[You have grasped the fate of the Greatsword. It resonates with the Mystic Flame Emperor’s Heart Technique!]
[The fate of the Greatsword is obscured by rust, its true form remains unrevealed.]

Thunder rumbled through the armory, shaking it as though a quake had struck. Something ancient and important had just awakened. From the shadows, a massive greatsword was lifted.

“W-What in the world is going on?!”

Several mages burst into the room. Their footsteps were rushed, voices panicked.

“Your Highness? Your Highness!”

Faces peeked out from doors, eyes darting around in search of danger,until they caught sight of the sword.

“U-Uh? W-Where did that come from?!”

“That sword, where did you find it?”

“Didn’t we clearly say to only take weapons from the entrance display?!”

All eyes locked onto the weapon. Every one of them took an instinctive step back.

“That wasn’t among the entrance selection… was it?” one muttered, glancing nervously around.

“Are you all familiar with every weapon stored here?” the Prince asked calmly.

“Well… we know the basics. But that one… we’ve never seen it before.”

“I took it from within the approved zone. That makes it mine,” he stated. “You all are the ones managing this place. You know there’s no way I could’ve entered a restricted section.”

Silence. Then a middle-aged mage, clearly the most experienced, bowed slightly.

“If it was within the permitted area, then… yes. The weapon is rightfully yours, Your Highness.”

A faint smile crossed the Prince’s lips.

“Good. I’m relieved the first test subject for this blade won’t have to be a person.”

The mages collectively paled.

“I’ll be going now,” he added, dragging the blade behind him with a grating metallic scrape. “Work hard, all of you.”

One of the younger mages watched, jaw slack. “W-What is that sword…?”

Even Alfred, loyal as ever, found himself frozen by the sheer size of the weapon. 

“The blade alone must be… a meter and a half? And with the hilt, it’s the size of a full-grown man…”

“And the shape,” another added, aghast. “It’s not even built to slice. It’s made to rip things apart. Like a saw…”

A prince, dragging a madman’s weapon across the polished floors.

Screams erupted as staff scrambled out of the way.

“Aaaaah!”

“Get out of the way!”

Servants fled in all directions, shrieking as they scattered.

Alfred stepped closer, voice low. “Your Highness, where to next?”

“The 3rd Battle Mage Corps.”

“I’ll make arrangements. Should I prepare storage for the weapon?”

“No need,” the Prince said, a sly smirk forming. “I’ll be keeping it close. It’s… essential.”

Alfred’s brow furrowed. “For intimidation, I assume.”

“Exactly.”

• Outskirts of Steel Fortress – 3rd Battle Mage Corps Headquarters – 

A division responsible for the capital’s northern sector,and beyond, the northern and northeastern defenses of the Empire. Inside a shabby little room in a corner of the compound, 

“Uuugh! Why the hell is it always me?!”

A young girl, too grown to be called a child but too youthful to be called a woman, kicked a bucket with her foot. Her rust-colored hair was tied back in a messy knot.

“Just because their magic’s flashy, I get stuck doing this crap? My magic’s just as important, damn it! What, am I the damn kitchen help now?!”

Sol grumbled and dragged out mops and rags with a scowl, just as she stepped into the corridor, 

“Oi, Sol! You still haven’t cleaned the lab? What the hell can you even do properly?”

Another voice chimed in. “Yeah, seriously! That place is a disaster! You know if we can’t research magic, people DIE on the battlefield, right?!”

“Stick to cleaning if you can’t pull your weight,” added a third. “God, is there anything you don’t screw up?”

Sol clenched her jaw, arms trembling with barely contained fury.

“I swear to the gods,” she hissed under her breath, “if I could deck them all…”

But she didn’t. She had no allies here. She turned into the lab, where shattered vials, acrid smoke, and volatile mana lingered in the air. The stench stung her nostrils. Not one of the bastards had bothered to clean up after themselves.

“Mmm-mmm-mmm. Sol lost her parents young…Now she gets abused by her seniors…What a lovely fairytale…”

Her voice cracked as she sang, spitting out the sarcastic lyrics while scrubbing the floor. Then she stopped, sighing deeply, 

“Man… those days were better.” She remembered traveling with the Prince. Even with his temper, it had been fun.

That forest patrol. The incident in the canyon… She shook her head violently.

“No, no, no. I’m not dragging him down again. I already caused enough trouble.”

The punishment she was enduring now? It wasn’t just busywork. It was the consequence for deserting her unit during a mission. She’d only been spared expulsion because the Prince had stepped in. Even so…

“How does he do that?” she murmured. “How does he control shadows like it’s nothing…?”

No formal training. No magical studies. And yet he had subdued her berserk form, and stopped her rampage with ease. And that night, “…the assassin.”

Her vision blurred.

She had woken up in a dark maze. His legs had been long. His posture was proud. Crimson eyes filled with gentle arrogance looking down at her, his broad back shielding her from death.

She blinked, caught herself drooling, and quickly wiped her mouth.

“Gods, what is wrong with me lately…” And just then …

“Sol!” That voice. As real as a dream.

“Wha …! I wasn’t thinking anything weird! I swear!”

She wiped her mouth again, glancing around, and then she heard it.

“SOL! WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU?!” 

She froze, that voice was unmistakable.Running to the window, she peeked outside.

“SEL! SAL! SIL! SHIN! GET OUT HERE, WHATEVER YOUR NAME IS!”

The Prince was bellowing at the top of his lungs, mispronouncing her name with gusto. He stood tall, dressed regally as ever, only now, wielding a sword that looked like a weapon forged in nightmares.But none of that mattered, her heart raced.       She bolted for the door.

Before she could reach him, someone else stepped into the courtyard, the Vice Commander of the 3rd Battle Mage Corps.

“Your Highness,” he said with a shallow bow, “to what do we owe this visit?”

There was something in his eyes; Mockery,  Caution. Dismissiveness.

Sol emerged behind him, clutching a rag, her sleeves stained with grime. She looked more like a scullery maid than a mage. 

The Prince’s gaze darkened.

“She helped fend off the assassin who infiltrated the palace,” he said coldly. “Does this unit reward merit with janitorial duty?”

The Vice Commander’s lips curled. “With all due respect, her misconduct must be handled separately from …”

“FWOOOOSH.”

The greatsword was off his back before he finished the sentence.The Prince swung it in one clean arc. The Vice Commander’s artifacts activated in panic, shields layered across the courtyard in shimmering walls. But they shattered like glass.     The blade stopped right at his throat.

“W-What do you think you’re doing?!” he cried out, frozen in place.

“I wanted to see how sharp it is,” the Prince replied, calm as ice.

The Vice Commander tried to respond, but paused when the sword edged closer.

“Don’t speak. The blade’s still at your neck, you greedy bastard.”

The man’s face turned beet red in fury, but he didn’t move. He knew. That fury in the Prince’s eyes was real.

Another officer stepped forward. “Y-Your Highness, are you truly threatening to …?”

“I’m not threatening anything. I’ll kill him. If you think I won’t …go ahead. Say something stupid.”

Silence.

“You bastards. That girl helped stop an assassin who breached the imperial palace, and this is how you repay her? I ordered her to be rewarded. Instead, she gets punished?”

His voice thundered across the compound. The windows above filled with frightened eyes as silence fell.

“Is this your way of disrespecting her?” he continued. “Or is it me you’re defying? Tell me, Alfred, what is the punishment for scorning a royal order?”

Alfred stepped forward, voice unwavering.

“Execution.”