The morning light filtered through the thin curtains, casting stripes across the room. I woke up before Ron, as usual. He was still asleep, curled against me, his breathing soft and even. He looked… peaceful. For once, the haunted look was gone from his face.
I slipped out of bed without disturbing him, throwing on a simple black silk robe. My body was humming with residual energy from last night. The lust from Ron had been potent, a feast after a week of starvation. But it wasn't just that. There was something else, something deeper in the way he had looked at me when he finally let go.
A complete and total surrender.
It was delicious.
I made myself some coffee—one of the things I liked in this world—my mind already racing. The hospital. The Black Hand. The Pendragon name. So many moving pieces, so many opportunities.
After a quick shower, I sat cross-legged on the floor, eyes closed, with the black katana resting on my lap.
Meditating.
I have been doing this a lot lately.
According to Ron, people who awaken the swordmaster class or any class that uses weapons receive a growth-type weapon.
A piece of their soul manifests as the weapon and will grow along with them.
To do that, they need to meditate to communicate with their 'Weapon Spirit'.
The first step is to learn the weapon's name. A weapon's name holds power, and understanding it is the key to unlocking its potential.
In my case, yes, this black katana isn't my soul weapon or whatever they call it, but by mimicking the concept of this world, I can slowly imprint my own soul and will into it to make it truly 'my' weapon.
However, after some testing, I found out that the black katana already had a faint consciousness inside it. A remnant of its previous owner's soul? Or perhaps the sword had a spirit from the start?
A stubborn and cold one.
Every time I try to communicate with it, the presence inside the sword rejects me, treating me like an unworthy insect.
But I am nothing if not persistent. Every morning, I would sit here, pushing my will against its cold barrier, chipping away at its defenses. One day, it will break. One day, it will submit to me.
And the key to doing that is my 'Devour' skill.
When the skill is active, I can faintly feel the sword's soul... A soul that wants nothing more than to kill, devour, and bathe in blood.
'Interesting,' I thought, a smirk playing on my lips. 'A kindred spirit.'
After an hour of mental wrestling, I finally gave up for today. The sword remained stubbornly silent.
I stood up and went to check on Ron. He was awake now, sitting on the edge of the bed, rubbing his eyes.
"Morning, sleepyhead," I said, my voice dripping with honeyed sarcasm. "How do you feel after becoming a man?"
He flinched, a deep blush spreading across his face, probably remembering last night's events in vivid detail.
"S-Sister Azariel... I... Morning," he stammered, unable to meet my gaze. "I... I feel... good."
"Good," I said, tossing him a set of clean clothes. "Get dressed. We have a long day ahead of us."
While he was getting ready, I walked over to the small table and picked up my smartphone. I had a few things to take care of before we went to the hospital.
First, I checked our finances. The money from the dungeons had been transferred to our account. The amount was staggering. Enough to live like kings for a year. Enough to buy a small two-story house in a nice neighborhood.
'Not bad for a week's work,' I thought.
Then, I opened a secure browser and started searching for nearby dungeons. I needed to plan our next moves. E- and D-rank dungeons were no longer enough for Ron's training. He was ready for the next level.
C-rank.
C-rank dungeons were significantly more dangerous. The monsters were stronger, smarter, and often had special abilities. A team of experienced C-rank adventurers could usually handle them, but a solo run was considered a high-risk, high-reward endeavor.
For Ron, it would be a trial by fire. A baptism of blood.
But before that, we had more pressing matters.
"Ready?" I asked, looking up from my phone.
Ron was standing by the door, fully dressed in the new, clean white T-shirt and blue jeans I bought for him. He looked... different. Taller, more confident. The haunted look was still there, but it was now tempered by a cold, hard resolve.
"Yes, Sister," he said, his voice steady.
I smiled, a genuine, predatory smile.
"Let's go save your sister."
...
The hospital was a sterile, white monstrosity that smelled of disinfectant and despair. It was a place of science and medicine, but for some reason, I always hated being in a place of healing.
I don't have pleasant memories of such places.
The receptionist, a bored-looking woman with tired eyes, barely glanced up when we approached the desk.
"Can I help you?" she asked, her voice flat.
"I'm here to settle the account for Akira Tanaka," I said, placing the black adventurer's ID card on the counter.
The woman's eyes widened slightly when she saw the card. A-rank. Her entire demeanor changed in an instant. The bored look was replaced by one of professional courtesy and a little bit of fear.
"Of course, Miss Pendragon," she said, her tone respectful. "Let me just pull up her file."
She typed a few keys on her computer, her eyes scanning the screen. Then she frowned.
"I'm... I'm sorry, ma'am, but there seems to be a complication," she said, looking up at me, her expression uneasy.
