Supreme Swordfiend

In the now empty village, Leon called up his status, selecting the option to reclass.

With another Unique kill to his name, one completed using his new style, he held high hopes for his Class choices.

Filtering out the options he’d seen before left Leon with a few novel choices.

“[Common- Dual Wielder]- A weapon in each hand, your favoured approach lends itself well to overwhelming speed. So double down, boost that Speed as high as it’ll go with skills to wield both weapons as extensions of yourself.

[Uncommon- Dual Bladesinger]- Double the blades, deepen the dirge. Pair your curved swords with a truly incredible level of Speed. This alone would give a foe pause- go beyond, learn skills to cut through anything that stands in your way.

[Rare- Blood Edge]- The screams of your enemies pale compared to the keening of your blades. Blood stains your swords. Innocent, guilty- these are words for the weak. A Blood Edge cuts whoever they please. A mixture of Power and Speed take your abilities higher, with skills to fuel the destructive combat style you favour. Place the world beneath your edge and bleed it dry.”

Leon’s inner twelve-year-old really wanted to take Blood Edge, even knowing the Stormblade Class the System had offered him last time likely suited him better. The choice was out of his hands- the System offered a stronger option.

“[Epic- Chaotic Stormblade]- A deviant evolution, eschewing the practised martial control a Stormblade learns, using two blades instead of one. There is no place for defence in your heart- only attack. Embrace the unpredictable nature of the tempest and turn it on your enemies. Favouring Speed above all else, the Chaotic Stormblade’s skills centre on a tenet of unrelenting fury. Don’t embody the storm. Take its might and bend it to your will.”

No Unique Class this time. His bloodline didn’t want to give up the goods- Chaotic Stormblade would do until the next Swordfiend Class became available.

“Your Class is now [Chaotic Stormblade]. You have been issued Class quests! Check your Status for more information!”

No pain followed his choice. Leon thanked the System for its tender care, the pains of the level-ups still fresh enough to inspire thankfulness.

For the first time in a while, the Swordfiend pulled up his full status.

Name- Leon Knox

Race- [Human]

Grade- [H]

Class- [Epic- Chaotic Stormblade]- Level 0/10

Job- [Uncommon- Coresmith]

Aggregate Level- 26

Stat Block:

HP-700/1059

MP-500/1030

Power-160

Speed-160

Constitution-159

Intelligence-131

Wisdom-130

Fame-3

Infamy-0

Skills:

[Fiend Eyes]

[Tyrannous Ichor]

[Giant Slayer Style]- Level 1/1

[Demonic Storm Style] Level 1/1

[Shifting Tides Style]- Level 1/3

Quests:

Frenzied Tempest- Defeat one thousand foes using lightning attribute spells or techniques while dual-wielding swords.

Progress- 0/1,000

Reward- Class Skill

Court Death- Form a lasting coat of the storm’s fury; imbue your blades with lightning and survive.

Progress- 0/1

Reward- Class Skill

Mastered Chaos- Temper your Speed to the pinnacle of [H] Grade.

Reward- Class Skill

Bloodline:

[H] Grade- Swordfiend

Insights:

Water’s Power- Early Shallow

Air’s Pressure- Early Shallow

Lightning’s Supremacy- Early Shallow

A couple of noteworthy changes- his [Sealed Fiend Eyes] had changed to just [Fiend Eyes] and lost their level.

Of more interest, his new Class had a cap of ten levels. With his collection of limited data points, Leon was unsure of the exact formula that guided level caps, though he had his guesses.

His new quests took the greatest chunk of his focus. Mentions of tempering- whatever that turned out to be, Leon doubted he’d enjoy it.

Much like his prior Class, the new one seemed to have an intended progression, from top to bottom.

If Ascending Demon counted as a lightning attribute technique, the first quest would prove easy; if not, he could only rely on the mages at camp deriving an easy-to-learn lightning spell.

He had no solid ideas about where to begin with the others. Coating a blade in lightning sounded like magical bullshit, firmly outside of Leon’s wheelhouse.

He’d managed it with the Sunlight Greatsword through luck and circumstance- plus the bolts he’d wreathed his sword in had rapidly discharged themselves.

Forming a stable coating would be an altogether more arduous task.

Flicking his status away, Leon took a measure of the time by glancing up at the sun.

Just past the zenith.

He had time, enough to complete the second trial and be back for dinner.

Lizard genocide and a test; all in a day’s work for him.

Wiping the lizard child’s blood off Silent, Leon flourished Scream, the burning blade extinguishing once the coat of blood flecked onto the wooden floor.

Touching down in the swamp again, Leon tried not to feel too bad.

Fresh skin grew to cover the areas stripped bare in his fight, the drain on his energy negligible.

From the village, he travelled west, with detached curiosity noticing the lizard outposts strung across the waterways.

Their layout and fortification gradually increased as he neared his target.

Similar to the rotting hill, the land around the whirlpool suffered decay.

Trees collapsed under their own weight, the liquid pooling around the vortex more rotten sludge and poisoned mud than water.

His armour kept him from being dragged into the swirling formation.

Leon stood upon the precipice of the whirlpool, peering into its depths.

There, at the bottom of the beast. A portal, its blue shimmer piercing through the darkness.

When he’d asked, Zerasos had refused to tell Leon what awaited him.

Ensuring his swords remained steadfastly fixed to his belt, Leon leapt into the abyss.

The blaring ring of the alarm clock roused Leon Knox from slumber. He pulled himself out of bed, taking in his spacious bedroom, his king-size bed, decorated with a cream colour scheme.

