The air was calm again, though the faint sll of ash still lingered in the breeze.
Aamir sat on the ground, chest rising and falling as he stared at the ruins of his ho—the small hut he had built with his beast companions. Charred wood, shattered stone, and claw marks told the story of the battle. Despite that, a faint smile tugged at his lips.
Spark—a beast resembling a wolf with glowing fur—trotted toward him, brushing gently against his shoulder.
Aamir chuckled and ruffled Spark’s head. The beast licked his hand affectionately.
"Don’t worry, buddy," Aamir said softly. "So what if our house is torn? We’ll build it again. It’s not that big of a deal."
Vyuk stood behind him, arms folded. A small smirk touched his lips.
He decided to test the boy’s heart.
"So," Vyuk said, "what if soone cos and destroys it again?"
Aamir shrugged. "Then I’ll build it again."
Vyuk tilted his head. "And what if soone breaks it a hundred thousand tis?"
Aamir groaned dramatically. "Ugh... that’d be such a pain in the neck."
Then he smiled.
"But we’ll rebuild it. A hundred thousand tis, if we have to."
Vyuk chuckled—an honest, amused sound. "You’re a good kid, you know that?"
"Oh, I know that," Aamir said proudly.
Vyuk raised an eyebrow. "So humble, too."
Aamir laughed and leaned on the long stick beside him—the sa one that transford from his sword. He had drawn it earlier but forgotten to return it to his dinsional space.
Vyuk’s eyes flickered to the blade. "Hey... since you’ve got that out, how about I teach you so sword techniques?"
Aamir’s face lit up. "Wait, for real? I’d love that!"
He stood upright, gripping the sword in both hands, excitent surging through him.
Vyuk nodded. "Good. You already know how to circulate your Pran energy within your body, right? And how to sense it in the environnt?"
"Yeah," Aamir said. "I’ve been practicing every day."
"Then let’s go deeper. Try to sense the energy inside the sword itself."
Aamir blinked. "We can do that?"
Vyuk smirked. "Didn’t I tell you? Every object carries a trace of life energy. Especially weapons like this."
Aamir stepped back and grabbed the blade with both hands—one near the hilt, the other gently near the flat of the blade.
He closed his eyes.
Silence.
Wind whispered through the trees.
Then... sothing stirred.
A thin thread of energy—faint, glowing, almost pink—flowed through the blade like a heartbeat. Aamir’s senses followed it, deeper and deeper, until—
FLASH.
Images.
Blurred, flickering... then clearer.
He saw a man in his late twenties, tall, muscular, sharp-eyed. He looked... familiar.
Two cloaked figures stood before him, handing him this very sword.
The man took it with reverence.
Zorwath...?
The vision shifted.
Now the man—Zorwath—stood in the middle of a battlefield. And beside him stood Vyuk, younger but unmistakably him. Another man, older, wise-looking, stood across from them, his voice echoing in the dream:
"Zoravar... I didn’t save you that day just so you’d beco a monster like this."
Zorwath turned slowly.
His face was twisted, darker than the one Aamir had seen before.
But his eyes—those fierce, crimson eyes—locked with Aamir’s.
Right through the vision.
Aamir gasped and yanked his hands off the sword. He stumbled back, breathing hard, as the visions faded like smoke.
Vyuk rushed to his side and caught him.
"What did you see?"
Aamir panted. "I... I saw mories. mories inside the sword."
Vyuk’s face turned serious. "What mories?"
Aamir’s voice was low. "I saw Zorwath. I saw you. And a man... a master... trying to stop him. He said—he said he didn’t save Zorwath just so he could beco that way."
Vyuk closed his eyes for a mont, guilt washing over his face.
Aamir looked at him directly. "You were with Zorwath."
Vyuk nodded slowly. "I was."
"Why?"
Vyuk looked toward the horizon.
"I was his friend. A long ti ago. We trained together. Laughed together. And... failed together."
"Failed?"
Vyuk’s voice dropped. "That man you saw was our master. Mine... and Zorwath’s. He believed in us. But I couldn’t stop Zorwath from walking the path he did. In the end... I failed him."
Aamir stood quietly for a mont.
Then he placed a hand on Vyuk’s shoulder. "You didn’t fail. You’re still here. You’re training ."
Vyuk looked at him, surprised.
"I’ll stop Zorwath," Aamir said with steel in his voice. "I won’t let soone else’s mories—or this sword’s—decide who I am."
Vyuk smiled faintly. "Good."
