Chapter 231: The Blade
Almost the instant they laid eyes on him, the supernaturals within the assault team activated their abilities.
As supernatural energy surged forth, one of the team members released an ability belonging to [Forge]. An orange glow flared in his hand, and in the next moment, an orange chain abruptly manifested around the black blade clenched in the killer’s grip. The chain was shaped like flames drawn from a furnace, scorching the blade it was bound to.
His ability allowed him to control—and even melt—weapons. Even if it wasn’t a conventional cold weapon, as long as it could be defined as a “weapon” in concept, it would fall under the influence of his power. Although his current rank wasn’t particularly high, he had never imagined he would be thwarted in the lower districts.
Almost the moment the supernatural power wrapped around the blade, a violent, tyrannical aura surged straight toward him. In just two or three seconds, the orange chains that had been restraining the blade began to tremble. The flames weakened, and cracks even started to appear.
Several teammates fired bursts of bullets, aiming directly at the killer’s wrist—but in the next instant, he twisted his body into an eerie posture and dodged every single round.
That kind of movement was something no normal human could possibly perform—bones would have snapped long ago. Yet the killer seemed completely indifferent. He didn’t even let out a grunt of pain.
At the same time the killer moved, another supernatural had already completed the construction of his own ability. Many supernatural powers weren’t activated with a mere thought; some were special and required specific “conditions” to be met—certain gestures, blessings, or incantations.
Calling out the name of your ultimate move while using it might feel a bit cringe, but when you had to chant, you might as well try to look cool doing it.
This supernatural’s preparation consisted of only a few relatively simple motions. When his final hand sign was completed, a purple snake emerged from his shoulder. Its pupils locked onto the killer, flashing with the radiance of [Awakening]. In the next instant, several wounds suddenly split open across the killer’s gaunt body—so thin it was hard to believe there was still any blood left to spill.
The sheer number and depth of the wounds were shocking. Yet these injuries were not created by the [Awakening]-attribute supernatural. He had merely reproduced wounds the man had suffered before, forcibly reopening injuries that had never fully healed.
“This is strange. With so many wounds, how is there no blood coming out?”
“What’s stranger is that he’s still alive after all this!”
Not only was he alive—in the very next moment, the killer performed another blatantly inhuman maneuver. He sprang up from the floor, leaped onto the ceiling, and clung to it, scuttling across the surface as he charged toward the supernaturals inside the room.
Gunfire erupted, forcing him back a short distance. The bullets clearly sank into his body, and the close-range impact even knocked him slightly backward—yet it still wasn’t enough to kill him outright.
“…What kind of monster is this?” someone couldn’t help muttering.
Even so, not a single assault team member panicked.
“It’s probably not him,” the [Forge]-attribute supernatural said immediately. “There’s something wrong with that blade.”
As he spoke, his gaze sharpened. Several oddly pronounced incantations slipped from his lips, his voice subtly different from when he spoke normally. When the final syllable lingered in the air, a faint ripple spread outward from his body, as if he had received some kind of response. The chain binding the black blade surged upward and coiled tightly around the killer’s wrist.
Then came a violent explosion—from the chain itself.
The wrist that looked so fragile was blown off in an instant. The black blade, flickering with red light, was hurled spinning through the air by the blast before clang—it embedded itself into the wall. The red patterns along the blade continued to pulse, as if emitting a silent, resentful wail, before gradually fading into stillness.
The moment the blade left his grasp, the troublesome “killer” seemed to lose his core source of power. He dropped straight down from the ceiling and hit the floor, completely motionless.
A team member stepped forward to check on him, then confirmed, “Still alive—but not for long. Take him back immediately.”
Seeing someone reach out to retrieve the black blade, the [Forge]-attribute supernatural hurriedly stopped them. “Don’t touch it!”
This thing was clearly dangerous. It was definitely a supernatural item—though what rank it was remained unclear.
He pulled a pale-gold strip of cloth from his pack. The fabric looked ancient, and faint golden runes were engraved along its surface. He carefully wrapped it around his hand, making sure no skin was exposed, before gripping the hilt and cautiously pulling the blade free.
The blade seemed to hum for an instant, but the golden runes on the cloth flickered softly. Then the black blade fell silent.
The supernatural exhaled in relief. “No problem. Let’s head back and report in.”
A teammate beside him bumped his shoulder. “This supernatural item looks pretty decent. We might get a hefty bonus for it.”
“That depends on whether any consortium is willing to buy it,” he replied. “It looks way too sinister.”
Indeed, while the military would keep some confiscated supernatural items for themselves, most were transported to the upper levels for auction. In some cases, even if the military wanted to retain an item, a consortium might offer an exorbitant price. As long as both sides reached an agreement, a deal wasn’t out of the question.
In the end, even the military couldn’t refuse money—and its entanglement with consortium interests ran deep.
No one hated money. No one didn’t need money. Supernaturals were no exception.
On the monitor, the footage showed the assault team withdrawing. The people seated around the round table exchanged glances.
“Any thoughts?”
“How did something like this appear in the lower districts?”
Judging by its strength, this wasn’t something that should exist down there. Self-generated supernatural items in the lower levels were exceedingly rare, and due to mist contamination, they were usually riddled with flaws. And if it wasn’t self-generated, then lower-district [Forge]-attribute supernaturals simply didn’t have the ability or materials to create high-tier supernatural items.
“Was it brought down from above?”
“I’ve never seen this blade before. With abilities like that, it should’ve been on record—unless it was made on the black market, or by those damned resistance groups.”
“It practically turned a man into a walking corpse. If it were controllable—and mass-produced for the military…”
“What attribute do you think this blade belongs to?”
Someone suddenly asked.
“Heart? Probably [Heart]. That level of vitality.”
“[Forge] could do that too. It feels like it turned a person into a tool. I think [Forge] is more likely.”
“I think it’s [Edge]. That killing intent is way too heavy.”
The debate bounced back and forth among several attributes—but not a single person mentioned [Cup].
Because that was a long-forgotten taboo.
So forgotten that among this new generation, many had never even heard of [Cup] at all.
No matter what attribute it was, as long as it wasn’t [Cup], anything else would be acceptable.
