Melissa slurped at her noodles, the steam curling around her glasses. She wore an oversized shirt, buttons undone, like she'd just rolled out of bed.
"That about concludes his report," she said between mouthfuls.
Kaein dangled upside down from the ceiling, his arms folded. His eyes flicked toward her lazily.
"That cursed katana… where is it from?"
Melissa blew on her noodles, then shrugged. "No exact date, but I'd guess forty… maybe fifty years back."
She stretched, cracking her fingers, then spun lazily in her chair before tapping away at her computer. Her grin widened.
"You know, this kid is fascinating. Turns out he's got an ancient seal on his body — tough one, not easy to break. The katana cracked it a little. Man, I have so many questions it makes me horny."
Kaein sighed.
Melissa's eyes gleamed as she twirled her chopsticks. "If he survives the talk with the old man, he's mine first."
But when she looked up again, Kaein was already gone. She blinked, then shrugged and went back to her noodles.
Kaein drifted down the corridor, muttering under his breath.
"I've never seen her sober."
This was my second time in the commander's office, and once again it felt like standing in front of a principal waiting for punishment.
The room was immaculate at first glance — shelves lined with books, a polished desk stacked with files. But it was only at the surface. Dust clung to the corners. The air smelled faintly of mold. Behind the curtains, paint peeled where the damp had eaten away. A place pretending to be noble… but rotting quietly.
The commander stood with his back to me, hands clasped behind him, gazing out the window at the rainbow-painted sky. His voice was calm, almost to himself.
"You took on five thousand mid-level monsters… and came out alive, with that dark katana."
He turned slightly, his eyes never leaving the horizon.
"We'll need to run a few scans on the blade. As per procedure, we'll also have to dispose of it. Still… good work, Kael. You've raised your name to good standards."
I shook my head. "That won't be possible. This katana is linked to my soul. I can't just hand it over."
For the first time, he faced me fully. His finger tapped against his temple.
"You've survived quite a lot, Kael. Regardless of your disobedience. But tell me — how long can your luck carry you? Think. We all live and breathe because we follow orders. If you hadn't been such a disobedient boy… think where you'd be now."
I clenched my fists.
"I'd be a pig who thinks he's in a palace, but really wallows in a mud pit. I regret nothing. I've come too far to back down now. If you won't tell me the truth, I'll find it myself. I'll fight, even if the whole world stands against me. I'll fly, even if gravity itself tries to drag me down."
With that, I turned and headed for the door. My hand paused on the handle, though, and I glanced back.
"Nice office, sir… but even the cleanest rooms can't hide the dirt underneath."
I stepped out, leaving his silence to rot with the walls.
Fascinating." Melissa pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose, her eyes glowing at the screen.
I just stared at her, puzzled.
"It seems the katana you carry takes on the powers of the monsters you slay. Isn't that cool?" she grinned, leaning forward, her melon-like chest pressing against the table like she was trying to distract me on purpose.
"So… you're saying I can shoot snowflakes?"
She gave me a look like Albert Einstein had adopted me only to throw me in the trash the next day.
"Just try throwing it," she sighed.
I shrugged, tossed the blade.
"Now—reach out your hand."
I did. The katana whirled midair, paused as if listening, then spun like a coin before zipping back to my grip. My jaw slackened. I could even command it to hover, spin, or freeze mid-flight.
I felt like a kid who had just discovered how to flush the toilet.
From that day, I trained like my life depended on it—because in a way, it did. Every pause, every break from movement felt like it could break me instead.
I worked too, cleaning the base, cooking meals, even washing their clothes. Seven of us lived here, yet I kept my distance. Always watching from the edge, never stepping in. I was happy to meet them at first but the last mission taught me thar I'm better of alone .
In the forest, I fought holograms the katana could summon—Zoro himself, or that snowflake girl again. They pushed me, sharpened me. I could only fight the version of them in the time in which I copied them from , I couldn't grow alongside them.
"Who's there?" I called, sweat dripping as I froze mid-swing.
Blaze dropped from a tree like a hawk. "Why don't you mingle with the rest of us? You think you're too broken to do so?" His forehead veins bulged like snakes.
"I'm a curse," I muttered, lowering my blade. "My burdens are mine to carry. I'd rather walk this path alone, so ple—"
Steel screamed. I barely blocked in time as his strike would've split my head.
Birds exploded from the trees. Sparks crackled like lightning as our swords clashed.
At first, I defended. But instinct, bloodlust—something venomous—pushed me to strike back like a black mamba lunging for a throat. My katana nearly took his head.
I stopped myself an inch before his neck. "Sorry—I didn't want to kill you, I just—"
Blaze snarled, backing off. "Don't treat me like I'm scared of the grim reaper!" His sword ignited, flames roaring along its edge.
He moved like a predator, no wasted motion. His eyes burned, eyes that reminded me of the phoenix—death and rebirth all in one.
My katana was knocked free. I dodged through the trees, bark exploding where his blade struck. In desperation, I called it back—it cut through the air behind him. I vanished inches before he cut me in two, reappeared at his back, my sword against his throat.
The wind cooled. Burnt grass stung my lungs.
"I don't want to kill you," I whispered soft and cold.
He didn't flinch. Instead, he jammed his bare hand onto my blade, blood hissing as fire engulfed his fist. Then—he punched me square.
"Don't act like we can't carry your burden too!",he shouted as he removed the blade from his hand.
Pain cracked through me. My blood sprayed into the air, hanging like rubies.
I staggered but headbutted him, teeth clenched. "I never asked you to!"
We collided again, fists against flesh, swords forgotten. Every strike detonated like dynamite. My ribs screamed, but I fought on.
Blood and spit flew as my knuckles met his jaw. He countered with an uppercut that rattled my skull.
"We'll carry them anyway!" he roared.
I flipped back, bracing for the ground—too slow. His fists multiplied, blurring like rain, each one hammering my body. I coughed a tooth into the air, pain flooding me.
Why? Why? Why? Tears, blood, sweat—everything that involved pain painted the air as I screamed, refusing to fall.
At last, I slipped past a punch, my counter arcing—only to meet his uppercut from hell. My legs gave out.
Blaze stood shaking, hands torn raw, blood soaking him until he looked like Spider-Man in reverse. He wheezed but didn't stop.
"Because we're family," he said.
Instinct alone kept me from collapsing. My body moved without me, driving one last punch into his temple. A thin line of blood marked his skin. For a moment we paused his hands hanging but his legs refusing to give in . Alas my fist left his temple as I fell.
"You were too hard on the kid, Blaze."
A soft, feminine voice broke through. Hands caught me as I fell. Through blurred eyes I saw the others—our squad—smiling down at me.
And in those smiles, I saw her. My mother. Nodding.
Mama.
Maybe…I wasn't alone after all.