Umbra
As I dive deeper into the system, I find myself without any quests or missions. It's an odd feeling, knowing my choices will shape the world but not having a clear path. Are quests and missions tied to the main story? Do I need to perform specific actions, or do quests just pop up randomly? The system's ambiguity is really getting to me.
I start poking around the skill ranks, split into four types: common, rare, unique, and unranked. Common skills, costing 600 points, are basic and only really useful in limited combat situations. But their true worth is in mixing them with higher-ranked skills.
Rare skills set you back 1200 points. They're not great for combat, but they shine in survival and development, thanks to their cost-effectiveness. Unique skills are where things get interesting. They're all over the place in terms of what they do and how powerful they are. They evolve, too, so you can't really compare them to other skills. It all depends on who's using them.
Snagging a unique skill costs a hefty 6000 points. It's a big investment, but the payoff could be huge, given their uniqueness and potential power.
Then there's the whole deal with different physiques for various classes. Being cursed, I can't change my own physique, but it's still cool to see what others can do. Mages get options to boost mana sensitivity or capacity, while swordsmen can work on their aura flow, make their bodies more flexible, refine their bones, or bulk up their muscles.
The system lets you buy information, but it's not super clear about it. For 300 points, you can get info going back 50 years. For 600 points, you're looking at current stuff and the near future. And for 1300 points, you can peek up to a week into the future. But there are a bunch of rules about asking for info, and it can get pricey or even be off-limits. There's also the option to use materials to boost your skills, but man, those prices are through the roof.
The system offers a range of materials, from low to high rank, but I figure I'm better off scrounging for them myself. There's also this mysterious option to tweak history, but the specifics are as clear as mud. The system just says I need to meet some criteria, without giving any real details.
"Now that I've got the lowdown, time to gear up. I know just where to snag a freebie," I muse with a sly grin. Lost as I am, I hobble over to an elderly lady passing by.
"Excuse me, ma'am, could you help me out? I'm trying to find that old, run-down fountain," I inquire.
The old lady shoots me a look of annoyance. "Kid, you're asking for trouble heading to that dump. It's a breeding ground for diseases. You should steer clear," she warns.
"Yeah, I get it. It's just, I left some stuff there. Could you point me in the right direction?" I ask, trying to sound as sincere as possible.
She frowns, shaking her head. "Leaving your things there wasn't the wisest move. That place? Anything left is as good as gone," she chides.
"Please, it's really important. I need to get it back," I plead, dropping to my knees for effect.
She sighs, exasperated. "Youngsters these days... Fine, it's not my headache. Go two blocks down, take a right, and keep going. You'll find it. But watch out, it's crawling with vermin," she advises, her tone laced with concern.
"Thank you so much, you're a lifesaver," I say, rising to my feet. With a quick nod of gratitude, I start heading towards the fountain, following her directions.
The journey is agonizing, and I quickly find myself gasping for air. Despite the pain, I press on. The deeper I venture, the more squalid it becomes, which is no surprise. The area is deserted, shunned by most who believe it's cursed. The amount of garbage, human waste, and scurrying rodents is overwhelming. With my battered body, it takes me nearly an hour to reach the fountain.
And there it is, just as I described: a secluded spot connected by only two narrow alleyways. In the midst of this neglect stands a large fountain, dominated by the statue of a young woman kneeling, a blade held horizontally in her hands. The place reeks, the foul odor assaulting my lungs, and I fight the urge to vomit.
The fountain itself is in disrepair, riddled with cracks, and cloaked in stains and moss. The water has turned into a lethal black sludge. Dominating the center of the fountain is the statue of Ilka, about two meters tall. It's remarkably intact, save for the moss and stains marring its surface.
Standing here is revolting, but I suppress the urge to flee. This isn't just anyone; Ilka, a companion to one of the many heroes in history. The great demon war, a conflict sparked by human arrogance and their conquest of 30% of demon territory, which turned out dire.
When the great demons retaliated, they swiftly reclaimed their land and started invading human countries. When the tide turned, chaos erupted everywhere. Driven by vengeance, the demons rampaged unceasingly until a new hero emerged.
A hero's strength is fueled by belief... I think. I left that area vague in my story. The more people believe in him, the stronger the hero should become, gaining new abilities blessed by a god or goddess. During the war, this hero and his companions fell into a trap set by demons led by Aell. Injured and weakened, the hero struggled to fight with his usual might.
