Ignoring the pain tearing through his body, Reon opened his system inventory, his resolve as hard as iron. With a steadying breath, he pulled out the Sword Aura Comprehension Card.
The card itself seed unassuming—a simple bronze surface adorned with a small, intricate sword etched in its center and a single star marking one corner.
He had no idea how to activate it. Trying to tear it, he felt the resistance of so unknown force, as if the card was bound by more than just material.
His frustration built as he fumbled, trying every thod he could think of. Had the system tricked him? No, it had always provided him with exactly what he needed, however strange or grueling the tasks it set for him.
Desperation mounting and hope fading, Reon felt the weight of finality pressing down on him. In a last, desperate act, he pressed his palm—and the card within it—against his forehead.
The mont the sword symbol touched his forehead, a searing warmth flooded Reon's veins, igniting his mind and body. His vision blurred, then sharpened with startling clarity as a primal, ancient instinct awoke, stirring sothing vast and powerful deep within.
It was the Sword Aura.
The energy pulsed within him, raw and unrefined, a force as primal as the mountain and as wild as the wind.
Though his body was battered and bruised, it resonated with this newfound power. A basic mastery of the way the sword began to take root within him, as if an innate part of him had surfaced, transforming him with each heartbeat.
The energy intensified, strengthening like a roaring fla as he felt it draw him into the next level. The air around him thrumd with energy, every leaf and branch seeming to bow beneath the invisible weight of this refined power.
The Sword Aura rippled through him, each breath deepening its hold, each movent guiding him toward a raw control that felt ancient and untad yet sohow entirely his.
He could feel the aura pulsating with every breath, filling him with strength and purpose, his spirit brimming with an undeniable power.
Then, the energy surged, building and multiplying like a storm breaking upon cliffs. The Sword Aura flooded his veins, bending to his will, each movent of his body guided by an innate understanding, as though he were wielding the power of his own.
It felt uncanny, as though he had earned this power through years of training rather than receiving it through the system.
Even as his bones throbbed with strain, he felt the energy rge with his very soul, steady and unwavering, as if it had beco a heartbeat of its own.
Yet it did not stop. The aura climbed once more, swelling to an intensity that sent shockwaves through his being, as if his spirit had been stretched to contain sothing far greater.
His awareness expanded, his spirit infused with a power that stretched beyond his limits. With each pulse, his mastery of the sword deepened.
The sky above seed to respond, parting as a piercing ray of dark fire shot through the clouds, casting shadows that draped over the forest like a shroud.
Every creatures nearby felt it—the presence, powerful and undeniable, pulsing through the woods, and even the shadows themselves seed to still in reverence.
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In a secluded mountain of the sect, two elderly n sat across from each other, deep in a ga of chess, the quiet between them punctuated only by the soft clinks of wooden pieces.
Suddenly, one of them paused, his fingers brushing through his beard thoughtfully.
"It seems soone has awakened Sword Aura," he remarked, eyes flickering to the distant sky.
The other man, frowning, waved a dismissive hand. "Sword Aura? Anyone with above average talent can awaken it—why are you making a fuss?"
The first man raised an eyebrow, gesturing subtly toward the sky. "Look at the color radiating from the clouds, you fool. The Aura's color during an awakening reflects a cultivator's potential. Silver is the weakest, showing little promise in weapon mastery. But the strongest..."
He paused, his voice lowering. "The strongest is golden—a sign of a destined path in weapon cultivation."
The second elder rolled his eyes but followed the man's gaze. "I know that much even if I am not a weapon cultivator, old bone," he huffed, but then his eyes widened, a flash of astonishnt crossing his face as he observed the aura spilling from the heavens.
"It's... black," he whispered, now riveted.
"Precisely," the first elder replied, his voice laced with intrigue. "In a thousand years, I've never seen—nor even heard of—a black aura awakening."
"Nor have I," murmured the other elder.
"Hoho! It seems this generation will be... interesting," the first elder murmured, his eyes narrowing, a spark of excitent glinting within them.
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anwhile, in the depths of the forest, Reon was oblivious to the elders' astonishnt or the commotion his awakening stirred.
All he felt was the deep sense of familiarity, as if he had spent a lifeti training, thousands of hours with a sword burned into his very bones.
"Why? Why does this power feel so familiar?" Reon wondered, but no answer ca.
The aura enveloped him like a second soul, rging body and spirit into pure unity. This was no re Awakening Stage of Sword Aura—he knew it was far beyond that.
This was undoubtedly the Mastery Stage—or perhaps even the Pinnacle Stage—of Sword Aura.
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