Departure

After lifting the sword, Ragnar noticed an envelope tucked beneath it. The letter had been hidden by the weapon, likely intended for the new wielder's eyes only. He picked it up and carefully opened it, curious about its contents.

"If you are reading this, then it means you have been chosen by the Sword of Anarchy. I am Kaiser William, the previous owner of this soul weapon. This sword is unique—it binds with its owner, allowing only them to wield it. After changing hosts, it reverts to an unawakened state, but as you grow stronger, so will the sword.

However, don't mistake this as a simple blessing. This weapon's identity is known by a select few, and its value is so high that during my time, various organizations sent assassins to kill me and claim the sword. You must be careful. If anyone finds out about this sword, your life will become a living hell. Assassins will be sent to eliminate you, and if you're not strong enough, you will die.

Lastly, never stop seeking strength. Once you picked up this weapon, your destiny changed. Brace yourself for the challenges ahead."

Ragnar read the letter, his expression turning serious. It made sense why the sword had been hidden in such a discreet place. If its aura had escaped the crypt and someone outside had sensed it, the entire village could have been in grave danger.

He turned to Elder Moran and said, "It seems the sword has accepted me."

Elder Moran laughed softly. "That was the plan from the beginning. I wasn't sure if you'd be chosen, but it looks like I worried for nothing. This sword is part of your journey now."

Ragnar nodded, acknowledging the elder's words, then turned back to the resting place of the previous owner. He bowed slightly, paying his respects to the warrior who had once wielded the Sword of Anarchy.

'I won't let you down,' he promised inwardly.

He thanked Elder Moran for the opportunity and together they walked out of the mausoleum. The air outside was cool and crisp, a stark contrast to the musty air of the crypt. Ragnar felt the weight of the sword in his hand, a reminder of the responsibility he now bore. The words in the letter echoed in his mind—never stop seeking strength, never reveal the sword's identity, and be prepared for danger.

Upon returning to the village, Ragnar went back to the small house he'd been given to rest. The interior was simple and basic, with a modest bed, a wooden table, and a few essential items. It was nothing luxurious, but Ragnar was used to living with minimal comforts. Compared to his old apartment, this felt spacious.

He sat on the bed, reflecting on his journey so far. This new world was dangerous, with threats lurking everywhere. People could be killed for the slightest misstep or misunderstanding. The realization made Ragnar's desire for strength even stronger. He valued his life and knew that survival required more than just luck—it required power.

Closing his eyes, he thought about what lay ahead. He needed to reach the academy, not just for training but to learn more about this world. There was so much he didn't understand, and ignorance could be fatal.

The following morning, Ragnar packed his belongings along with some food the villagers had given him for the journey. Although he appreciated the village's hospitality, his goal was clear: to find his purpose in this new world. But before he could do that, he needed to gain the knowledge and skills to move forward.

As he walked toward the village's exit, he saw Elder Moran, Nala, and several villagers waiting to bid him farewell. Their presence was a comforting reminder that even in a dangerous world, there were still good people.

"We wish you luck and strength on your path, young man. May the Gods be with you and protect you," Elder Moran said, giving Ragnar a warm smile.

"Thank you, Elder Moran," Ragnar replied, then turned to little Nala, who seemed sad to see him go.

"Hey, little miss, why the long face? Didn't you say you'd grow up to be cool? We'll meet again, right?" Ragnar said with a gentle smile.

"Yes!" Nala replied, her eyes brightening with newfound motivation.

"Good. I can't wait to hear about your stories when I return," Ragnar said, ruffling her hair.

With his bag slung over his shoulder, Ragnar left the village, waving to the villagers until they were out of sight. The road ahead was long, but he was determined to reach the academy. He followed the path Elder Moran had given him, walking through a forested area with trees on either side. Carriages passed by occasionally, heading toward the city of Axiom, where the academy was located.

After about four hours of walking, the sun was high in the sky. Ragnar heard faint shouts and laughter coming from deeper in the forest. With his sharpened senses, he pinpointed the source of the noise and headed in that direction. As he got closer, the shouts became clearer.

"Back off, you bastard! I'll really stab you if you come any closer!" A woman's voice cut through the forest. It was a young woman with silver hair, dressed in a brown pant and grey shirt. She was holding a dagger, her back against a tree, surrounded by a group of men. Her voice wavered with fear, but she stood her ground.

"Hahaha. Look at this lass. You think your little kitchen knife is going to help you? Most of these guys haven't had a woman in a long time. A little cut is worth the price for them," the leader of the group said, his voice dripping with malice.

Ragnar felt his blood boil. If he hadn't seen it with his own eyes, he might have continued on his way, but witnessing a potential assault in front of him was unacceptable. He despised those who inflicted harm for selfish gains—it reminded him too much of his own past.

Observing the scene, Ragnar saw that three men surrounded the woman. Two of them were armed with knives, and the leader had a smug grin on his face. Ragnar knew he had to act quickly, and he decided to test the Sword of Anarchy's durability.

Without warning, Ragnar propelled himself toward the two armed men. In one swift motion, he executed a horizontal slash, cutting through both of them. The leader barely had time to react before Ragnar's blade separated his head from his body.

[+34 Soul Points] The system notified.

With the threat eliminated, Ragnar turned to the woman, who was visibly shaken. He lowered his sword and asked, "Are you okay?"