I Possess the SSS Skill: Future Sight-Chapter 25: The Forgotten Blade

— Kyle Valtier’s POV —

I stood before that abyssal black maw, listening to the echo of raging water rushing into its depths, only to be devoured by absolute darkness.

"Do I have the courage to go through?"

I asked myself that question, then let out a low, dry laugh that echoed alongside the crashing river.

What a stupid question.

Stupid... and pathetic.

Wasn’t it? Courage had never been part of the equation in my miserable life.

Courage was a luxury reserved for heroes who had choices.

Me?

I was a rat cornered in a slaughterhouse.

Behind me lay the Erebus mountain range—where that entity that toyed with distance and folded reality lurked, where the blood waterfall flowed, birthing endless nightmares.

Retreat meant being crushed... or erased from existence by the decision of a red screen.

Of course I would enter.

Even if this cave was the throat of the devil himself, I had no luxury of hesitation.

I took a deep breath of the cold air, thick with the scent of dead ages and damp decay, and stepped forward.

The moment I crossed the cave’s threshold, darkness swallowed me.

It was not ordinary darkness born from the absence of light—it was physical darkness, heavy, as if I were sinking into viscous black ink.

The sound of the storm and rain outside cut off instantly, as if an invisible door of lead had slammed shut behind me.

Only the sound of the black river remained, flowing beside me, striking unseen rocks below with a muffled echo.

I began to walk.

My steps were slow, hesitant, haunted by pure terror.

My left hand stretched out to feel along the cold, slick rock wall to maintain balance, while my right hand gripped my empty Glock...

Like a fool holding a wooden stick in a minefield.

Tick...

Tick...

The sound came from my torn boots stepping on wet gravel.

The deeper I went, the more sharply the river’s path descended, drifting away from the stone walkway I followed, until its roar faded into a distant murmur deep within an unseen abyss.

And then... silence.

A heavy, sick, suffocating silence.

The only thing that broke it was—

Drip...

...

Drip...

Water droplets falling slowly from the unseen ceiling, striking small pools on the ground.

Each drop echoed inside my skull like a hammer strike.

I froze in place. My muscles locked.

I held my breath, sharpening my hearing.

My instincts screamed, anticipating an attack.

I expected hundreds of red eyes to flare open in the darkness, like in the previous cave.

I expected the growl of a rock ghoul, the hiss of a massive serpent, or the stomp of something heavy.

But... nothing.

A full minute passed.

Then five.

Then ten.

No one attacked me.

No monsters.

No mutations.

No traps.

Nothing.

Literally nothing.

The fear creeping into my heart now was not fear of a creature...

It was the fear of emptiness.

In Erebus—where every stone and every pool of blood overflowed with death—this absolute void was illogical.

Why were there no guardians? Not even insects?

It was as if this place had been cleansed of both life and death.

As if the aura of something far more terrifying inside had eradicated even bacteria.

"Did... did I enter the wrong cave?" I muttered, my voice trembling violently as it echoed faintly through the dark passage.

"Did I miss the real entrance at the blood waterfall... and walk into a dead-end hole that will lead me to starve to death?"

Cold sweat slid down my back.

The idea that I had lost my way in this hell was enough to push me toward madness.

I dragged my exhausted legs forward, my wounds throbbing in rhythmic pain.

Time no longer existed.

Perhaps I walked for an hour... or a day.

Hunger returned to gnaw at my insides, and thirst began to dry my throat once more.

Then suddenly...

At the end of that long, blind tunnel...

I saw light.

It was not blue magical light.

Nor crimson, blood-like glow.

It was yellow.

Warm.

Faint.

Flickering weakly against the stone walls at the end of the passage.

My heart leapt into my throat.

Light? Here? At the depths of Erebus?

I approached cautiously, pressing my back to the wall, advancing step by step like a fearful shadow.

I reached the edge of the entrance emitting the light, stole a glance inside—

—and my crimson eyes widened in shock and awe.

It was a circular chamber.

Not naturally formed.

The walls were polished with terrifying precision, as if cut by a flawless transcendent blade.

At the center stood an altar of black obsidian, gleaming with a dark luster.

And atop that altar...

A candle.

A simple white candle, its wax melting slowly, its yellow flame trembling in the still air.

