Chapter
In the far corner, half-hidden behind stacks of old banners, sealed scrolls, and rusted weapon racks, a presence waited.
A blade.
A black, broad sword. Massive. Heavy. Silent. Its surface didn't shine, didn't hum, didn't glimmer in the torchlight—or the fading sunlight filtering through cracks high in the treasury walls. And yet, it called to him.
The moment Leon's golden eyes landed on it, something slammed into his chest.
A pull.
Sharp. Deep. Primal.
His breath hitched.
"What the—fuck," he muttered, though the sound barely left his throat.
The sword didn't glow. It didn't react to mana. No magic hummed from it. And yet, it reached for him. As if it had been waiting. As if it had recognized him. As if some unspoken contract had already been forged, long before he ever stepped foot into this room.
Leon took a hesitant step forward. Then another.
Thump… thump… thump.
