The Sovereign's Vanguard
Lao Shi Chen (ML POV)
The air at the frontier camp was thick with the scent of pine, wet earth, and the underlying tension of impending bloodshed.
Upon my arrival, I did not waste a single moment. I immediately gathered the soldiers stationed in this desolate region to announce the Emperor's direct decree.
The troops I brought with me from the capital were seasoned veterans—men who had bled alongside me on the jagged borders of the empire.
They did not flinch, nor did they question the absolute authority of the sovereign. They simply readied their weapons, their eyes reflecting the cold, calculating nature of men born for war.
I knew the layout of this territory well, just as I knew the reputation of the bandits infesting these jagged hills.
They were not mere thieves driven by poverty; they were monsters consumed by malice, leaving nothing but scorched earth and terror in their wake. Justice here could not be negotiated. It had to be delivered at the edge of a blade.
With my vanguard assembled, we began our silent advance toward the enemy's main stronghold.
The canopy of the dense forest provided ample cover, casting long, fractured shadows over our armor. As we approached the perimeter of the bandit camp, I called a brief halt and signaled my ten personal companions—the elite warriors who had accompanied me directly from the palace.
"Divide and conquer," I instructed them, my voice dropping to a low, commanding whisper.
"Take a squad of local soldiers each. Fan out, encircle the perimeter, and cut off their escape routes. Leave no stone unturned."
The commanders nodded synchronously, their movements fluid and silent. Within seconds, the large force divided into smaller, highly efficient units, melting into the underbrush as they headed toward their designated sectors.
I moved forward alone to scout the central area, my boots making absolutely no sound against the damp leaves. For several minutes, I observed the enemy's layout from the shadows of a rocky ridge.
The bandits were utterly oblivious to our presence. Some were drinking, others were sharpening rusted weapons, completely unaware that the shadow of death had already draped itself over their camp.
We were completely ready to strike.
I raised my hand, giving the silent signal to unleash hell. My men moved in from different directions, transforming the quiet forest into a localized arena of swift, silent execution.
As I moved through the brush, tracking my own specific targets, a bizarre, chaotic noise suddenly erupted from a nearby clearing to my flank.
It wasn't the sound of coordinated combat or the disciplined shouts of my soldiers. It sounded like an intensely frantic, high-pitched argument.
Curiosity—a trait I rarely indulged on the battlefield—overrode my tactical path. I rushed through the thickets to investigate the anomaly.
What greeted my eyes was a scene so entirely absurd that my mind temporarily refused to process it.
Standing in a small clearing was a disheveled man. He looked utterly miserable, his clothes slightly torn, and his face twisted into an expression that hovered precariously between throwing a temper tantrum and bursting into tears.
He was shouting at the top of his lungs, waving his arms around in a state of pure, unadulterated rage while pointing a tiny object at three heavily built Alpha bandits.
I paused behind a thick trunk, my hand resting on the hilt of my sword, utterly stunned. Based on the fragments of shouting carried by the wind, I could vaguely piece together what they were arguing about.
The Alphas were mocking him, their posture predatory, clearly intending to do unspeakable things to this seemingly helpless creature.
But what happened next will haunt my tactical memory for the rest of my days.
The miserable-looking man suddenly gripped a tiny wooden stick with a small black bulb at the end. With a face full of desperate, furious resolve, he reached behind himself and violently scratched the match against his own butt cheeks.
I froze. My breath caught in my throat. My military training, my years of studying strategy, my deeply ingrained vigilance—all of it completely shattered in the span of a single second.
*What in the name of the ancestors is he doing?!*
*SHWFFFF!*
A blinding flash of light erupted from his backside. In the blink of an eye, the ridiculous little wooden stick completely vanished, instantaneously replaced by a massive, gleaming, incredibly magnificent broadsword that radiated an intense aura of fire magic.
While I stood there, completely paralyzed by the sheer, unscientific absurdity of what I had just witnessed, I forced my vigilance back into my eyes. My gaze locked onto the strange youth.
Who was he? What kind of bizarre, shameless hidden-clan magic required a human buttocks as a catalyst for weapon summoning? I resolved to stand back and observe his every move, determined to unravel the mystery of this magnificent, yet deeply concerning, warrior.
=====°°°°°
The Shameless Catalyst
Shao Tien (POV)
*The absolute, unmitigated f*ck!*
I stood in the center of the clearing, my hands trembling as I gripped the massive hilt of the gloriously glowing sword. My face was burning with a heat that could rival the core of the sun.
This weapon wasn't magical; it was entirely, unapologetically, fundamentally shameless!
Who in their right mind designs a system marketplace item where you have to use your own ass as a match-striking strip to activate a weapon?!
The sheer embarrassment of it almost made me want to drop the blade and let the bandits take me. Almost.
*'Ding!~ Host, please stop whining! You only have exactly 10 minutes to utilize the magnificent power of the Match Sword, so you must use it quickly before it reverts to its original form!~'*
Even though this piece-of-shit system was useless as fuck, and had just forced me to perform a deeply humiliating cabaret act in front of a live audience, I didn't even have the luxury of time to properly hurl deadly curses at it. The clock was ticking.
I forced my eyes toward the enemies in front of me, trying to look intimidating while ignoring the lingering friction burn on my rear.
