'Aren't I supposed to get some sort of magical powers? That would be pretty helpful right about now.'
The Academy instructors had droned endlessly about Core manifestations—how each person's innate abilities would emerge once they entered the Realms. Some developed elemental affinities. Others gained insane physical enhancements. A few lucky ones received rare spatial or temporal manipulations along with a flurry of other unique abilities.
But Arthur? Apparently, he got nothing but bruises and bleeding wounds.
The monster had already recovered from their tumble down the stairs. It crouched low, its misshapen body tensing like a spring as it prepared to pounce again. Its maw hung partially open, drool splattering on the stone floor as it emitted a low, rattling growl.
Despite its terrifying appearance, Arthur noticed a pattern emerging. The creature was powerful and fast, but it lacked sophistication—relying on straightforward aggression rather than strategy. It telegraphed its attacks with a predictable wind-up.
As the monster launched itself through the air, Arthur waited until the last possible second before twisting sideways. His hand shot out, fingers digging into the loose, clammy skin along the creature's flank. Using the monster's own momentum, he pivoted and hurled it into the wall behind them.
The impact produced a sickening crack as the beast collided with the ancient stone. It crumpled to the ground in a heap of twisted limbs, and for a moment, Arthur dared to hope he'd incapacitated it.
That hope died quickly as the creature dragged itself upright once more. Its body contorted unnaturally as it reoriented itself, joints bending in ways no terrestrial anatomy should allow. It lowered its eyeless head and released a feral growl that reverberated through the chamber—more enraged than before.
'Come on magic, magic, magic,' Arthur pleaded silently, desperately searching within himself for something—anything—that might save him. He reached mentally toward his Core, trying to ignite whatever power might lie dormant there. 'Give me some fucking magic… please!'
Nothing happened.
The monster charged again, covering the distance between them with frightening speed. Its claws tore gouges into the stone floor with each bounding step.
Arthur's thoughts turned grim as the distance closed. 'I knew it. I barely lasted a minute, and now I'm going to die!'
He braced himself for the impact, for those razor teeth to tear into his flesh—when suddenly, he felt something stir deep within. Not in his body, but somewhere more fundamental. It felt like a foreign object lodged in his very essence, pulsing and eager to be released.
Operating purely on instinct, Arthur mentally reached for that sensation, grasping it and pulling it from whatever metaphysical space it occupied. The air around his hands seemed to thicken and congeal, a weight materializing in his grip.
Arthur glanced down in astonishment as an object solidified in his hands—a sword. But not just any sword. An Odachi—a long, single-edged blade of traditional Japanese design, except this weapon appeared to be carved from darkness itself. The blade was impossibly black, absorbing rather than reflecting the dim light of the chamber. Subtle patterns rippled across its surface, like shadows moving beneath water.
There was no time to marvel at his manifestation. The monster was upon him, jaws wide and prepared to close around his throat.
Acting on pure reflex, Arthur gripped the hilt with both hands and thrust the blade forward. The odachi slid through the creature's flesh with almost no resistance, as though parting smoke rather than solid matter. The tip emerged from the monster's back, dripping with black fluid.
Despite being impaled, the beast's momentum didn't stop. Its body slammed into Arthur, driving him backward and onto the ground. Now they were in a grotesque parody of their earlier struggle—Arthur pinned beneath the creature, but this time with the length of the odachi between them.
The monster thrashed wildly, spraying its black ichor and foul drool in all directions as it fought to free itself from the blade. Its jaws snapped frantically, inches from Arthur's face. The stench of its breath—like rotting meat and stagnant water—made him gag.
Panic surged through Arthur's system. With desperate strength, he planted both feet against the creature's torso and kicked with everything he had. The beast flew backward, sliding off the blade with a sickening squelch before crashing to the floor several feet away.
Arthur scrambled upright, heart pounding in his ears as he raised the odachi defensively. The blade felt strangely light in his hands, almost as though it weighed nothing at all. Yet when he moved it, there was a sense of substantial momentum behind each swing.
'A sword? Seriously?' Arthur thought, eyeing his manifestation with mixed feelings. 'Out of everything I could have gotten, I got a fucking sword? I suck with swords!'
After two months in the Academy, he was still ranked near the bottom of the class in bladework. Ms.Anne tried her best to help him improve at first offering private sessions, but after a while she all but gave up.
The monster dragged itself to its feet once more, moving more sluggishly now. Black fluid poured from the wound in its chest, pooling on the stone floor beneath it. The creature's head swiveled toward Arthur, and it released another bone-chilling growl—softer than before but no less menacing.
Arthur adjusted his grip on the odachi, trying to recall the proper stance from his training. He positioned his feet shoulder-width apart, angled his body sideways to present a smaller target, and raised the blade to guard position. The stance felt awkward and unfamiliar, but it was the best he could manage under the circumstances.
The wounded monster gathered itself, tensing as it prepared for another charge. Arthur could see it was weakened—its movements less fluid, its posture slightly lopsided—but clearly not defeated. The creature was still very much a threat.
The monster charged, slower than before but still dangerously fast. Arthur readied himself, the dark blade trembling slightly in his inexperienced hands as he prepared to meet the creature's attack.
Somehow, he had to survive this encounter. Somehow, he had to find the core of this realm and place a tether. But first, he needed to master this unexpected weapon that his Core had granted him.