Aamir took a breath, picked up the sword again, and said, "Let’s keep going."
"Sure," Vyuk said, then narrowed his eyes. "But first, put that sword down."
"Huh? Why?"
"I haven’t taught you how to properly use your Pran energy in actual combat yet."
Aamir’s eyes widened. "Wait... we’ve been training for weeks! How could you forget sothing that important?"
Vyuk scratched his beard. "Don’t bla . I’m getting old, rember?"
Aamir gave him a playful side-eye. "Old? You? With abs like steel and speed like lightning?"
Vyuk grinned. "Exactly. Don’t question miracles."
They both laughed.
But in the back of Aamir’s mind, the image of Zorwath’s twisted face and crimson eyes still lingered.
And he knew...
That this is only the beginning.
Vyuk suddenly paused, his eyes narrowing like he’d rembered sothing.
He looked at Aamir. "Hey, kid. Wait here for a bit."
Aamir blinked. "Wait? Where are you going?"
Vyuk gave a mysterious half-smile. "Nothing important. Just wait a while."
Before Aamir could respond, Vyuk jumped high into the air and vanished into the trees like a gust of wind.
Aamir sighed and flopped back on the grass. "Man... this guy. Every ti I think training’s about to begin, he pulls a disappearing act."
He stared up at the swaying leaves, arms behind his head. "And I was all fired up too..."
Just then—FWIP!
A crimson shimr appeared in front of his eyes—his System screen flickered to life with a soft buzz.
mory Log Detected
mories of the Unbreakable Sword: Status – Active
Would you like to erase these mories?
Aamir sat up instantly. "Wait, what?"
He stared at the screen. "I can erase the sword’s mories? Just like that?"
His expression turned thoughtful.
"...But if I do that, I might lose important information about Zorwath. I an, those were his mories... kind of. If this sword was once his... they could be clues."
He paused, then asked aloud, "System, is there a way to store these mories instead? So I can check them later when I’m ready?"
The screen pulsed once.
Confird
User can extract mories and store them in a secured System folder.
Creating new folder: Sword mory Archive...
Extracting...
A soft hum resonated from the blade as glowing runes appeared across its surface.
Extraction Complete.
Would you now like to erase the sword’s original mory?
Aamir nodded. "Yeah. Go ahead. Let’s start fresh."
mory Erasure Initiated...
A loading bar flickered across the System screen.
1%... 15%... 50%... 75%... 99%... 100% – Complete
mory Cleared.
The sword is now mory-free. A new contract can now be ford.
Aamir raised a brow. "Wait... a new contract? I can form one with it?"
Confird
Please drop a drop of blood on the blade to initiate bonding.
Aamir unsheathed the blade and placed it gently on the ground.
"Well, here goes nothing."
He took out a dagger, made a light cut across his palm, and let a few drops of blood fall onto the sword’s obsidian-black surface.
As the crimson drops touched the blade, glowing red patterns erged from within—ancient runes shining like veins of molten lava spreading across its form.
Aamir’s eyes widened. "Whoa... that’s... cool."
Then he muttered, "Luman, what’s happening—" before realizing.
"Right... Luman’s still locked. Damn."
Before he could ask the System anything further, the glow intensified—
Initiating Bond...
Contract forming...
A sudden gust of wind swirled around him, and then—
FLASH!
The light vanished.
A new ssage appeared before him.
You have successfully ford a Soul Contract with the Unbreakable Sword.
New Skill Unlocked!
Aamir leaned forward. "A skill? Let see!"
Skill Gained: Ashblade Call
Type: Weapon Mastery (Unique)
Rank: A (Upgradeable)
Effect:
The sword can be summoned to the user’s hand from any distance or dinsion when called.
No one other than the wielder can hold or lift the blade.
If another person tries to forcefully wield it, the sword’s weight will increase exponentially—crushing them under its force.
Aamir’s jaw dropped.
"That’s amazing! I can call it back from anywhere? That’s... sick!"
Another prompt appeared a second later:
Title Evolution: Master Swordsman Lv. 2
Progression Path Unlocked: "Blade Echo Lineage"
Future unlocks possible through training, combat experience, and sword-bond synchronization.
Aamir shook his head, laughing. "Man... this system just loves throwing surprises at , huh?"
He looked at the sword—now shining faintly with a red pulse. It no longer felt like an ancient burden.
It felt like his.
His weapon.
His choice.
His story.
Aamir stood tall and grinned to himself. "Let’s see where this bond takes us."
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