With his confusion evident, Belial frowned as he looked at Cassidy.
"A motel? What are we gonna do at a motel? Is that where the mission is?" he asked, tilting his head, genuinely puzzled by Cassidy's sudden suggestion.
To put it simply, Belial had no experience in "that" type of social event. After all He had no real friends was accustomed to nearding out about history, gaming, and more excruciating sword training.
He was mostly a shut in.
But this? A simple motel? It seemed absurd.
Cassidy, already mid-step toward the weapon rack, stopped dead in his tracks. He turned to Belial, staring at him for a moment with an expression that hovered between disbelief and amusement. Then, as if he couldn't contain himself any longer, he burst out laughing.
Not just a chuckle. Not even a soft laugh. It was a full-on, gut-wrenching, doubled-over outburst of laughter. The kind of laugh that was contagious in its own right.
Belial blinked, baffled by what was so funny. The sound was so foreign to him in this context that he could do nothing but stare at Cassidy, utterly perplexed.
Cassidy wiped a tear from his eye, still grinning wide, mischievous, and entirely pleased with himself. "Okay, listen," he managed to say between laughs.
Belial sighed internally. Those two words were becoming far too familiar ever since he arrived in the human realm. It often meant that Belial was about to be pulled into something ridiculous that his world had no preparation for.
Cassidy cleared his throat, then dramatically exaggerated his tone, as if embarking on an important lecture. "When two people love each other…" He raised his hands and made an unnecessarily obscene gesture.
Belial's face instantly turned red.
"What the hell?! No! Ew!" he snapped, thoroughly repulsed by the suggestion. His entire body tensed, a deep scowl forming on his face as the words hung awkwardly in the air.
Cassidy howled with laughter, nearly stumbling into the weapon rack. He clutched his stomach, wheezing and gasping for air, as though the situation was more hilarious than anything Belial had encountered in recent memory. "Oh, man, you really are fresh off the boat."
Belial scowled, mortified. He had suspected for a while now that Cassidy wasn't exactly the most respected member of the guild, but moments like this explained why. His antics were often at odds with the serious nature of their missions.
Shaking his head, Belial let his gaze wander from the laughably absurd situation to the weapons on display. The racks were lined with all sorts of armaments—some familiar, others entirely foreign to him. The one that caught his attention first was an extremely long spear, far too big for any average person to wield. The steel glistened in the dim light, and the weapon's aura radiated power, as if daring any would-be wielder to try. Nearby, a short-barreled shotgun sat among a collection of firearms, its sleek and compact design making it look almost deceptively innocent. But Belial knew better; the thing practically screamed lethality.
Then, his eyes moved to a massive display case. Rows upon rows of weapons were arranged neatly, each one seeming more formidable than the last. There was something about the symmetry and orderliness of the display that suggested the weapons were more than just tools—they were symbols, honed by experts over years, designed for one purpose: destruction.
At the very top of the case, a nameplate read:
"Dominus."
Belial's eyes narrowed as he read the name. He had heard rumors about the Dominus-class arsenal before. The weapons housed in this category were legendary—renowned for their destructive power and crafted by the most skilled artisans of the old world. Each piece was built to bring down creatures of nightmare, colossal beasts and deadly fiends that threatened the realm. To possess one of these was not just an honor—it was a statement.
But what truly caught his attention was what lay just beyond the Dominus weapons. To the side, another label caught his eye:
"Catalyst."
This section housed fewer weapons, but they looked special. Enhanced. Unique. Something about them seemed almost… alive. Each weapon seemed to hum with a latent energy, as if their very existence had a purpose far beyond the mere mortal realm. The aura around them wasn't just the strength of steel; it was the strength of something far more ancient, far more profound.
And then, among them, he saw it.
A Curved longsword with a striking red scabbard.
But what truly caught his attention wasn't just the weapon—it was what was written above it.
"Balancers."
Belial's breath hitched slightly, his heart rate picking up as a sense of recognition washed over him. He glanced down at theCurved longsword again and noticed a small engraving on the glass display case.
