[ Item to Deliver: Chaotic Harem Sword ]
[ Upgrade Stages: 13 (F, E, D, C, B, A, S, Legendary, Mythical, Ancient, Ascended, Saint, Divine. ) ]
[ Abilities Included: Infinite Stamina (1), Illusion Touch (2), Chaotic Harem Body (3), Summon Heroic Maiden (4)... ]
[ To be received by: Adonis Kingsban (Son of Heaven, First Tier) ]
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In the deepest, most forgotten corner of the Cosmos, beyond the reach of mortal prayer and divine curiosity, there existed a white platform that stretched so far it appeared to have no end.
It was suspended in absolute nothingness.
The platform itself resembled a vast city, yet it was unlike any city born of flesh or stone. Ancient clockwork towers rose alongside floating arcane glyphs. Brass gears turned endlessly beneath translucent roads of light. Rivers of glowing data flowed between crystalline spires, carrying fate, cause, and consequence like written law.
This was a place where destiny was processed.
Beings of countless species moved across the platform with frightening precision. Winged archivists sorted glowing tablets. Multi-eyed sentinels patrolled the streets, their gazes scanning probability threads. Faceless clerks worked behind endless desks, stamping seals that echoed like thunder across realities.
None of them spoke. Not like they did not need to.
Among them, a particularly old man, sitting one of the highest seat of honor, examined a rather pretty, unique sword with great interest.
He appeared frail, his back slightly hunched, his beard long and white like flowing mist. Deep wrinkles carved his face, yet his eyes burned with sharpness that no age could dull.
In his hands, he held a sword.
The blade was beautiful in a way that could make any mortal lose reason.
It glowed with alternating colors, never settling on one hue. At times it appeared silver, at others violet, crimson, or an impossible black that seemed to absorb thought itself.
Across its surface runes were engraved like living things, rearranging themselves as if responding to unseen stimuli.
The old man observed the sword from every angle.
While doing so, his fingers trembled. Not from weakness, but from excitement.
"So this is it— A Chaotic Harem Sword. Even after all these eons, the Almighty still manages to surprise us."
He chuckled softly,
"Infinite Stamina. Illusion Touch. Chaotic Harem Body. Absurd. Simply absurd."
With the way he cradled the sword, as if holding a priceless treasure rather than an assignment, he couldn't make it more obvious:
This sword was far from simple.
But alas, this apple of the eye wasn't made for him. He had to deliver it to someone else.
'What a pity! If only I was younger and the Almighty took some interest in me.' he mumbled to himself.
"Oi, old ghost."
The old man stiffened instantly, almost falling from the chair.
After recovering his composure, he looked back, only to see a dark skinned little human stood beside him while barely reaching his shoulder.
The creature had spiky crimson hair, sharp teeth visible even when smiling, and a thin pointy tail that flicked lazily behind him.
The creature was undeniably a demon.
"What are you holding that made you stare so hard you forgot the world around you?" the little demon asked, craning his neck to peek.
The old man quickly pulled the sword closer to his chest as if weary of thefts.
"What's it to you, little imp? This item is assigned directly to me by the Almighty. So do not even entertain the thought of touching it."
The demon burst into laughter,
"Hahaha. Relax, relax. You really think I am that suicidal? Why would I dare mess with something belonging to that person?"
Regardless, he stepped closer anyway.
"Still, I have to admit. Whatever that thing is, it must be special to make you look like a child staring at candy."
The old man hesitated first.
Then, reluctantly, he angled the sword just enough for the demon to see.
The moment the details became clear, the demon became dumbfounded.
"What the hell?"
"A Chaos Sword? And it upgrades by building a harem?"
He stared at the old man as if seeing him for the first time.
"Just who is this lucky bastard, old ghost?"
The old man looked at him mockingly.
"Did you lose your eyes too, little imp? It is assigned to a Son of Heaven named Adonis Kingsban."
The demon blinked. "Adonis? Another Son of Heaven?"
"Yes," the old man replied. "First Tier."
The demon sucked in a breath, then laughed bitterly.
"So that is how it is."
The old man continued,
"Do not ask me why he would receive such a gift. The workings of Fate and the Grand Order are not something beings like us are meant to comprehend."
The little demon scoffed in irritation.
"How convenient, isn't it? Whenever something ridiculous happens, it is always Fate."
His gaze turned toward the endless city.
In the Swordverse, every living being was born with a sword embedded within their soul.
From the moment of birth, it was always there.
Sword and master grew together, fused into a single path of ascension. Strength, talent, and destiny were forged through blood, suffering, and relentless effort.
Unlike the higher universes where power was inherited or stolen, this system was unique. Fair, some claimed.
But the demon knew better.
'Mediocre talent,' he muttered to himself. 'Imperfect bodies. Spirit Links that grind the soul. Resources that require death to obtain.'
'Life and death battles just to move one step forward.'
His eyes returned to the sword in the old man's hands.
"And then there is this."
A sword that grew stronger simply by building a harem.
There had to be difficulties as well. Like emotional chaos, instability, conflicts. The demon understood that.
But none of it compared to the suffering of ordinary Swordmasters.
He was also one of these ordinary swordmasters. He had worked hard for his entire life. And after all these, when he reached the peak of the world, he got ruthlessly crushed by a higher being.
Just how unfair was that.
Imagining this, Jealousy burned in his chest like active volcano.
'Why them?' he thought darkly. "Why should some Son of Heaven enjoy such privileges while countless others rot in mediocrity?"
The answer was simple.
'This is blatant favoritism.'
The Almighty was playing games.
And the little demon hated games he could not interfere with.
Stealing the sword was impossible. As a spirit entity, he could never bond with it. That path was closed.
But another idea bloomed in his mind.
'If I cannot take it, then I will simply change who receives it.'
With that goal set in mind, while the old man remained entranced, lost in contemplation, the demon extended a finger.
The delivery mechanism projected a 3D display.
The original name glowed brightly: Adonis Kingsban.
The demon snarled. He now hated this son of heaven.
As such, with a deft motion, the demon altered it.
One letter. Just one.
Kingsban became Kingsbane.
The fate description adjusted accordingly:
Adonis Kingsbane. (Ordinary soul.
No grand destiny)
The change was minimal. Elegant. Almost invisible.
The old man noticed nothing.
'Heh,' the demon thought smugly. 'Even if the Almighty discovers this, the blame will fall on you, old ghost.'
He left wirh long strides, cackling to himself:
'Almighty, whatever game you were playing, I have ruined it all."
After all, he was a demon. And chaos was his nature.
And at that exact moment, far, far away, across layers of reality, a weary and exhausted soul shuddered his last breath.