Shard of Ruin

Alex woke up to see himself beside a sword, a blade which was left alone in this cave, just like him. He looked around and at himself, checking for injuries. He was fine, the poison had disappeared thanks to the antidote the man had given.

but his mission, his quest has not ended.

As he stood up, he noticed the system appeared on his face. Notifying him of his progress and how he had leveled up from the battle with the goblins. The wolf were stronger and yet the goblins almost killed him, he was too reckless, his own skill could have been the end of it.

He looked at his rewards, a stat point, a skill, and an item.

How ironic to be given an antidote, he put it aside and place the stat point into agility. Instead on focusing on power, he wanted to be able to dodge more freely. He also noticed that he had gained a new skill.

Survival Instinct, a basic skill for combat. This will help him not get either back stabbed or hit by a poisoned arrow again. With that, he decided to move on to the next stage. Though before he could leave, he looked at the sword that was stuck on the ground.

"Wouldn't it be wise to just take it for my own gain or will taking it have consequence?"

Alex questioned the mysterious sword, his gaze lingering on the blade half-buried in the ground.

It was simple—too simple. No traps, no otherworldly being waiting to test him—just a worn blade half-buried in the earth. Yet, something about it caught his attention.

Alex narrowed his eyes, crouching slowly, his hand hovering over the hilt. The question seemed absurd, but it lingered nonetheless.

Would taking this thing actually help me? Or will it just weigh me down?

The cave was silent. The sword offered no answer, no sign of any grand fate or destiny attached to it. It was just... a sword. But then again, he'd already learned that nothing in this world was ever really just anything.

His fingers brushed against the worn leather of the hilt. The decision hung in the air, heavy with uncertainty.

Would taking this thing actually help me? The thought gnawed at him. Or will it just weigh me down, like everything else in this damn world?

He crouched lower, eyes narrowing as he studied the blade. There was something off about it, something unsettling. His fingers twitched, a faint urge to take it, to claim it, to use it to finally gain some advantage.

But the moment his hand hovered over the hilt, a subtle sensation washed over him. It wasn't just hesitation. It was resistance. A force, barely perceptible, pushing back against him.

What the hell?

He flinched, instinctively pulling his hand back. The cave felt colder, the shadows deeper. Was it his mind playing tricks on him? Or had the sword actually... rejected him?

He steadied his breath, staring at the blade. It didn't make sense. Why would a sword resist him? He had nothing to lose. No one was here to judge him. No one but himself.

And yet... the sword seemed to mock him.

Unworthy.

The words echoed in his mind. It was so faint, so fleeting, he wasn't sure if he'd imagined it or if the sword had actually spoken. His throat tightened. Could a sword even have a voice?

But that voice, that word, unworthy—it dug into him, raw and sharp, like a blade to the gut. He clenched his fists, trying to swallow down the sting. He was used to being unworthy. He had lived most of his life in that shadow, forced to fight for scraps, for survival, for anything that would give him meaning in this brutal world.

But that didn't mean he was going to let it stop him now.

No, he wasn't going to walk away from this. Not when everything had led him here. He had made it through the goblins, through the wolves, and now, this—this sword might be the next step. The next tool he needed.

He needed it.

His fingers hovered over the hilt again, trembling, but this time with determination. He couldn't afford to back down. Not now. Not after everything he had fought for. He gripped the hilt, the leather warm beneath his fingertips. The sword pulsed in his hand, as though it was testing him, weighing his resolve. The resistance was there again—stronger this time, an invisible force holding him back. It wasn't just the weight of the sword; it was the weight of something else, something that felt almost alive.

What the hell is this?

He gritted his teeth, focusing every ounce of willpower into his grip. I'm not backing down. He was so close—he could feel the sword's power, its potential, and for a fleeting moment, it seemed to recognize his struggle.

With a desperate push, Alex wrenched the blade free, the ground beneath him scraping and protesting. The moment the sword left the earth, an almost violent jolt ran through him, as if the sword had been dragged from the depths of his very soul.

The sword was in his hands, but it didn't feel like a victory. It felt heavy. Far heavier than it had any right to be. It wasn't just the metal—no, it was more than that. It was the weight of something that had been withheld, something that had been waiting for him to earn it. And in that moment, Alex knew.

He wasn't strong enough. Not yet.

He staggered, almost losing his balance as the sword felt wrong in his hands. The resistance had faded, but its absence left a gnawing emptiness behind. The sword had given way, but its acceptance of him felt reluctant. Like it had made a decision, but wasn't quite sure if he was worth it.

Alex's breath came in sharp bursts, his grip tightening. This sword doesn't belong to me. Not yet. The thought stung, but it was true.

For now, it was just a tool. But not a trustworthy one. Not until he proved himself worthy. He felt it in his bones: the sword wasn't a gift. It was a test. One he had yet to pass.

His heart thundered in his chest, but his resolve was clear. He wasn't giving up. He would be strong enough. Someday.

With that thought burning in his chest, Alex turned and made his way toward the cave's exit, the sword heavy in his grip. It wasn't a victory. But it was a promise—one he made to himself.

