Chapter 86: Chapter 86: Sword play
Few moments ago.
[Transmute complete.]
[Transmute complete.]
"finally, fucking finally....." Aiden voiced. Taking the sword at hand. Gripping its handle for the first time. The feeling was raw, the feeling was....heavy, as he held the sword in hand, straight. And he swung.
"huh, wheres the sword?" He voiced, looking at his empty hand, and to his right, saw his sword piercing the wooden column, right above a servant. As she ran away, fear striking her steps.
"...okay, what’s the problme here, I thought I would be skilled in sword after the skill was trasmuted." he voiced, seeing his system,
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[Saint sword > ragewhip dominion]
[As a divine high incubus, follower of Lilith, users Ragewhip Dominion is a combat skill that morphs any chosen weapon into a whip-like tendril of seductive fury, channeling users blood to provoke and harness an opponent’s rage.
The more their anger escalates, the truer user strikes hit and the stronger user become, turning their energy against them for equal footing in battle.
Mechanics: Infuse a weapon (e.g., sword or chain) with ember to create a 30-foot ethereal whip crackling with purple fire. Strikes deal slashing damage (1d8 + charisma) and build "Fury Stacks" (+1 per hit or taunt, up to 5). Each stack boosts accuracy (+5% hit), damage (+10%), and my overall strength/speed (+3% per stack). Taunts exploit emotions via psychic whispers. Costs 10% ember per transformation; stacks reset per foe.
Blood Tie: Lilith’s rebellious blood amplifies rage, making the whip pulse with her essence and users form glow at high stacks, but overuse risks her control, heightening users own fury uncontrollably.
Uses: Enrage a brute warrior with taunts of failure, stacking fury to match their power with precise lashes. Provoke a mage’s outburst to disrupt spells, or in groups, switch targets to snowball dominance from collective anger.
Limitations: No stacks from emotionless foes (e.g., undead); holy auras halve gains. Over 5 stacks without release causes backlash (10% HP drain). Requires a weapon; initial setup leaves user vulnerable.
Ragewhip Dominion turns rage and despair into users weapon, luring foes into self-destruction, but its thrill binds user closer to Lilith’s chaos.]
’Hmmm....a whip huh, so its my choice, to change the form of the sword, spear, or anything...huh, i wanted a sword skill, beffiting a knight, but this will do.’ he thought, taking the sword from the column once more.
The weight of the steel no longer felt like ordinary iron. When he closed his fingers around the hilt, the warmth of his own blood pulsed through it, as though the sword itself were breathing with him.
The torchlight in the training hall seemed to shiver. A scent—burnt copper, faintly sweet, faintly rotten—brushed the back of his throat.
He needed a foundation to fight, a base of moves, he wanted that from the berserker, but the one he stole from Flora herself should do. So he thought as he felt someone familiar on the balcony above.
’Flora....haha, let me surprise you.’
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[Lion mane sword style > serpent skin sword style]
’its a different style but the moves, the moves ...feels the same...’ he thought, as he lowered his body, swinging the sword sideways.
Slash
Putt!!
Pierce!!
"Huuuuuuuff...." He breathed out, that felt good, it had foundation, grip, but he was still using the foundation like it was lion’s mane, if he stepped a bit up, his moves will slowly change, striking like a serpent rather than a lion.
But beneath that thrill, he felt the whip wanting to uncoil. It begged him—release me, lash them, taste their anger. Each breath of his chest felt like a tug-of-war against Lilith’s whisper.
"ohh....a peasant using a sword?" A voice came from afar.
Aiden turned, seeing a few knights from the garrison coming. ’hmm? Knights of leonidus? What are they doing here?" He thought, as his eyebrows rushed with a bit of anger.
"And who the fuck are you...?" Aiden asked.
One of the knights rustled as seeing the person whow as wearing a butlers uniform was speaking to them, knights of leonidus with such tone.
Step
Step
Step
With the clank of his armour he came forward. Ever so forward that he was right at his face, looking up at Aiden. As he was a bit more shorter.
"watch your tone peasant boy.." he voiced, his dark curly hair and yellow eyes trying to look down in him. "just beacsue you gotta pretty face, doesn’t mean you are no longer a peasant. Dirt is still fucking dirt.
And peasant will still be fucking peasan-" the knight voiced, but Aiden just simply pushed him, his leg between the Knight’s leg.
The clang of steel against the flagstones rang louder than his words. The knight’s armor was polished but clumsy; his pride weighed more than his breastplate. Aiden felt none of that weight—only the heat of the torch, the taut whisper of his blade’s hunger.
As he stumbled with his heavy armour, facing the sky, with gritty eyes. Seeing the heir to the viscount fief looking at his patheticness and giggling.
"You...you peasant, you dishour me? You dishonor a knight...men!" He voiced, trying to stand up with his heavy armour, as the knights after him also marched forward.
Aiden calm as always, drew his sword, The steps of lion’s mane grounding his body, sliced the air, forcing them to take a step back. And kicked the knight back to the ground.
"...you move, my sword move...and from this distance," Aiden said, piercing his armour form the gap of his neck.
The knight froze, breath trembling against the edge of death. The others smelled it too—the iron of blood, the closeness of mortality.
"Fellas, I think, my sword will cut faster before you even draw your own.." he voiced.
They all stepped back. "This..this dishonour, the lord and the lady will not have this..." the knight on the ground voiced.
Aiden smiled as he took out a silver badge from his pocket. "You fucking cunts do know what this means right?" He asked.
The moment he turned his silver badge, All their face turned white, much whiter than they should have. Like the blood seeped away from their skull.
"yo...your also a knight..." the one in the ground voiced.
"You fuckers, he is just not a knight, but an annoited knight, from the duchy and the viscount fief." The others from the back voiced. "You retard, you said, he was just a laundry boy..."
"He..he was, he was just washing clothes a month ago..."
.....
Aiden sighed as he backed away. He had thought he would get some extra spice, like in the novel, the small smuck like would show attitiude, unrelenting, trying to force him down even after he showed his badge.
Heck, he had thought, they would say it was fake, and come at him for the plot but...
’I am not the main character, so all that must be reserved for him...’ he thought, giggling.
But deep in his pocket, the badge pulsed faintly warm, as if reminding him: you are not main character, but you are still dangerous.
Suuuuu....
He heard a whistler from above. As he gazed back at the balcony.
"when did you learned that?" she asked. as she stepped to the balcony.
"...self taught, I’m not just All looks, you know.."
Flora smiled, "I know....you are much more." She voiced, jumping down, her body still half naked, as her tits joggled as she softly landed down.
"Hey!" she shouted at the knight still on the ground, trying to stand up. "Give me your fucking sword..."
The knight panicked, quickly getting up, as the Nobels words were absolute, pacing to her like she was his goddess. Bowing , and presentin her his sword.
She smiled as she gripped the long, heavy sword with her delicate hand, but the moment she swung the sword like a twig, the air changed.
The torches bent their flames toward her. Dust lifted from the stones. Even Aiden felt the pressure—it was the kind of weight only true nobility carried: power made flesh.
"Lets see....how your so called self teaching takes you." She vocied. Pointing he sword towards Aiden.