The wind murmured through the tall grass, brushing against my skin like whispers from another world. Somewhere between the fog and the breeze, I dreamed.
I dreamed of a sword—not just any sword—the Sword of Judgement. It called out to me:
"Hand of God, wield my soul."
When I awoke, something was wrong.
The sword...
The sword was gone. I remembered holding it tightly as I slumbered. It had whispered to me, said it wanted to rest beside me—and with me, it had lain.
"ARRRRRE...!"
I reacted violently, scattering everything nearby. My hand lashed out—
I flipped the table, shattered the lantern, hurled my pillow across the room.
"MY SWORD! MY SWORD! WHERE IS IT?!"
The door creaked open.
Someone stepped into the room.
It was Elina, my little sister.
"Johannes, what's the matter? Your room... it's a mess," she said.
I spoke slowly, my voice trembling.
"Someone took it."
"Took what?" she asked.
I looked at her. A new expression warped my face—like a dry, cracked land after drought, but my eyes streamed like a running tap.
"My sword, Elina. It's gone. I... I can't see it."
"Oh, your sword? I saw you clutching it so tightly in your sleep. It looked dangerous... so I put it in the storeroom."
As those words left her lips, I did something I still regret to this day.
My hand moved before I could stop it—
I slapped her.
"Why dost thou seek to tremble my heart? To pierce my soul? To sever my head?!" I cried.
Tears.
She ran from the room, crying.
I chased after her—but instead of finding her, I turned to the storeroom.
A dusty, forgotten space. Spiders spun webs between corners, roaches scurried, beetles crawled—
But amidst the filth, I saw it.
The Sword of Judgement.
I picked it up. Held it close. Hugged it.
---
Day broke.
Morning came fresh, like any other.
But my heart—my heart trembled.
I had done something terrible. I had let the sword control me.
I had struck my sister.
What had I become?
I went downstairs, searching for Elina, ready to apologize. But I found Father, standing at her door.
"Bless your day, Father," I greeted.
"You're looking for Elina, aren't you?" he asked.
I nodded softly.
"Yes, Father. And... I suppose you know what happened. I swear on my life—I didn't mean to. The sword... it spoke to me. Told me to punish her. It's controlling me, Father. I need help."
He looked at me, solemn.
"I might have a crazy idea on how to stop the sword's influence."
"Please," I said quickly. "Tell me. I'll do anything. I can't let this sword lead me down a path of regret."
Then he said something that twisted my soul:
"Just give me the sword."
CLUNG.
As soon as those words left his mouth, something snapped inside me.
Before I knew it, I had drawn the sword and struck at him—but he was swift. He countered the blow with ease.
"I am the HAND OF GOD! A wielder of true magic! I will not let go of my soul!" I screamed.
"You don't even know what you're saying. Hand of God? What does that even mean? You're Johannes—my son!" he shouted back.
With one breath, I whispered:
"Salamander Rage."
A giant salamander erupted from my blade, cloaked in phoenix fire. It sent Father crashing through the wall, launching him outside the mansion.
"S-Class magecraft?" he muttered, coughing blood. "But... his mana pool isn't even Grade 5..."
I looked down from the broken wall, tears blurring my vision.
"Help me..." I whispered.
"Johannes, stop!" Elina's voice rang out.
"You're hurting Dad. You're hurting Mom. You're hurting me. Please stop... This isn't you. You're better than this."
"Stand back, Elina," Father warned.
"He's not himself. As I feared... This is the work of the High Bishop. No sword can control a man. Speak to him, yes—but take over his will? Impossible.
The bishop has used forbidden magic. He's puppeteering Johannes..."
CLUNG.
We clashed again—sword against sword.
Strike for strike.
He was swift, but so was I. We parried each other's blows with deadly precision.
But I could tell... He was holding back.
"Why?!" I shouted mid-strike. "Do you fear your hands will slay your own son—your blood?!"
He laughed.
"A lion must watch its strength when facing an ant. Just to prolong the fun... I only wish to gauge your potential. This is a rare opportunity—to fight my son."
I smiled, despite everything.
"And I... have always wanted to be like you. I joined the Academy to become your equal. Now I can finally measure myself... against my hero."
We clashed again.
Steel met steel.
Smiles on both our faces.
We were fighting—but somehow, in that moment...
We were closer than we had ever been.
CLUNG.