Not a small room, by any definition. He’d worked hard to afford his current home, climbed the corporate ladder, jumping ship anytime a competitor offered more money. Loyalty got you a pay rise in line with inflation if you were at a competitive company.

Selling your in-demand skillset to the highest bidder got you enough to buy a mansion.

Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he pushed the strange dream from his mind.

Too many video games before bed.

“Leon, breakfast’s ready!”

A woman’s voice rang from downstairs, carrying through the ajar door to his room.

The neatly folded second duvet on the other side of the bed told him his wife had already woken. Unlike Leon, she kept to the same timetable on the weekends.

Pulling on his loungewear, clothes she’d graciously lain out for him, the swordsman made his way downstairs.

Shaking his head while descending the glass staircase, Leon shook off the lingering impressions of the dream.

He was a software developer, not a swordsman.

Standing beside the island that dominated their kitchen, apron around her frame, stood his wife.

Her features blurred, shifting. One second her hair shone red in the morning light, the next dark brunette locks replaced them.

He forgot her name, his mind reaching for an answer. He was sure it began with a vowel, though he couldn’t remember which.

Ultimately, she settled on red locks, turning to look at Leon, her features familiar.

Like he’d seen them in a dream.

Within seconds, he’d forgotten the rapid shift of colours.

“Morning lazybones.”

“Morning Olivia. Kids up yet?”

Incredulity did little to detract from his wife’s beauty.

“At this time? On the weekend? Of course not.”

Drawing a breath into his lungs- strange that there was no mana in the air- Leon summoned his spawn.

“Kids! Breakfast!”

Two children materialised in seats beside him, Leon not noticing the phenomenon, focused on his bacon and eggs.

A mirror image of himself, a few years younger. Hair cut short. Rebelling against his old man’s style now that he was a teenager.

The boy spoke between mouthfuls of egg, his displeasure clear.

“Seriously mom- eggs again?”

A disapproving tilt of her head prompted Leon to respond, cuffing the back of his son’s head.

“Arthur! There are kids in Africa who’d kill for a solid meal- show some respect for your mother, boy.”

A hurried apology followed though Leon’s attention faced a new distraction.

His daughter, taking the best of his wife’s delicate beauty. Older than Arthur, nearly a woman, though she’d always be his little girl.

Going soon. Off to university.

Her pale blue eyes met her father’s and she smiled.

“What’s wrong Dad?”

Leon’s hands absentmindedly brushed against his legs, breakfast forgotten.

“Something is wrong Violet. I just can’t put my finger on it.”

His family looked at him with concern as Leon’s fingers closed around a hilt.

For the second time, Leon awoke from the dream.

This image of an idyllic family life may have entrapped some.

Not Leon.

Drawing his blades, his armour reappeared on his body, clothes giving way to metal.

The illusions stilled at the sight of cold steel. Leon’s hands trembled as he tightened his grip.

“I’ll make it quick.”

The simulacrums didn’t even run.

They exchanged no words, as Leon upheld his word, putting his family to the sword.

A single thrust through the heart of his children and wife and once all three lay dead, the illusion collapsed.

The swordsman lay bound within a damp cave, a monster with the face of a squid and the body of a spider coiled around his body, its tentacled maw dug into his chest, slurping out his blood with gusto.

“Level Thirty Somnarachnid- They bind their prey in sweet illusions laced with false memories while drinking their emotions and blood. Pathetically weak, should their illusions be shattered they make for easy prey.

This being possesses an [H] Grade [Dreamweaver] Bloodline”

A pair of beady eyes met Leon’s and the suckling on his innards intensified.

Tearing the creature from his chest and tossing it to the floor, Leon stomped upon its head.

Repeatedly until nothing recognisable remained.

“Trial Two- Kinslayer Cleared!”

“No hesitation. No remorse. Not even for your own family. +1 Fame!”

A familiar oaken chest materialised, crushing the rest of the corpse as it arrived.

Leon ignored this.

Ignored the notifications as he fell to his knees.

He focused on holding back tears for a family that had never existed.

How long he remained kneeling on the stone floor, he could not say.

When he finally arose, a new item rocketed to the top of his priorities list.

Investigate illusions and countermeasures.

No kill notification followed his extermination of the Somnarachnid.

A cursory glance revealed the flesh had dissolved into pulpy goo. Nothing to salvage from the construct the trial had utilised.

The thought of having to pick through a chest filled him with bone-deep exhaustion, the unopened loot container vanishing into his storage ring as the exit portal materialised.

His return to camp proved hazy, each footstep harder than the last.

He could not even muster any cheer upon seeing the entire group had survived their dungeon delving.

William attempted to speak, forcing Leon to shrug him off.

“Not now. Tomorrow.”

Whatever the younger man saw in Leon’s eyes forced him back.

The bleary swordsman continued his trudge towards the overlook he meditated upon.

Dusk descended as he arrived, Leon’s body giving out as he arranged himself into a lotus position.

Nothing crossed his mind.

No thoughts, no observations.

Nothing.

Leon remained seated as dusk turned to night, as night gave way to dawn.

It was as the first blinding rays of daylight pierced his eyes that the swordsman rose.

Weary still, Leon trudged back down towards camp.

His anvil awaited him, a core in hand.

The Swamp Lord’s remnant offered a suit of golden armour, interwoven with red and blue cloth. The Lord’s Raiment. It offered the ability to channel water mana into a protective barrier, alongside another two enchantments which allowed the wearer to walk underwater as though they were on land and breathe water like air.

Unlike the Woods Tyrant, the core offered only this as an option.

Leon couldn’t even bring himself to care about the result as he began to forge.