Otherworldly Evil Sword

"The year 2150 marked a pinnacle of technological advancement for humanity. Automation had permeated every aspect of life, extending even to personal information and bodily status monitoring. From birth, each individual was implanted with a chip, providing an automated breakdown of their physical and mental state. In this era of unprecedented progress, humans achieved a groundbreaking feat: dimensional travel. However, unbeknownst to them, the opening of the dimensional portal would soon unfold as the gravest catastrophe in human history."

"As soon as the portal opened, the first explorers stepped into an abyss of darkness. Unable to see anything, they were suddenly overwhelmed by millions of dark, spirit-like entities that burst forth from the portal, engulfing the Earth. In the five years since that fateful day, the world had transformed into a realm of shadows.

'That's a cool story,' exclaimed three young boys, their eyes wide with wonder. The one bearing a scar down his face asked, 'Is this why everything's ruined now, Mister Yami?'

Yami, reclining on the trunk of a tree with a cigarette dangling from his lips, remained silent. The distant clatter of weapons and steel armor broke the calm. 'You in the tree, get down here so I can kill you!' shouted a man below, his voice echoing with a thirst for violence. Yami, unconcerned, continued to ignore him.

Finally, flicking his cigarette to the ground, Yami spoke, 'Boys, you should get out of here.'

'Okay, Mister Yami! See you next time for more stories!' the boys shouted, scampering away.

The man below laughed menacingly. 'There won't be a next time. I'll absorb you into my weapon.' He tapped his lance eagerly.

Yami sighed, his gaze fixed on the blood-red moon. 'You idiots never learn,' he muttered to himself."

"The man brandished his lance, dyed in a frosty blue hue, as tall as himself and emanating a chilling frost. He charged towards Yami, screaming with rage. Yet, Yami remained motionless, an image of eerie calm. The lance, now inches from Yami's body, seemed certain to strike. The man smirked triumphantly. 'You don't even care enough about your life to dodge,' he taunted.

But in the instant before the lance could connect, Yami vanished into a dark cloud, leaving only empty air where he had been. The man's momentary confusion was his downfall. Yami reappeared, his blade already sweeping through the air in a silent arc. In a swift, fluid motion, Yami's blade sliced through the man's neck. As he sheathed his sword, the man's head slid from his shoulders, a fountain of blood following.

'Another corrupted soul gone from this world,' Yami muttered, pulling out a notebook marked 'Kill Tally 94.' He methodically erased the number, replacing it with 95. Although Yami did not relish in taking lives, survival in this harsh world often left him with no choice. To preserve his humanity amidst the carnage, Yami made a point to write a note for each person he was forced to kill, ensuring they received a proper burial."

As Yami approached the fallen man, the blade at his waist began to tremble violently. With a resigned sigh, Yami muttered, 'Fine, you can feed.' Drawing the sword, he thrust it into the ground beside the corpse. In response, the blood pooled on the ground and even the blood within the man's veins rushed towards the sword, absorbed completely by the blade.

These cursed weapons, Yami reflected grimly, feasted not only on the blood of the humans they slew but also consumed the souls of the demons residing within the weapons. The demons that had emerged from the portals five years earlier were unable to possess human bodies directly, so they inhabited weapons scattered across the globe. This symbiosis allowed them to bond with humans. In death, the fate of the human and demon became inseparably intertwined; as one died, so would the other.

Yami's head suddenly filled with a voice, announcing, "You've consumed a lower-tier demon. Level up. You are now level 16." This was followed by a display of his status: "Name - Yami Ishikawa, Age - 18, Tier - Bloodbound, Level - 16."

Ever since bonding with his father's weapon, Yami's life had taken on the semblance of a game, complete with levels and tiers. But gripping his sword tightly, he reminded himself bitterly, 'This isn't a game; it's a nightmare.'

His thoughts were then involuntarily drawn to a memory he could never escape. On his 16th birthday, the last day he remembered smiling, his family had thrown him a surprise party. Amidst the world's chaos, his family had always been his haven of warmth and safety.

"Yami, I have a special gift for you," his father had said, a hint of pride in his voice. "You've been training hard with your wooden sword, but at sixteen, it's time for a real one." He had presented Yami with a beautiful katana, sourced from the black market. The demon soul within it was weak, his father explained, suitable even for a child to bond with.

Tears of joy had welled in Yami's eyes. Becoming a swordsman wasn't just an ambition; it was his dream. That evening, the family celebrated at his favorite noodle shop. Yami and his sister playfully competed to see who could finish their bowl fastest. "Calm down, kids, you don't want a stomach ache," their father had chuckled.

A sudden, deafening boom echoed through the noodle shop. The door burst open, sending a man flying through it, shattering the wood upon impact. A large, menacing figure followed, wielding a long sword dripping with blood. The man's clothes were dyed red, evidence of his violent deeds. Yami's sword vibrated intensely, sensing the danger.

In an instant, Yami's father scooped him up and hid him under the table. The intruder spoke with a chilling glee, "Ah, look at all the precious lives to absorb into my sword." His eyes were an abyss of pure black, a sign of complete corruption. When a human absorbed too much blood and demon souls in a short span, they succumbed to corruption, allowing the demon soul to seize control and embark on a mindless killing spree.

Yami's father, with a finger to his lips, signaled for silence. His parents and sister stood, drawing their own cursed weapons. They recognized the threat before them; the man exuded a demonic aura, and his intent to kill was palpable.

The sounds of a desperate battle filled the air. Yami, too frightened to look, covered his ears to muffle the horrific noises. Moments, or perhaps an eternity later, the fighting ceased. "Dad... Mom..." Yami called out tentatively, but only silence answered.

Trembling, Yami emerged from under the table. The sight that met his eyes was unspeakable. His family and the corrupted man lay motionless on the ground.