Chapter 10 – Whispers of the Blade
After the sword uttered that chilling sentence, Gharib stood frozen. Fear laced his voice as he demanded:
"How do you know me? Where have we met? I remember nothing of my past… not even my name."
The sword replied with a grating, deep tone:
"Hmm… we haven't officially met. But you share something in common with others like you. Your namelessness is what keeps you alive. The moment you remember your name… everything will change. Your memories will return. I can't tell you more—because of a seal placed by 'The First Stranger.'"
Gharib's voice shifted—steady and resolute:
"Then tell me… can I gain anything from you?"
The sword responded:
"Every power has a price. Yours—and mine—depends on how much human flesh you consume. For now, the only ability available to you is: The Blade of Faces."
> Ability: Absorbs the souls of those slain by the blade, temporarily granting you fragments of their memories or skills.
Effect: It confuses you—blurring the line between your thoughts and theirs.
Dark Side: Every face the sword retains will whisper to you… twisting your sense of self.
You can resist this, but only if your mind is strong.
And remember—this power doesn't work without human flesh.
The sword's tone shifted—stern and absolute:
"Now, by the terms of our bond, I owe you three answers… none may concern your identity."
Gharib thought quickly, then asked:
"First—what system governs this world? What's hidden beneath the surface?
Second—is there any way to gain power without consuming others?
Third—are there others like me… still alive?"
The sword answered in grim clarity:
"This place runs on a layered system. The citadel is divided into three zones:
1. The Upper Region – where the King and his family reside. All laws originate from there.
2. The Middle Region – ruled by three great noble houses. They are second only to the King in strength and dominance.
3. The Lower Region – home to minor nobles, laborers, and slaves."
"As for your second question: No. There is no other way. This world is governed by a brutal law: The more violent you are, the stronger you become."
"And your third—yes, there were others like you… but most of them have turned into mindless, slime-ridden husks. They chased strength without paying the price. That's what became of them."
Gharib lowered his gaze.
He now understood the rules of this cruel world.
Without a word, he gripped the sword, sheathed it, and walked out of the abandoned shop.
As he made his way through the forest surrounding the city, he suddenly heard a wet, slithering sound—unnatural. Inhuman.
He turned his head—
and saw it.
A creature.
Its body vaguely human in shape, but its skin glistened like mucus.
Its limbs were too long.
Its head was covered in eyes—dozens of them.
And all of them… focused on him.
Then—without warning—
the monster lunged for his skull.