In the room, the atmosphere falls silent, utterly quiet as if the world is holding its breath. No cricket chirps, no whisper of wind. Only the sound of your own heartbeat thundering like war drums in your ears.
Then you let out a long sigh, an exhale carrying the remnants of naive hope.
You already suspected the system was stingy, loved toying with emotions, and narcissistic. You want to feel angry, want to yell right in its face, but it feels pointless.
You can only slump your shoulders, limp, resigned to the situation.
It doesn't seem to be lying. It's really gone…
At that moment, you shift your focus to the question-marked box in your hand. The box feels cold, unnaturally heavy for its size. Its surface seems to absorb the oil lamp's light, as if made of dark matter.
"Maybe I'll just open one for now…" you murmur softly.
You nod gently, reassuring yourself. "Don't burn all your luck in one night. Save the rest for a rainy day."
With slightly sweaty hands, you open the box. Your index finger presses the large white question mark in the center. Click. A soft mechanical sound suddenly rings out.
At that instant, the box slips from your grasp. It slowly floats upward, hovering a few centimeters above your palm. Soon after, it begins to glow in the air—a blinding white light that stings your eyes.
Then the box shatters, dissolving into scattered pixel fragments of light like digital fireflies.
You instinctively shield your eyes with your arm.
Too bright!
The next second, the light fades, leaving faint wisps of smoke smelling of burnt metal and dried blood.
In the spot where the box hovered, a physical object now floats in the air. It doesn't fall into your hand—it simply hangs there, defying gravity.
It's a sword!
But what appears is no ordinary sword. It's a greatsword. A massive blade nearly as tall as you are.
The sword floats with its tip pointing toward the wooden floor, an inch from the surface. It looks like a slab of black scrap iron, impossibly heavy, its surface rough and uneven as if forged by an enraged giant. Obsidian black, dull, and cold, it absorbs every particle of light in the room.
At the hilt, on the crossguard shaped like broken ribs, sits a large ruby eye. The eye is closed beneath thick, rusted metal eyelids.
You stare wide-eyed. Your mouth hangs open.
At that moment, you feel something and suddenly shiver.
The sword radiates something that makes the air around you feel heavy and oppressive.
What is this… you narrow your eyes.
But soon after, the air returns to normal. In an instant, your focus shifts to the system notification appearing beside the sword, displaying the object's description in glowing red letters.
The Blade of Insatiable Ego (SS-TIER)
Description: An obsidian-black greatsword possessing its own consciousness. This blade is not designed to be wielded by human hands; it has innate telekinesis, allowing it to float and maneuver independently in the air. It possesses the passive ability "Soul Devour": every creature it kills has its soul absorbed, permanently increasing the blade's sharpness, flight speed, and destructive power.
Side Effect: The drawback is "Shared Agony & Domination." Because the blade connects directly to the user's soul to move, the user will feel 100% of the physical pain and death terror experienced by every victim it kills. If the blade cleaves an enemy's stomach, the user's stomach will feel cleaved too. The more souls absorbed, the stronger the blade's "Ego" becomes. If the user's will is weaker than the accumulated souls within the blade, the enslavement reverses: the user becomes a "battery" floating in the blade's wake, while the blade becomes the Master, deciding who must be killed next.
"This…!"
Reading it leaves you utterly shocked. Your eyes widen at every word.
You honestly didn't expect to become the luckiest person in the world. How could you not?
After getting an S-TIER item, now you've drawn an SS-TIER!
If this is a dream, I could still accept it!
You pinch your arm. It hurts. You slap your cheeks a few times. Smack. Smack.
But you still feel pain.
You remain convinced this is the real world… and this iron monster is in your room.
After that you calm yourself, taking deep breaths, trying to control the creeping panic. You sigh long, attempting to accept the current situation.
"But how do I make this sword disappear?" you ask, tilting your head.
You look around the cramped room. No cabinet big enough. Certainly no chest.
"There's no way I can go out carrying this everywhere, with it following me like a pet, right? People would flee in terror! The Millelith would arrest me!"
You try various methods. You try touching it, pushing it, wrapping it in a blanket—which then slides off and falls through the sword as if it's a ghost, or perhaps the sword rejects it.
Eventually you run out of ideas.
For a moment you consider asking the system, "Hey, where's the unequip button?" but you're certain it wouldn't answer even if it's watching from another dimension.
Instead, you imagine it now entertained, lounging on a sofa, eating popcorn, laughing at your predicament.
You sigh again and open the main system menu, fingers dancing in empty air, trying to navigate each menu one by one.
But there's truly no inventory menu.
At least you know one thing—the system isn't like a typical RPG.
You're disappointed but already expected it.