The mere existence of a burning candle in a cave forgotten for thousands of years was enough to shatter the human mind.

Who lit it? When? Why had it not gone out?

But my eyes did not linger on the candle for long.

Because beside it...

Leaning against the black altar...

Was the true reason I had come.

"The Forgotten Blade."

It was a sword.

But calling it a sword felt like an insult.

It was not made of steel.

Nor of Eitra-infused titanium used by the great guilds.

It was made of...

"Nothingness."

Its blade was entirely black.

Not black as a color—but as the absence of color.

It absorbed the candle’s faint yellow light without reflecting it.

Looking at it felt like staring into a bottomless abyss.

Its hilt was wrapped in rough leather resembling dragon scales, and it emitted an aura...

An aura that made the air in the chamber heavy, cold, and filled with the scent of ancient, dried blood.

This... was why there were no monsters here.

The aura of this weapon screamed absolute death.

Any living being that approached this cave would either flee by instinct—or be crushed under the pressure of its presence.

I stepped into the chamber, like something hypnotized.

As I approached the altar, I noticed something else.

The chamber walls were not entirely smooth.

They were covered in carvings.

Etched writings on solid stone.

I looked at the symbols.

They were a strange language—curved and jagged, as if carved by enraged claws.

A language that did not belong to humans, nor ghouls, nor any ancient civilization I had read about in Morfind’s library.

But...

The moment I focused on them...

Something horrifying happened.

The symbols began to writhe.

Like black insects crawling across the walls—

Then they began arranging themselves inside my mind...

Forcing their translation into my consciousness.

How?

How could my mind—a mere G-rank human—decipher a dead transcendent language?

Was it the effect of [Future Sight], linking my awareness across time?

Or was the sword itself whispering the meaning into me?

I didn’t know.

And I didn’t want to know.

I read the translated words forming in my mind, and with each line, my chest tightened, and a lethal cold crept into my spine:

"Here lies the sin of the first creation,

and the graveyard of the transcendents who believed themselves immortal.

Where the thrones of the exalted shattered,

and their crowns turned to dust beneath the feet of nothingness.

In the womb of this forgotten unknown,

a terror that breathes darkness sleeps,

And from the depths of the bleeding wound of the universe,

the harbinger of the end shall rise,

To claim every soul that was stolen,

and every heartbeat that dared to exist."

I read it once.

Then again.

I stepped back, my breathing quickening, cold sweat covering my forehead.

"What the hell does this mean?!" I whispered sharply into the empty chamber.

’The shattered thrones of transcendents’?

Aren’t the Seven Transcendents the rulers of our three cities—Elysium, Novarion, and Zirathion?

How could their thrones be shattered if they rule the world now?

Was this speaking of an ancient past... or—

—or was it a prophecy?

Did these carvings match my future vision?

"The harbinger of the end shall rise..."

Was that the dark-half entity I saw slaughtering S-rank heroes?

Was I standing in an ancient transcendent graveyard—

—or in a waiting room for the end of the world?

I looked at the black sword again.

Was this the weapon I was meant to wield?

A blade born from "the sin of the first creation"?

The red system screen flickered at the edge of my vision, reminding me of clinical death if I failed.

"...Fine."

I swallowed, my dry throat like a blade cutting inward.

"I have no choice. Either I become a tool of this prophecy... or a corpse in this cave."

I stepped forward slowly, my right hand trembling violently.

I approached the altar.

The candle’s warmth brushed my skin—but the sword’s cold overwhelmed it.

I reached out.

My fingers touched the rough leather hilt.

And the moment I closed my grip around it—

BOOOOM!

A silent explosion shattered my consciousness.

Not of fire—but of pure energy.

An immense, absolute pressure slammed down on my body as if the peak of Mount Erebus itself had fallen onto my shoulders.

"AAAAAAGH!"

I screamed a silent scream and dropped to my knees instantly. The black stone beneath me cracked.

This was not a sword.

It was a black hole refined into a blade.

The Eitra within it surpassed all comprehension.

My G-rank body began tearing apart from within.

I felt blood vessels burst in my eyes.

Blood streamed from my nose and ears.

The bones in my arm holding the sword creaked and cracked, on the verge of shattering.

I couldn’t stand.

