was not Orn’s light at all. It was the light of beauty that one saw just before their death. It was the light of false hope that the sword often gave to his enemies. Those people dared to set their eyes on something that was protected by it? How could it let them off so easily?

Another sword meant for killing. Another sword meant for protecting. If looking just from the perspective of what he desired, then the sword was perfect for him. But looking from the perspective of its means… It was too devious, and cunning. Drawing people into its illusion, before killing them off… Just from a practical point of view, this was indeed the perfect sword for him. Since the Mysteries of Night often dealt with illusions, and dreams. But this sword… was not for him.

And so, he went forward to choose another sword, to swing another sword that spoke to him. But the sword spoke too much. Even within fights, it would speak to his enemies, asking them for their reason, their convictions, trying to make them give up. Trying to protect in its own ways. But if there was one thing that Alnea had learned from the attacks of the Heterodox Wanderers, it was that speaking to his enemies would never work.

Wanderers generally had very strong convictions. As such, if they decided on something, most of the time, they would stick to it. Though the sword also had killing potential, and was a sword meant for protecting, it was not for him. And just like that, another sword was put away by him, another sword not suited for him.

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On, and on he went, searching for his sword, for the one that would fit his Heart. But in the end, all the swords disappointed him. It was not that none of them fit him. Rather, every one of the swords had something in common with him. Otherwise, his master would not have taken them out in the first place. But they were just not perfect for him. They were just not meant for him. They—

A sword, heavy, and long, at least three quarters his height, called out to him. Heeding the call, he walked up the sword, and picked it up, before swinging it around. It really was heavy. So heavy, in fact, that he had to use his Aspects in order to be able to wield it properly. Even its own back, half a finger thick, had started to bend because of its weight. No, not of its weight, but of the weigh it carried. The weight of those it vowed to protect. The weight of the responsibilities it had taken.

Yet, no matter how much weight it carried, its edge never dulled. Neither did its swing slowed down. Rather, because of the weight on its back, it only got faster with every swing. Especially the tip of the blade, which curved backward to meet its back, forming a perfect arc. This was a sword that was meant to kill. This was a sword meant to protect. This was a sword… meant for him.

“Looks like you found your sword,” his master said, breaking Alnea out of his trance, and bringing his attention back to herself. Nodding with a smile, she put away the rest of the swords, before shifting her glance to the sword in his hand. “The sword of Farin… Your connection with fate is strong as ever… Fortunately, your Roots are not based on the lineage of Fate.”

“Fate,” Alnea mumbled, glancing at the sword in his hand. Hearing the word that had once almost separated him from his master, the first thing that came in his mind was the colour white. Whether it was his master, or Yuri, both of them always wore white. And both of their Roots, in part, were based on the Mysteries from the lineage of Fate. Yet the sword did not have anything that could remind him of fate.

On the contrary, with purplish leather threads crisscrossing its night black hilt, and blood red jewels adorning the space in between, the sword, with slivers of silverish blue, just like the light of Orn, skirting around the edges of a blade even darker than its hilt, looked to be on the completely opposite spectrum of fate. It did not even hilt guard, or any symbol of fate. How could it be related to fate?

Alnea, of course, did not doubt his master. If she said it was related to fate, then it must be related to fate. He just did not know how. So, there was only one thing he needed to do.

“What is the sword of Farin, master?”

“Farin… it was once a country in the Faed Domain. This sword… it is made by the descendants of that country, carrying the hope of one day reconquering their country… their Domain. Hence the name, sword of Farin.”

“Farin,” Alnea mumbled, etching that name into his memory. “Why have I never heard of such a country before, master?”

“Do you think that you know everything that there is to know in the world?”

“No…” Alnea mumbled, flinching a little, until he saw the amused smile on his master’s face. “But you know everything, master. After all, you are omn—

“Cheeky disciple,” his master said, pinching his nose while he was still speaking. “You dare to tease your master?”

“Truth, master!” Alnea said, crying out in pain. “I was telling truth!”

Chuckling at his overdramatised cries, and actions, his master let go of his nose, and said, “You have chosen your sword. Next are your Martial Styles… But that can wait for the moment. First, I need to make a sheath for your sword. Till then, you can go and meditate a little, before completing your daily Wandering.”

“…I thought that it was a famous sword. Why did it not have a sheath until now, master?”

“The sword is not exactly famous, but it is indeed a good sword. And it is exactly because it is such a good sword that it did not have a sheath until now.”

“…I don’t understand what you are saying.”

“For sword such as the sword of Farin, swords with an intent, and a spirituality, they would not allow themselves to be sheathed except by their masters.”

“It is such a magical sword?” Alnea mumbled, staring at the sword once again.

“…Magical may be an overstatement, but yes, it is a good sword.”

“What is its Rank, master?”

“…The sword cannot be considered as an Oren Weapon right now, so giving it a Rank would be difficult.”

“It is not an Oren Weapon?”

“Did you see any Glyphs on it?”

“No…”

“Then?”

“But I felt its power, master… When my Aspect flowed into it, I could sense its powers… If it is so strong when it is just a normal weapon, how strong would it be when it would become an Oren Weapon…”

“That is why I said that it is a good sword,” his master said. “Just the materials of the sword… Forget it. Just know that it is a very precious sword that not even many Mystic Rank Oren Weapons can compare to.”

“…Then why is it not an Oren Weapon yet, master?”

“…Because it was waiting for its master,” his master said, glancing towards the sword. “If you want to make it an Oren Weapon… then you will have to engrave the Glyph Arrays onto the sword yourself. Only then, will the sword truly become yours.”

“…Engrave the Glyph Arrays by myself?”

“Yes,” his master said. “That is the way of swords.”

“…The way of swords is too long. I have not even engraved a Glyph onto my Spirit. Engraving it on a sword… How long will that take?”

“…Will you stop thinking of such useless questions, and get to your meditation?”

“…Yes, master.”