The Swift Blade

After carefully kissing the book a few times, Walred gently tucked it under his arm. He then proceeded to open the secret door leading to another chamber, repeating the same process. His progress continued.

The moment the door opened, fortune smiled upon him. Walred, with his breath held in anticipation, hoped for another great find. But as it turned out, such miracles were rare in this world. The book he had just found, a concept weapon of immense practicality, had already been an extraordinary stroke of luck.

Compared to this marvelous tome, the other spoils from the tomb seemed trivial, their worth not even reaching one-thousandth of a copy of the *791 Code of Knightly Feudalism*. This left Walred feeling somewhat disheartened. However, after a moment's reflection, he soon understood.

The *Code of Knighthood* had likely become a concept weapon due to its uniqueness. It had developed alongside the knightly order over millennia. Yet, when it was buried as a burial item, it had merely been an ordinary book. It was this serendipity that had allowed Walred to stumble upon it.

Once he understood this, Walred stopped dreaming of further treasures. After all, he hadn't left empty-handed in this tomb. In terms of practicality, what he had found here was perhaps even more useful than the *Code of Knighthood*.

Among the spoils, the most valuable item was undoubtedly the thirty-centimeter-long short sword. After thousands of years, most weapons among the burial items had decayed to the point of being useless. Even the rare magical weapons had lost their enchantments, turning into mere remnants of magic. Yet, this ancient empire-styled broad-backed short sword remained as sharp as autumn water, its gleam as mirror-like as the brightest light.

The material of the sword was an expensive and durable golden alloy. On its spine, Walred could see intricate elven engravings, dwarven magical runes, and the craftsmanship of the ancient empire. In addition, there were various strange materials that Walred could not identify. Any one of these materials, when used individually, would suffice to craft a finely made weapon. But when combined, they formed a nearly perfect divine blade.

Walred had never imagined anyone would invest such effort into creating a single short sword. Only the once-great empire could have accomplished such a remarkable feat.

He toyed with the sword for a while, then lightly thrust it against the tomb's stone wall. With a flick of his wrist, a large chunk of stone came off, almost as effortlessly as cutting tofu. This left him in a moment of awe. He picked up the stone and knocked it against the wall... indeed, it was solid blue stone, without a trace of deception.

"Truly sharp," Walred couldn't help but remark. "For the craftsmanship of the classical age, this sword should have reached its limit—no, if someone told me it involved some form of black technology, I would believe it. It's almost on par with my previous single-molecule structure combat dagger... and besides that, this sword may have other uses."

As he held the sword, Walred felt his physical fatigue and the emptiness of his internal mana rapidly begin to recover. The magic breeze, carried by the magical crystal embedded at the sword's pommel, gradually seeped into his palm and spread throughout his body. The magic crystal slowly shrank until it completely vanished, and Walred's mana was replenished by about a third.

Feeling rejuvenated, Walred quietly rejoiced. He thought, "If I embed another magic crystal into the hilt, I can continuously recharge my mana during battle, significantly extending my combat time. This ability might even surpass the sword's inherent value."

Normally, mages used magic crystals as materials or tools, rarely absorbing the magic within them directly. Those who dared to do so often died from uncontrolled bursts of pure magic, or, at best, were reduced to mindless fools. Even those with exceptional talent could fall victim to addiction to the magic, eventually rendering themselves useless.

A safe, side-effect-free method of absorbing magic from crystals had always been a mage's dream. Countless alchemists and magical scholars had spent untold time and wealth on this quest, but had ultimately achieved nothing.

Walred had often heard his sister Isabella speak of breaking this very challenge one day. With such an achievement, she would earn first place at the academy, and then taunt her mentor with a triumphant sneer...

Of course, Walred honestly believed Isabella's mentor, Miss Tracy, was a good person. And he also felt that his sister should have been enrolled in a martial arts and knight training course, wielding a mace and a knightly combat axe, taking down hapless orcs or imperial soldiers, or perhaps even smashing their skulls open.

He didn't think his sister was suited to be a mage, let alone an alchemist. Though he had heard Isabella's grades at the academy were good, her "bold and carefree" nature made him feel uneasy.

"Take two and a half milligrams of this, mix it with seventy-three percent of that, stir vigorously for four minutes until the solution changes color, then add three freshly ground medicinal powders, store in complete darkness for four days, and the potion is ready..." The meticulous recipe would be simplified by Isabella to: "Mix this with that, stir it well, crush that thing, pour it in, and it's ready to go."

Of course, the result of such "use" was often an explosion. Walred had heard such sounds from next door countless times.

"I never imagined that the many obstacles mages sought to overcome had already been solved thousands of years ago by the ancient empire... it's a shame that this technology was lost, along with the empire itself." Walred thought, feeling a mix of awe for both the sword and the ancient empire. He continued to admire the sword for a while, reluctant to part with it, before eventually setting it down. He mused, "This short sword may have other uses, but there's no rush. I can study it in more detail when I return."

While acquiring an epoch-making divine weapon was certainly a good fortune, it wasn't the "most useful" item Walred had gained from the tomb.

During the ancient empire's time, it was in the transitional phase between the slave and feudal eras. The emperor who had commissioned the tomb was no saint focused on saving the slaves of the world. Countless lives had been lost during its construction, and even more had been buried as part of the emperor's final resting place.

The sword Walred had found came from a skeleton, one clad in rusted, tattered armor, seemingly a filthy, forgotten remains.

This individual had likely volunteered to be buried with the emperor—perhaps a high-ranking general in the emperor's personal guard, trusted and revered in life, but now reduced to bones.