Realm Lord

Arthur was now dragging himself to his feet, wincing as pain radiated from his numerous wounds. Despite the intensity of the battle, he noticed that the deepest gashes had already begun to close, the bleeding slowed to a trickle.

'Perks of being chosen,' I guess, he thought, examining a particularly nasty cut on his forearm that should have required stitches. 'Enhanced body means enhanced healing.'

He gave himself a thorough inspection, cataloging injuries and taking stock of his condition. Beyond the wounds and his now tattered clothing—the Academy uniform reduced to bloodied rags—Arthur noticed something else.

'Now that I think about it, I do feel quite stronger and more agile,' he realized, flexing his fingers and noting the effortless strength behind the movement. 'But I doubt I have any sort of real enhancement magic. I'd imagine this is just the basic upgrade all Chosen get upon entering the Realms.'

He rotated his shoulders, testing the increased range of motion. 'Still, it's pretty cool.'

Arthur's gaze dropped to the black odachi still clutched in his right hand. The weapon seemed to pulse subtly with his heartbeat, the darkness of its blade somehow deeper than mere absence of light—as though it were made from shadow given physical form.

'Speaking of which, I got a soul sword?' He examined the weapon with a mixture of awe and regret. 'I kind of feel bad... like this beautiful sword was wasted on someone like me who can never use it to its full potential.'

He closed his eyes, clearing his mind and imagining the sword disappearing back into his being—returning to whatever metaphysical space it occupied when not manifested. Sure enough, when he opened his eyes, the odachi had vanished.

'Neat,' he thought, flexing his now-empty hand.