Chapter 5
Ken's POV
The blinding light finally died down, leaving only a faint crimson afterglow lingering in the air. I stood there, breathing heavy, the sword still clutched in my hand. But it wasn't the same sword I'd picked up minutes ago. No. That thing—this thing—it had changed.
It pulsed with life. That's the only way I could describe it. The once dull, dust-covered metal had transformed into something otherworldly. The blade gleamed in black and blood-red, strange runes dancing along its length, glowing faintly with every breath I took. It was as if the sword was syncing with me—like it recognized me.
I tightened my grip on the hilt. It was still heavy—unnaturally so—but it didn't feel wrong. In fact, it felt like it belonged to me. Like it had been waiting all this time for someone who could finally wield it.
"Unbelievable…" Marcos muttered. His towering figure approached slowly, his eyes never leaving the blade. "To awaken that blade… You must have a massive psychic energy output."
I turned to him, to all of them watching me now. "Sir," I said, walking over to him with steady steps. "I want this sword. This will be my weapon."
[Marcos' POV]
The boy was serious. I could see it in his eyes—unshakable, resolute. Even after witnessing the sword's transformation, he still insisted on using it. Most inquisitors would have hesitated. Not him.
"Fine," I said, sighing. "But be warned—this sword has no known techniques. It hasn't been used by anyone in the order for generations. You'll have to forge your own style, your own technique… from scratch. That path won't be easy, Ken. I hope you understand what you're choosing."
[Ken's POV]
"I do." I nodded, even though my mind was already buzzing. Creating my own technique? That was going to be a challenge. But I had no intention of backing down. If this blade had chosen me, I'd meet its expectations.
Soon, everyone had chosen their weapons. Theo, predictably, stuck with a rifle—something big, obnoxious, and probably way more complicated than it needed to be. Astrid chose dual sabers with embedded psychic cores, sleek and refined. The others had their preferences too, but I didn't care.
That was when Marcos called the top ten of us into a private meeting room. We followed without question, filing into the circular chamber where a sleek, black roundtable waited. I took a seat across from Theo and next to Astrid, whose silver eyes watched everyone silently.
Marcos stood at the front, turning on the holographic display. The air shifted.
"You ten performed exceptionally well during the final exam," he said, arms crossed. "Because of that, you're being sent on your first mission… in just a few hours."
I blinked. Already? That was fast. I thought we'd get at least a week of internal training or protocol review before heading out into actual combat. But here we were.
He continued, "We've received multiple distress signals from Planet Albion. It's one of the outer mining colonies under Imperial control. At first, we thought it was nothing—just raiders or environmental damage. So we dispatched a team of inquisitors to investigate... two weeks ago. They haven't reported back since."
A hush fell across the room. Everyone could feel it. This wasn't just a recon mission anymore.
"The higher-ups have designated this mission as Critical. That's where you come in. Your objective: travel to Albion, assess the situation, find the missing team, and report back."
I could tell he wasn't telling us everything. His voice had that subtle weight of omission. Still, I wasn't in a position to question him. Orders were orders.
"Complete this mission," he said, "and you'll be eligible to join one of the Seven Legions."
That got everyone's attention. Even me.
The Seven Legions.
The elite among the elite. Specialized divisions of the Inquisitor Order. You didn't apply to join them—they picked you. To even be considered was every inquisitor's dream. The Templar Legion, the Black Knight Legion, the Hound Legion, the Royal Knights, the Sacred Knights, the Crimson Halo, and the Phantom Wardens.
"You heard me correctly," Marcos confirmed. "Any of the seven. This mission will determine whether you're worth the attention of those Legions."
I leaned back in my seat, stunned. For once, I felt the fire inside me burn hotter. To be recognized… to be chosen by one of the legions… It was almost too much to believe.
Marcos continued, "Your squad leader will be Astrid Virellian."
Of course.
No one was surprised. Astrid was brilliant, composed, and naturally charismatic. She also happened to be the young sister of Director Sarah Virellian. She didn't get here through favoritism though—her skills were terrifying.
I didn't care. I had no intention of leading. I wasn't built for command. I was a blade. A weapon. I preferred working solo, or at least staying out of everyone's way.
[Marcos' POV]
Ken should've been the captain. He scored the highest during the combat evaluations. But his personality… too cold, too distant, too independent. That kind of mindset doesn't inspire loyalty or teamwork. So Astrid it is.
May she keep them together.
[Ken's POV]
Marcos gave us two hours to prepare before deployment. Two hours. After that, we were heading straight into unknown danger.
I looked down at the sword in my hands again, still sheathed but quietly humming with energy. I couldn't hear it, but I could feel it. The way it connected to my psychic field—it was unlike anything I'd experienced before. It didn't just accept my power—it demanded it. Like it was always hungry.
I had chosen this path. I wouldn't back down.
As I walked out of the meeting room with the others, I caught Theo walking beside me. He gave me a light elbow nudge.
"You ready for this, sword boy?" he said with that stupid grin.
I didn't answer.
But deep down, something stirred in my chest. Excitement? No… it was something sharper. More focused. I didn't know what waited for us on Albion.
But I was going to find out.
And if it was dangerous?
Good.
Let it be dangerous.