Executioner’s Blade

Right after Isabella left, an irritated Albert entered the room. His body no longer showed any signs of the wounds he had sustained during his fight with Marcus. He said nothing, simply storming across the room with heavy steps.

As he approached Marcus, Albert split his cane, revealing a sword. Marcus barely had time to react before the blade swung in his direction. He tried to move, but the chains restraining him held him in place.

Marcus closed his eyes, bracing for the pain that never came. It was Albert's voice that snapped him back:

"Come on, boy. I don't have all damn day."

With a clean and precise strike, Albert's sword severed the chains holding Marcus. The young man couldn't hide his surprise. The strike was so fast that it didn't even produce a sound.

Marcus watched Albert's back as the old man left the room and hurried to catch up. They walked to a vacant lot behind the mansion. Along the way, Albert didn't speak or look back at him.

In the center of the lot, a massive sword was embedded in the ground, about two meters long. Albert pointed at it and said, "Touch it."

Marcus obeyed. As soon as he grasped the hilt, a translucent system screen appeared in front of him:

Executioner's Blade (Cursed Weapon)

Abilities:

Weight: 500 kg. Progressive Sharpening: At the start of a battle, the sword is only effective as a blunt weapon. However, the more strikes the user lands, the sharper it becomes. After the fight ends, the blade loses its edge. Shattering Effect: The sword's first strike in any battle will destroy whatever it hits. If the first strike hits nothing, the shattering effect is rendered useless until the weapon is sheathed and drawn again.

The weapon's stats left Marcus astonished. Even in later stages of the game, it would be a formidable weapon.

"Let's go, worthless brat. Try to lift it," Albert commanded impatiently.

Despite the vein of anger pulsing in his temple, Marcus held back. He gripped the sword tightly and tried to lift it. With great effort, he managed to raise it, his arms trembling under the overwhelming weight.

The sword's balance was odd. The closer to the tip, the heavier it felt. The hilt seemed to weigh only a fraction of the blade, making it extremely difficult to wield.

From a distance, Albert allowed a small smile. Although he disliked the boy, he couldn't deny Marcus's talent. Only a handful of vampire knights Albert had known could even lift that sword.

"You'll swing that sword until your arms break or until I tell you to stop. Got it, boy?"

Marcus wanted to argue, but when he noticed a vigilant gaze from a second-floor window of the mansion, he simply nodded and continued his clumsy training.

Albert approached Marcus and tapped the boy's right leg with his cane while grumbling:

"Fix your stance. Place your support foot forward. Use your hips." He circled Marcus, observing. "Forget the blade's weight. If you focus on it, it'll only feel heavier. Concentrate on the movements, not the discomfort."

From the second floor of the mansion, Isabella watched everything with a cold expression. Behind her, kneeling two meters away, was a massive man over two meters tall. He wore a simple but luxurious white cotton shirt paired with black trousers held by suspenders. His face was scarred, blending into a thick beard that contrasted with his shaved head.

"Do you think it wise to grant this man power, my lady?" the man asked respectfully.

Isabella turned, leaning her arms on the window frame. "No, I don't, Bertram."

The response surprised the man. He raised his head and asked, "Then why give him such a fine weapon and training, my lady?"

Isabella smiled, her eyes gleaming like a predator excited by new prey.

"Because it's interesting, of course. I want to see how far those fangs can bite. I want to see if they can reach me, just like they reached Bartholomew."

Bertram lowered his head, afraid of Isabella's predatory gaze. She sighed, disappointed. She knew most people thought her mad, but she still hoped some of her foolish subordinates might understand her vision.

"Whatever," she said irritably. "Did you do as I ordered?"

"Yes, Countess," Bertram replied quickly. "A group of at least fifteen werewolves is in the forest near Yorfen, as the information suggested. At his current level, the boy doesn't stand a chance, even with a troop of ghouls."

Isabella turned back to the window, watching Marcus clumsily swing the heavy sword.

"Tell Robert to send a batch of corpses and a shipment of twenty war prisoners from the Kingdom of Luem to the mansion. This is the last help I'll give him. If he fails even with that, he was never worth anything to begin with."

Bertram glanced at the countess's back before disappearing in a cloud of mist.