★ ★ ★ ★ ★
-4,123 years ago
-In a mountain range near the tree of Junipra
The deafening sound of clashing swords and magic spells fills the air as the four warriors fight for their lives on the battlefield. Jackson, an expert archer, unleashes a barrage of arrows that take down dozens of enemies in a single second, his skill with a bow is unparalleled.
Ava, the group's mage, struggles to cast a spell amidst the chaos. Her movements are frantic, her hands shaking as she tries to harness her magic. "What's taking so long, Ava?" Jackson shouts over the sounds of battle, frustration clear in his voice.
"I'm trying, but these bastards are jamming my magic!" Ava shouts back, sweat dripping down her forehead as she continues to concentrate.
Meanwhile, Arthur, the hero, is locked in combat with Aell, a powerful enemy wielding a cursed sword. Although Arthur is a skilled fighter, he struggles to land any hits on Aell, who seems to effortlessly dodge every attack.
The battlefield is a mess, the once-beautiful mountain range now lies in ruins, the ground covered in rubble and the bodies of fallen soldiers.
As the battle rages on, I find myself in a one-on-one fight against a high-ranking demon, a fierce demon who is nearly as skilled in hand-to-hand combat. We trade blows, my fists meeting his kicks with equal ferocity. "What's your name, demon?" I ask, impressed by his fighting style.
"Huh? I was under the impression that humans detested demons, but my name is Baji!" he says as he proceeds to throw a combination of ninety-nine kicks.
"Hmhmhmhm. I still hate demons, but I should remember your name as a fellow martial artist before I kill you." I gather my mana and aura simultaneously into my palm and, in an instant, push a hole right through Baji.
"Hahahahaha, you have a fusion skill Khoff Khak Khak, well played," are Baji's last words before dropping to the ground. I look back at Arthur, he’s sweating, and his movements are slow. "He's reaching his limit," I murmur. I run at full speed, although my Aura reserve is low. I can't risk Arthur getting hurt here. His mana is already depleted, and he barely has any aura left.
I make it to Arthur's side, but Aell is already there, his cursed sword aimed at Arthur's heart. "You're still a bit too weak, dear hero~" Aell sneers. "I'm going to give your heart to the demon king."
"Not if I have anything to say about it," I growl, clenching my fists. "Arthur, get behind me."
Arthur nods weakly, stumbling back as I step forward to face Aell. The cursed sword glows with an eerie light, and I can feel its malevolent energy radiating off of it. I need to act fast.
I charge at Aell, my aura flaring up around me as I prepare to strike. But Aell is quick, and he dodges my attacks with ease. I can see that his sword is draining my mana with each strike, and if I want to win, I need to finish this asap.
Arthur struggles to stand, his magic drained from the battle, but he manages to prop himself up against a rock, watching us with a fierce look in his eyes.
With one final burst of energy, I leap towards Aell, my fist charged with all my remaining energy. He swings his sword at me, but I dodge it and land a powerful punch to his gut. Aell stumbles back, it's over.
With the cursed sword in his hand, as he falls, he thrusts the sword toward me. I feel a searing pain in my chest as the blade pierces through me. I fall to the ground, gasping for air as blood pours from the wound. "I'm taking you with me, you bitch," Aell says before collapsing.
Arthur rushes to my side, tears streaming down his face. "No, don't die," he whimpers. "Please, don't die."
It's too late. The wound is too deep, and even if we make it to a temple, I won't be able to heal from this cursed injury. I don't have much time left. "Hahaha," I laugh, the sound raspy with blood.
"Why the hell are you laughing?" Arthur asks, his voice thick with grief.
Kneeling, I look up at the sky, "Hey, Arthur... Khoff Khak Khak... let my name be known far and wide... Khoff Khak Khak..."
Ava speaks up, her voice shaking with emotion. "Stop talking, the Saintess is on her way,"
I laugh weakly. "Hahaha... I never thought I'd see you with that face, Ava... Arthur, promise me I won't be forgotten... Khoff Khak Khak... I want to be remembered as the great Ilka... Khoff Khak Khak... bury me with this cursed sword... build a statue over my grave and have the people praise the great Ilka for her sacrifice... I don't want to be forgotten... Khoff Khak Khak... please..."
★ ★ ★ ★ ★
-Arthur's POV
I stand defiantly before the king, fury churning within me like a tempest. My voice, laced with indignation, echoes through the grand hall. "Your majesty, Ilka's sacrifice was monumental – she gave her very life for mine. She deserves to be celebrated, immortalized!"
