30 SOUL OF BLADES

Aildrin rolled twice to the side. When he recovered, the tips of the spears and swords were already before him.

"Defensive Blade!"

The image of the black figure surged back into Aildrin's mind. It was surrounded by hundreds of swordsmen when three rotating vorpal light swords came into life.

A light wave burst out of Aildrin, which sent the four melees flying out and dispersed the volley of shots that followed. Then three white sword lights in the shape of a flamberge and twice his size hummed around him.

"Good, an attack and defense skill just like Liston Barrier," Aildrin thought, remembering the good old days of Battle Arena.

Without waiting for the enemies to recover, Aildrin charged with a new sense of confidence despite being outnumbered. The sword lights continued to fend off the projectiles that came flying towards him.

When he arrived at their disarrayed formation, Aildrin was like the god of war. The coppery scent of blood surrounded him as he tore through their bodies.

Eight lifeless heads rolled on the red puddle.

"There's an age requirement for this game, right?" Aildrin said. The gore was on a different level if you could smell death itself.

It then reminded him of the car accident. He was there when the rescuers pulled two charred bodies beyond recognition. And although Yoshimitzu Corporation shouldered all the expenses, Aildrin never showed up at the funeral.

Aildrin Gentrix disappeared from the world and took on the identity of Allan Granger. He had never accepted his parents' death. And the red note from the anonymous sender just strengthened his suspicion of that anomalous day—two years ago—when everything was taken away from him.

[Only those of sixteen years and above may pass to this world.]

Aildrin gagged. "Good. I feel like vomiting already. Are we done?"

The bodies and bloodstains disintegrated into particles and then disappeared out of thin air.

[Not yet. Prepare for the final battle.]

The mirror returned and a split image of his character except for the necklace came out of it. Another two copies followed, making it all three. They then charged towards him.

Nine sword lights lunged towards Aildrin as his three clones activated Defensive Blade.

It was too close, but Aildrin did not dare to blink. Inside his mind, he had already called forth the same skill.

Three sword lights bonded together to form a shield before him, but he was outnumbered. It shook and struggled, but eventually shattered. Sword lights passed through and pierced Aildrin.

Time froze.

"It's over?" Aildrin wondered. Multiple sword lights pierced his body, but he did not feel any pain. Then his necklace throbbed.

He found himself back on the battlefield. Still surrounded by enemies, the face of the black-figure finally came into view.

The figure was in his early forties with long black hair—most of which was tied in a tiny bun on top, cleanly trimmed sideburns, mustache, and beard. It was Adil Gentrix. And he wore the same necklace too.

"Dad?" Aildrin said.

Seemingly unable to hear Aildrin's voice, Adil's eyes flashed red, and then he mumbled:

"I and my sword are one,

I am the sword,

The sword is I.

Take heed and cut as one!"

The enemies around Adil charged at him, their blades hungry for blood. But no one ever managed to land a single hit, and after a few seconds of blurred movements and exchanges, dead bodies piled all around.

"You and your sword are one," Adil said, bathing in the blood of his enemies.

And Aildrin found himself back in front of his three clones. The pain that he had expected finally came and surged throughout his body that he screamed, and his eyes turned red.

"I am the blade!" Aildrin said in a deep voice. The sword lights around him shattered and his wounds closed.

The three clones were unperturbed. They then transformed into fiery trails as they activated Sword Dance.

Sparks flew around Aildrin, who stood still with his flamberge close to his chest. His movements were smooth like flowing water as he parried all the attacks from the blurred figures dancing around him.

A momentary gap appeared when their skills ended. Aildrin seized it and executed a clean circular slash. Blood showered around him as his three clones fell on the floor.

[You have completed the God's Trials. You're the eleventh-]

[You're the twelfth player to get an assessment rate of God-level throughout War Grounds' history.]

[You have unlocked the secret skill, Soul of Blades.]

[Warning! Stamina has reached critical level.] A red pop-up appeared on Aildrin's screen, but he could no longer read its content as his vision started to blur.