I raised the heavy blade, trying to channel the energy of a legendary swordsman. But as I focused all my attention on the two remaining Alpha bandits, a horrifying, icy realization suddenly slammed into my brain.
*I don't know how to use a sword.*
I am a modern man! I know how to use a smartphone, I know how to navigate public transport, and I know how to microwave a burrito. I have never, in my entire life, swung a piece of sharp steel!
"Hey, you f*cking piece of digital garbage!" I hissed frantically in my mind, my panic levels breaking the sound barrier.
"How do I activate the magic?! How do I use the power of this stupid sword?!"
*'Eh?~'* the system chirped, its voice dripping with a terrifyingly innocent, playful tone.
*'You know, host... hehehe... I actually don't know either! There is completely no instruction manual equipped with this specific item in the database!~'*
"F*ck you! You absolute, unrecyclable piece of trash!!!" I roared internally, my eyes widening in sheer terror.
*'Don't be mad, host! Positive vibes!~'* the system replied, trying to sound encouraging.
*'Just swing the sword blindly with all your might! I am 100% sure you will eventually hit one of them through the power of sheer chaos!'*
"Do you want to die?! If I had a physical body for you, I would murder you right now, you absolute fucker!"
Sensing that my pure, unadulterated rage was about to cause a psychic backlash, the system quickly tried to redirect my attention.
*'Host, host! The opponents are recovering from their shock! They are starting to attack! You must defend and focus immediately! Also, a quick status update: The gorgeous protagonist is currently hiding in the bushes to your left, intensely observing your every single move! Make it look good!~'*
I snapped my attention back to the physical world. The two Alpha bandits had finally stopped staring at my butt with dropped jaws. The initial shock of watching a weak Omega pull a giant, glowing magical sword out of thin air—well, thin clothing—had finally worn off.
Their eyes shifted away from my face, locking directly onto the weapon in my hands. The blade was truly spectacular, pulsing with a vibrant, dangerous crimson light that practically screamed "high-tier legendary artifact."
Instead of being intimidated, a disgusting, greedy glint formed in their eyes. They didn't see a threat anymore; they saw a jackpot.
They wanted to steal it.
If I could read their minds at that exact moment, I would have happily, joyfully, and with a beautiful customer-service smile, handed the sword over to them on a silver platter if it meant I could escape with my dear life intact!
*Take it! It requires a very specific, highly embarrassing activation method, but it's all yours, buddies!*
Unfortunately, telepathy wasn't on the menu. The two Alphas drew their own heavy, jagged scimitars, their faces twisting back into bloodthirsty grins as they initiated a coordinated assault.
=====°°°°°
The Desperate Waltz
I raised the massive sword, my muscles straining under the unaccustomed weight. I braced myself to defend, but let's be entirely real here: even though these guys were ugly, hygiene-deficient bitches, I absolutely could not underestimate their raw physical strength. At the end of the day, the biological laws of this stupid universe were heavily stacked against me.
They were battle-hardened Alphas, and I was just a physically fragile, highly stressed Omega holding a weapon like a baseball bat.
"Do you really think an fragile little thing like you can endure our strikes?" Ugly #1 sneered, bringing his scimitar down in a vicious, overhead arc.
"A low status like yours can never compare to our standing!"
*CLANG!*
The impact of his blade against mine sent a jarring vibration straight up my arms, nearly dislodging my elbows from their sockets.
I groaned, my knees buckling slightly as I desperately held the parry. I was struggling with every single fiber of my being just to keep his weapon away from my face.
Meanwhile, Ugly #1 wasn't even breaking a sweat. He was smirking, treating the encounter like a cat playing with a trapped mouse, deliberately applying just enough pressure to keep me pinned in place.
And that's when my peripheral vision caught a terrifying shadow shifting to my right.
Ugly #2 had completely bypassed our frontal clash. Utilizing the distraction, he was quietly, swiftly moving toward my completely exposed blind spot. He raised his scimitar, aiming a lethal, underhanded strike directly at my back.
They weren't chivalrous knights; they were bloodthirsty, ruthless bandits who cared about nothing but the kill.
My heart plummeted into my stomach. I couldn't disengage from Ugly #1 without getting sliced in half, which meant I had absolutely no way to defend against the incoming attack from behind.
*What the actual, literal f*ck! This is so completely unfair!*
A one-versus-two handicap match?! Against two fully grown, muscular Alphas?! While I'm suffering from severe emotional damage and a burning rear end?!
And to make matters a million times worse, I could see the majestic protagonist, Lord Lao Shi Chen, just standing there behind a tree branch like a gorgeous, useless statue! He was just watching the whole thing unfold with his cold, beautiful eyes, doing absolutely nothing to intervene!
*You motherf*cker, you are supposed to be the hero of this story! Help me!* I screamed internally, tears of pure frustration finally welling up in my eyes.
*I beg you, please! I really don't want my soul to vanish into the void over a matchstick incident! Is this really my tragic fate?! I honestly want to cry right now!*
With a final, desperate burst of adrenaline, I prepared to twist my body blindly, ready to scream a chaotic battle cry and swing the match sword like a wild, dying animal.
*F*ck it! If I'm going down, I'm taking your eyebrows with me!*