As Varron scanned the array of weapons, his mind was drawn to a system that was mentioned in the novel.Concept that he created.
It was a system that highlighted the importance of the suitability between someone's core magic and their weapon.
This system was revealed by his younger sister in the future, and it provided a way to determine which weapon was most suitable for someone's core magic.
Varron found himself drawn to this concept. He understood that the right weapon could enhance a person's magic, making them even more powerful. Conversely, the wrong weapon could hinder a person's magic, limiting their potential.
He wondered if this system could help him now. Could it guide him to the right weapon, the one that would be most suitable for his core magic?
'I wrote the method before and it's not that complicated.'
Varron closed his eyes, shutting out the sight of the countless weapons that filled the room. He took a deep breath, centering himself,and reached deep within himself.
There,he can see his own core magic.The shining Blue like Purple Gem entered his eyes. This is the first time Varron see core magic and he can't help but mesmerized by it.
He begin to reach his hand towards it and flow his mana to it.
As he did so, he felt a hum of energy, a vibration that seemed to resonate with his very being
In his mind's eye, he saw a glow emanating from every direction. Each weapon in the room was glowing, the brightness indicating its suitability with his core magic. The brighter the glow, the more suitable the weapon.
With his eyes still closed, Varron began to walk around the treasure room. He moved carefully, guided by the glow of the weapons. He could feel the energy of each weapon as he passed by, some warm and inviting, others cold and distant.
Yet, as he moved, he realized that none of the weapons seemed to be highly suitable for him. All of them glowed with an average or lower brightness. He knew that his Telekinesis ability was not typically suited for weapons, but he couldn't help but hope to find a weapon that might be compatible with it.
'Is there even exist a weapon that suitable with Telekinesis?'
He thought,doubt begin to emit his mind.
As Varron moved through the treasure room, his hand brushed against something that made his core magic pulse with a sudden intensity. He opened his eyes and turned to see a sword glowing brighter than any other weapon in the room.
'There actually is!!'
The sword was elegant and simple, its blade gleaming with an ethereal light. It was not the most ornate or impressive weapon in the room, but there was a sense of power emanating from it that was undeniable.
Varron reached out and picked up the sword. As soon as his hand wrapped around the hilt, he felt a surge of energy. His Telekinesis ability seemed to resonate with the sword, creating a harmony that he had never felt before.
This was it. This was the weapon that was suitable for him. Despite his Telekinesis ability not typically being suited for weapons, this sword seemed to be the perfect match for him.
As Varron held the sword, his fingers traced over the intricate carvings on the hilt. Among the swirling patterns, he noticed an inscription. It was written in an ancient script, a language used exclusively by the ancestors of the Ainsworth family. It read,
"Only the true blood of the Ainsworths may wield this blade."
The realization struck Varron like a bolt of lightning. This was not just any sword. This was an ancestral sword, a weapon steeped in the history and legacy of his family, meant to be wielded only by the true descendants of the Ainsworth lineage.
'How can this possible? I created this just to show it as a symbol of Ainsworth Kingdom.This sword is something not even my father and younger brother can sheath in the novel. So how is I,Varron who is the worst descendants of Ainsworth is worthy?'
He looked over at his father, who was watching him with wide eyes. The Duke had clearly not expected Varron to pull out the ancestral sword. It was a moment that defied expectations, a moment that challenged the long-held beliefs about the ancestral sword. After all, it was said that only those with the purest Ainsworth blood, those who truly embodied the spirit and honor of the Ainsworths, could wield it.
The term "purest blood" held a deeper meaning within the Ainsworth family. It wasn't just about the lineage or the bloodline. It was about embodying the true dignity of the Ainsworths, about upholding the values and principles that the family stood for.
To wield the ancestral sword, one had to not only be a true descendant of the Ainsworth family, but also carry the dignity and honor of the family. It was about being noble not just in name, but in actions and in spirit.
In essence, to wield the ancestral sword, one had to be like the ancestors themselves - strong, honorable, and true to the Ainsworth name.
'However, neither me or old Varron can be worthy enough,but why?'
As Varron held the ancestral sword, his father approached him, a look of surprise on his face.
"I didn't expect that the sword I couldn't sheath would finally choose its holder," the Duke said, his voice filled with a mix of disbelief and proud.
Varron looked at his father, his expression complicated. He could hardly believe what was happening. He was holding the ancestral sword of the Ainsworth family, a sword that had chosen him as its holder.
"Can I really pick this sword?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.His eyes filled with uncertainty.
"I have tarnished our family name. How am I even worthy?"
His father met his gaze, a serious look in his eyes.
"This sword has chosen you, Varron," he said, his voice firm as he put his hand on Varron's shoulder.
"It is not for us to question its choice."
Varron slowly nod in understanding.
'The sword itself choose me.'
As he inspect the ancestral sword, somehow he felt an inexplicable connection, a sense of familiarity that went beyond the mere lineage of his family.
The sword was ancient, yes, but there was something more, something that seemed to transcend time and space.
'Something that made me realize that this is not a mere ancient sword.'
The hilt of the sword bore an inscription in a language that seemed oddly familiar, yet completely alien to this world. It was a whisper in the wind, a puzzle waiting to be solved.
His father, noticing Varron's puzzled expression, offered a cryptic clue.
"This sword," he said, his voice barely more than a whisper,
"is a key. A key that unlocks secrets not just of our family, but of a legacy far beyond the confines of this kingdom. However the truth of the key is something that I lacked with,"
Varron looked at his father, his mind swirling with questions. What did his father mean? What secrets could this sword possibly hold? And what was this legacy that extended beyond their kingdom?
'How can this sword,have the language that supposed to not exist in this world lingered on it.'
With this, rise another question on his head.
'Just who is the Ancestor of Ainsworth is?'