The glow of the sword did not leave my mind that night.
Even after dinner, even after reviewing the plans with everyone, the image of the silver line crossing the blade remained clear. It was not something I could ignore. It was also not something I could fully explain.
I decided not to comment beyond what was necessary. Everyone knew what had happened. Everyone understood the importance. But it was still too early to turn that into expectation.
I went up to the room later than usual.
The mansion was silent. Vailor also seemed more restrained that night, as if the entire city was waiting for an invisible movement.
The sword rested beside the bed.
I sat down before lying down.
I touched the hilt.
Nothing.
I closed my eyes and focused as I had done on the training field.
Steady breathing.
Clear mind.
The glow appeared again.
This time it was not just a quick trace. It remained, soft, running through the center of the blade like an internal flow.
I maintained my concentration.
Then I heard it.
"Hero."
I opened my eyes immediately.
The room was empty besides me.
The glow remained.
I looked at the door. No movement. No external sound.
I took a deep breath.
Perhaps fatigue.
Perhaps mental suggestion after days focusing on the stone.
I closed my eyes again.
Silence.
And then again.
"Hero."
The voice did not come from outside.
It came from within.
Not from my mind as my own thought.
But as a distinct presence.
Firm.
Controlled.
There was no exaggerated echo. There was no imposition.
Only a call.
I opened my eyes slowly.
"Who is there?" I said quietly.
No immediate response.
The glow of the sword intensified slightly.
"Hero."
This time the word came accompanied by a clear sense of consciousness.
It was not imagination.
I knew my own thoughts. That was external.
I held the sword firmly.
"If you're going to speak, speak clearly."
There was a pause.
Not long.
But enough to confirm it was not a random impulse.
"You have finally decided."
The voice was neutral. Neither male nor female. It carried no evident emotion.
"Decided what?"
"To act."
The glow ran through the blade continuously.
My mind was alert, but not in panic.
"You are in the stone."
"I am in what the stone contains."
I breathed carefully.
"Who are you?"
Silence for a moment.
Then.
"I have been called by many names. But for you, I will simply be the Spirit of the Warrior."
The answer was simple.
Without theatricality.
Without threat.
"Why now?"
"Because now there is real intent of rupture."
Rupture.
The word matched the cyclopean records.
"You awaken in the face of threat."
"I awaken when there is a concrete possibility of confrontation with prolonged distortion."
Immortality.
It was referring to that.
"So you know about the Fourth General."
"I recognize patterns."
The answer was not direct, but sufficient.
I sat on the edge of the bed, still holding the sword.
"Why didn't you speak before?"
"Because before, you still accepted the possibility of retreat."
That struck me unexpectedly.
I had not considered retreat.
But perhaps, at some level, there was still space to avoid direct confrontation.
"Now there is no more doubt," I continued.
"Exactly."
The glow remained constant.
There was no pain. No mental pressure.
The presence was stable.
"What is your function?" I asked.
"To accompany the one who carries the blade in the face of threats that surpass the natural limit."
"Do you increase my power?"
"No."
Immediate answer.
"Then what do you do?"
"I align."
The word was spoken clearly.
"I align intention, flow, and cut. I break that which sustains itself beyond the proper cycle."
I closed my eyes for a moment.
So that was it.
The stone did not create brute force.
It created coherence against distortion.
"Can you destroy immortality?"
"I can cut the bond that sustains it, if there is an opening."
An opening.
That confirmed our theory.
"And if there isn't one?"
"Then it will be just a sword."
Direct honesty.
No exaggerated promise.
No absolute guarantee.
I took a deep breath.
"Why do you call me hero?"
"Because that is the role you have assumed."
It was not praise.
It was definition.
"Will you be with me in battle?"
"If there is true intent to protect and break distortion, I will be."
The glow flickered slightly.
"And if I fail?"
"Then I will return to silence."
Simple.
Without judgment.
Without drama.
The presence did not seem arrogant.
It seemed ancient.
Stable.
Like something that existed long before me.
"Do you have a proper name?" I asked.
"It is not necessary."
I nodded slightly.
"Then we will keep it that way."
Silence for a few seconds.
But not empty.
Conscious presence.
"Hero."
"Yes."
"Do not seek to destroy the body."
I kept full attention.
"Seek the bond."
The phrase was etched with precision.
The bond.
Not flesh.
Not physical resistance.
The link.
The glow began to fade slowly.
"Are you going to disappear?"
"No. Only to wait."
"Can I call you?"
"When your intent is aligned, I will respond."
The light diminished until it disappeared completely.
The room returned to its normal state.
But nothing was the same.
The sword in my hands seemed the same.
And at the same time not.
I was not alone within that blade.
It was not hallucination.
It was not fantasy.
It was an awakened presence.
I placed the sword beside the bed again.
I lay down without haste.
What happened did not need to be announced immediately.
But it changed everything.
Not because of additional power.
But because of confirmed direction.
The bond.
That was what I needed to seek.
I closed my eyes.
This time sleep came faster.
Not because the war had diminished.
But because now I knew.
When the confrontation happens, I will not fight only against an immortal body.
I will fight against the bond that sustains it.
And the blade will respond.
At the right moment.