I stumbled back, breathing hard.
The beast's body hit the ground with a sickening thud. It didn't move. I didn't either.
My legs gave out. I dropped, falling into the lake behind me. Cold water splashed up my arms, soaking through my clothes. It wasn't deep, but it felt like I'd sunk. My fingers still clenched the sword, white-knuckled. It felt wrong—like holding someone else's hand. But also… right. Like it had waited for me.
I blinked, trying to stay present. My heart was still racing, but the fight was over. I needed to know what I was holding. So I called on my runes.
They shimmered into view, hanging mid-air, glowing faintly above the water. I scanned them. One line caught my eye and wouldn't let go:
CHRONICLES: [SHADOW STONE], [FORGOTTEN KING'S BLADE]
FORGOTTEN KING'S BLADE:
A blade born of soul. Once wielded by a king lost to time. No name, just a title—The Forgotten King. He ruled a land beyond maps, across seas no sailor returned from. Some say he ruled through power. Others say through fear. Maybe both.
The blade carried his soul. Balanced between light and shadow. It made him unstoppable.
But something happened. No one knows what. A war? Betrayal? His kingdom vanished in storms. All that remained was this blade, stuck in the heart of an island no one dares to find. Monsters roam there now—twisted things, born from whatever ended him.
The blade waited. Centuries passed. It waited still.
ENCHANTMENTS:
CLEAN-CUT EDGE – Nothing can resist its edge .
MORPHSTEEL – like molten steel its blade changes , its form is defined by the will it obeys.
Link - ???
RANK: AWAKENED
TIER: 4
---
I stared at it. The blade was beautiful. Sleek. Deadly. Strange symbols shimmered faintly along its edge. The hilt felt heavy, like it didn't trust me yet. I wasn't an Awakened. I had no essence. But it responded anyway—like it chose me.
The air around it felt sharp. Like it wanted to kill. And it could. The blade wasn't just a weapon. It was a warning.
I looked up. The monster's body lay still, its purple flesh glistening under the dim sky. Hunger hit me. Deep. Twisting my insides. I hadn't eaten in hours.
I knew what I had to do.
Twilight monsters could be eaten. I hated it, but starving felt worse.
I stood and breathed deep. Then I willed the sword to shift.
It shimmered—metal flowing like water—shrinking into a curved dagger. Smaller, but still sharp. Still dangerous.
I crouched beside the monster. Its hide was tough, like dried stone. I pressed the blade in.
It slid through like butter.
I worked in silence. The smell hit fast—metallic, sour, thick. My stomach turned.
"Better to eat a monster than die like one," I muttered.
As I cut deeper, the blade scraped something. Not bone. Something smoother. Harder.
I stopped.
Pushed my hand in, fingers brushing cold stone. I gritted my teeth and pulled.
Whatever it was, it was stuck.
I planted a knee, dug in with both hands, and heaved. My arms burned, but it gave way.
Something slid out of the flesh with a wet sound. I held it up, water and blood dripping off its surface.