The weapon-obsessed perfectionist, hopelessly trapped in his own compulsion, finally had his mind jarred open by the legendary blade Chen Mo revealed.
"Of course! How could I not have thought of that sooner?"
"With Adamantium's incredible properties, any weapon forged from it would be unimaginably powerful—perhaps even on par with those mythical arms from legend!"
"An Adamantium sword paired with an Adamantium shield—offense and defense in perfect harmony!"
Excited beyond measure, Dr. MacLain rushed into his lab, clutching the Sword of Kings as a reference to forge a new weapon — an Adamantium longsword modeled after it.
Chen Mo and Howard exchanged a long look of relief.
Finally, something other than shields.
The forging process didn't take long. The lab's equipment was state-of-the-art, and soon MacLain had crafted a precision mold based on the Sword of Kings' exact design. Into it, he poured the molten Adamantium.
When the mold cooled and the casing was pulled apart, a faint wave of heat rolled out — and within the frame gleamed a brand-new weapon: a two-handed knight's sword, silver-bright, its blade shining like liquid moonlight.
MacLain lifted it gingerly, eyes full of wonder. It was like holding his own masterpiece, the culmination of all his life's work. He examined every curve, every line of the blade in reverent silence.
Its design was identical to the Sword of Kings, yet the two were clearly not the same.
The original sword, forged from unknown meteorite metal, was heavy — at least a dozen kilograms — dense and unyielding.
The Adamantium blade, by contrast, weighed about the same as a steel sword; it was much lighter in hand.
Even the aura was different. The Sword of Kings radiated a sharp, almost icy power, a biting presence that seemed to slice through the very air. The Adamantium version, though flawless in construction, lacked that soul-piercing edge.
Still, the doctor could hardly contain his excitement. After a few moments of admiring it, he marched straight back to the severed machine gun from earlier, eager to test it.
He raised the sword — only a few kilograms, easy to swing — and brought it down with force. The remaining half of the gun barrel was cleanly severed, the cut mirror-smooth once again.
Yet the doctor's expression didn't brighten. Instead, it grew thoughtful.
"…No. Something's off."
Chen Mo, instantly alert, noticed the shift. "What is it, Doctor?"
MacLain frowned, lost in thought. "I can't quite describe it. Both blades cut cleanly… yet somehow, the feeling is different. I just can't pinpoint why."
Then his eyes lit up. "Of course! You're the better fighter — you try."
He handed the Adamantium sword to Chen Mo. The weight was noticeably lighter than the Sword of Kings — nimble, almost too easy to handle. Chen Mo gave it a testing swing, slicing down at the broken gun barrel. The remaining stub fell apart cleanly, though he did feel a faint trace of resistance along the edge.
Then he switched to the Sword of Kings.
The moment his fingers wrapped around the familiar hilt, the heavy balance felt right. He swung again — this time at the gun's main body. A bright arc flashed, and the entire machine gun split apart soundlessly, collapsing into neat, severed halves.
The difference was immediate.
Chen Mo realized he had underestimated the legendary sword. The Sword of Kings didn't just cut—it ignored resistance entirely. When he'd sliced through the gun, it had felt as if the blade passed through empty air.
He relayed his impressions to MacLain, who, instantly intrigued, whisked both swords back into the lab for further testing.
Hours passed as he ran one analysis after another. Finally, eyes shining with the light of discovery, he spoke.
"No wonder it's called a holy sword… I truly believed my Adamantium was the pinnacle of metallurgy, but this—this is beyond even that."
The Sword of Kings, it turned out, possessed a hidden property.
When swung at high speed, the blade's surface generated a unique high-frequency ion vibration field.
Upon contact, that energy layer disrupted the molecular bonds of the target's material, instantly severing it — explaining why it felt effortless, almost frictionless, to cut even the hardest metal.
To test the theory, MacLain forged a solid Adamantium plate and, with Chen Mo's approval, set it up for a direct strike.
There was no concern about damaging the sword — his readings had already shown that the Sword of Kings was at least as hard as Adamantium itself.
Chen Mo raised the sword and struck.
This time, unlike cutting the machine gun, he felt the faint resistance of pure force meeting matter — but it didn't last. With a harsh screech, the Adamantium plate split cleanly in two, its molecular lattice undone by that invisible vibrating energy.
Even the indestructible alloy had yielded before the Sword of Kings.
Howard stood there, mouth agape.
That same Adamantium — which moments ago he had proudly deemed indestructible — had just been carved apart like butter.
MacLain, instead of being dismayed, was positively ecstatic. His eyes gleamed feverishly as he gazed at the blade.
"The Sword of Kings… forged, they say, in the elven realm of Avalon. Its edge cuts through iron like mud, shining brighter than the sun. When the Sword in the Stone broke, King Arthur received this one from the Lady of the Lake, guided by Merlin himself."
He ran his fingers reverently along the hilt. "I can't say how much of that legend is true—but I'm certain this sword hides more secrets than we've uncovered."
He looked up eagerly at Chen Mo. "Would you allow me to study it further? Just for a while?"
Howard snapped out of his shock, his jaw dropping. There's no way.
He knew how much Chen Mo cherished that sword — the man wouldn't even let him touch it. And now he was about to hand it over for research? Impossible.
Yet to his utter disbelief, Chen Mo simply nodded.
"Go ahead."
Howard's eyes nearly popped out of his head.
"I have the same feeling," Chen Mo murmured, running a hand along the blade. "This sword is far from ordinary. I want to know what else it's hiding."
Seeing Howard's stunned expression, Chen Mo shot him a cold, dismissive look.
He hadn't let Howard touch it for one simple reason: the man just wanted to satisfy his curiosity. If he got hold of the sword, he'd probably end up using it to slice fruit or open champagne bottles.
Chen Mo wasn't about to let his treasured weapon suffer such indignity in the hands of an idiot.