[ Item Acquired: Shard of Ruin ]Properties: ??? Bond Level: 0%

As he placed the sword behind him, he held his worn out dagger firmly before heading to the main area of his quest, the original goal of defeating an ogre.

Just to fight once more and it would all be over soon.

At least, that's what he told himself. Every step forward felt heavier, the weight of what was to come pressing on his chest. The dagger felt inadequate in his grip, a reminder of how unprepared he truly was. He couldn't help but think of the sword, hidden behind him, its silent call echoing in his mind. But no—this was his fight, his battle to face with nothing but his own strength.

The ground trembled beneath Alex's feet, a deep, guttural growl echoing from the shadows. The ogre appeared, its massive frame towering above him, the stench of sweat and decay hitting him like a wave. Its beady eyes locked onto Alex, filled with a mindless hunger that sent a chill down his spine.

He steeled himself for the fight, eyes scanning the shadows, ready to strike with whatever he had. The dagger might not be much, but it was all he could trust now. There was no room for hesitation. No more time for second thoughts.

The ogre's massive club slammed into the ground with a resounding crash, sending a tremor through the cave. Alex barely managed to leap out of the way, his body uncoordinated as he hit the ground hard. He scrambled to his feet, heart pounding, hands shaking around the dagger.

The ogre's eyes locked on him, and with a roar, it charged, swinging the club in a wide arc. Alex didn't think—he just reacted, ducking low, narrowly avoiding the blow that would've crushed him. His muscles screamed in protest, the poison still lingering, but he couldn't stop. He couldn't slow down.

The ogre swung again, this time faster. Alex's breath caught in his throat. He dodged, but his footing was off, and he stumbled, barely catching himself before he fell. I can't keep this up, he thought, panic creeping in. Every movement felt wrong, too slow, too weak.

The ogre bellowed in frustration, swinging the club down toward him once more. Alex's hands shook, the dagger too small, too fragile against the beast. But it was all he had.

He rolled to the side, feeling the heat of the club whistling by him. His heart pounded in his ears, and for a moment, everything seemed to move in slow motion. This wasn't skill. It was just desperation.

The ogre was relentless, its attacks wild and unpredictable. Alex was barely holding on, using every ounce of energy just to avoid the blows. He wasn't a fighter—he was a survivor. And right now, that was the only thing keeping him alive.

As the ogre swung again, Alex saw it—a tiny gap in the beast's defense. A chance. Without thinking, he lunged, thrusting the dagger into the side of the ogre. The blade barely cut through the thick hide, but it was enough to make the ogre roar in pain.

The beast swung at him, its giant fist knocking him off balance. Alex hit the ground hard, gasping for air. I'm done for, he thought, his vision blurring.

But then the newly acquired skill Survival Instinct managed to move his body away from danger

With a grunt, he pushed himself up, feeling dizzy. His body was worn out, his muscles trembling. The ogre advanced, but this time Alex didn't wait. He grabbed a rock from the ground, throwing it at the ogre's face with all the strength he could muster. It hit with a dull thud, momentarily staggering the beast.

This was it. The only chance he had.

Using the last of his strength, Alex lunged forward again, dagger raised. The blade found its mark, plunging deep into the ogre's neck. The creature let out a strangled roar before collapsing, its massive form crashing to the ground.

[Quest complete: Eliminated 1 Ogre

Reward: +5 Strength, +3 Agility.]

Alex stood over it, gasping for breath, his body battered and bruised. He hadn't won because of skill. He hadn't won because of strength. He had won because he was still standing. Barely.

"Fuck...fuck it hurts!...." He winced in pain.

Alex stood over the fallen ogre, breathing raggedly, his body trembling from the effort. The weight of the battle crushed him, and the poison was still lingering, dulling his senses. He had barely survived, but he couldn't afford to stop.

His eyes scanned the cave, expecting the silence to remain, but something shifted. A rumble, low and guttural, echoed from deeper within the cave. Alex froze, heart racing.

From the shadows emerged a creature far worse than the ogre—a hulking chimera, with the body of a lion, the head of a snake, and the wings of a bat. Its eyes gleamed with malice, and its jagged claws scraped against the stone floor as it advanced. The ground trembled with each step.

Alex's breath hitched. This wasn't a fight he was ready for. His mind screamed to run, but his legs felt like stone. No. Not again, he thought. I can't outrun this thing.

[ Quest Updated: Eliminated 1 Chimera

Reward: +5 Vitality, +5 Endurance ]

[ Level Up!

Player Alexander has reached Level 13

Rewards:

+1 Stat Point (Choose from Strength, Agility, or Endurance)

New Passive Skill: Adaptation (D-tier) ]

The chimera let out a deafening roar, a sound that seemed to vibrate in Alex's bones. It leaped toward him, its claws extended, its mouth opening wide to reveal rows of razor-sharp teeth. Alex barely had time to react.

Instinct kicked in. He rolled to the side, narrowly avoiding the creature's lunge. But he was already spent. His body screamed in protest, and his movements were sluggish, desperate. The chimera was too fast, too strong.

I can't do this on my own, he thought, his hands trembling as he reached for the sword.

