Chapter 144: Iron Fang
Bahamut stared wide-eyed at the tall weapon lying on a raised stone platform in front of him. It wasn’t glowing; there was no dramatic aura, no divine light, no oppressive pressure, no overwhelming presence like the treasures he had seen before.
And yet... it demanded attention.
The blade rested silently on a dark, rectangular rack carved from obsidian-like stone. Golden hieroglyphs ran along the base, faintly pulsing as if acknowledging the weapon placed upon it. The room itself was quiet, almost reverent, like a shrine rather than a simple chamber.
Behind the platform stood a man, tall, clad in fitted dark robes that hugged his lean frame. His face was partially shadowed, but his sharp jawline and calm, unreadable eyes gave off the presence of someone... dangerous. Not outwardly powerful like the elders, but controlled... refined.
Bahamut’s gaze flicked between the man and the weapon.
"This is for me?" he finally asked.
Elder Silvia stood to the side, arms folded beneath her chest, her expression as composed as ever.
"Yes."
That single word made the air feel heavier. Bahamut stepped forward, slowly. His sandaled feet echoed faintly against the polished stone floor as he approached the platform. The closer he got, the more the weapon revealed itself.
It was... big.
Not exaggeratedly massive like the fantasy weapons of legends, but undeniably large. The blade alone was nearly as long as his torso and legs combined, making the entire sword stand just a little shorter than his full height when upright.
The design was simple, brutally so.
A broad, thick blade with a slight forward curve, subtle, but enough to give it a predatory feel. The edge was clean, well-forged, and sharp, but not unnaturally so. There were no glowing runes, no enchanted flames; just a blade honed for cutting and impact.
The spine of the sword, however... that was where its true nature lay.
It was thick, dense, and heavy-looking. The kind of thickness that told you this weapon didn’t just slice.
It crushed.
The metal itself was a dark, matte steel, somewhere between black and grey, with faint, almost invisible grain lines running through it. Not decorative. Structural and reinforced.
The hilt was long enough for a two-handed grip, wrapped in tightly bound dark leather.
Bahamut stopped right in front of it.
"It looks simple," he muttered.
The man in dark clothes finally spoke.
"And that is why you will struggle with it."
Bahamut’s eyes shifted to him. The man stepped forward, his footsteps silent.
"This is not a weapon that compensates for its wielder," he continued calmly. "It exposes them." He reached out and tapped the flat of the blade with two fingers.
CLINK!
A low, dense sound echoed.
"Tier 2."
That single statement made Bahamut’s eyes sharpen.
"It was forged to withstand Tier 2 output. Not to enhance it or amplify it. Just... survive it."
Bahamut frowned slightly.
"So it doesn’t do anything special?"
The man’s gaze turned to him fully now.
"It is heavy."
There was silence as Bahamut looked to the man for more answers. He blinked when he realized that the man had stopped talking.
"That’s it?"
Elder Silvia’s voice cut in, calm but firm.
"Pick it up."
Bahamut didn’t hesitate. He reached forward and grabbed the hilt with one hand.
For a split second, nothing happened. Then his arm dipped.
"!"
The weight dropped instantly, forcing his muscles to react as the blade nearly slipped from his grasp. His shoulder tensed, veins popping slightly as he instinctively grabbed the hilt with his second hand.
"...!"
His feet shifted as he managed to adjust and stabilized with difficulty, but his expression changed. The casual look he had earlier had disappeared.
"Heavy," he said under his breath.
The man nodded once.
"It is front-weighted," he explained. "Slightly unbalanced toward the blade. Every swing you make will try to pull you forward. If your stance is wrong, it will throw you off."
Bahamut tightened his grip and lifted it slowly. The blade rose off the platform with a low scrape of metal against stone.
SHHHHNK!
The sound was raw, unrefined, and real. He held it upright now, the tip hovering just above the ground. His arms tensed. They were not struggling, but not comfortable either.
"Tch."
A small smirk tugged at his lips.
"I like it."
The man’s eyes narrowed slightly, as if reassessing him.
"Most complain."
"I’m not most," Bahamut replied casually.
Elder Silvia watched silently, but there was a faint shift in her gaze. Interest.
"Swing it," she said.
Bahamut didn’t wait.
He adjusted his footing, muscles tightening as he brought the blade slightly back, then...
WHOOSH!
He swung. The air groaned. The sheer weight behind the swing dragged the air along with it, creating a low, heavy sound as the blade carved through space. But, his stance slipped... just slightly. His forward foot dragged half an inch.
The blade dipped lower than intended and his balance shifted. Bahamut clicked his tongue and stopped the motion midway, exhaling sharply.
"Yeah. I see the problem."
The man crossed his arms.
"It will punish inefficiency."
Bahamut rolled his shoulders, adjusting his grip again.
"No," he said, a grin slowly spreading across his face.
"It’ll fix it." That grin... was not normal. It wasn’t just excitement. It was a challenge.
Elder Silvia noticed it immediately.
"Good," she said softly.
Bahamut rested the blade on his shoulder. Even that simple action made his muscles flex slightly under the weight, but he didn’t complain. His grip tightened.
"What’s it called?" he asked.
"Iron Fang."
Bahamut’s grin widened.
He lifted the blade slightly, feeling its weight, its pull, its resistance.
"Heh."
"Yeah," he muttered.
"That fits."
The man looked at Bahamut with a sharp gaze, wondering just who he was to be getting such a favor. The Iron Fang wasn’t something just anyone could have or get for free. It was expensive to say the least.
’Someone who could get the Chief Elder to move isn’t simple...’
Bahamut, oblivious to the man’s thoughts about him, swung the blade a few times, and came to put it down. The man looked at him, and brought out a large sheath. He put the sword inside and handed it over to Bahamut.
He had officially gotten his own weapon.