The king, an unyielding statue of calm in the face of my storm, sighs deeply. "Arthur, your sorrow is palpable, and I share in your grief. Yet, you must grasp the gravity of our situation. The public's perception of the hero must remain untarnished, unchallenged."
His words strike me like a cold, harsh slap. "How can you stand there, so detached? Ilka's bravery allowed the hero to triumph, and you propose we just erase her from history?" I can barely contain the disbelief, the raw emotion spilling over in my voice.
Unmoved, the king maintains his stoic demeanor. "I do feel your anger, Arthur. But we must think of the greater good. The people's faith in the hero is paramount. Ilka's tragic end could cast unwanted shadows over his strength."
I'm about to unleash a torrent of further arguments when suddenly, the king's index finger rises. In a flash, a bolt of lightning streaks towards me. Instinctively, my sword is drawn, cleaving the lightning in two. The force of my action inadvertently bisects the castle, leaving a gaping fissure.
The king, far from shocked, simply exhales a weary sigh. "You still lack strength," he remarks, his voice tinged with a hint of disappointment.
★ ★ ★
-King Henry's POV
Seated upon my throne, a heavy burden weighs upon my heart. Arthur, the hero anointed by the goddess of faith, pleads passionately for a memorial in Ilka's honor. My chest tightens with guilt as I face him. I offer my deepest sympathies for his loss, but the idea of a statue is fraught with complications.
"Arthur, your anguish is palpable, but our kingdom is embroiled in a war of survival," I say, my voice struggling to maintain its composure. "The demonic forces grow stronger each day. We must focus on prevailing."
Arthur's gaze hardens, his anger simmering. "What has this war to do with denying Ilka the recognition she rightfully deserves?" he demands, his voice seething with resentment.
"Arthur, you must understand," I implore, my words heavy with sincerity. "We can honor her with a fountain, discreetly placed in a less conspicuous location."
He retorts sharply, "Ilka's valor warrants more than just a hidden tribute. She should be honored where all can witness her sacrifice."
I exhale a weary sigh. The constraints of our reality bind my hands. "We cannot erect a statue for a commoner. It would raise too many questions, cast doubts on your own powers. This is a risk we cannot afford," I explain, hoping he understands the gravity of the situation.
I see a glimmer of resignation in Arthur's eyes. "Very well," he concedes, his voice tinged with defeat. "But at least ensure the fountain is in a place of respect. Let her be depicted with the sword she wielded so bravely."
"I assure you, it will be done," I reply, watching him depart from the throne room. A sense of regret lingers in my heart. Ilka was a warrior of unparalleled courage, deserving of remembrance. Yet, in these tumultuous times, we cannot afford to stir doubts about the hero's strength. I can only hope the fountain, modest as it may be, will suffice to honor her memory.
Why, of all the gods, was Arthur blessed by the goddess of faith? Her blessing endows him with immense power, yet it is intrinsically tied to the belief of others. His strength ebbs and flows with their faith. Public knowledge of Ilka's death could indeed shake their confidence, a risk too great to take in these perilous times.
★ ★ ★
-Arthur’s POV
It's been months since I've wandered down this forgotten alley, to where the Fountain of Ilka sits. This place, it's special – a quiet nod to a friend I lost. Today, I'm back, scrubbing off the dirt and grime that time's layered on it.
At the center stage of the fountain is Ilka's statue, kneeling, holding that cursed sword like she's about to hand it to me.
Sitting on the fountain's edge, I take in the sight. It's not grand, but it's something. Remembering how I asked the king for a statue and got this instead – in some backstreet where hardly anyone sees it. It's not what I wanted, but I guess it's something. The king's got his reasons, I know, but it still feels off.
Closing my eyes for a sec, I let the sound of the water chill me out. Then I start talking, like Ilka's right here. "Hey Ilka, been a while, huh?" I say, opening my eyes to look at her stone face. "We had this crazy battle last week. Lost a few good folks. Wish you were there, you always knew what to do... Feels like you're still looking out for us, you know?"
I keep chatting to the statue, spilling about the stuff I've been through – the fight with a lich, that showdown with Ducan, all my thoughts about this never-ending war. This spot, hidden away from the world's chaos, is where I can just talk to an old friend.
When it's time to leave, I lean in close, whispering, "Catch you later, Ilka. I'll be back soon." This fountain is more than just a tribute. It's where I find a bit of peace, remember the good times. Ilka taught me everything... and I'm not about to forget that.
