Chapter 30. The Cursed Sword

Chapter 30: 30. The Cursed Sword

The guild hall had quieted a little as the afternoon stretched toward evening.

Crimson Path claimed a long table near the side wall.

Mira brought over a tray of drinks herself, adjusting the tight straps of her guild uniform as she balanced the weight.

Dean raised his mug first.

"To a clean clear and a missing finger that didn’t cost more than it should."

Ryn snorted and drank. Tina and Brianna followed. Even Seraphine accepted a cup after a short pause, though her expression stayed cool.

The sharp edge she usually carried softened just enough for the others to notice.

The long dungeon run, the Oni, and the boss fight had left all of them ready for a moment of quiet.

Kael sat with Eira close at his side.

The younger girl sipped water and stayed silent, pulling her hood forward nervously as she adjusted to the noisy room.

Tina set her cup down and looked toward Mira, who had remained near the table.

"One more thing for the report. We encountered a red-skinned Oni inside the dungeon. C-rank at least. He used black-and-white mist and fled after the fight. He threatened the team before escaping."

Mira’s mature eyes sharpened.

The cheerful flush from earlier faded into professional focus.

"An Oni inside a D-rank dungeon near Grayhollow?" She nodded once.

"I’ll pass the details to my husband tonight. The guild leader needs to know if demon races are moving this close to the border towns."

Brianna leaned back in her chair, green skin still carrying a faint sheen from the earlier cold.

"Our house is only a few streets from here. Just ask around where the Crimson Path lives you’ll get the address. If anything comes up, you know where to find the four of us."

Tina added the exact street and the simple wooden marker on the door. Dean and Ryn both lived under the same roof.

The entire Crimson Path team shared the house, a practical arrangement that kept them close for early dungeon runs.

Kael finished his drink and stood.

"I’ll head home with these two. Long day."

He offered a short nod to the table. Brianna returned a small smile. Tina gave a calm farewell. Dean and Ryn raised their mugs once more.

Kael took Eira’s small hand.

The girl closed her fingers around his without resistance.

Seraphine pushed away from the wall where she had been standing and fell into step on his other side, tapping the pommel of her dagger in a restless rhythm, clearly ready to leave the lingering crowds behind.

Together the three of them left the guild hall and stepped onto the road that led toward Kael’s house.

The streets of Grayhollow carried the usual mix of races and the quiet noise of a border town settling into evening.

After the frozen tunnels, the Oni, and the sudden boss fight, the ordinary road felt almost peaceful.

Seraphine walked a half-step ahead, posture straight and closed off as always.

Eira stayed close at Kael’s side, her small hand warm in his. The long, exciting dungeon run was finally behind them.

They entered the market street. Stalls and small shops lined both sides. The late sun cast long shadows across the cobblestones.

A soft crimson window appeared only in Kael’s vision.

[The host should heed my words and enter the shop beside you. There’s a cursed weapon there to be found in that garbage of heaps.]

Kael stopped mid-step.

Seraphine turned at once, crimson eyes narrowing with clear irritation.

"Why did you stop?"

Kael looked to his left.

A weathered wooden sign hung above a narrow doorway.

CHEAP WEAPONS SHOP

Below it, smaller letters read:

There are weapons for every adventurer within every money limit (discount 10% for limited time)

Eira’s small hand tightened slightly around his fingers.

Seraphine waited, arms loosely crossed, clearly expecting an answer while the market crowd moved past them.

Kael pushed the door open.

The hinges creaked loudly in the quiet interior.

Dust motes drifted in the slanted light that came through a single dirty window.

There was no shopkeeper in sight.

Instead, a thick, undisturbed layer of dust coated a low wooden counter near the back, the room’s silence broken only by the slow, rhythmic dripping of water from a cracked pipe overhead.

The air tasted of rust, old oil, and the bitter tang of decaying wood, pressing down like a physical weight.

Kael ignored the oppressive atmosphere and spoke inside his mind.

’System. Where is the weapon?’

The reply came at once, dry and unhelpful.

[Host lacks the required Perception stats to reveal hidden tiers. Deduce it yourself.]

Kael’s jaw tightened.

He mentally reviewed his current LP reserves, calculating exactly how many points he needed to get some useful skills to raise his basic stats.

