Chapter 17: The Blade of Curse and Fate
The air inside the Musutafu Police Headquarters was freezing.
I walked behind Detective Tsukauchi. He looked nervous. He wasn't used to bringing a teenager into the High-Risk Evidence Vault.
"Aizawa, you know the regulations," Tsukauchi whispered, swiping his keycard over the heavy steel door. "These weapons were confiscated from mass murderers and villains. They aren't toys for kids."
"He isn't a normal kid," Aizawa replied coldly. "Just open the door."
The heavy metal door groaned open. The room was massive. It was filled with wooden crates, glass cases, and metal racks. Bloody knives. Shattered armor. Old swords. The air smelled like rust and dried blood.
I walked slowly down the aisles. My right hand rested naturally on the Wado Ichimonji.
Then, I felt it.
It was a cold, dark aura. It screamed with a wild, unrestrained bloodlust. It was coming from an old wooden crate in the corner of the room. The crate was wrapped in heavy iron chains, like they were trying to lock a wild animal inside.
I walked toward it. My heartbeat picked up. Not out of fear. Out of pure adrenaline.
"Stop!" Tsukauchi yelled. "Don't go near that crate. That sword... they call it cursed. It was confiscated from a slasher who lost his mind and killed his own family. They say the blade seduces its wielder. It forces them to cut everything in sight."
I ignored him. I ripped the heavy chains off the crate. I reached inside and pulled it out.
The scabbard was blood-red. The hilt was wrapped in a black cord, resembling snake scales. The moment my fingers touched the grip, a shiver shot up my arm. The blade vibrated. It felt alive. It was either welcoming me, or challenging me.
"Sandai Kitetsu," I whispered. I could feel the name carved into the very soul of the steel.
"Put it back, Zoro," Aizawa demanded. His capture weapon began to float around his neck, ready to restrain me. "That blade isn't for a student. It will make you lose control of your arm."
I looked at the sword. Then I looked at Aizawa. A slow, feral grin stretched across my face.
"Let's see," I said. My voice was dangerously calm.
I unsheathed the blade and tossed it high into the air. The cursed sword spun rapidly, catching the cold fluorescent lights like the eye of a predator. I raised my left arm. I extended it straight out, directly into the path of the falling blade.
"What are you doing?! It's going to chop your arm off!" Tsukauchi screamed, lunging forward to stop me.
Aizawa grabbed his shoulder, holding him back. "Wait."
Time seemed to slow down. The cursed sword plummeted. Its razor-sharp edge was aimed directly at the flesh of my arm. If the sword truly wanted to kill me, my hand would be on the floor.
Thwack.
The sword plunged deep into the wooden floorboards. It landed exactly one millimeter away from my arm. It didn't even scratch my skin. The hilt vibrated violently, as if sighing in either anger or absolute submission.
Dead silence filled the vault. Tsukauchi was sweating bullets. Aizawa stared at me, his eyes wide with utter disbelief.
I grabbed the red hilt. I felt a surge of dark energy try to wrap around my wrist, but I crushed it instantly with my own willpower.
"It seems my luck..." I said, pulling the blade from the floor and sheathing it with a sharp click, "...is stronger than your curse."
I turned to Aizawa, who was still speechless.
"That's one. I need one more."
Aizawa let out a long, heavy breath and rubbed his tired face. "You are officially insane. But you chose your blade. Follow me. The second section has worse things."
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