Chapter 21 – The Sword That Refused to Rust
Rain had fallen over Ashfall City for three straight days.
The streets turned to mud.
Business at the tavern slowed.
Travelers preferred waiting for clear skies rather than risking the mountain roads.
For Master Borin…
It meant less work.
For Kai…
It meant more time to complain.
“I’m bored…”
Kai groaned, his head resting on a table.
“I miss the market.”
“You miss stealing apples.”
“I borrowed them.”
“You never returned them.”
“I planned to.”
Master Borin looked up from polishing clay bottles.
“You cannot return something after eating it.”
Kai thought for a moment.
“…That’s true.”
Even I laughed.
⸻
The rain drummed softly against the roof.
With no customers to serve, Master Borin disappeared upstairs.
When he returned…
He carried a long wooden box.
Dust covered its surface.
He gently placed it before me.
“What is it?”
“My past.”
He slowly opened the lid.
Inside…
Lay seven swords.
Not legendary weapons.
Not glowing treasures.
Simple swords.
Some were chipped.
Others carried rust.
One had a broken tip.
Yet…
Master Borin looked at them with the same respect one might show an Emperor.
⸻
“Kai.”
“Yes?”
“Count them.”
Kai pointed.
“One.”
“Two.”
“Three…”
“…Seven.”
Master Borin nodded.
“I’ve only ever owned seven swords.”
He picked up the oldest.
“I bought this one when I was sixteen.”
Its blade was crooked.
The grip wrapped in faded leather.
“I thought owning a sword would make me a swordsman.”
He smiled faintly.
“I was wrong.”
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⸻
He picked up the second.
“This one…”
“…was my first victory.”
The third.
“My first defeat.”
The fourth.
“My wedding gift.”
I blinked.
“…You were married?”
Master Borin looked at the sword for a long moment.
“Once.”
Silence filled the room.
Neither Kai nor I asked another question.
Some wounds…
Didn’t need reopening.
⸻
The fifth sword.
“My son’s.”
Its blade remained almost new.
Hardly any scratches.
Master Borin gently returned it to the box.
The sixth.
“My last battle.”
The blade had cracked down the middle.
“It broke before I did.”
He chuckled softly.
Finally…
He looked toward the Black Devil resting against the wall.
“The seventh…”
“I never used.”
Kai tilted his head.
“But…”
“There are only six swords.”
Master Borin smiled.
“Exactly.”
⸻
Neither of us understood.
He closed the box.
“You know why I never became truly strong?”
I shook my head.
“Because I spent half my life searching for a better sword.”
He pointed toward the Black Devil.
“You are making the same mistake.”
“I rarely even use it.”
“But you think about it.”
He wasn’t wrong.
Every night…
I looked at it.
Every morning…
I wondered what powers it held.
Every strange event…
I blamed on the sword.
Master Borin’s voice became firm.
“A sword is only a mirror.”
“It shows the strength of the one holding it.”
“It never creates strength.”
⸻
That evening…
He led Kai and me into the backyard.
Three wooden poles had been planted firmly into the ground.
“Hit them.”
Kai rushed forward first.
He swung wildly.
The pole shook.
“Again.”
Another swing.
Harder.
More force.
The pole barely moved.
Master Borin nodded.
“Sarthak.”
I stepped forward.
Remembering the Imperial soldier’s lesson…
I watched.
The center.
The balance.
My breathing.
Then…
I struck.
Crack.
The pole split cleanly down the middle.
Kai stared.
“…How?”
I was just as surprised.
I hadn’t swung harder than him.
Master Borin smiled.
“Strength follows structure.”
“Not anger.”
⸻
The next several hours became another lesson.
Master Borin taught us how to stand.
How to grip.
How to let the whole body move as one.
Not just the arms.
By sunset…
Even Kai managed to split a thinner practice pole.
He jumped around the yard triumphantly.
“I did it!”
“I did it!”
Master Borin laughed.
“You split the smallest one.”
“It still counts!”
“…It does.”
⸻
That night…
As everyone slept…
Sarthak remained awake.
He quietly unwrapped the Black Devil.
Moonlight touched the pitch-black blade.
It reflected nothing.
No stars.
No lantern light.
Only darkness.
He stared at his own reflection.
There wasn’t one.
It was as though the sword refused to acknowledge his existence.
“…Who are you?”
he whispered.
For the first time…
The Black Devil answered.
Not with words.
Not with sound.
A single crimson ripple spread across its blade.
Sarthak instinctively reached out.
The moment his fingers touched the hilt—
His surroundings disappeared.
⸻
He stood within endless darkness.
There was no sky.
No ground.
No stars.
Only silence.
Then…
Footsteps.
Heavy.
Measured.
Someone was approaching.
From the darkness emerged a towering figure clad in black armor.
His face was hidden beneath a helmet carved to resemble a demon.
In his hand…
He carried a sword identical to the Black Devil.
The giant stopped several meters away.
Neither moved.
Neither spoke.
Then…
The armored figure slowly raised his sword.
Not to attack.
To salute.
A deep voice echoed through the endless void.
“At last…”
“…another bearer.”
Before Sarthak could answer—
The vision shattered.
⸻
He found himself back inside his room.
The sword lay quietly across his knees.
Nothing had changed.
Except…
One thing.
Burned into the palm of his right hand…
Was a tiny black symbol.
It resembled a broken circle.
Faint.
Barely visible.
Yet…
It pulsed once.
Like the heartbeat of something that had just awakened.
Far away…
The mysterious traveler with golden eyes abruptly stopped walking.
His calm expression changed for the first time.
He looked toward Ashfall City.
“So…”
he whispered.
“The first seal has opened.”
His smile disappeared.
“Then there is less time than I thought.”
For the first time since Sarthak had entered this world…
The Black Devil had spoken.
Not with language.
But with recognition.
And somewhere beyond the heavens…
Something ancient…
Had begun to awaken.
End of Chapter 21