Shura Blade Battle Force Art

Asher wrapped his fingers around the knob of the wooden door and pushed it open. His eyes wandered over the small study: shelves filled with scrolls and books neatly arranged, an odd stone table, and finally, a mirror.

The sight of the mirror shocked Asher; mirrors were a rare sight, produced only by one distant nation in Boundless that had mastered the technique of creating glass. Therefore, there was no way his father could have obtained such a treasured object.

It must have been from the period of Zenas, whom Asher considered the greatest Ashbourne.

Asher walked into the room, running his fingers across the books and scrolls, his gaze fixed on his reflection in the mirror. For the first time, he could properly examine his new body. He looked like an 18-year-old, with a chin as smooth as a baby's bottom, even though he was already 22.

Not a strand of facial hair had popped out! He wasn't the most handsome man to ever exist, but he was definitely handsome. His grey hair matched his dull golden eyes, and both features seamlessly fitted into his face.

Looking at his reflection, Asher could see a warrior. His face wasn't like that of a gigolo, despite being pale. Clad in a white tunic tucked into brown pants and brown boots, Asher smirked at his muscular arms—a stark contrast to his previous life. This body was much more suited for the trials he would face.

After a moment of admiration, his attention shifted to the stone table. A sunken palm print with foreign words etched above it caught his eye. Although the words were not in the normal Tenaria language, he could perfectly understand what was written: "Palm stained with your blood." His brows knit together as he pondered the significance.

Leaning down, Asher squinted and discovered a tiny needle inside the sunken place. He deliberated for a while, considering the risks. However, he decided to proceed.

Caution had its place, but so did boldness.

With a determined breath, he placed his palm on the spot, allowing the needle to prick him. His expression remained unchanged, though his teeth clenched briefly from the sharp pain.

Shortly after, there was a soft rubbing sound, and the mirror slid aside, revealing a dark, narrow passage with stairs leading downward.

Cautiously, Asher descended the stairs, aware that each step echoed in the confined space. He reached a small chamber where a tome rested atop a column, flanked by two longswords hung on the wall.

The swords were sheathed in black scabbards. Ashbournes were known for being ambidextrous, able to wield two swords with both hands. However, Asher had never managed to master this skill; his left hand remained stubbornly less adept than his right.

Finally, his gaze settled on the tome's cover, which was inscribed with the words 'Shura Blade Battle Force Art'. The moment Asher set his eyes on the title, his heart skipped a beat.

This was no ordinary battle force art. It was likely from Zenas, the very first Ashbourne, a legacy that carried immense weight and significance. His fingers trembled slightly as he reached out, not from fear, but from the anticipation of uncovering the secrets within.

He flipped through the pages and saw different sword arts and how to train his body to match the insane requirements of the Shura Blade Battle Force Art. First, he must swing his sword a thousand times in the dark hours of the day, when the two moons were at their peak. He was to attach stones to his limbs while training to build his strength, stamina, and speed.

'What sort of cruel man was Zenas?!' Asher gaped. The thought of swinging his sword so many times and the added weight of stones seemed almost inhumane. However, although the methods were harsh, Asher was determined to train and become a swordsman.

After all, having powerful troops didn't mean he should allow himself to be weak and helpless.

He took the swords and unsheathed them. They were the swords his grandfather used. He could remember talks about them during his younger days.

[Shura Twin Blades: silver-grade weapons forged by the best blacksmith in Tigris county. The blades are as dark and gleaming as glass because they were forged from a strange rock of unknown origins.]

Upon seeing the description of the swords, Asher knew there was no way his grandfather could have paid to have a sword this unique forged. It was probably passed down from the past rulers.

[Host isn't ambidextrous. Would the host like to upgrade the 'Shura Twin Blades' by fusion? Yes or No.]

Asher clicked yes, and the weapons were fused by a blinding light. When the light died out, a simple yet exquisite black and silver scabbard with the sword's hilt protruding out of it appeared in his hands.

[Devourer: the gold-ranked product of fusing two inherited twin silver-grade swords. Can pierce and damage all equipment below the gold rank.]

'A gold-ranked sword,' Asher thought as he unsheathed the sword.

The black blade appeared, almost leaving the boundaries of longswords as it was four centimeters wide and 120 centimeters long. As he swung it, Asher heard its subtle whistle as it tore through the air.

"Quite heavy, but I like it. With a gold-ranked sword and a gold-ranked pet beast, I should be safe from any secret attack."

Gu gu!

Right at this moment, his stomach rumbled.

'I haven't eaten all day,' he realized. Rubbing his stomach, Asher left his study with his sword and the tome in both hands.

"Good evening, Lord Asher," said Mary as she saw him heading toward her. She stood right in front of his room, so it was no surprise they would meet.

"Is my meal prepared?"

"Yes, Milord." She lowered her head. She saw the sword in his hand and gasped. 'Was he about to start training again?' she wondered, remembering when he used to train before falling ill.

"Let's go."

He went to the dining room with the sword and tome. The first thing that hit him in the dining room was the aroma of the meals on the table. For the first time in a long while, this body perceived the smell of meat!

Kelvin stood, neatly dressed and wearing a broad smile. "Your lunch is ready."

Asher hurriedly sat. 'Finally! A meal a Lord deserves.'

While eating, he took the cup of Moonlit Starhorn milk, and as he drank it, a warm sensation spread throughout his body, nourishing his bones and muscles in a comfortable way.