Cronatia Kingdom, Earth
It was November in the Cronatia Kingdom. The winds were biting cold, and snowflakes drifted down like delicate petals, blanketing the ground in a soft layer of white.
In the backyard of the Swordsman Academy, one student was still practicing his swordsmanship. He swung his wooden sword tirelessly, sweat pouring down his face despite the winter chill. His body heat melted the snow around him, forming a small, clear circle.
"I don't want to fall behind anymore," he muttered, swinging with all his strength and focus. "I'm already at the bottom of the academy in talent."
Ashten tightened his grip on the sword, pushing himself to swing faster and more accurately.
"Still… no awakening," he sighed, swinging once more.
Swing
Swing
"Should I just give up?" he wondered aloud.
Swing
Swing
"No. I can't give up. I need to awaken as soon as possible, or my family will be in ruins,
Swing
Suddenly, a loud crack echoed from above, causing his ears to ring. He looked up, startled, and his heart skipped a beat. The sky was split in two, as if a giant sword had slashed through the heavens, leaving a jagged tear in the clouds.
Ashten stared, dazed, as memories of his past flashed before him—the day he first held a sword, his childhood training, the expert who had once taught and played with him as a kid…
Then, out of nowhere, a notification appeared before his eyes:
> Do you want to accept the Sword System?
He froze, shocked by the sudden message, but quickly steadied himself. Unknowingly With a trembling hand, he clicked
As soon as he did, his head started spinning, and darkness closed in around him as he fell unconscious.
---
The next morning,
sunlight pierced his eyelids, gently waking him. Birds chirped nearby, and soft clouds drifted across the sky. Ashten opened his eyes and sat up abruptly, memories from the night before flooding back.
"So… it was a dream, huh?" he whispered, feeling a mix of disappointment and relief.
He brushed the dirt off his shirt and pants, and glanced at the academy's clock tower. "Class starts in half an hour—I need to hurry!" He bolted towards his room, unlocked the door, and stepped inside. Quickly, he peeled off his training clothes and hopped into the shower.
As he got ready, he shook his head, replaying the vivid dream in his mind. "It was so bizarre… but if only it were real."
---
Later, in class, the professor was lecturing about sword alignment, and most students were taking notes intently. Ashten, however, sat at his desk, staring blankly out the window, lost in thought about the previous night.
A warm sensation suddenly struck his forehead, as if someone had flicked him back to reality. Startled, he looked up to see Professor Miller giving him a disapproving look.
"Ashten! The class isn't outside the window. Focus on your studies—you've embarrassed the academy enough as it is."
"Hah—" Ashten sighed. "I'm sorry, Professor Miller."
"It's just sword alignment theory," he thought, a bit frustrated. "I've learned this a hundred times and still can't grasp it fully, but in theory, no one here could beat me."
After the theory class, Ashten headed to his practical class—a part of his training he usually struggled with. Today, however, something felt different. As he watched the other students practicing their sword swings, he felt a strange sense of understanding, as though he was improving just by observing them.
Then, suddenly, a notification appeared in front of him:
> Basic Blade Technique Improved.
Ashten blinked, staring at the message in disbelief. His shock grew as he looked closer at the Sword System screen. His skills—basic blade technique, footwork, swing precision, dexterity—all showed slight improvements, almost too small to notice, yet undeniably there.
Ashten's heart raced with excitement. He couldn't believe it—he was finally advancing, and he hadn't even lifted his sword yet. His struggles in practical classes had always held him back, but now, with every moment, he could see himself getting stronger, his skills growing right before his eyes.
For the first time, hope began to rise within him.
Nobody else could see the screen but him. He was in shock, but he quickly regained control, casting a quick glance around to ensure no one noticed his reaction.
"I have to be careful," Ashten thought, steadying his excitement. He began observing the other students in his class more intently. As they practiced their sword techniques, he focused on each movement—the way they positioned their feet, the timing of their swings, the fluidity of their steps.
With each observation, he felt subtle improvements within himself. The Sword System seemed to register every detail he absorbed, and with each passing second, his skills crept upward, little by little. Ashten suppressed a smile, realizing he'd found a new way to advance—and one he would have to keep as his own secret.
Ashten quickly tapped on his profile, and a detailed screen appeared before him:
[ ASHTEN'S PROFILE ]
====================
> Name: Ashten Lecornt
> Swordman
> Rank: Novice
> Mana: 456/480
== Skills ==
• Basic Blade Technique
• Basic Footwork
== Locked Features ==
[x] Spirit Guide
[x] Bazaar
====================
He quickly tapped on the Skills section, watching in awe as his experience points steadily increased. Slowly but surely, his skills were improving, and he was nearly at the threshold to advance past novice.
Finally, I can become an apprentice, he thought, excitement sparking in his eyes. Everyone in my class became apprentices a year ago, and I was the only one left behind. Determined, he murmured to himself in a low voice, "It's my time now. I have to work harder than ever."
Suddenly, someone shouted his name—it was Miller, his instructor.
"Ashten! It's your turn!"
The shout jolted Ashten back to reality. He walked over to the training area, grabbing a wooden sword from the rack and gripping it tightly. As he stood there, memories of his struggles and failures flashed through his mind.
"Hah… I made it," he murmured, a small smile forming.
He swung his sword, using his basic blade technique and footwork. The force of his strike nearly shattered the training dummy. The swing was loud and powerful, but wild, lacking control.
Behind him, Miller watched in disbelief, his eyes widening. "How in the world did he do that?" he muttered under his breath.
Ashten was even more shocked than his instructor. I just swung the sword… I've done this a million times. How did it suddenly become so powerful?
Miller spoke up, "That swing was unbalanced, but it had strength."
Ashten took a deep breath, steadying himself. "I should try again, but this time, I'll use proper alignment."
He turned to Miller and gave a confident smile before focusing back on his target. Gathering his energy, he swung with all his strength, carefully aligning his form.
This time, there was no loud crash—just a clean, precise slice. The dummy split cleanly in half, falling to the ground. A gust of wind followed, as if the very air had been cut.
As the dust settled,
the training yard fell silent. All eyes turned toward Ashten, and whispers quickly spread through the group.
"Who was that?"
"Did… did Ashten just do that?"
"That was definitely him! But… how?"
"I've never seen him swing with that much power before!"
"It almost looked like an advanced technique! Isn't he supposed to be the weakest here?"
"Is that really Ashten? No way he's that strong!"
"Maybe he's been hiding his strength all this time?"
"Or maybe he's finally awakened…?"
The students exchanged looks of shock and disbelief, murmuring to one another as they tried to process what they had just witnessed.