The sound of steel clashing against steel echoed through the training yard of Lumeria Village. The metallic rhythm was erratic—fast, then halting—like a heartbeat caught between fear and defiance. My heartbeat.
Ayumi moved like flowing wind, her twin axes slicing arcs of light through the dusk. Her movements weren't just strong—they were confident, deliberate. I barely had time to raise my sword before the weight of her next strike pressed down, sending vibrations through my arm.
"Come on, Eli," she said between breaths, her voice teasing but sharp. "You can't keep blocking forever."
"I'm—" I parried and stumbled back, my boot scraping against the packed dirt. "I'm trying, okay?!"
She laughed, the kind of laugh that stung worse than losing. "Trying doesn't cut it here."
Her next swing came faster, heavier. My sword met it, but the impact sent a jolt up my arm so hard I thought I heard my bones creak. Sparks burst where the blades met, glimmering like dying stars. I twisted my wrist, angling the sword to slide hers away, but her sheer strength overwhelmed my grip.
I fell back, the edge of her axe stopping just short of my neck.
"Dead," she said simply, smiling down at me. "Again."
I groaned, rolling onto my back. "That's like… the eighth time today."
"Ninth," she corrected, offering a hand. "You're improving, though. You lasted longer this time."
I took her hand and pulled myself up, feeling every muscle complain. "Improving isn't what it feels like when your sword arm is about to fall off."
"You'll get used to it," she said with a smirk. "Swordsmen like you rely too much on finesse. You think every swing has to be perfect. Sometimes, you just have to break through."
"Break through?" I frowned. "That's not exactly… precise."
"Maybe not," she said, resting one axe on her shoulder. "But sometimes destruction is cleaner than elegance."
Her words hit deeper than I wanted to admit.
Destruction.
My subclass—Destruction-type Swordsman. It sounded brutal when I first saw it. Too aggressive, too wild. I wasn't that kind of player. Or so I told myself.
I replayed the last battle against the Nyrads in my mind—how I'd barely survived, how I had to rely on SIS to keep me alive. I wasn't fast enough, strong enough, or even strategic enough. All I had was instinct and luck.
Ayumi stepped closer, tilting her head. "You're overthinking again, aren't you?"
"Maybe."
She sighed. "Then stop. Destruction isn't about rage, Eli. It's about resolve. When you choose to destroy something—an enemy, a wall, even a limit—you're saying it doesn't have power over you anymore."
Her words sank in quietly. For someone who swung axes, Ayumi had a strange way of being poetic.
"Alright," I said, gripping my sword tighter. "Again."
She grinned. "That's more like it."
We took our stances. Her axes gleamed, my blade humming faintly under my fingers. I inhaled slowly, focusing—not on her movements, not on my fear—but on the pressure in my chest. The frustration of always being a step behind. The helplessness of feeling like I didn't belong here.
"Ready," she said.
"Always."
This time, I moved first.
My sword cut through the air in a sweeping arc, sharper and heavier than before. Ayumi blocked it easily, but the shockwave from the clash forced her back a half-step. Her eyes widened slightly. She hadn't expected that.
I didn't stop. I pressed forward—again, and again—each strike heavier, more reckless, less precise. The air around my sword shimmered faintly, the edge vibrating like it wanted to break everything it touched. My body screamed at me to stop, but I didn't listen.
Ayumi ducked under one blow, spun, and aimed for my ribs. I twisted my sword and—without thinking—let her axe slide down my blade. At the moment her weapon connected, I pivoted my wrist.
Crack.
A visible fracture spread along the haft of her axe.
"What the—?" she said, stumbling back, eyes wide. "You just—"
"I didn't mean to!" I blurted, holding the sword like it might explode next. "I just—"
But SIS's voice hummed in my head, gentle and amused.
[Subsystem Note: Destruction Attribute—awakened fragment detected.]
[User instinctively applied "Breaking Edge" prototype skill.]
[Stamina -25%.]
I froze. "Breaking… Edge?"
Ayumi exhaled slowly, watching me with a new kind of curiosity. "You really are something, Eli."
I swallowed hard. "That sounded… bad."
"Not bad," she said, smiling faintly. "Dangerous."
She tossed her damaged axe aside and reached for her spare. "Now I'm interested."
"Oh, great," I muttered, sweat running down my neck.
She lunged before I could react. Her swing came low, then high, then from the side—a relentless rhythm that tested every ounce of my reflex. But now, every time our weapons met, I felt something different. The energy wasn't just resisting—it was pushing back.
My sword didn't slide anymore. It bit.
Each block shook the air around us.
Each counterstrike cracked the ground beneath our feet.
And each moment, the fear I'd carried since entering this world seemed to burn away.
For the first time, I wasn't dodging death. I was meeting it head-on.
Ayumi smirked between swings. "You're finally fighting like yourself."
"Like myself?" I grunted, deflecting another blow. "Feels more like I'm breaking everything!"
"Exactly!"
Her axe came down one last time, heavy and fast. I caught it midair, turned my blade, and with a single twist—crack—the shaft of her weapon splintered completely.
We both froze.
Her half-axe clattered to the dirt. My sword still trembled in my hands, faintly glowing a deep, ominous red before fading again. I lowered it slowly.
"…Did I just win?" I asked.
Ayumi blinked at her weapon, then at me, then smiled. "I guess you did."
The tension dissolved as laughter broke out between us. For a few moments, it felt almost normal—just two friends sparring. Not trapped. Not fighting for survival. Just… training.
"You're scary when you get serious," she said, wiping sweat from her forehead.
"You're the one who told me to destroy stuff."
"Yeah, not my weapon!"
We laughed again, the sound echoing through the fading light.
But as the laughter died down, I glanced at my sword—its edge faintly fractured, a dark vein running along the metal. My chest tightened.
Destruction has a price, I realized. Every time I used it, something—whether weapon, stamina, or sanity—would break.
[Subsystem Alert: "Destruction" affinity—unstable. Caution advised.]
[Cooldown imposed: 6 hours before reactivation.]
I sighed softly. "You hearing this too, SIS?"
[Affirmative.]
[Also: impressive performance, Eli.]
[Ayumi's respect level +8%.]
I nearly choked. "Respect level? What are you, my social manager?"
[Emotional analytics module engaged.]
[You're welcome.]
I couldn't help but laugh quietly. "You're really something."
Ayumi tilted her head. "Talking to yourself again?"
"Yeah," I said, sheathing my sword. "Just… thinking out loud."
She gave me a look, but didn't push. "You should rest. That new move looked like it drained you."
"It did," I admitted. "But it felt… right."
As we walked back toward the inn, the sunset painted the sky in warm crimson hues. The village buzzed faintly with life—players trading loot, NPCs closing shops, the sound of laughter mixing with the occasional argument. For a moment, the illusion of peace felt real.
"Hey, Ayumi," I said quietly.
"Yeah?"
"Thanks. For helping me not suck."
She smiled softly. "You've still got a long way to go, Eli."
"Yeah," I said, glancing up at the orange sky. "But at least now… I know where to start."
That night, as I lay on the inn bed, SIS's voice came again—quieter, almost human.
[Destruction is not only power, Eli. It's choice. What you destroy will define what remains.]
I didn't reply. My sword leaned against the wall, faint cracks glinting under the moonlight. Somewhere inside the code of this world, something had changed.
And I had, too.
For better or worse… I was starting to become what this world wanted me to be.
A swordsman who breaks.
A destroyer bound by conscience.
A phantom in the making.