'A complication?' I thought, my eyes narrowing. 'What kind of complication?'
"What kind of complication?" I asked, my voice dangerously calm.
"Miss Tanaka's treatment has been... temporarily suspended," she said, her voice barely a whisper.
"Suspended?" Ron's voice was tight with panic. "Why?! We have the money!"
"It's not a matter of payment, sir," the receptionist said quickly, looking from Ron to me. "It's... It's a corporate decision. The company that manufactures the medication she needs, BioSynth Solutions, has... recalled their entire stock."
"Recalled?" I leaned forward, my silver eyes boring into her. "Explain."
BioSynth Solutions. The name rang a bell. I had seen it during my research. They were one of the largest pharmaceutical corporations in the First Mega-City, with a near-monopoly on advanced genetic treatments.
"They issued a statement this morning," she said, swiveling her monitor so we could see. "There were... concerns about the stability of the latest batch. They're saying it could have... unforeseen side effects."
On the screen was a sleek corporate logo and a press release filled with meaningless jargon. "Patient safety is our highest priority," it read.
It was a lie. A blatant, obvious lie.
I could feel it. The stench of human greed and manipulation.
This wasn't a product recall. This was a power play.
"Where is she?" I asked, my voice low and cold.
"She's... she's still in her room," the receptionist stammered. "Room 407. But visiting hours are..."
"I don't care about visiting hours," I said, turning away from the desk, staring at the petrified Ron. "Let's go."
We walked toward the elevator, the silence between us thick with unspoken rage. I could feel Ron's panic, his desperation. It was a sour taste in the back of my throat.
This was my fault.
I had focused on training him, on making him a killer. I had promised him I would save his sister, and I had failed.
"BioSynth Solutions..." Ron suddenly said, his voice trembling with a cold fury that was new to him. "They're the ones who own this hospital. And half the others in the city."
"I know," I said, pressing the elevator button. The doors slid open with a soft ding. "And they're also the main competitor to the company that supplies the Adventurer's Guild with their performance-enhancing drugs. It's a corporate war. And your sister is just... collateral damage."
The elevator ride up to the fourth floor was silent. Ron was clenching and unclenching his fists, his knuckles white. The storm was brewing in his eyes again, but this time it wasn't a storm of fear. It was a storm of pure, unadulterated hatred.
Room 407 was at the end of a long, white corridor. The door was slightly ajar, and we could hear the soft, rhythmic beep of a heart monitor.
I pushed the door open.
Akira was lying in the hospital bed, her small body looking even more fragile and pale against the stark white sheets. Tubes and wires were attached to her, connecting her to a chorus of machines that were keeping her alive.
Her breathing was shallow, her chest barely rising. Her skin had a translucent quality, like fine porcelain. And her hair, once a vibrant black, was now dull and lank.
She was dying.
Ron rushed to her side, taking her small, cold hand in his. His shoulders shook, but no sound came from him. He was trying to be strong for her.
A single tear rolled down his cheek and landed on her hand.
I stood by the door, my arms crossed over my chest, watching them. This was what he was fighting for. This was the reason he was willing to become a monster.
And I had failed him.
"Hmm?" I suddenly sensed something. A faint but familiar energy signature coming from Akira.
It was very weak, almost undetectable, but it was there.
"Hey, Ron," I said. "Step aside for a second."
He looked at me, confusion in his tear-filled eyes.
"Just trust me," I said softly.
He reluctantly moved aside, and I approached the bed. I placed my hand on Akira's forehead, closing my eyes, focusing my senses.
And then I saw it.
A vast, intricate network of shimmering threads, woven through every fiber of her being. It was her life force, her soul, her very essence. And it was... tangled. Knotted. Fading.
"Ron, what is her sickness?" I asked, not moving my hand from her forehead.
I never asked, and Ron never told me.
"It's... It's a mana parasite," he said, his voice choked with emotion. "A rare, incurable disease. It feeds on a person's life force, slowly draining them until there's nothing left. The medication... it doesn't cure it. It just... slows it down. Keeps her stable."
'A mana parasite,' I thought, my mind racing. 'That explains the energy signature.'
"How did she get it?" I asked.
"D-During a monster attack," he stammered. "We were... we were in a refugee camp after our parents died. When a dungeon break happened, a group of monsters attacked. My sister got injured while she was protecting me. The next thing we knew, she was sick."
"I see," I said.
This was better than I thought. The parasite was feeding on her mana, her life force. And I was a being that consumed mana.
I could... help her.
I could try to devour the parasite.
But it was risky. Very risky.
Akira was already weak. If I made a mistake, if I drained too much of her life force along with the parasite, I could kill her.
But what other choice did I have?
Let her die?
"Ron, I have a way to help her," I said, my eyes still closed. "But it's... risky."