Ebonshade was nothing like the forests we had been surviving in for the past few weeks. The streets teed with life, filled with all sorts of people.
From well-dressed nobles who held their enchanted jewellery like it would be stolen off thieves any second, to ragged adventurers taking care of their fresh wounds from the Beastlands beyond the kingdom’s borders.
The Blackblade Kingdom prided itself on being rooted in its customs and traditions.
Such that the structure and buildings from when this kingdom was drafted were still alive and breathing.
The majority of this kingdom’s layout remained the sa over the years.
Narrow alleyways branched like veins between colossal stone buildings, leading into hidden districts filled with all manner of businesses—legal and otherwise.
Street perforrs spewed enchanted flas, their magic flickering in beautiful patterns, and while the armored rcenaries loitered outside taverns, their weapons rested casually on their hips.
I walked through the black stone roads unnoticed at first, blending easily into the flow of the crowd.
Almost tens of people were walking these narrow streets that webbed along the structure of the Ebonshade City, but as I moved deeper into the main marketplace, I felt it—the shift in attention.
The subtle weight of wary glances was constantly being thrown in my direction.
"Ah, yes," Damien’s voice slithered into my mind, dripping with a voice as sweet as honey. "Nothing screams ’totally normal citizen’ like an ominous white mask in broad daylight.
Just perfect~"
I felt a bit conscious of wearing my black cloak and this white mask, realising that maybe Grandma and Damien were right as the amount of weird stares at only increased.
A fruit vendor to my left was locked in a heated argunt with a stubborn custor about the price of apples, while a jeweller displayed rings imbued with shimring mana, their enchantnts shifting between defensive and offensive capabilities.
Nearby, a street cook flipped seasoned wyvern at over an open fla, the rich, smoky scent making my stomach grumble in protest.
I had not even realised when I started salivating as I stood near the live counter of the shop.
"If you’re that hungry," Damien suggested, "you could always—"
"No."
"—rob the vendors blind."
"…"
The smile on Damien’s non-existent face must have widened as I heard another annoying jab at .
"Aww, is my host that craving to eat soone already?"
The corners of my mouth twitched as I resigned to his taunts and ordered a piece of seasoned wyvern at for myself.
Ughhh
"By the way," I asked Damien; could you explain to exactly why my head started feeling as if it would split apart when I tried consuming that assassin’s soul at the Roro state?"
I an… I knew that it had sothing to do with that man having higher or equal soul power to mine, but wasn’t this too much of a disadvantage then?
I would never know if my opponent had higher soul power than or not.
Imagine boasting and laughing like a psychopath, thinking that you won the battle only to realise that ’oh fuck- my sword is shorter than his!’
I could already hear Damien cracking at my bullshit.
[I an, you can try using my nonexistent
hol—]
"Damien."
I had barely taken a bite of the juicy, well-seasoned wyvern at when Damien struck again.
"Noah~ have you ever held sothing long, thick, and firm in your hand before?"
I choked. Literally.
Coughing and wheezing, I slamd a fist against my chest as I struggled to swallow the bite I had just taken. The street cook gave a concerned look, probably wondering if I was dying right in front of his stall.
"I ant a sword, you perverted mortal. What else did you think I was talking about? Hmmm?"
My eye twitched. This bastard.
"Shut the hell up, Damien," I muttered under my breath, my voice hoarse from nearly dying via at-induced asphyxiation.
"Oh, Noah, you wound ! I am simply asking an innocent question about your sword-handling skills. Why are you getting so flustered, hmm? Unless… could it be… you’ve never held one before?"
I froze.
The nearby fruit vendor turned to look at , eyebrows raised, as if I had just been accused of sothing scandalous.
"I—I have, okay?!" I hissed under my breath, my ears burning. "What kind of dumbass question is that?"
"Ohhh? Have you, though? Have you truly felt its weight in your grasp? Felt the power in your hands as you… unsheathed it slowly?"
I nearly hurled my skewer of at at the ground.
"STOP SAYING IT LIKE THAT!"
Several people turned to stare at , confused, while I imdiately covered my mouth and hunched over, pretending to adjust my shoe.
I heard Damien wheezing inside my head. "Hehehe, look at you, Noah! Red as a ripe tomato. Did I hit a sensitive spot? Are you perhaps… inexperienced in the ways of handling your weapon?"
Oh, he was having way too much fun with this.
I clenched my fists. "Damien," I whispered murderously, "I swear to every god in existence, if you say one more weird thing, I will—"
"—Touch a sword for the very first ti?"
"ARGHHHHH!"
At this point, I just bolted from the food stall, ignoring the cook’s bewildered expression and the passing rcenaries giving weird looks.
Damien was dying from laughter in my head. "Ahhh, priceless. I should’ve done this sooner. My dear Noah, so pure, so innocent! Untouched by the rough grasp of experience—"
"SHUT. UP."
"Hahaha~ Don’t worry, Noah, when the ti cos, I’ll be sure to guide you! You just need to—"
I physically slapped my forehead, drawing even more stares from the passing crowd. "I swear to god, Damien, if you don’t stop, I’m going to find a way to exorcise your dumb ass!"
"Awww, but what would you do without ?
Besides, Noah… you’ll have to hold it soday...
Your sword, I an—"
***
A/N: Dear readers, I’d hope you all can help in polishing Noah’s sword —
With this, I start a new event!!
The sword polishing event for the ns and wons of culture—
For every 1000 coins worth gift = 1 Bonus Chapter.
For every Magic Castle and above = 6-9 Bonus Chapters!!
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