"There's no way the system would make this easy. It's sadistic."
You once again examine the sword from tip to hilt. Observing its details. The rust on those metal eyelids looks ancient. The black blade appears bloodthirsty.
Then your brows furrow suddenly, thinking hard.
"But the sword is already active, right? Do I need to do something to make it come alive? Or is it already 'alive' and watching me?"
You try touching it on various sides. The blade is cold as ice. The hilt rough. But the sword shows no signs of life. No movement, no vibration. It simply floats motionless at the same coordinates.
"The description says it has consciousness… is it sleeping soundly right now? Hibernating?"
"Suppose it's not asleep but sealed… how do I break the seal and grant it freedom? Or at least make it obey?"
You pace back and forth in the cramped room. Three steps left, turn, three steps right. The wooden floor creaks in protest at your restlessness.
You're actually exhausted, eyes stinging with the need for sleep, but with this menacing floating sword, you can't rest.
Who could sleep with a guillotine hovering beside the bed?
Then you suddenly widen your eyes. Your steps halt. Your gaze locks on the metal eyelids at the sword's crossguard.
You suddenly speak softly, like someone reciting a forbidden spell.
"Seal…"
You look at your hand. Your palm. Then back at the sword.
At that moment you approach the sword. Your heart races. You swallow.
You know that doing what's on your mind right now could get you killed! It's a crazy idea. The kind of idea horror movie villains have before dying first.
Yet your curiosity remains provoked. That itch of wanting to know scratches at your brain.
How could you let an SS-TIER item become mere room-cluttering junk? Especially since you can't move it—the description says the sword is far too heavy for human hands.
Still, what you're about to do is highly risky.
Ignorance is the most terrifying thing!
So you sigh once more, steeling your resolve. And begin acting on the idea in your mind.
You extend your right hand. You bring your palm close to the sharp yet dull blade.
At that moment, you slice your own palm against the sword. Slice. A stinging pain shoots through. Instantly, fresh red blood seeps out. You grimace, enduring the pain for a moment.
Then, with your bleeding hand, you slowly smear the fresh blood over the ruby eye embedded in the crossguard. Coating it.
"If this is a seal… this should break it. Blood for blood."
Your blood seeps into the cracks of the rusted metal eyelids.
At that moment, a metallic grinding sound echoes. Creak… creak… At the same time, the rust on the metal eyelids suddenly flakes off like dry dust. And the eyelids open.
They open wide!
The ruby eye glows blood-red, shining brightly. The vertical black pupil in the center jerks around, wildly scanning the room with twitchy movements, as if waking from a long nightmare.
Then the blade suddenly becomes shrouded in a trembling dark purple aura. A low humming fills the room, making your teeth ache.
Instantly, the sword shoots free from its position. Whoosh!
You jump in fright, stepping back until your back hits the wall.
The sword's tip stops right at your throat. Only a millimeter from your skin. Its purple aura tickles your chin. The red eye on the hilt stares straight into yours.
You're terrified half to death. Your breath catches. Cold sweat soaks your back.
Am I going to die? Did I just free my own killer?
You don't dare move. Don't dare breathe.
The sword trembles, as if evaluating you. Evaluating your blood. Evaluating your soul.
Soon after, the sword slowly retreats. It spins gracefully yet terrifyingly in the air, then returns to floating calmly at your side, like a loyal guard dog.
You exhale the breath you'd been holding. Your legs give out, and you slide down to sit on the floor.
You're still scared but gradually calm yourself. Your mind starts working again.
There's no way a pet would attack its owner, right? It… it was just testing me.
Then you put on a thoughtful expression again while bandaging your hand wound with whatever cloth you have.
"It seems the user's blood serves as a contract. I don't know if the contract is only temporary to awaken the sword's consciousness…" you nod slowly. "But what about the blood of targets it kills? Would it obey a killed target under the same premise? Or… does target blood extend the contract duration… and feed it."
"I think I'll have to test it directly. But not here. Not now."
You look at the sword again. Its red eye still watches you, blinking occasionally.
You ask in a slightly trembling voice, "Can you become invisible to humans? You're too conspicuous!"
The sword's eye blinks once.
In an instant, the sword fades. Its purple aura vanishes, then its physical form turns transparent, and finally disappears completely from your sight.
You look around the empty room. You don't see it. You reach out to where it was floating, and your hand passes through empty air.
"It's gone…"
But you can feel it. A cold connection at the back of your head. An invisible thread linking your soul to the blade's Ego. You know it's there, floating above your right shoulder, unseen yet ready.
"It does obey my commands…" you pause, a thin smile forming. "And it's quite functional too. Telekinesis, invisibility, and I'm sure it can do much more—SS-TIER must have many abilities… I'm confident I can use this in many ways even without making it kill."
