An unknown person appeared and saved me...?
But why...?
The thought felt like a crack in glass, too absurd and fragile to hold. According to the system, that very person had interfered with his fate and stolen the runes that were meant for him.
If that was true, then why go through the trouble of saving him? Why not let him die there, broken and defeated in the cold jaws of the dungeon?
The contradiction gnawed at his thoughts like a splinter beneath the skin.
Is it because without me, he couldn't obtain the runes? Was I... a necessary piece? A vessel, a medium...?
He clenched his fists under the sheets, fingers trembling slightly as the idea settled in.
Yes, that must be it... otherwise, I can't imagine a reason for him to have saved me.
The thought settled uncomfortably in his chest, like a cold stone dragging down his breath.
Just then, a voice cut through the growing weight in his mind like a needle through silk.
"What are you thinking, brat?" Nichole asked, squinting suspiciously as he noticed the silence dragging on for too long.
Ray blinked out of his thoughts, his lips parting on instinct."Oh... nothing," he muttered, burying the churn of unease beneath a shallow breath.
But that nothing was heavy. It pressed against his chest like a question he wasn't ready to ask aloud.
Instead, he shifted the subject, trying to ground himself in something more tangible. "What about the ancient treasure? What was in the reward room?"
Nichole's expression darkened almost immediately, his jaw tightening. A deep scowl formed across his face like a storm cloud drifting in.
Ray stopped himself from saying anything more. The bruises from earlier still throbbed faintly, and some wisdom had finally kicked in—sometimes, silence was safer than curiosity.
"After defeating the demon...", Nichole began, though his voice held the edge of reluctant memory.
After the demon was finally brought down, the unknown individual—the same one who had saved Ray—had gone ahead into the reward room alone.
No one had dared follow immediately, perhaps out of awe, fear, or the sheer surreal weight of what had just transpired.
But time passed, and when Nathaniel and the others finally stepped into the chamber, the space was empty. No person remained inside.
The only thing left behind was the Sword of the Black Knight resting quietly near the exit portal, along with a few scattered pieces of C-rank equipment—barely scraps in comparison to what they had hoped to find.
"Does that mean he took the ancient treasure?", Ray asked, his voice low but carrying a tight thread of seriousness that hadn't been there before.
"Yeah, that's what everyone believes. The source of the treasure was too trustworthy to be wrong. There's no other explanation."
Ray didn't speak after that. The words curled in his mind like smoke, twisting into something heavier. His thoughts turned inward again, loud and restless.
The ancient treasure must have been the rune.
That bastard... he must have entered the dungeon for that alone. Everything else was just noise. Just obstacles.
He clenched his fists, his nails digging into the skin of his palm without him realizing.
System... do you know the exact location of that person? he asked silently, desperate for a thread—anything to hold on to.
[Searching through the web of fate.....]
[Search unsuccessful. Positioning not possible.]
The answer came with a finality that grated against his nerves.
Ray's eyes narrowed.
Tch… of course.
Then what if he's near me? Can you identify him if he comes close?
[Negative. Target's fate has vanished from the Web of Fate, thus it will not be possible to identify him, but if the Rune is nearby it can be detected.]
His lungs stalled, as if the moment had frozen him, caught on the edge of disbelief.
What the fuck..?
The words didn't make sense at first. But the more he reread them, the colder he felt.
His fate vanished...?
He exhaled slowly, as if breathing too loudly would shatter something fragile.
Is it even possible... to hide one's fate?
[...]
The system didn't answer.
Just then, another system message flickered into view before his eyes, cutting through his thoughts like a blade through mist.
[System has recorded the last known location of the individual. Does host wish to know?]
Yes, yes, yes.
Ray responded without hesitation, his thoughts quickening, heart skipping once in sudden anticipation.
The system, patient as always, responded a moment later.
[The last location after the target's fate vanished from the web of fate was...]
[...Starlight Academy.]
His breath caught in his throat.
What the fuck... then that means... the one who interfered with my fate—
He's here. Inside the academy.
The realization hit like a falling mountain. His eyes widened slightly, hands instinctively gripping the blanket beneath him.
But who...?
His mind began racing, flitting through the faces of everyone he knew, every passing figure in the corridors, every classmate, teacher, staff member.
Suspicion and confusion swirled like a storm cloud.
But before the thought could fully take form, his reflection was shattered by a sharp, familiar sound.
BAM!!
A sharp pain bloomed at the top of his skull, dragging him brutally back into the present.
"Focus, brat."
Nichole's voice was firm and disapproving as ever, undercut by the soft echo of frustration barely hidden beneath it.
"Uhh..." Ray groaned quietly, his hand flying up to rub the sore spot where he'd been hit.
Nichole's gaze bore down on him with all the weight of command and concern blended into one.
"Tell me—why did you lose control when the demon came in front of you?"
Ray froze. The question wasn't just about the battle. It wasn't tactical. It was personal.
