The moon hung above Shangila like a silver sentinel, watching the city pulse with life even at night. In the quiet room of Agatha's inn, Adonis sat cross-legged on his bed, his mask set aside, the window open to let the cool breeze settle the heat that lingered from the day.
In front of him, Six golden swords floated, steady now, not trembling like before.
He exhaled slowly.
Still not perfect.
But much better than the chaos they once were.
He leaned back, staring at the ceiling. "I can form six now... barely. But what's beyond this?"
His hands clenched slightly. Its still too slow I need to get strong faster.
In another part of the city, within a shaded tea house reserved for nobles and wealthy merchants, a cloaked figure passed a small crystal to a man with hawk-like eyes.
"This is him," the cloaked man said.
The crystal flickered to life, replaying an illusion — a moment frozen in time — Adonis standing calmly in the guild with five golden swords orbiting him like a celestial weapon array.
The man narrowed his eyes.
"No incantation. No scroll. No chant matrix," he muttered.
"That's what's strange," the informant said. "We checked the archives. There is no record of any magic resembling this. No known element matches it. But it has structure — it's not wild or innate like raw mana burst. It's something… constructed. Intentional."
The man sat back in his chair. "Then we may have a special magic on our hands."
The word hung in the air like a thunderclap.
The informant hesitated. "Do we report this to the Royal Enchanter's Division?"
"No… Not yet." The hawk-eyed man tapped the table. "If this is truly special magic… and unregistered… then it means whoever this boy is, he either comes from a long-forgotten bloodline... or he's something new entirely."
Back at the inn, Elora burst into the room like a gust of wind, tossing her cloak aside.
"Adonis! Big news!"
"What now?" he asked, eyes still closed.
"You're famous."
"…Excuse me?"
"You're famous," she repeated, plopping onto a chair. "Word's all over the city about a masked adventurer with glowing golden swords who humiliated the C-rank thugs."
Adonis groaned. "So much for low profile."
"It gets better," Elora said. "A noble from House Calbern sent a messenger. They want to invite you to their estate. Rumors say they're trying to recruit rare talents."
"I'm not interested in noble houses."
"Then you'll love this — the guild master wants to meet you. Personally."
Adonis's eyes finally opened.
That… was unexpected.
Elora leaned forward, more serious now. "Listen. I know you want to explore, hide your identity, grow stronger on your own. But something's shifting. Whatever you did back there... it's attracting attention."
Adonis stood up, walked to the window, and looked out over the city.
His thoughts echoed with the theory he'd once read in his father's study — the theory about special magic.
A person's soul, will, talents… all aligned perfectly into one force.
Music became sound magic.
Desire to heal became healing magic.
A mind obsessed with negative emotions become dark magic.
And his?
Although he love stories of swords, justice, and strength he think the main reason he got this magic because of the golden sword that stabbed him in his previous life.
That Sword? What is it?
In the shadows, beyond the streets, beyond even Shangila's borders… there were others beginning to hear the whispers too.
Of a masked boy.
With golden swords.