"You two can wait outside if you want. I’m going to look around for a weapon. It won’t take long."

Seraphine gave him a flat look but stepped inside anyway, followed closely by Eira.

The younger girl glanced around the cluttered space with quiet curiosity, tugging lightly at Kael’s sleeve as she navigated the cramped aisles.

Kael began walking the narrow aisles.

The shelves were packed without any real order.

Iron short swords with nicked edges leaned against wooden staves.

Round shields with peeling paint sat beside stacks of leather bracers.

Daggers of every length and quality filled one entire rack. A few staves with cracked mana crystals rested against the far wall.

Everything looked used, cheap, or both.

The ten percent discount sign felt less like a sale and more like an admission that none of it was worth full price.

Seraphine crossed her arms, her irritation mounting. His maddening calm during the dungeon clear clashed violently with his current obsession over a literal pile of garbage.

Eira moved more slowly, stopping now and then to look at a polished knife or a small buckler, never touching anything, only observing with quiet interest.

Kael worked his way deeper into the shop.

He checked every blade that looked even slightly different from the rest, running a thumb along the edge or testing the weight. Nothing stood out.

Ordinary steel. Ordinary wood. Ordinary workmanship for low-rank porters and beginners who could not afford better.

At the very back of the shop the shelves gave way to a low pile of discarded pieces.

Broken sword blades, snapped spear shafts, dented helmets, and rusted dagger hilts lay in a careless heap against the wall. Dust covered everything.

Kael stopped in front of the pile.

A heavy, stagnant chill bled from the discarded heap, cutting through the smell of dry rot and rust.

He knelt and began shifting the junk aside, piece by piece. Metal scraped against metal. Dust rose in small clouds. Most of it was exactly as useless as it looked.

A cracked short sword. A shield with a hole punched clean through the center. A knife whose tip had snapped off years ago.

Then his fingers closed around a plain leather sheath half-buried under a dented breastplate.

He pulled it free and drew the blade.

’So this is the cursed weapon,’ Kael thought as the pinkish light flickered along the steel.

The sword that emerged was long and narrow, the metal a deep mulberry color that caught the dusty light with a faint pinkish glow.

Small broken grooves ran along the cutting edge, as if something had deliberately scored the steel.

The balance felt wrong the moment his hand closed around the hilt.

A sudden pressure slammed into his mind.

The world tilted. His vision narrowed. Something cold and ancient pushed against his thoughts, trying to settle inside his skull like a second presence claiming ownership.

YOU’RE NOT WORTHY, GIVE THIS BODY TO ME!

An arrogant female voice echoed directly inside his mind.

His fingers locked around the hilt of their own accord.

For a split second he could not let go.

Kael forced his hand open and dropped the sword.

It hit the floorboards with a dull metallic thud.

The pressure vanished at once, leaving only a lingering cold behind his eyes.

He stared down at the mulberry blade and spoke inside his mind, voice tight with anger.

’What the fuck was that? Can’t you protect my body at least from outside interference?’

The system’s reply came laced with open mockery.

[Host lacks the necessary Willpower threshold required to suppress A-rank malicious intent. Mental corruption mitigated by base system safeguards. Upgrade your stats instead of complaining.]

Kael’s hands curled into fists at his sides.

’Willpower,’ Kael analyzed internally, mapping out his next moves.

’I need to buy some skills related to mental power for raising my willpower before I can hold this sword at all.’

The system simply closed the window, offering no further data on its hidden restrictions.

Behind him Seraphine watched in silence, crimson eyes narrowed slightly at the discarded sword on the floor.

Eira stood a step closer, small fingers still loosely holding the edge of Kael’s sleeve, her quiet gaze moving from the mulberry blade to his face and back again.

The heavy silence of the shop settled back into place, the rhythmic dripping from the ceiling pipe echoing through the dusty air as if the sudden burst of ancient malice had been nothing but a trick of the shadows.

Kael looked down at the cursed sword once more.

The faint pinkish glow along the mulberry steel had already begun to fade, as if the weapon itself had lost interest the moment he refused its hold.

The market noise outside the thin wooden walls continued as if nothing unusual had taken place inside the cheap weapons shop.