★ ★ ★ ★ ★
-Back to the present
As I trudge toward the fountain, the stench hits me like a punch in the gut. I'm this close to gagging, but I clench my teeth and push through. Cleaning this mess is the only way to snag that accursed sword. With a deep, reluctant breath, I dive into the task.
First up, the trash heaps and debris become my foes. It's backbreaking, soul-sucking work. Every bit of me screams to bail, but I'm not one to quit. After a grueling six hours, the area around the fountain is finally debris-free. I pause, catching my breath, trying to soothe my protesting muscles.
That's when the sound of a river, hiding beneath a decaying building not far from here, grabs my attention. Bingo! A river nearby means I can speed up this clean-up gig like nobody's business. I head over, and what do you know? A bunch of ancient-looking buckets are just lying around. I fill them to the brim and haul them back to the fountain.
The river, it's a serene flow of water, cutting through the abandoned building, embraced by lush greenery. Oddly, there's hardly any trash here. Finding this place feels like winning the jackpot.
But what really snags my attention isn't the pristine water. It's a flower, a mythical blue Taurea, stubbornly thriving among the weeds. "Damn," I mutter, "I've gotta get it." This flower's petals are a stunning ocean blue, glowing like some sort of mystical beacon in the dark, casting a surreal light all around.
Taurea flowers usually chill near rivers in hidden caves, the air sweet with their scent and the river's song adding to the calm vibes. The petals are soft, velvety, dancing in the breeze like they've got a life of their own. The center's this vivid yellow, with these star-shaped stamens around it.
This magic-infused bloom isn't just a treat for the eyes; it's ancient, powerful. How it ended up here, who knows? Must be thousands of years old.
Shame I can't snag it right now. These babies die the second you pluck them. Best to leave it be until I'm ready to handle it right.
So, it's back to the grind. I ferry water bucket after bucket, starting the monotonous task of removing the fountain's black sludge. It's slow, tedious, but giving up ain't my style. I scrounge up some rags and sticks, scraping off the remaining gunk. After that, it's all about scrubbing the statue like there's no tomorrow, getting rid of every last bit of moss and stain. Finally, I rinse everything off and refill the fountain with the river's clean water.
The entire ordeal takes over a day, but the result? A sparkling clean fountain and statue. I can't help but grin. All that effort, totally worth it.
Now, here's the deal. This whole clean-up mission? It's to keep Ilka's spirit, snoozing under the fountain, from throwing a fit. Her tomb's right there, with that cursed sword sealing her spirit inside.
My protagonist, Mason, blundered into this mess, waking Ilka with the stench. When he asked to use the sword, she said no dice. I'm trying to get to that sword and bond with it without waking her up.
The cursed sword and Ilka have been doing this weird merge thing for thousands of years. Given my own cursed status, I should be able to soul-bind the weapon. But if Ilka wakes up before I bond with the sword, she'll throw a wrench in the works. She despises the sword and won't let anyone in my novel use it. Hence, the stealth and care in my approach.
Approaching the now immaculate fountain, a sense of pride swells within me. My attention, though, isn't on the statue but on the fabled sword sealed in the tomb beneath. I'm searching for a hidden trigger to unveil the tomb's entrance.
I scrutinize the statue, feeling its surface for any anomalies. After minutes of searching, I discover a subtle button on the statue's back. Hesitating momentarily, I press it. The fountain begins to tremble and, with a thunderous rumble, ascends, revealing the hidden entrance.
Before me lies a dark, narrow staircase descending into the depths. As I step forward, a chill courses down my spine. The air is musty and damp, and the sound of dripping water echoes off the rough, unpolished stone walls. The low ceiling forces me to duck.
My heart races as I delve deeper, the darkness intensifying. A horribly made torch becomes my only guide. At the staircase's end, a large stone door awaits. Pushing it open, torchlight floods a circular room adorned with paintings. In its center rests a large stone coffin, atop which lies the cursed sword.
The sword, with its black-silver hilt and glowing blade, is a sight to behold. As I approach, a system window materializes:
[Cursed Sword of Umbra]
[Rank: Unique ⇧]-[Evolution: 7/8➛.07%]
[Only curse bearers may wield this sword, grown in darkness for millennia.]