It felt impossibly heavy in his grip. The sword resisted him, as it had before. Alex's breath quickened. I'm not worthy. I can't wield this thing.

But the chimera was already closing in. There was no time. He didn't have a choice. He gritted his teeth and pulled the blade free, his body straining against the sword's resistance.

The moment the sword left the ground, a wave of energy surged through him, but it wasn't the surge of power he had hoped for. It was disorienting, almost suffocating. The sword's weight felt unbearable, a constant reminder of his weakness.

With no more time to think, Alex faced the chimera, holding the sword awkwardly in his hands. The creature lunged, its claws aimed straight for his chest.

Without thinking, Alex swung the sword, desperate to defend himself. It felt wrong—his grip was unsteady, his stance shaky—but the sword moved with an unnatural speed, cutting through the air with a force that surprised him.

The chimera hissed, the blade cutting deep into its shoulder. It recoiled, snarling in pain, but it didn't retreat. Instead, it roared again, more furious than before.

Alex's hands shook as he raised the sword again, barely keeping his footing. The sword was alive in his grip, its power demanding control, and yet Alex had none to give. Every swing felt like he was fighting not just the chimera, but the sword itself.

Another swing, and the blade caught the chimera's wing. It screeched in pain, stumbling back, but still, it wasn't enough.

The chimera came at him again, faster this time, its jaws snapping shut just inches from his throat. The sword—this cursed weapon—felt like it was draining him. But just as Alex's strength began to give out, the sword surged in his grip, as though it had a will of its own.

In one last, desperate move, Alex swung the sword in a wide arc. While he held the sword with firm grip, the skill Survivor's Rage activated, boosting Alex himself. The chimera barely had time to react before the blade connected. It wasn't a clean strike; the sword was heavy, unwieldy in Alex's hands, but the impact was enough.

The chimera let out a final, pitiful roar before crumpling to the ground, its body twitching once before lying still.

[Quest Complete: Eliminated 1 Chimera

Reward: +5 Vitality, +5 Endurance]

Alex stood over it, chest heaving, the sword still in his grip. His body was drenched in sweat, and his legs were shaking with exhaustion. He'd done it. Barely. But at what cost?

The sword had taken its toll. Alex's hands were bleeding, the skin on his palm torn, his grip slipping. The sword had drained him, had taken more from him than he was ready to give.

He looked down at the chimera's corpse, the reality of what had just happened slowly sinking in. He had won—thanks to the sword. But he had no idea if he was even capable of wielding it properly, and now, he wasn't sure if he ever would be.

His body was wracked with exhaustion, every muscle aching from the brutal combat. His legs felt like they might give out at any moment, but he kept standing, unwilling to collapse in front of his enemy's corpse.

He held the sword—still gripped tightly in his hands, though it felt like it was pulling him down. The weight of it was unbearable, a constant reminder of his weakness. His fingers, raw and slick with sweat, threatened to slip from the hilt.

For a moment, everything was silent. The cave, once filled with the roars and the sounds of battle, was now still. The chimera lay in a pool of its own blood, but Alex wasn't sure if he had truly won, or if he'd just survived by sheer luck.

The sword, still trembling in his hands, seemed to mock him. It didn't feel like a tool of power—it felt like a burden. He was no warrior. He was no hero. He had just fought like an animal, barely escaping with his life.

The chimera's body twitched, and Alex's heart skipped. No... He didn't have the strength left for another fight. The sword's hilt burned in his grip, as though the weapon itself was demanding more.

Then, the worst thing that could've happened did.

Alex's hand slipped.

The sword trembled in his grasp, and before he could regain control, it wrenched itself from his fingers. His heart clenched as the sword fell from his hands, slamming into the stone floor with a deafening crack.

He stumbled forward, desperately reaching out for it, but it was too late. The blade—once so steady and powerful—was shattered. Cracked right down the middle.

A wave of shock and disbelief washed over him. No. This wasn't supposed to happen. He had barely learned how to wield it, and now it was gone. The sword that had saved him, the sword that had been his only hope against the chimera, was broken.

Alex sank to his knees, eyes fixed on the shattered remains of the blade. The hilt was still in his hand, the fragments scattered around him like a reminder of his own failure. The blade, once so formidable, had given in to the weight of his inexperience.

His hands shook as he held the hilt, the power drained from it. He couldn't even bring himself to touch the broken pieces, the fragments sharp and cruel.

He had failed.

His chest tightened as the realization hit him. His survival had come at a cost. The sword—his lifeline—was gone, destroyed by his weakness, by his inability to truly master it. The power that had surged through him, that had given him the strength to defeat the chimera, was gone.

But he couldn't afford to fall apart. Not yet.

Alex's eyes drifted from the shattered blade to the chimera's corpse, and a cold resolve settled in his chest. The battle was over, but the journey wasn't. He still had a mission to complete, still had more to survive through.

But as he looked at the broken remnants of the sword, a fire burned deep inside him. I'll find a way to repair it. I'll become worthy of it. I'll get stronger.

With one final glance at the wreckage of the blade, Alex stood, hilt in hand. The price of his weakness had been paid. Now, he had to pay the price for his survival.

To be continued.