I Awakened My Game System! Now Three Great Houses Want Me Dead!-Chapter 125: Sword

Xenos sighed.

"...Come in, Mary."

The door opened, and there she was, Mary, bursting in all disheveled and sweaty, holding a small crate full of vials, her white hat tilted sideways like she’d sprinted through the halls.

Her face practically shouted, "Did I make it in time?!"

Xenos opened his mouth to answer, only to then cough up blood.

That seemed to be enough of a "yes."

"LORD XENOS?!"

She shrieked, rushing forward in panic.

He quickly waved her off, still half choking.

"I’m—fine."

She ignored him and pulled out a vial filled with glowing green liquid, trying to force it into his hand.

Frowning a little, he gently pushed it back toward her.

"I said I’m fine."

"You’re obviously not."

Xenos grunted, forcing himself upright and back into his lotus position.

"That’s normal."

"It’s not—!"

He cut her off with a gesture toward the floor beside him.

"Put them there."

Mary hesitated but obeyed, setting her crate of potions down beside him carefully.

"Good. Now go find the head butler. Tell him to give you a room for the night; we’ll finalize your acceptance tomorrow."

Her very colorful eyes went a little wide.

"T-tomorrow? Does that mean—?"

He smirked faintly.

"Yeah. You’re in."

Her entire face lit up, and she bowed so quickly her hat nearly fell off, mumbling a dozen "thank yous" before darting out the door with barely contained joy.

When the door clicked shut, Xenos chuckled under his breath.

"...If only she knew."

He rolled his shoulders, cracking his neck.

"Alright. Back to it."

Once he lifted a hand, a wheel began to spin in his left eye.

Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick—

DING!

—

{Magma!}

—

"Perfect."

Eris’s voice immediately sighed.

’I’m not watching this.’

"Good call."

Xenos stripped off his tunic and flexed his hand, summoning a dense glob of molten rock that hovered above his palm.

It sizzled, popped, and dripped, threatening him with its heat.

Then, without hesitation, he pointed it straight at his chest, and the magma splashed against him, melting through his skin and burning deep.

The pain was immediate, white-hot, and unbearable, but he didn’t make a sound.

He just clenched his jaw and kept going.

Again.

And again.

Each blast of magma tore at his flesh, and each time he let it go deep, waiting until the smell of burning skin filled the room before he stopped and chose a different target on his body.

He repeated the same action until barely any spot remained unharmed.

That was when he grabbed one of Mary’s potions and downed it in one gulp.

The glow spread across his body as his wounds sealed and his skin regenerated.

Once he was fully healed, he tossed the empty vial aside and did it again.

Eris’s voice returned, though only for a moment, and much quieter.

’You’re mad.’

He smirked faintly through the heat waves.

"Hm."

Yes, it was torture.

Yes, it was insane.

But it worked.

Though it might not seem like it, Xenos wasn’t a masochist, and he wasn’t doing this for no reason.

Like with [Wise Fool], he was forcing the growth of [Fortune’s Wheel], breaking through the Rune, and increasing its Rank by living through what it represented. Every Rune responded to experience, and whether self-inflicted or not, this remained within the category of experience.

Though it’d be unfortunately slower, as the stronger and later the Rune, the more effort it required to rank up. Essentially, this was the same as increasing his Rune Rank by simulating combat, a bug made in real life.

A bug made true only by his existence.

So he’d need to torture himself like this for many more days to come.

Endurance through destruction.

A test of what he could survive.

So he’d survive it, over and over.

At least until he broke through.

He was about to call another glob of magma when—

Knock. Knock.

Another one came, making him groan.

"...If that’s Mary again, I’m firing her."

The door opened.

It wasn’t Mary but Vulcan.

The ginger-haired man stepped in with soot on his arms, holding a long, cloth-wrapped object.

"My Lord..."

His face held a proud, tired grin.

"Your sword is finished."

Xenos stared at him—half-naked, smoke rising off his shoulders, surrounded by potion vials and scorch marks—and grinned right back.

"...perfect timing."

Acting like nothing was wrong or unusual with Xenos, Vulcan set the wrapped blade down on the desk and slowly stepped back, his chest heaving from the forge’s heat.

Vulcan almost made sure to say nothing about his Lord’s current state and the healing potions near him, knowing that Xenos was... unique and unorthodox from the games alone.

The rumors around him didn’t help either.

Still, and again, that far from bothered him.

What bothered him, though, was something else entirely.

Even sitting cross-legged on the floor, Xenos was only a head shorter than the broad man—something Vulcan clearly resented in his bones but didn’t make an effort to complain about.

Professional pride kept his mouth shut.

"That’s the sword?"

Xenos asked, lifting his head.

"Yes, my Lord, it’s finished."

Vulcan’s reply was formal and respectful as always.

Typical for a Divine Forger who’d spent the day melting steel and defying time.

Since when could a sword be forged in a day? Or was this a thing all Divine Forgers could do?

’Perhaps.’

Xenos nodded.

"If it’s as good as it looks—and as fast as you made it—you’re accepted tomorrow."

Vulcan paused, looking at Xenos for a while, only to then ask:

"Where am I to sleep?"

"Hm, go find the head butler for a room."

He waved a hand, and Vulcan bowed deeply, grateful, and left without another word.

Once he was gone, the room breathed slow.

The candle next to Xenos guttered.

He watched it for a moment before smiling and dragging his attention back to the business of being ridiculous.

Xenos continued to torture himself for progress in a mechanical, very practical way.

[Fortune’s Wheel] was a Rune that gave him an Element; he needed to squeeze every possible friction point of that Element until the Rune’s edges dulled and his body learned of it deeply... perhaps in both the literal and metaphorical senses of the phrase.

Since it had been magma, he lived through it until his skin learned a new tolerance.

He lifted both hands and called the image of molten stone back into his palm.

The globe pulsed, hot enough to make his bones hum.

Inhaling slow, he felt the heat crawl along his veins.

"Let’s resume."