Chapter 8 — The Seal, the Sword, and the Shaman's Warning
Without warning, four high-class elves surrounded them, their weapons half-drawn. One stepped forward—a sharp-eyed woman with flowing silver hair.
"Princess, where did you go?" she asked sternly. "And who is this human?"
Yuna stepped slightly in front of Vaelrik, her voice calm and clear. "He is my saviour. We got lost inside the forest. He protected us."
Tension slowly dissolved after her explanation. The elves escorted them back to the kingdom. That evening, a grand banquet was held in honor of Yuna's sixteenth birthday—an important age among elves.
Vaelrik stood silently in a corner of the hall, watching the festivities. His senses twitched. Something felt wrong.
"...Demonic presence," he muttered under his breath. "Yes, it is. I can feel it."
His sharp eyes scanned the room and caught a glimpse of a man in black robes lurking in the shadows. Just as their eyes met, the man vanished into thin air.
A moment later, a pulse of energy rippled through the banquet hall. Strange glowing lines appeared beneath everyone's feet—an active seal.
Vaelrik's expression darkened.
*A human-style trap seal... designed to summon monsters and kill everyone inside…*
*But I know this type. I also know how to break it.*
From the center of the room, a dark mist gathered into a massive figure—a Headless Knight, the summoned leader. Screams echoed as monsters poured into the hall.
Vaelrik stepped forward without hesitation.
"The core is in the leader... in the chest."
He raised his blade.
"Sword God: First Form—Tempest Breaker."
His strike collided with the Headless Knight's sword. Sparks flew. They were equal in power.
Vaelrik's eyes changed—gleaming like silver steel.
"Sword God Eye... activate."
The world slowed in his vision. Every flaw, every break in defense revealed itself to him.
*There.* The right shoulder was exposed.
He moved like a gust of wind, his blade cutting through the knight's shoulder, disarming it completely. Then, with one clean thrust, he stabbed directly into the monster's chest—shattering the core.
The monsters vanished. The seal collapsed.
Later, after the chaos settled, the truth surfaced: the attackers belonged to the Demonic Cult. Their plan was to weaken the Elf Kingdom and take control of the World Tree—an ancient power source that could be used to summon the Death God.
Hearing that name, Vaelrik clenched his jaw. His eyes narrowed, but he remained silent.
*I can't fight them yet... not with my current strength.*
---
The next day, an elf noble approached him.
"Young hero, thank you. Because of you, we are alive today."
Vaelrik scratched his cheek awkwardly.
*I really want to dig a hole and hide right now...*
"I'm actually looking for the Prophet," he said. "There's something I need to know."
"Wait here. I'll call the Shaman."
A few minutes later—
"Come in," said a deep voice.
Vaelrik stepped inside.
"I want to know my future."
The Shaman chuckled softly. "Even if I told you... you wouldn't be able to change it."
"Why?"
"Because it's fate. If fate wants you to live, you will live. If it wants you to die, nothing will stop it."
A moment of silence passed.
"Well, kid... what are you planning now?"
Vaelrik's gaze sharpened. "To form a group. People who'll help me in the war to come."
"Haha... I can guide you this much—go west. In the mountains, you'll find your answer."
---
That night, Vaelrik lay under the stars, unable to sleep.
"Answer... What answer?" he muttered. "I can't sleep..."
---
By morning, he had made up his mind.
"I'll head west today. But... I should speak with the Shaman one last time."
He knocked.
"Come in, young boy," the Shaman said.
"What's in the mountain?"
"A person you are looking for."
"You mean...?"
"Yes."
---
By midday, he was on the road.
"Why the hell is this journey so long?" he grumbled. "No shortcuts? It'll take thirteen days…"
He reached for his pouch—then froze.
"My gold… where's my gold? Don't tell me I dropped it? Ugh... fourteen thousand gold coins gone?!"
As he walked with frustration, a man called out to him.
"Hey! You looking for work? We need a few people to scout two carriages. They're full of riches."
"What's the pay?"
"Five silver."
"What's the destination?"
"A city in the west."
"I'll leave midway—on the mountain."
"Huh? For just two silver?"
Vaelrik let his aura flare.
The man blinked. "Ah… a Sword Master. Okay, okay, we'll take you."
---
**Day One**
They reached a forest clearing.
"There are fifty goblins and an orc... Prepare for—"
"I'll handle it," Vaelrik said.
"Sword God: First Form — Tempest Breaker."
In a flash of wind, every goblin and the orc were cut down—gone in the blink of an eye.
The others stood in stunned silence.
"He's... he's insanely strong..."
---
**Day Five**
Now deep in the desert.
Vaelrik raised his head slightly.
"Hmm... Sand Worms. Move back."
He unsheathed his blade.
"Sword God: Fourth Form — Domain Severance."
> A 360° arc of absolute precision. It only cuts what he chooses — a body split while the clothes remain untouched, a soul severed while the shell remains whole. A cut of pure will.
A massive Sand Worm lunged from the dunes—then fell, split in half, perfectly clean.
---
By the eleventh day, he stepped off the caravan.
The mountain stood before him—just as the Shaman described.
He set up camp, fire crackling, a wild boar roasting over the flames.
"Roasting wild boar in the mountain... not bad."
Suddenly—
"AHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!"
"RAWRRRRRRR!!"
Vaelrik stood up instantly, hand on hilt.
"What the hell was that sound?"