The sword's rank surprises me; The sword exists for the spirit of Ilka to impart martial arts skills to the main character. I had anticipated it being of a rare rank at most, so discovering its unique status exceeded my expectations. Its dark metal blade, reminiscent of a living shadow, emanates an ominous aura. Each side of the fuller is etched with six runes, the point sharply designed for piercing armor.
The black-purple guard shines metallically, while the grip, made of an indescribably soft, pure black cloth, feels otherworldly. Its small, box-shaped pommel matches the guard in color.
As I grasp the sword, it adjusts its weight to suit me. A black aura emanates from the grip, encircling my arm and infusing me with a strange energy. Six black lines, like tattoos, etch themselves onto my skin, causing a searing pain. The sword now feels inseparable from me.
"Hmm? Is this some sort of proof of ownership?" I muse, examining the tattoo.
[Host has successfully soul-bound to ‘Cursed Sword of Umbra’]
[Cursed Sword of Umbra]
[Durability: ∞]
[Runic Abilities]
Sharpness: Increases by 50% when activated.
Camouflage: Can alter the appearance of the blade when activated.
Soul-bound: User may summon the weapon from any location.
Strength: When holding the weapon, strength increases by 45%.
Slice: When activated, it can cut through anything twice a day.
Absorb: When activated, Aura or magic within a 3-meter radius can be absorbed.
[Sword Skills]
Nocturnal: In Darkness, user's senses are amplified by 80%.
Nighter: In darkness, eyesight is impeccable.
Shadow: When activated, under any shadow, if one does not move, one becomes invisible.
[Notice: The Cursed Sword of Umbra refuses to fight anyone with holy power.]
"Tsk, seriously, this sword refuses to fight against holy power." Aside from that, it seems this sword is great. It's a bit unpleasant that its abilities are tied to fighting in the dark, but overall, it's impressive.
I am amazed by the abilities of the Cursed Sword of Umbra. I can't wait to experiment with the camouflage ability and discover what other tricks the sword has up its sleeve. I decide to start with the camouflage ability and see if I can change the appearance of the blade into something different.
[Hidden Task Complete]
[Congratulations! You have drastically changed the future. A total of 400 points will be awarded.]
[Finally, you did something, you lazy bum.]
"Tsk, is it your job to be rude?"
[You're the only one complaining here ಥﭛಥ]
"Tsk, why are you bothering me? Just get to the point."
[With your current points, you are eligible for your first-time purchase discount. Would you like to view the available options?]
"Just say it sooner next time. Show me the options."
[Skill: Breath Control]-[Low Ranked]-[Increases lung capacity by 10%, calms mind during heavy breathing, reduces risk of heart attacks]
[Skill: Balance]-[Low Ranked]-[Prevents tripping or falling, natural aptitude for dancing]
[Skill: Math]-[Low Ranked]-[Slight increase in understanding of mathematics, enables fast mental calculations]
Are these my only options? I guess I was expecting too much. After all, it's only 400 points. There's no need to decide. I knew I was going for breath control the moment I saw it.
While breath control may seem weak, its true value lies in its fusion with other skills. It's perfect for any close-range fighter, and since I have a sword, there’s no need to decide. As I touch the system window and choose [Breath Control], a tingling sensation washes over me. My breathing slows and feels purer.
Holding the blade, I sense something unusual. Focusing on the blade, it’s probably the spirit of Ilka trying to communicate. She must have sensed something odd, but it's too late. I'm now the owner of this sword, and she can't change that. I could allow her to speak to me, but it seems best to do that another time.
Concentrating on the blade, I visualize it changing form. Gradually, the blade shimmers and transforms before my eyes into a sleek black-silver bracelet. It's astounding; the sword is now a piece of jewelry I can wear on my wrist.
Next, I decide to see if I can turn the sword into a necklace. Channeling my energy into the bracelet, I imagine it morphing into a necklace. The bracelet shimmers again, transforming into a beautiful black gemstone necklace. The gemstone is unique, a deep black with a slight purple hue.
Getting the hang of the camouflage ability, I'm excited to discover what other forms the sword can take. I decide to try turning it into a wooden sword, commonly used by beginner swordsmen.
Focusing my energy on the necklace, I envision it transforming into a wooden sword. The necklace shimmers once more, and then it becomes a simple wooden sword. The wooden sword is rough and unpolished, perfect for beginners.
Impressed by the versatility of the Cursed Sword of Umbra, I acknowledge the camouflage ability's remarkable nature. Deciding to turn it into a wooden sword. I can't keep it as a piece of jewelry, or I'll get mugged.