"I-I don't know," he admitted at last, his voice low, barely above a whisper.
"After seeing it... my mind just went blank. It was like something inside me broke open, and this immense, uncontrollable rage just... took over everything. I couldn't think. I couldn't see anything clearly. I don't remember what happened after that."
Nichole didn't speak for a moment. His expression remained unreadable.
"Looks like we need to work on your mentality. Otherwise, you'll always lose control in critical moments—and next time, you might not just hurt the enemy. You might harm your own allies."
The words weren't meant as scolding. They were matter-of-fact, he was stating a truth that couldn't be ignored.
"All right, rest now. You've already missed three weeks of classes. Academic points will be deducted as your class teacher is the vice principal, so you need to start attending the classes again now that you're awake, also—take this."
Nichole reached his hand into empty air, and with a movement that held a strange reverence, a sword appeared in his hand in an instant.
Seeing his move, Ray was filled with awe, "Master, can I also create a subspace like you did?"
"Haha, of course you can. As long as you have high mastery in the space element like me, you can do it."
He placed the sword in front of Ray.
Black as night, the blade was adorned with subtle, pulsing green veins that seemed to slither faintly beneath the surface like trapped lightning.
The hilt was carved in the shape of a dragon's snarling head, its eyes shimmering with an eerie, almost sentient glow.
The entire weapon exuded an air of dignity and quiet menace—like it had tasted blood and remembered the flavor.
Is this... the Black Knight's Sword?
His hands reached out, hesitant, trembling slightly as they wrapped around the hilt. The metal was cold, but not lifeless. It felt... aware. As though the sword itself was watching him back.
"Is it for me...?" Ray asked, his voice unsteady, uncertain.
"Yeah. It's just a sword—nothing magical. But its durability and sharpness are top-tier. No one in your team was a swordsman, and since you were the one who saved their lives in the end, they agreed to let you have it. Think of it as a gift."
Nichole's voice softened just slightly, the briefest crack in the usual hardness, before he turned away.
"Now rest. I'll be leaving."
And with that, he was gone—leaving only the echo of his presence and the quiet hum of the sword's green glow behind him.
Ray sat there for a long moment, his eyes fixed on the weapon resting in his lap. His breath grew shallow, uneven.
Why... why does it feel like it's calling to me...?
There was no answer. No voice. Just a silent pressure in the back of his mind, like a whisper from a dream he couldn't remember.
Still unnerved, Ray finally opened the system interface, fingers flicking toward the blade.
His system had an identification function—one of the more overlooked features, but incredibly useful.
It allowed him to read the hidden layers of any non-living object, extracting information others couldn't even begin to guess.
And now, more than ever, he needed to know what this sword truly was.
**
Item Name: Divine Sword
Rank: ??? (Sealed)
Description: The sword of a forgotten myth—erased from memory, buried by fear. It awaits the worthy, and with them, the return of truth long denied.
**
"Sword of the forgotten myth…", Ray mouthed the words quietly, almost reverently, the syllables barely escaping his lips as his eyes remained fixed on the blade before him.
He didn't know why the name pulled at something deep inside him—he had no memory, no history, no teachings that ever spoke of a "forgotten myth"—and yet, he felt the unmistakable weight of familiarity pressing into his chest.
It was like seeing a face in a dream—blurred, nameless, but impossible to forget.
His hand hovered near the hilt, trembling not with fear, but with the strange mix of excitement and uncertainty,
Something about the sword called to him, not with words or sound, but with presence alone—like a whisper in the soul that only he could hear.
It didn't make sense.
He had read about weapons that chose their wielder, but those were high-tier, legendary artifacts, recorded in the annals of the history.
He tried to to pour mana into it, to draw out its presence through will alone.
But the blade refused to move. Frustration began to rise in him, not loud or angry, but tense and burning slow—he could feel the sword wanted to respond.
System... is there a way to awaken this sword?
[Analyzing item...]
[Recommendation: A single drop of the host's blood is required to establish the initial link.]
A blood contract…? It made sense, in a way. Older artifacts sometimes required a mark, a sign of intent—something more permanent than mana alone.
He brought the blade closer, pricked his thumb with a piece of glass from the hospital tray beside him—shallow, quick—and let the drop fall onto the sword's surface.
It struck the cold metal with a soft sound. Nothing happened for a breath.
Then, slowly, the metal began to glow.
Not bright or blazing, but like a dying ember reigniting. The seal etched into the hilt shimmered faintly, and for a heartbeat, the air around him grew heavier, thicker, like time itself was slowing down just to watch this moment unfold.
A change happened in the sword, new red lines started to emerge from the sword and in parallel to the green ones, it looked as if the sword was flowing with blood.
His breath caught in his throat. The sword's glow faded back into steel, but something fundamental had shifted.
"HAHAHAHAHA.....I finally have a master after a long time."
And Ray... had just awakened something ancient.
***