In the vision, Ansel stood once again on the ninth floor of the Dungeon, surrounded by the smell of dirt, blood, and monster ash.
His younger brother stood in front of him wearing the same cheap armor as before, still fifteen years old, still smiling with the same hopeful expression he had worn when they first left home.
"Big brother."
Ansel's breath caught.
"No..."
The boy looked at him and asked softly, "Why did you live?"
Ansel shook his head, his fingers trembling around the sword.
"I didn't mean to! I tried to save you!"
"Did you?"
The tunnel changed around them, and the War Shadow appeared again.
This time, Ansel saw everything clearly: his own hesitation, the sword frozen halfway through its swing, his brother noticing the monster first, the push, the blood, and the scream that had never truly left his memory.
"No, stop..."
The scene repeated again and again, each time forcing him to watch his brother die while he survived.
When the tunnel finally stilled, his brother stood before him with blood running down his chest.
"Would you die in my place?"
Ansel opened his mouth, but no answer came.
The boy tilted his head.
"Would you?"
Ansel's hands shook violently.
He wanted to say yes.
He wanted to scream it, to prove that he had loved his brother enough, and to convince himself that his survival had not been cowardice.
But the words caught in his throat.
The Dungeon's cold air filled his lungs, and the answer that escaped him was not the one he wanted to give.
"I don't know."
The vision cracked.
...
In the testing room, Ansel suddenly gasped and collapsed to one knee.
The sword nearly slipped from his hands.
The Ganesha Familia guard moved, but Rayleigh raised one hand to stop him.
Ansel's face was covered in sweat. His lips had gone pale, and his eyes were wide with terror.
"I don't know," he whispered.
His voice shook.
"I don't know if I could die in his place."
The sword trembled faintly in his hand.
Rayleigh narrowed his eyes.
"Let go of the sword."
Ansel did not seem to hear him.
The young adventurer stared at the sword in his hands with an expression close to desperation.
"Please..."
His fingers tightened.
"I need this. I need to change! If I don't, then what was the point of him dying?"
"Ansel, let go." Rayleigh's voice became firmer.
The sword's pressure grew colder.
Ansel's breath turned white.
"I can do it," he muttered. "I can become strong. I can—"
The scabbard opened by a finger's width, and a dark reflection appeared along the exposed blade.
Rayleigh moved before it could go any farther.
His hand closed around Ansel's wrist and forced his fingers open, while his other hand pressed the blade fully back into its sheath.
The pressure vanished.
Ansel collapsed forward, shaking so badly he could not support himself.
Rayleigh caught the sword before it hit the floor.
The room stayed quiet.
After several seconds, Ansel finally raised his head, his expression was hollow.
"I failed?"
Rayleigh looked down at him.
"Yes."
The young man lowered his gaze.
For a moment, he looked as though he might cry.
Rayleigh returned the Zanpakutō to its stand, but he did not immediately seal the case.
"You failed, but you didn't lie."
Ansel froze.
Rayleigh continued, "That's better than most people."
"I was scared."
"Of course you were."
Ansel looked at him in confusion.
Rayleigh's voice remained calm.
"Only idiots think courage means not being afraid. You faced the question honestly, and when you realized you didn't know the answer, you didn't pretend otherwise. The sword rejected you because you aren't ready, but it didn't try to kill you."
Ansel stared at the floor.
"Then what should I do?"
"Live."
The answer was simple.
Ansel slowly lifted his head.
Rayleigh looked at the cloth around his wrist.
"Live long enough to become someone who can answer that question without lying. Whether you try again after that is up to you."
Ansel's mouth trembled.
He bowed his head until his forehead touched the floor.
"Thank you."
Rayleigh resealed the case.
The Guild employee quietly wrote something in his report.
"That was already dangerous."
"That was mild."
The manager's face stiffened.
Rayleigh glanced at the sealed sword.
"This child was in a good mood."
The shop manager looked as though he wanted to close the shop immediately.
...
Aboveground, the crowd erupted into discussion when Ansel was carried out by two clerks.
He was alive, which disappointed some people and relieved others.
"What happened?"
"Did he get chosen?"
"No way! Look at his face."
"He looks like he crawled out of a nightmare."
"Maybe the sword cursed him."
"Idiot, if it cursed him, would Hephaestus Familia let him walk out?"
Rumors twisted themselves before they even left the street.
By the time they reached the next block, Ansel had already become an adventurer who saw his dead brother inside the sword and survived only because Yōtōsai tore him away from hell.
By the time the rumor reached the taverns, the sword had become a cursed blade that devoured memories.
By the time it reached the Pleasure Quarter, someone claimed the sword showed people the face of the person they loved most before killing them.
Orario was very good at making stories.
Rayleigh stood near the second-floor window of the weapon shop and watched the crowd below.
Behind him, Hephaestus leaned against the wall with her arms crossed.
"You handled that more gently than I expected."
"He was honest."
"That rare?"
"In Orario? Very."
Hephaestus smiled faintly, though her expression soon turned more serious.
"Will the sword choose someone soon?"
Rayleigh did not answer immediately.
His gaze shifted toward the sealed display case below.
"I don't know. This one isn't looking for talent, Level, or money. It wants someone who can keep looking at a future they hate."
"That sounds cruel."
"It is."
"And you still put it up for sale?"
Rayleigh's eyes remained calm.
"Because someone like that exists in this city."
Hephaestus looked at him for a while.
"You already have someone in mind?"
"Not exactly."
That was the truth.
Rayleigh had suspicions, but he did not plan to force the blade onto anyone.
Zanpakutō had wills of their own, and the more unusual the blade was, the more meaningless outside arrangements became.
Still, somewhere in Orario, there was a girl who saw the future and was never believed.
If this sword was meant to find anyone, Rayleigh could think of no better candidate.
...
That night, in Apollo Familia's home, Cassandra Ilion woke with a broken cry.
Her thin nightclothes clung to her body with cold sweat, and her silver hair spilled messily across the pillow. For several seconds, she could not breathe properly.
The remnants of the dream pressed down on her chest and refused to fade.
In the dream, she had seen a black scabbard decorated with golden flowers resting beneath a moonless sky, surrounded by dark water where people reached for the blade one after another and sank below the surface, leaving only pale bones drifting back up.
A young voice had come from beneath the water, soft but unsettling.
"Will you open your eyes?"
Cassandra clutched the blanket with both hands.
"No..."
The dream had continued after that.
She had seen Orario's streets covered in pale mist, people laughing at her warnings, and a sword behind glass while a young man with black eyes stood beside it with the calm expression of someone who knew tragedy could not always be avoided by running away.
When the lake in the dream split open, countless eyes beneath the water looked up at her.
Cassandra pressed one hand over her mouth.
Her body trembled so badly that the bed creaked beneath her.
'No one will believe me.'
The familiar thought rose inside her like a curse.
She wanted to lie back down, cover her ears, and wait for morning to carry the dream away like all the others.
But the young voice from beneath the water still echoed in her mind.
"Will you open your eyes?"
Cassandra curled into herself and whispered into the dark room.
"I don't want to..."
Outside her window, Orario's night remained quiet.
Far away, inside Hephaestus Weapon Shop, the black floral Zanpakutō trembled once inside its sealed case before becoming still again.