Wings of an Unbound

The remains of the gray "angel" twisted and coalesced, reshaping into something new.

A longsword.

It was forged entirely of crystalline silver, its blade shimmering with an almost holy radiance. Its guard was sculpted into two pairs of angelic wings, and from its pommel, a cross-shaped charm dangled from a delicate string.

Then, as if responding to an unseen command, the sword formed an onyx scabbard around itself before clattering onto the cavern floor.

"What?"

Adam's body relaxed involuntarily.

His mind, however, was reeling.

"What in the game logic just happened?"

Cautiously, he approached the fallen weapon. Bending down, he extended his hand and grasped the hilt.

The moment his fingers wrapped around it, a strange chill ran up his arm.

With a soft metallic hiss, he drew the sword.

Now having a clearer look, he noticed something engraved along the blade—the same strange symbols he had seen on the pillars near the altar.

Adam frowned.

"It makes sense that another world would have a different language… but this might not even be a common one here."

That realization hit harder than he expected.

Even if he found civilization, he wouldn't be able to communicate.

"Shit. That's going to be a problem."

Shaking off the thought, Adam turned his attention back to the sword.

He had never held a real one before.

Hell, he had never even seen one in person.

This was his chance.

Excited, he tapped the flat of the blade against his palm—

And immediately sliced his hand open.

"Gah! DAMN IT! Fuck!"

The silver longsword slipped from his grip, clattering onto the ground as he clutched his wrist.

His palm bled freely, crimson pooling in his fingers.

Then, something bizarre happened.

The sword shimmered with a faint white glow.

Before his eyes, the blood smeared on its blade slowly vanished—absorbed into the metal itself.

Adam stiffened.

His gaze flicked downward—to his chest.

Through the tattered remains of his shirt, he saw the spiral wound glowing faintly.

Then, when he looked back at his palm—

The wound was gone.

Completely healed.

A cold shiver ran down his spine.

"It has to be the scar."

But the sword…

Why had it glowed?

A disturbing thought crept into his mind.

"Maybe it's a sword that drinks blood… and I have to keep feeding it."

His stomach twisted.

"If that's the case… does that mean it'll drain ME if I don't give it enough?"

Adam grimaced.

"Enough of that."

There were more pressing matters.

He turned his focus inward.

His body had changed.

Not just the wings.

Not just the scar.

But something deeper.

He had ascended.

The ninth stage of a catalyst's path—Mystic Researcher.

With it came:

A complete understanding of basic mysticism.

The ability to perceive energies.

Better control over spirituality and ether.

At first, he thought spirituality and ether were the same thing.

They weren't.

Spirituality came from the depths of one's soul—the core of being a mystic. It was what allowed one to cast spells, conduct rituals, and create potions.

Ether, on the other hand, was external. It came from the world's energy embedding itself into a person's body, empowering the abilities granted by catalysts.

And while the Mystic Researcher wasn't a combat-oriented stage, it enhanced his durability, physical abilities, and senses.

That part confused him.

"If this is a utility build, why does it make me physically stronger? Is it related to the later stages?"

He touched the scar on his chest, trying to pour spirituality into it—

Nothing.

He tried ether.

Still nothing.

"So I can't actively use it…?"

He filed the thought away for later.

Finally, Adam turned his focus to the wings on his back.

They felt… natural.

As if they had always been there.

But the moment he tried to move them—

Pain.

A sharp, piercing ache, like a body pushed beyond exhaustion.

"Not ready yet."

Whether it was because they had just formed or because of his resistance to mutation, he didn't know.

Either way, they needed rest.

"Hey, Systematic."

A robotic feminine voice answered immediately.

[Yes, user?]

"What exactly happened to me?"

[After exposure to the gray "angel's" voice, you were laced with the -REDACTED-'s corruption, as well as the corruption and -REDACTED- of a certain divine being. This began mutating you into a distorted "angel." However, after purging the corruption, only the -REDACTED- of the divine being remained, transforming you into an Unbound Angel—similar to how catalysts grant power.]

Adam's eye twitched.

"Damn redactions…"

Still, the core information was clear.

His mutation had been an attempted transformation into something… wrong.

But after the corruption was purged, only the essence of the divine being remained, resulting in his current form.

That raised another question.

"Will this thing inside me cause problems?"

[No. In fact, if you learn to harness it, it will be of great help in the future.]

Adam exhaled.

"Good. Next question—will being an 'angel' affect my advancement?"

[No. However, it may alter the name and abilities of future stages.]

"Fair enough."

But then came the biggest mystery.

"What is an 'Unbound Angel'?"

[They are of the angel race but do not serve a god. Thus, they do not bear the title of 'Angel.']

Adam blinked.

"Wait. The race and the title are separate?"

[Yes. The angel race is born with divinity, but titled Angels gain their power by serving a god. The distinction lies in their wings and halos, which reflect their divine patron.]

It finally clicked.

"So the race is inherently divine, but the title is a blessing… Got it."

"Any other angelic traits I should know?"

[An angel's strength is indicated by their wings. The strongest recorded had twelve pairs. Upon reaching four pairs, angels unlock a unique transformation.]

Adam let the information sink in.

Then, with a sigh, he bent down, picked up the silver longsword, and sheathed it.

Enough stalling.

It was time to leave this cursed place.

Without looking back, Adam turned and hurried toward the exit.

"I don't want to spend another second in here."