"Nourishes the soul..."
Marcus gripped the sword's handle, feeling that strange connection that vibrated faintly in tune with his Breathing. As if the sword were breathing with him.
But as for what exactly "nourishing the soul" meant... things got fuzzy.
The system, as usual, hadn't bothered to give a complete explanation. It talked about the sword's origin, about how it was forged. But about its actual effect... silence.
Marcus had to put the puzzle together on his own.
The enhancement granted by the Breath of Desire depended on the number and strength of the women around him... And the sword, on its own, couldn't tell the difference between a man and a woman. The direct help it could offer was limited.
But a soul inside the sword... that could make the difference.
According to his interpretation, the concept was more or less this: extract a woman's soul and place it inside the sword. Let it dwell within it.
That way, even without any woman physically nearby, he could rely on the feminine soul residing in the blade to obtain a certain degree of enhancement.
It wouldn't be the same, probably, but it would be something.
Of course, whether reality matched his theory or not... that remained to be seen.
Without meaning to, his gaze drifted toward Nezuko, who was still sound asleep.
But the very next second he shook his head.
Now then... if all he needed was a soul...
!
Marcus froze for a few seconds. And then he snapped his gaze up toward the top of the mountain.
'Right! I almost forgot about that girl!'
A smile spread across his face.
'That could work...'
Right when Marcus was busy entertaining himself, turning it over, testing the weight, admiring it... the cabin door slid open gently.
Urokodaki appeared without making a single sound, and as always, with his mask on.
The first thing he did was look toward the corner. Nezuko was still asleep, exactly where they had left her.
Then he swept his gaze over Marcus, who was sitting not far away, and nodded to himself.
'Thank goodness... this kid can be as lustful as he wants, but at least he knows where the limits are.'
However, the very next second, his attention fell on something else.
The sword the brat had in his hand.
His eyes narrowed.
As a former Pillar, the Nichirin Swords he had seen in his life were no small number. Several dozen. And although each forger in the Slayer Corps had their own style, certain traits were always consistent.
The general shape was uniform: curved blades.
But the one in front of him...
Straight... Very straight.
From the guard to the tip, practically a line with no deviation. And the sheath was also slightly wider than a standard Nichirin's.
"That sword..."
"Huh? Oh, this! Oh, this is...!"
Marcus reacted as if he had just noticed he had a sword in his hand. He fumbled it off himself clumsily and offered it with both hands in front of Urokodaki, slightly bowed.
"Master, look! One of a kind family heirloom!"
Not buying it, Urokodaki didn't take it. He didn't even extend his hand. He simply gave him a look with his eyes, gesturing for him to unsheathe it.
Marcus obeyed.
The blade separated from the sheath with a clean hiss, and right at that instant, a ray of evening light fell across the edge.
Urokodaki's pupils contracted.
That shape...
He had seen something similar decades ago. In the Slayer Corps, he had known a hunter who used a straight blade, but that man's blade wasn't like this one...
"What do you think, master?"
Marcus's voice yanked him out of his memories.
"..."
Raising his gaze, Urokodaki looked at Marcus's face.
But the truly important thing wasn't the shape of the blade. It was the color it had.
"...Is it a Nichirin Blade?"
Moving closer, he leaned in to carefully examine that faint layer of pinkish purple glow that seemed to flow over the steel.
The fact that Nichirin Blades changed color based on the breathing technique of whoever wielded them was basic knowledge.
"Did someone in your family belong to the Slayer Corps?"
Marcus shook his head. "They were just farmers!"
"My great great grandfather found it. According to what my father told me, there was an especially harsh winter, with a terrible snowfall. My great great grandfather went up the mountain to chop firewood so the family wouldn't freeze, and while looking for shelter from the cold, he came across a cave. And there it was. Wedged between the rocks, as if someone had left it there and forgotten about it."
He paused, scratching the back of his neck as if the memory embarrassed him a little.
"A family of humble people... where would they have ever seen a sword like that in their lives? My great great grandfather didn't have the heart to get rid of it, but he wasn't exactly brave either. He was afraid it would get stolen, or worse, that someone would come to claim it and he'd get in trouble. So he hid it. And there it stayed, passing from father to son."
While telling all that bullshit, on the inside he was patting himself on the back.
He couldn't say his "family" had belonged to the Demon Slayer Corps. No way in hell. Ubuyashiki had detailed records of every member, of every generation. One single inquiry and the whole lie would crumble.
But this version was perfect.
Unknown origin. Found by a dead man who could no longer confirm or deny anything. Impossible to verify.
'I'm a genius.'
"..."
Urokodaki was silent. And in the end, he seemed to accept the explanation. Or at least decided not to question it further.
It made sense, after all. The mortality rate of the Slayer Corps had always been terrifyingly high. Lost swords, hunters who never came back... it wasn't unusual at all.
Though that didn't stop him from sneaking a couple more glances at that provocative pinkish purple.
Because that color... a straight blade, combined with a pink tone that had no business looking that eye catching...
The visual impact was strong.
"Get out."
Shaking his head, he dropped the subject and turned toward the door. "Get ready to train."
"I have to train too?"
Marcus asked indignantly. But his legs were already following obediently, hanging the sword at his waist.
When they reached the training area halfway up the mountain, Urokodaki hadn't even opened his mouth to speak when he stopped and turned sharply toward Marcus.
"Where's your Constant Concentration?"
His tone was equal parts doubt and scrutiny. "A moment ago in the cabin you had it, on the way here too. You were clearly maintaining the state of Total Concentration the entire time... how is it that now it cut off?"
Marcus's blood ran cold.
'Shit!'
It wasn't for nothing that this man had been the Water Pillar. Nothing got past him!
But he didn't survive on strength alone. He also had thick skin. So he instantly put on his best expression of bewilderment.
"Constant... Concentration?" He tilted his head. "What's that? You never taught me that!"
"..."
Urokodaki stood there staring at him.
________
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