Blades come in all shapes and sizes. They even differ in color, but no matter the size or hue, everyone has one. The way of the sword is a way of life for nearly everyone—everyone except me.
You see, I wasn't born with money. I do have two loving parents, though, at least I think they love me. It's hard to tell sometimes, but then again, how could they love a talentless son who couldn't even manage to become an F-rank swordsman?
Anyway, a big part of our society is the way of the sword. Why, you ask? Well, the reason is about to make its chapter debut right about… now.
I stood in the kitchen of my family's modest home, helping my mom with dinner when suddenly, a violent vibration emanated from outside the house. Before we could react, the cause came crashing through a window in the kitchen.
He brushed himself off and stood up. He was about six and a half feet tall, covered in fur from head to toe, with a muscular build and piercing green eyes. He was a Primordia—a creature that shared some human features, but was clearly not human. The scream he let out in my direction was proof enough of that.
Before I could even think, I grabbed the nearest weapon I saw, which was a knife sitting on the countertop. As soon as I touched it, a green glow appeared around my hand, and the knife grew to five times its original size. Just a second ago, it was an ordinary knife.
My name is Stark, and this is the beginning of my story.