Chapter Two: The Cemetery of Blades
The countdown ended, and with the disappearance of the number (1) from the air, there was no explosion—something worse happened: silence.
Suddenly, the violet sky turned into a pale whiteness, the color of a shroud. What began to fall upon the stone square was not snow, but cold ash that stung the skin. And with every grain of ash that touched the ground, something sharp sprouted from the stone… then a blade… then a hilt.
Within seconds, the empty square transformed into a forest of swords embedded in the earth. Hundreds, perhaps thousands of rusty and gleaming blades, as if the ground were a mass grave for armies forgotten since eternity.
[System: Screening phase has begun.] [Task: Earn the weapon.] [Time: 10 minutes.] [Note: The sword chooses its wielder, and blood sanctifies the choice.]
Hysterical panic spread. The man in the business suit ran toward the nearest sword, screaming as he tried to pull it with all his strength, but the blade did not budge a single millimeter. Another girl tried, only to cut her hand on the sharp edge, screaming as she watched her blood hungrily absorbed by the metal.
Rin did not run. His heart was still pounding violently, but his gray eyes moved quickly beneath his messy hair. He was observing. He saw that the swords were not the same—some glowed faintly, while others looked like scraps of junk.
"Get out of my way!" shouted a burly young man, seemingly a professional athlete, as he shoved an old woman to the ground. He grabbed the hilt of a massive jewel-encrusted sword, straining so hard that veins bulged across his face.
The sword did not move. Instead, the ground beneath his feet began to tremble. "What is this?" he stepped back, but it was too late. Small blades erupted from beneath the rocks, shredding his feet in a grotesque, bloody spectacle. His screams filled the place, announcing to everyone the bitter truth: this was no game, and mistakes cost limbs.
Rin felt the cold ash covering his shoulders. He began to move slowly, avoiding the swords that seemed to watch his every step. He did not approach the dazzling blades, but searched for something that "resembled him." Something neglected, cold, and hidden in the corner.
In the middle of the square, among the corpses of those who had failed the first trial, he saw a black blade—short, broken at the tip. It had no shine, no allure.
Rin approached it. Tension choked him, but he extended his hand. The moment his fingers touched the cold hilt, he felt electricity surge through his spine. It did not hurt him; it was as though it was recognizing him.
"You're like me…" Rin whispered, unheard by anyone. "Belonging nowhere."
He tightened his grip on the sword, but did not pull. Instead, he closed his eyes and imagined the shouting in his home, his loneliness at school, the emptiness in his chest. He poured all that tension into his palm.
Crack—
The sword slid from the ground with terrifying smoothness, as if it had been waiting for him for thousands of years. In that moment, the ash stopped falling, and a message appeared before his eyes alone, written in crimson red:
[You have earned: "The Broken Ash Blade."] [Rank: Unknown.] [Note: The weapon feeds on its wielder's regret.]
He was alone, trembling, and armed for the first time in his life.
[System: Time of earning has ended. Survivors: 12 out of 40.] [Next phase: The Hunt]