Chapter 27: Because You Can

Chapter 27: Chapter 27: Because You Can

A mist of glimmering cloud settled atop the mountain and condensed into a human form.

Xavier stood at the summit of a barren peak. As far as his eyes could reach, the ground bristled with millions of swords—broken, rusted, and forgotten. This was the graveyard of blades.

Lilith had briefed him on the sword realm’s layout. Six elemental domains radiated outward from the central graveyard hill: fire, wind, water, rock, light, and lightning. Each region carried its own colored sky. Above the mountain itself, black storm clouds hung heavy and unmoving.

Xavier turned toward the crimson horizon. Hundreds of kilometers distant, a colossal castle burned beneath a red sky, its walls wreathed in scorching flame and surrounded by a vast forest. That was his destination—the resting place of the fire elemental swords.

He dissolved back into mist and descended the mountain. The peak rose more than fifteen kilometers, yet in mist form he glided to the base in under a minute. Maintaining that speed, he shot toward the burning castle and entered the forest.

The "trees" were not trees at all. Giant swords, each more than fifty meters tall, stood clustered in the millions, forming a dense canopy when viewed from afar.

’Only giants could ever have wielded such swords’ Xavier thought.

Small glowing spheres drifted here and there among the blades. He ignored them and pressed on.

At the castle’s boundary the true scale of the fortress became clear. It towered higher than any structure he had seen in either of his lives. Flames erupted from every battlement; the very stones glowed cherry-red with heat. Yet Xavier felt nothing. His physical body remained in the real world; his astral form was immune to temperature and pain.

He passed through the massive gates. At once a swarm of glowing spheres converged on him.

"Human."

"Human."

"Target— I mean, human."

These were the spirits Lilith had warned him about. He walked straight through them without answering, following the lava-like path that cut across a garden of flamelike grass, and climbed the magma steps to the inner keep.

Inside, everything was bathed in the same bloody light. Unlike the broken blades of the graveyard, the swords here were elegant and razor-sharp—some shimmering with internal fire, others strangely untouched by the heat.

Any one of them would have served. Xavier took his time nonetheless, examining every blade that caught his eye. He did not know when—or if—he would ever return to this realm.

He lifted one sword. The hilt settled into his palm as though made for it.

"Not that one. It’s a shit sword," several spirits sneered. More of them gathered with every passing second.

Xavier finally snapped. "Shut up. What do you even know about swords?"

"So the boy isn’t deaf."

"Yeah, but he’s an imbecile."

A brighter spirit drifted forward. "What do you think we are, boy?"

"Devious spirits who want to doom every visitor who comes looking for a blade," Xavier answered flatly.

Laughter rippled through the swarm.

"Haha—that might be true. We would love for you to be trapped here like us."

The bright spirit continued, "Every spirit here was once human—among the greatest swordsmen of their age. We were cursed by our own blades. Our souls were damned and bound to this place. So yes, boy, we know a thing or two about swords. More than you, at least."

"That still doesn’t explain why you’d help me find a better one."

"If you were anyone else, we would entice you and trick you into damnation. But you are different. Your soul is pure mana. You might be able to resolve the problem that has haunted every spirit and every sword in this castle."

"What problem?"

"About two decades ago a troublesome sword developed an ego. Since then, anyone who tried to claim it has been reduced to ash. The blade is wicked—it even haunts us spirits and devours its own kind for fun. You look like someone who could calm it... and take control of it."

Xavier already knew the sword they meant. Over the last twenty years it had incinerated more than one arrogant noble, becoming a dark legend across the empire. When a sword awakened an ego, it gained consciousness and a personality forged by the life it had lived.

"And why would I risk myself to solve your problem?" he asked. An ego sword was a prize beyond measure, but not if the price was death. He was ambitious, not suicidal.

"Because you can."

"You’re the first in a long time who can."

"You’re the only one who can."

The spirits’ voices overlapped, frantic. They had never encountered mana as pure as his; every time he shifted into mist form the purity became unmistakable.

Xavier still could not decide whether they were telling the truth or merely trying to doom him. Time, however, was running short.

"How would I do it?" he asked at last.

"Deal with it."

"Satisfy it."

"It’s hungry—feed it."

"Overwhelm it."

"Dominate it"

The bright spirit spoke more clearly. "The sword is looking for a ruler. Prove you can be rough while keeping your composure. Go to the throne room. It is sleeping there now."

Lilith’s warning echoed in his mind ’No matter what, do not enter the throne room’

Curiosity and the spirits’ relentless flattery overrode caution. Xavier turned and walked toward the throne room.

The giant gates stood open. He stepped into a vast hall. At the far end, raised on several tiers of steps, a throne of black stone burned with internal fire; molten lava wept down its edges.

Impaled in the seat of the throne was a single sword—long, elegant, and black as midnight. A ruby glowed at the crossguard; another pulsed at the pommel. Crimson aura leaked from the blade like living flame. No other sword shared the chamber.

Xavier had never seen a weapon so beautiful. Even his father’s legendary blade looked plain beside it.

A strong, commanding voice resonated through the hall as the sword’s aura flared.

"Who are you to disturb my rest?"