The mysterious voice giggled softly now, shifting from mocking to sothing seductive.
"I’m here, dumbass."
Astrael narrowed his eyes. He clearly scanned the room, but it hadn’t co from a room. He turned slowly, lowering his gaze and stopped.
His eyes fell on the sword in his hand. It pulsed once. Just faintly.
No.
He blinked, then leaned in, turning it sideways, He tilted the blade under the light, watching it gleam.
Nothing.
Then—
"What are you doing, pervert?" the voice said flatly. "Do you not have any sha? Staring at a girl like that. Gods, soone helps —there’s a pervert in the room."
Astrael nearly dropped the sword.
"W-What?!"
"Unhand , you shaless boy! I may be bound to your soul now, but I still deserve boundaries!"
"You’re... in the sword?"
"Congratulations. You figured it out." The voice deadpanned.
"Are you a spirit? A demon? A cursed relic? So sort of sentient—"
"I’m your damn sword."
"...Okay, that’s new."
"I’m so weak now, I can’t even handle a brat like you?" The voice sighed. It wasn’t playful anymore. There was a hint of exhaustion in it.
"How unfortunate."
A faint shimr flickered across the blade in Astrael’s hand.
"I used the last of my spiritual energy to save your sorry life when you passed through that cursed gate. Then, when your fragile little body started collapsing under all that raw power, I used even more to keep your channels from shattering. No need to thank this great one. You’re welco, by the way."
The tone shifted again, sharpening. Like soone rembering a war that never really ended.
Astrael held the sword tighter, trying to make sense of what he was hearing. He still wasn’t sure if he was hallucinating, dreaming, or sohow going insane, but this felt real. Too real.
And even though his instincts scread that he should panic...
He didn’t. Because he wasn’t entirely unprepared for this. Because he was from modern heart and he had read enough novels back on Earth.
Sentient swords. Ancient spirits. Mysterious companions bound by fate. It was almost cliché. Except this one had attitude. And trauma.
Still, he needed answers. He straightened, eyes narrowing slightly.
"Who are you?" he asked plainly.
The sword pulsed once.
"?" the sword ghost interrupted, changing into a teasing tone. Before he could react, a cold breeze stirred in the room. Then, a beautiful woman capable of provoking wars between nations was there. She was beautiful in a way that felt dangerously Divine. Her pale skin glowed softly in the dim light, almost translucent like an apparition, as if woven from mist and moonlight. There wasn’t a single flaw on her body, no scar, no blemish. Her hair was black as a starless night, falling in an endless cascade down her back, brushing the curve of her waist and hips like liquid silk. Her eyes, striking athyst, deep and radiant, glistened like twin galaxies trapped in athyst gems. Her form was clad in a sleek black dress, clinging tightly to every perfect curve of her body. It left little to the imagination, yet carried a presence so regal, so untouchable, that looking at her for too long felt almost disrespectful. Two long, slender legs stretched beneath the hem, crossed casually, that could make even a saint drool as if daring the world to kneel.
Astrael couldn’t speak.
He had never seen a woman like this. Not in his world. Not even in his dreams. She radiated an aura that wasn’t just seductive, it was sharp. Piercing. Like the calm edge of a blade seconds before a fatal strike, like ready to cut down anything, even heaven itself. She was beautiful. And then she smiled.
"You may have heard of ," she said, lifting her chin.
Her voice was like music.
"I am the sword of transcendence. The beginning and the end. That which embodies both creation and destruction. A divine weapon, a cursed blade. The holy sword that severed the heavens, the demonic edge that split the earth."
"I am the sword of transcendence. The beginning and the end. That which embodies both creation and destruction. A divine weapon, a cursed blade. The holy sword that severed the heavens, the demonic edge that split the earth."
The air around her thrumd as if the very world recognised her words as truth.
"I am the progenitor of the sword itself, forged from the origin source, birthed at the dawn of the cosmos. Coveted by every being in the universe ,I have slain gods, immortals, demons, and concepts alike, demolished those who dared to challenge all that is seen and unseen"
Her eyes burned.
"I am ENDER."
Silence descended in the room.
Astrael blinked a few tis.
He opened his mouth—then closed it again.
And finally, he said the only thing his fried modern brain could muster:
"....Who?"
"..."
.
.
***
Above the skies of Eldoria, far beyond the reach of mortals, past the veil of stars, there hovered a realm untouched by ti.
A flat landmass, impossibly vast, drifted in the night sky like an island carved from the heavens themselves. Its edges shimred with a faint silver light, repelling even the concept of gravity.
The air here was thick with pure essence, dense enough to be felt on the skin like velvet mist. Every inhalation was like drinking from the fountain of eternity. Just standing here could extend a mortal’s lifespan by millennia.
The landscape was dotted with plants and herbs unseen in any mortal world. Their leaves shimred like jade fire, and their roots glowed faintly with stored cosmic energy. A single petal from any of them could ignite war in the lower realms. Even the scent of the wind carried intoxicating longevity.
In a location high above the world of Eldoria, beyond the mortal expression, a flat landmass was suspended in the starry sky.
And at the centre of this celestial landmass stood a majestic palace. A place made from gold, starlight and unseen divinity.
Its towers pierced the sky like blades. Its dos glead under the eternal moonlight. It stood as a monunt to power beyond comprehension.
Within its great central hall, beneath vaulted ceilings and pillars etched with the Laws of Creation itself, a throne of absolute stillness sat at the end of the long, silent chamber.
Upon it sat a gargantuan, radiant figure.
Clad in robes of flowing white threaded with gold, the figure sat with one hand resting against his chin, his eyes closed
The fabric of reality bowed around him. Worlds trembled when he breathed.
And then—
His eyes opened.
Twin stars blinked into existence where his pupils should have been, swirling with galaxies long dead and yet to be born.
"...Interesting."
The voice was not loud. It didn’t need to be.
It echoed across the celestial palace like music played on divine strings, lodious, eternal, and laced with knowing.
"There is... a change in High Heaven."
The stars overhead shuddered.
Sowhere far below, in a place called Eldoria, a young boy was about to begin sothing that would disturb not just the Emperor, not just gods, but the very fabric of the heavens themselves.
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