Mausoleum

Ragnar lay on his bed, staring at the "Status Window" hovering in front of him, examining his attributes and skills. It was his way of gauging his progress and understanding the new world he found himself in.

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[Name: Ragnar] 

[Trait: Soul Eater] 

[Constitution: Celestial Body (Locked)] 

[Rank: Unawakened] 

Strength: 19 

Agility: 27

Intelligence: 22 

Mana: 0

Skills: 

- Tribute (Passive)

- Soul Collector (Active)

[Soul points: 58] 

[Status Points: 0]

---

Ragnar reviewed his stats, noting the increase in agility and strength. "My agility is almost thirty," he thought. "I need to focus on strength too. Keeping a balance among my stats seems like a good approach unless I need to adjust for specific situations." He also noticed a new attribute, Mana, which hadn't been there before.

Curious about its meaning, he tapped on the word "Mana" to read its description.

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[Mana is a mystical energy that permeates the world, flowing through nature, connecting all living things, and serving as the source of magic and power.]

---

Ragnar nodded to himself. "More or less what I expected. But can I increase it with Soul Points?" he wondered aloud. To test his theory, he converted 20 Soul Points into 2 additional Status Points, intending to add them to his Mana attribute—but it didn't work. Confused, he asked the system.

"System, why can't I increase my Mana with Soul Points?"

[Soul Points can only be used to enhance the host's attributes and skills. As Mana is a foreign energy belonging to the world, Soul Points cannot be used to increase it. To increase Mana, the host must create a receptacle to store it within his body.]

Ragnar pondered the system's response. "So, Soul Points only affect my own being, strengthening my soul, increasing my physical attributes, or unlocking system features. It doesn't work on anything external, like Mana." He thought for a moment and then sighed. "I'll deal with it later. For now, I need to focus on recovering from the fight with Shalom."

He added the 2 Status Points to his Strength attribute and then let his head drop back onto the straw mattress. The battle had taken its toll, and despite being conscious, he still felt the lingering pain from his injuries. The village chief, Elder Moran, had assured him that he could stay as long as he needed to recover, offering food and shelter until he was ready to leave.

Ragnar knew he had a long road ahead of him. The fight with Shalom had been brutal, but it was just the beginning. He needed to grow stronger, to understand this world and its rules, and to find his place within it. But for now, he had to rest and regain his strength. There would be time later to consider his next steps and plan his journey.

After two days of rest and recovery, Ragnar felt much better. He spent his time getting to know the villagers, who were grateful for his help and welcomed him with open arms. The sense of community was new to Ragnar, and he appreciated the warmth and kindness shown to him. That evening, he ventured out to meet Elder Moran, who had promised to show him something important.

Ragnar found Elder Moran waiting with a fire torch at the edge of the village. The elder smiled as Ragnar approached, and they began to walk together.

"So, what did you want to show me?" Ragnar asked.

Elder Moran didn't answer directly but instead asked, "Do you know the name of this village?"

"Uh, no? I guess I never asked," Ragnar replied. "What's it called?"

"It's Ironlight Village. Long ago, this place was just a single house in the wilderness. Our ancestors had nowhere else to go—they were fleeing from a terrible war. They were ordinary people without power or protection. When they found this place, it was inhabited by a powerful warrior known as the Warrior of Ironwill."

Ragnar listened intently as Elder Moran continued. "At first, the warrior didn't want them here. He preferred solitude, but the people kept begging him to let them stay. Eventually, he agreed, but on one condition—they had to build their settlement a bit further away from his home, and they had to fulfill a task that might take generations."

"What kind of task?" Ragnar asked.

"The task was to safeguard a weapon after the warrior's death. It was to be kept on top of his tomb until it chose its new owner. None of us has ever been able to lift it," Elder Moran explained.

Ragnar was intrigued. "So, you're taking me to see this weapon?"

"Yes. Follow me," Elder Moran replied.

They left the village and walked through a small graveyard. The headstones were weathered, some old, some new. At the far end of the graveyard stood a large mausoleum, its stone walls covered with ivy. It had an eerie silence about it, as if the place held many secrets.

Elder Moran stopped in front of the mausoleum and paid his respects. He then opened the heavy door and stepped inside. The interior was dark, but with the fire torch, they could make out a large coffin in the center of the room. The walls were well-maintained, and the air was thick with the scent of age and decay.

Ragnar looked around, expecting to see the weapon. "Wasn't there supposed to be a sword here?" he asked.

"This is just a decoy," Elder Moran said, pulling a hidden lever. A section of the floor moved, revealing a hidden staircase leading down into darkness.

"It's a safeguard against grave robbers," Elder Moran explained. "Follow me."

The entrance was dark, but Elder Moran's fire torch cast flickering light, illuminating a narrow staircase leading down. As Ragnar descended the stairs, he felt a strange sense of agitation, as if something deep within the crypt was calling to him. At first, he tried to ignore the feeling, but the further he went, the stronger the pull became.

Once at the bottom, Ragnar and Elder Moran entered a crypt. The torches on the walls burst into flame, bathing the space in a warm glow. Unlike the upper mausoleum, this room felt more ancient, with cobwebs in the corners and dust covering the stone floor. In the center of the crypt stood an ordinary coffin, but it was the object on the concrete table that drew Ragnar's attention—a sword emanating a faint aura of black and red. It seemed to pulsate with an unseen energy, sending ripples through the air around it.

Ragnar felt a magnetic pull toward the sword, a sense of familiarity that he couldn't explain. He didn't even realize he was walking toward it until he was only a few feet away. Elder Moran stood back, observing in silence. He'd suspected that Ragnar was special, given his ability to hold his own against a Rank One, and he was curious to see if the sword would choose him.

Ragnar approached the concrete table and examined the sword. It was beautiful, with a dark handle and a crimson blade etched with intricate dragon patterns. The sword seemed alive, its energy resonating with him. He placed his hand on the hilt and immediately felt a surge of power, as if he had reconnected with a lost part of himself. The sensation was intense, almost overwhelming, but Ragnar embraced it.

He furrowed his brows and gripped the sword, trying to lift it. It was heavier than he expected, resisting his efforts. He exerted more force, and the aura of red and black grew brighter, filling the crypt with an eerie light. He grunted with effort, his muscles straining as he pulled upward.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the sword came free. The moment it did, a small explosion of energy erupted, sending a cloud of smoke radiating outward. The intense light vanished, and the sword's aura dissipated, leaving it looking like an ordinary blade—except for its dark handle and crimson blade, which retained a subtle shimmer.

As Ragnar held the sword aloft, the system's notification appeared in front of him:

[Host has successfully subdued a soul weapon.]

[Sword of Anarchy. An ancient sword that grows alongside its host. The stronger the host, the stronger the weapon becomes. This weapon is bonded to the host. No one can use it except the host.]