Outside the game, his helmet made weird noises and its red button kept on blinking.

[External intervention detected. Logging player off the virtual world...]

...

In the continent of Fitz, all players stopped in their track as an unseen trumpet blared. A global proclamation was coming.

"Hmm. The last time I heard that trumpet, nothing good followed," said a white-bearded man in blue robes. He sat in the middle of a long mahogany table and around him were humans geared in eye-catching equipment.

"Fingers crossed that it may be on our favor," a woman said. "This is the eleventh time that this happened since the game was launched, if my memory is correct. And it only means one thing..." She sat beside the man in blue robes and had a crimson crossbow attached to her back.

"Hm. Interesting. Another God-player is coming, Lidar," the man in blue robes said. He smiled at the figure across him clad in a black cuirass.

Kerstein's voice then echoed throughout the Fitz and said, [Zaito of the Divine Race has entered the continent. He's the eleventh player to have a God-level assessment in the God's Trials.]

"Interesting news indeed, MidKing. That's the second God-level player for the Divine Race. It looks like the balance of powers will tilt in favor of our alliance this year," Lidar said in response to the man in blue robes.

"Zaito, huh? Another monster from the Z Family? He's that new genius of Burning Orient that they're boasting about?" an olive-skinned bald man with a ruby necklace said. He was on the right side of Lidar.

"Just received an update from our scout. He's indeed the new genius of Burning Orient," a bulky man in a black cloak said. He sat to the left of Lidar and only his amber-eyes could be seen beneath the cover.

"Hm. Two God-level players in the same guild. It looks like Burning Orient will sit at least on the third rank next year," MidKing said.

"This makes it more interesting to shatter their hope in the quarterfinals," Lidar said.

"Well, they're not the only ones who have geniuses in their training centers. We'll show them our genlings in the coming Rookie Challenge, but first, we must defend our championship title," said MidKing.

...

Once players entered the virtual world via the Battle Station, their bodies in real life would seem to be in a catatonic state. It would be difficult for them to react from external stimuli. Losing control of their real-world hearing and vision because of War Ground's in-depth immersion, the users could not respond unless they're touched. Upon external contact, the system would immediately detect the interference and kick the player off the game.

"Hey, dork! Wake up!"

Aildrin's head throbbed with pain as he slowly opened his eyes. He clasped his head and realized that he was finally free from the helmet's clutch.

All he heard was a cacophony of whispers as he tried to identify the blurry face before him.

"Wake up!" said the person who then slapped Aildrin.

Aildrin jolted. His vision cleared. "Miss Malabar? What the—"

"What the what, dork?" Miss Malabar said. Both of her hands were on her waist like a mother giving a sermon. "I've been knocking for ages! And here you are, playing War Grounds without care about your room's situation! What the hell are you even doing that the life-support button of your helmet was about to explode? And how dare you hide the necklace from me?"

Aildrin covered his ears. "I was doing the God's Trials," he said.

"God's Trials?" It piqued Miss Malabar's interest. "Did you survive against those two wooden mannequins?"

Aildrin nodded. Soothing his right cheek, he stood up and walked towards the mini-fridge. He opened it only to find it empty. Helpless, he picked up a can on the floor and drank whatever remained of it.

"Gross. I saved your life, Mister Granger. You owe me that!" Miss Malabar said. Her face soured looking at Aildrin's messy state. "Did you complete the trials?"

"Why do you even care?"

Miss Malabar chuckled. "So I can judge the level of your lameness! Now pick yourself up and stop disturbing my apartment with the noise of your Battle Station! You have four hours to leave!" She then left and closed the door gently.

Aildrin gritted his teeth. The experiences he had inside the game felt surreal. But his time was limited. He set aside his questions and searched for his phone among the disarray of pillows. And eventually found it on the floor.

He then scrambled towards the table and checked the paper that Osho gave him.

It's been almost two years since he last talked with Sophia. After a little hesitation, he composed a text message and sent it to her.

"Hey...Aildrin here. How are you? Are the doors still open for my return?" He then crossed his fingers.