"Besides…"
You turn sideways, looking at the empty space where the sword is. You shiver again as memory replays the terrifying side effect description.
Shared Agony. Domination.
To you, that's a steep price. Very steep.
But soon after, you feel satisfied again. The fear is instantly buried. You now possess a god-tier weapon. You're no longer a weak street vendor.
"I'll test it right away!"
…
On the rocky beach, a body lies washed ashore on wet sand.
The figure appears to be a muscular man, sprawled helplessly. The dragon tattoo on his arm looks faded, as if its ink has dissolved in the ocean's tears.
It's the Boss!
He's bathed in the harsh morning sunlight that burns his pale, wrinkled skin from prolonged submersion. His body is surrounded by sea foam and seaweed tangled around his legs like green chains.
At that moment, a small wave rolls in, washing his face with cold salty water.
Instantly, his eyes snap open wide, pupils contracting in shock. He jolts upright!
Cough! Cough!
He coughs violently, expelling seawater from his lungs. The stinging saltiness fills his mouth and nose.
He rubs his eyes with the back of his sand-covered hand, trying to clear his blurred vision.
Looking around, he's stunned. His sluggish mind tries to process the visual information flooding his eyes. Bright blue sky. White sand. Gull cries.
"Where am I?" he mutters hoarsely, his voice sounding foreign to his own ears.
He tries to sit up, but his entire body aches, as if every bone has been broken and poorly reassembled.
"Why am I still alive?"
The question hangs in the air. His last memory is darkness. Bone-piercing cold. Crushing tentacle coils. And despair as his final breath ran out.
He examines his own body. His arms are still there. Ten fingers intact. Then he looks at his legs, which he last remembers tightly wrapped by a giant tentacle.
But now the tentacle is gone. No wounds, no purple bruises. Only wrinkled skin from water.
"There's no way I survived by luck, right?"
He gapes for a long time, staring at the empty horizon. He thinks hard, searching for a reason to explain his confusion. But even after racking his brain until it hurts, he finds no logical answer for this miracle.
"There's no way the tentacle just released me after dragging me into the ocean."
He tries to stand. His legs tremble but support his weight.
"Don't tell me…" his eyes widen in horror. "This is the afterlife…"
But then a sharp pain stabs his waist as he moves.
"No way," he hisses, clutching his side. "If I were dead, my body wouldn't feel pain. Hell might hurt, but this is physical. Muscle pain."
He puts on a thoughtful expression, thick brows furrowed. He wonders why he wasn't eaten.
About the tentacle, he thinks it was a starving giant octopus or a legendary sea monster drunken sailors spoke of. Such monsters don't play with their food.
"Then why?"
"Why wasn't I eaten or drowned? I held my breath until my lungs burst."
He shakes his head and sighs long. Tired of thinking.
"Pointless," he mutters resignedly. "Asking questions won't bring answers. The sea never gives answers—only corpses."
He looks around again, this time more carefully. He narrows his eyes, observing the distant cliffs, the plants growing along the shore. He suspects this place feels familiar.
"Seems this is still Liyue…" he concludes. "Maybe near Guyun Stone Forest? Or the northern coast?"
Then he sighs in relief. At least he didn't wash up in Inazuma or some nowhere land.
"At least I'm alive—do I really need to know why?"
"As long as I can eat, drink rice wine, and enjoy life as usual, I don't care about the answer. Maybe the Sea God was feeling generous, or maybe my flesh was too tough to eat."
He looks at the sky, at the blazing sun. He shades his eyes with his hand, casting shadow on his face.
"As expected, this is definitely the real world. No way the sun would burn like this if it were just a hallucination. The heat scorches skin."
He begins walking along the beach, steps unsteady but determined. Hot sand burns his bare soles—his shoes lost somewhere—but he doesn't care.
The pain is proof he's still alive.
Soon he stops. His step halts. His eyes immediately catch movement ahead.
In an open area in his view, there's a large group of Hilichurls!
They're dancing around a dead campfire, singing strange songs in a language incomprehensible to humans.
He narrows his eyes, survival instinct kicking in. He clenches his fists, ready to fight if needed.
Damn. I have no weapon. And my body still hurts everywhere.
Remembering his unfit condition, he decides on a strategy he rarely uses: run.
He turns slowly, trying not to make noise. Crack. But instantly his large foot steps on a dry twig hidden in the sand. The sound rings like an explosion in the morning silence!
The Hilichurls stop dancing at once. They turn in unison toward the source. Their masked eyes stare straight at the Boss.
He and the Hilichurls lock gazes in silence. Time seems to freeze.