"II Tier."
This… this he knew.
When he was preparing to enter the human realm, he had studied hunter weaponry as a hobby. He knew that weapons were categorized by rank and tier, but modern hunters had simplified the system—only using the first letter of a weapon's original rank. In his world, weaponry was classified based on their potential, strength, and mastery required to wield them. The II Tier, however, was something different.
Belial's mind raced as the implications of what he was looking at settled in. A II Tier weapon… that means it retains the original balance system. This wasn't just some random longsword. This was a weapon meant for high-level hunters, a weapon designed to grow alongside its wielder, adapting to their strength, technique, and ether flow.
Cassidy, still grinning from his earlier joke, followed Belial's gaze. He caught the look in Belial's eyes and smirked knowingly. "Ah, that one," he said with a little too much pride. "That, my friend, is a B-rank weapon of the II Tier."
Belial's eyes widened slightly. Even in the old ranking system, a II Tier weapon was nothing to scoff at. To possess such a weapon meant you had not only mastered its use but also bonded with it in a way that few ever could. These weapons were crafted for those who were more than just fighters—they were the ones who defined the battlefield.
"You can borrow it for the mission," Cassidy added casually, as though handing out a weapon of such caliber was no big deal.
Belial blinked in surprise. "Really? Thanks!" he responded, his mood shifting instantly. There was something thrilling about being handed a weapon with such potential. It wasn't just about power—it was about control, precision, and finesse. This would make their mission far more interesting.
Cassidy chuckled, a gleam of mischief in his eyes. "Yeah, yeah. Just don't break it. Again."
Belial ignored the jab. He had a feeling serah and cassidy met and she ranted to cassidy about him that already destroyed a weapon that she carefully made— by accident or and pushing his strength beyond reasonable limits— he was far more careful now. He wasn't just fighting for survival anymore. He was fighting to grow.
He carefully opened the glass case, lifting the longsword from its resting place. The scabbard was smooth under his touch, its deep crimson hue almost absorbing the dim light of the armory. Slowly, he drew the blade, and a soft whisper of steel filled the air, like a voice speaking directly to him.
The longsword was longer than his now-destroyed katanas. Curved, yet thin. The hilt was fitted with a grip that allowed for both one-handed and two-handed use—versatile. Fast. Deadly. The balance was impeccable. It felt alive in his hands, waiting for a purpose, eager to see what he would do with it.
He rotated it in his palm, testing the weight. Surprisingly light. The blade was thin, but it was strong. It was as if it had been made for someone like him—someone who relied on speed, precision, and agility rather than brute force. This was a weapon meant for a master, and Belial knew that if he was going to wield it properly, he would need to embrace that mindset fully.
Then, his sharp gaze caught something subtle.
Along the length of the blade, barely noticeable, was an intricate pattern.
Runes.
Belial's fingers brushed over them. Ancient. Delicate. Alive with power. He had seen these before in old hunter manuscripts, and Cole used it once himself to teleport xin and himself to that forest.
The design was unlike any other runes he had encountered. They were etched into the steel with such care, such reverence, that it was impossible not to feel the weight of history upon them. Each rune seemed to pulse with a life of its own, reacting to the ether around it.
His curiosity burned hotter than ever. What were these runes for? How did they interact with the weapon? And more importantly, what kind of power could they unlock?
He turned to Cassidy. "You know anything about runes?"
Cassidy raised a brow. "A little. Why?"
Belial tapped the pattern with his index finger. "This blade is inscribed."
Cassidy's smirk faded slightly as he stepped forward, peering closer. A low whistle escaped his lips.
"Well, damn," he muttered. "That's not standard issue."
Belial's grip tightened around the hilt.
A II Tier weapon with active runes? That changed everything. This weapon was more than just a tool. It was a partner—one that would grow with him, adapt to his style, and perhaps even guide him toward unlocking new capabilities he hadn't yet realized he possessed. And with the knowledge that this blade could alter the course of their mission, Belial felt the weight of the decision pressing down on him.
This was no ordinary weapon.