I couldn’t breathe.

The sword rejected me.

It crushed my existence for daring to touch it.

I was dying.

My mind began to sink into darkness.

But—

Suddenly, in the instant I was certain my arm would be torn from my body—

Something inside my blood moved.

Perhaps the Purple Ghoul core I had devoured...

Or the nature of my body altered by [Future Sight - SSS].

It was as if my body, in desperate instinct, decided to open itself completely.

The crushing black energy pressing against me surged inward.

It flooded my bloodstream—merging with my Shadow Eitra.

The explosive pain turned into a lethal cold.

A freezing calm flowing through my veins like a slow, soothing poison.

The pressure vanished.

The weight disappeared.

I gasped violently, collapsing onto my left hand, panting—while my right still held the black blade effortlessly.

The sword no longer felt heavy.

It felt... natural.

Like an extension of my arm.

And at that moment, the red screen flashed triumphantly in my mind:

[System: Acquisition Confirmed.]

[Congratulations, Host! You have successfully completed the mandatory mission "Retrieve the Forgotten Blade" and passed the rejection trial.]

[Distributing reward...]

[New Skill Acquired: (Shadow Rend – Rank S-)]

[Skill Description:]

A unique and terrifying offensive ability. Allows the host to target and inflict real physical damage upon an opponent... by stabbing or cutting their "shadow" cast on the ground. Damage inflicted upon the shadow is immediately reflected on the real physical body.

[Note: The skill consumes a large amount of Eitra depending on the strength of the target.]

I stared at the red screen, blood dripping from my nose.

I read the skill description once.

Then again.

"Shadow Rend... damage the shadow to damage the body?"

My crimson eyes widened—and a wide, insane grin spread across my bloodstained lips.

"Perfect... This is more than perfect. This is terrifying. I don’t even need to approach my enemy—I just need their shadow." 𝒻𝓇𝑒𝘦𝘸𝑒𝒷𝓃ℴ𝑣𝘦𝑙.𝒸ℴ𝘮

The Black Joker was no longer just a thief hiding in shadows—

He had become an executioner who weaponized them.

An S-rank skill.

Me—a G-rank piece of trash—now possessed an offensive ability that could theoretically slaughter an A-rank hunter if I played it smart enough.

I leaned on the black sword like a cane and rose slowly.

My body was shattered—

But I felt a surge of power I had never known.

Yet that euphoria didn’t last long.

As I wiped the blood from my face with my torn sleeve, two questions pounded violently in my skull.

The first... and most suspicious:

Why was this cave so easy?

Yes, the aura was lethal. The sword nearly killed me.

But...

No puzzle.

No SS-rank guardian.

No cursed trap.

Just a tunnel, a candle, and a sword.

For a system that delighted in tormenting me—throwing me against reality-bending entities just hours ago—

This was too easy.

Easy enough to suggest something far worse lurking unseen.

And the second question...

The one that wiped the grin from my face instantly—

Replacing it with pure shock and stupidity—

"How... the hell am I supposed to get back home?"

My eyes widened as I looked behind me into the dark cave.

"Damn it!" I shouted, my voice echoing.

"How do I get back?! I can’t return through the blood waterfall—the monsters are still spawning! I can’t climb the Erebus mountains again! And the ocean is filled with SS-rank gates!"

The cursed system gave me a mission to reach this place—

But didn’t tell me how to leave.

It dragged me to the deepest point of hell...

And left me here.

Am I supposed to live in this cave with my legendary sword and new skill—

Until I starve to death eating cave insects?!

I grabbed my head and began pacing in frantic circles around the altar.

"Damn it! Hell! Curse the system! Curse the mountains! Curse the Seven Transcendents! Curse everything!"

I suddenly stopped, blinking.

"...Why do I swear so much?" I muttered in confused disbelief.

"It’s become my official language. Can’t I form a single sentence without cursing?"

I let out a deep sigh.

I looked at the candle still burning slowly.

At the black sword in my hand.

I was alone.

In the graveyard of transcendents.

Holding a weapon that could tear shadows apart.

With absolutely no idea how to find my way back to my filthy bed in Elysium.

What a ridiculous play.

And its protagonist...

Was nothing more than a black jester who had lost his way off the stage.