The Boss gapes. He braces for a charge. Ready to be clubbed with wooden maces or shot with arrows.
But then the largest Hilichurl—likely the leader—begins approaching.
The Boss assumes a fighting stance, though his legs shake. He raises his fists.
"Come on, I'm not afraid!" he growls.
But the approaching Hilichurl doesn't raise its weapon. It doesn't growl. Instead, it slowly hops in small jumps. A movement that's… cheerful? The Boss watching this feels confused. One brow rises. His clenched hands lower slightly.
This is clearly a strange situation!
Since when do Hilichurls hop cheerfully upon seeing a human?
They usually attack immediately!
Slowly, the other Hilichurls also approach. They encircle him, forming a ring at a polite distance. They hop, waving their arms upward, as if welcoming a long-lost king.
"What's going on…" the Boss mutters, voice full of disbelief.
He clearly feels calmer since the monsters aren't attacking, but this makes him wonder what's happened to the world. Has he entered another dimension?
Then he begins thinking deeply, his mind working hard to connect invisible dots.
He knows he's fought Hilichurls before. Killed several while escorting cargo on land. Humans and Hilichurls are natural enemies. That's Teyvat's law.
But what he's experiencing now is the opposite.
"Why?"
"Why aren't they attacking me? Why do they… seem to respect me?"
At that moment, he suddenly finds fragments connecting to one explanation in his mind. His encounters with hostile Hilichurls were before he sank into the ocean. But now, after being "reborn" from the sea, they seem friendly.
"Did something happen to me in the deep ocean?"
"Was that what kept me alive and uneaten by the giant octopus? Did… did I change?"
He looks at his own hands. They look the same. Rough, hairy, tattooed. But perhaps something inside changed. Scent? Aura? After considering this, he begins to feel it makes sense. Perhaps he was blessed—or cursed—by something at the ocean floor.
He nods slowly, accepting the explanation.
Then he looks at the Hilichurls still hopping, making happy "Ya! Ya!" sounds.
The Boss sighs long, lowering his guard.
He has no intention of killing them. After all, as long as they pose no threat, they're just innocent sacred creatures dancing. And he doesn't want to waste energy.
Different story if they tried to betray him!
I'd snap their necks one by one.
After that he doesn't head straight to Liyue Harbor. He needs rest. He needs time to recover before facing the human world again.
Instead, he walks toward a large tree near the Hilichurl camp. He sits beneath its shade, leaning his aching back against the trunk.
He closes his eyes, trying to nap briefly.
Several times he opens them upon hearing small footsteps approaching.
Only to find the Hilichurls bringing him fruit. Ripe red sunsettias, fresh berries, even mushrooms.
They place them near his feet, then step back a few paces, waiting patiently. He feels strange. Very strange. Being served by monsters. But his stomach growls. And he accepts their kindness anyway.
He picks up a sunsettia, wipes it on his dirty shirt, then bites into it.
Crunch.
The sunsettia in his mouth tastes fresh. Sweet and juicy. Far better than the dry ship rations.
The Hilichurl that gave him the sunsettia—a small creature with a simple wooden mask—waits silently. It watches the Boss with eyes unseen behind the mask, but its posture shows anticipation.
The Boss feels uncomfortable being watched like that. He looks away, staring at the distant sea.
But even looking elsewhere, he can feel the Hilichurl's gaze still fixed on him. Not demanding, just… hopeful.
The Boss sighs roughly.
"What do you want?" he asks the monster, though he knows they don't speak human language.
The Hilichurl only tilts its head.
The Boss looks at it. He sees how the creature slightly bows its head, as if offering itself.
"It seems it wants me to do something. Like a dog begging for praise."
The Boss feels ridiculous. He's the Boss, a feared harbor thug. And now he's sitting on a beach, eating monster-given fruit, being coaxed into petting one.
But… what's the harm? No one's watching. The Boss slowly extends his hand, his large rough hand trembling slightly. Then he places it on the Hilichurl's coarse-furred head.
He strokes it gently. Awkward at first, like touching a bomb that could explode any moment. But then he grows accustomed to the fur's texture.
The Hilichurl seems pleased. It makes a strange purring sound, like a big cat. Though it can't speak, it just hops lightly in place, feet kicking up sand joyfully.
But the Boss watching this knows, with his sharp instinct, that the Hilichurl is genuinely happy.
The Boss withdraws his hand, then bites the sunsettia again.
…
A/N: Yep, this week ends with this chapter. I think there's nothing more I want to say. See you in the next chapter!
Anyway, if you guys are too tired of waiting for the next chapter… please check my Patreon, where I update much faster than on this platform! (Now there are already 10 chapters I've updated!)
You can see the next chapter sooner on my patreon whose link is below:
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