'Why is that thing here…?'
She couldn't believe it.
There was a simple label floating beside it.
But where the description should have been, there was only a string of question marks:
[Unnamed Black Blade – ??? Rank]Status: UnknownOrigin: UnknownTraits:– Cannot be scanned or identified by standard appraisal methods– ????– ????– ????Warning:DO NOT TOUCH ITNote: This weapon is not bound. It has claimed the lives of many who attempted to wield it.
"…Why are there only question marks?" she asked, though she already knew the answer.
"Because I can't appraise it," the old man replied bluntly, without a hint of shame.
Her gaze trembled.
Even he couldn't see through it?
"…How much?"
He narrowed his eyes.
"Brat, you should see a priest. Maybe that pinky in your ear rattled your brain—I said, it's not for sale."
"Ten million."
"No."
"Fifty million."
"No matter how much you offer…"
His voice dropped, firm and final. "I won't sell it."
This time, there was no room for negotiation.
There was no opening. His face turned serious—grave, like stone carved with the words: Not for sale.That sword—he meant it. No price, no offer. Nothing would make him part with it.
But she wasn't backing down either. That sword… she had to have it. She knew what it was capable of.
She'd go to drastic lengths if she had to. Even if it destroyed her relationship with him, she would take it.
Yes, he had saved her life in her previous life.
but so what?
If it came down to it… she'd sell him off to get that sword.
There were many enemy with that wanted to see him fall...
Her mother was one of them...
She would do it if she have to....
Still… she didn't want it to come to that.
She wanted to keep their relationship intact—for now.
Her expression shifted. Cold. Emotionless. A reflection of who she once was.
"You can't even use it," she said, eyes locked on him. Her voice was calm, but carried ice underneath.
"No matter how hard you try… you never will. You know that, don't you?"His brows twitched. as he frown.
'How does she know that?'
She didn't let him regain control.
"Sell it to me. What's the point of having a sword you can't use? It just hangs there on your wall—like a decoration."
"Hah?! You brat—talking like you can?" he roared, his mana flaring with wrath. The pressure crushed the air.
She could barely breathe.
But if she backed down now, she'd lose the sword.
Gritting her teeth, she withstood the weight pressing on her chest. His red eyes burned into her—like an ocean of blood, ready to drown her.
But she wasn't just anyone.
With an identity of an regressor and centuries of experience behind her.
She can take this kind of pressure...
"I c...an... tr...y," she whispered, her voice barely audible—yet he heard it clearly. One corner of her lips curled upward.
The old man narrowed his eye... as he look at her.
Then—
"Hahaha…"
He burst out laughing. But the pressure only intensified. She dropped to her knees, clutching her throat.
"You talk like you know this sword," he growled. "You also said I can't use it. How do you know that?" His voice was sharp now. Piercing. "Also now that i think about it how did you find this shop? and how do you know about 'This hidden storeroom?'"
His aura boomed through the walls like thunder.
She didn't answer. She couldn't. One wrong word, and he'd kill her. She was sure of it... And its not because she was a trash princess... She seen it before. He wouldn't hesitate—not even if it were Kiel or Lily standing here.
Not even if it were the head of one of the Seven Houses.
If they get on his nerve he wont think twice before killing them....
That was the kind of man he was...
A lunatic—
complete lunatic
He was wrath incarnate.
The God of War.
One of the ancient demons.
Vael'Zhar.
Thats why she kept quite and said nothing.
The silence stretched. The pressure didn't fade. Her fists clenched, sweat sliding down her face.
finally unable to bear it any longer she open her mouth
"J-Just… hahh— give me a chance," she rasped, her chest heaving. "You've had it… huff for how long? And it just… gathers dust. Why not… pass it down to the younger generation?"
"If I… hahhh fail… kill me," she said, her voice trembling. "I… hahh won't resist. But at least... huff- let me try…"
"...."
Another suffocating silence.
Then—
"Tch. Big talk for a brat," he muttered, finally suppressing his mana.
huff huff
She collapsed to the ground, gasping as air filled her lungs again.
But her smile—small, crooked—still lingered.
She'd won.
The old man saw it, and for a brief moment, he wanted to beat her just to wipe that smirk off.But he held back.
"I'll deal with her after she fail should i take her card and through her out hmmm," he muttered.
She narrowed her eyes but said nothing.
He cleared his throat. "keum! Fine. I'll give you a chance. If the sword reacts to you—I'll sell it. Let's see if you're more than just talk."
His hand reached up and took the blade off the wall. As always, it was lifeless. Cold.
He offered it to her. "It might be dangerous."
"I don't mind," she said, reaching out.
The moment her fingers curled around the hilt—nothing.
His heart sank.
Another disappointment.
But then… something flickered.
A faint shimmer from beneath her hair.
An earring—one he hadn't noticed before. A black cross, etched with ancient runes.
His eyes widened.
An artifact?
It had been there. The entire time. And he hadn't seen it?
Impossible.
His eyes had never failed him.
What kind of artifact could deceive his eyes?
A cursed relic? No…
An ancient artifact? Divine class?
He couldn't believe it—but what if it was?
His thoughts spiraled. Should he kill her and take it?
How could a child possess a divine-class artifact? Not even the Demon King held one.
He could count on one hand how many had appeared in all of history.
But then as if that was not enough shock—
SHIIINNNG.
The earring glowed faintly.
And the sword… trembled.
"…."He couldn't believe it.
The blade he had studied for centuries… the one that never responded to anyone… reacted.
But then—she gasped.
And dropped it.
A clang echoed as blood dripped from her torn glove.
Her lips twisted into a wild grin, eyes shining.
"Damn it—are you okay?!" the old man stepped forward.
"I'm fine," she replied coldly, blood trickling down her fingers. Her glove regenerated slowly—but the wound remained.
"See?" she whispered, her eyes on the blade.
"I told you. I can use it."
He said nothing.
He picked the sword up again—no reaction. Dead. Cold.
Suddenly she spoke.
"Five hundred million."
He nearly dropped it. "Wha—"
But she cut him off...
"You saw it," she interrupted. "It reacted to me. I'm not ready yet… but I will be."
"..."
Silence.
He looked at the blade in his hand. A lifetime of waiting. And now…
She stepped closer. "Sell it to me."
"you are not going back on your word are you old man"
She glare at him and he didn't meet her eyes
Then with a sigh-
He stared at the sword one last time. The weight of the years pressed on his heart.
Maybe he was never meant to wield it.
Maybe he was just its guardian, waiting for the one who could.
"…Fine," he said at last, voice low. "You can have it"
With that his mind focus on the offer she make...
'Five hundred million. huh?'
'heh"
He thought eye gleaming with greed..
'Ahem! i am not selling it because of money... she is worthy... yes that's right... she is worthy'
He turned away. Hands trembling.