Chapter 12: A Blade Resembles Its Owner

Fell gradually came out of his epiphany. Noticing that his surroundings were oddly calm, he looked around him.

Surrounding him, a group of gladiators with gawked eyes. In the middle of them was a stiffened Sifiso, his eyes were gaping out of their orbits.

Calming himself, he quickly asked with a shaky voice.

"Where did you learn this martial art?"

His question catching the interest of everyone. A deep shine representing jealousy appeared in some gladiators' eyes, a gulp resonating throughout the quiet courtyard.

Noticing the awkward vibe, Sifiso added with a cough.

"Come, today you need to choose yourself a suitable weapon." Turning around, he left with a fast pace trying to lessen the trouble for young Fell.

Fell hastily followed him, leaving behind a group of stunned Gladiators.

"Did you see that punch!?" his voice quivering.

"Yeah, it was so fast! My body is still shivering from the excitement"

The gladiators all practiced martial art to some extent, seeing such an impressive act left them shocked. Most of them reassessed Fell in their hearts, putting him in a higher pedestal.

"Let's get back to training boys," added an Elite Rank gladiator, "If that kid can do it, why can't we?!"

Youthful passion soon spread through the originally calm courtyard. With hearts full of motivation and ambition, the gladiators resumed their morning training session. Manly howls and barks resounding through the courtyard.

Fell caught up to Sifiso and asked him with an interested tone.

"Why do I need a weapon?"

"Starting master rank, melee weapons are authorized in the arena." Explained Sifiso

"Isn't it too dangerous?" asked Fell with a doubtful voice.

"Most fighters of the Master Rank are cultivators. To die in an arena battle is an unavoidable part of the game," he responded joking with meaningful eyes that looked deep in Fell's own eyes before adding, "But you already know that. As a cultivator, you know your own body's survivability".

Fell stopped for a minute. He was surprised that Sifiso would have so much knowledge about cultivators. He quietly changed the view he had on that man, seeing him in a different light.

"Where are we going to find a melee weapon?" asked Fell

"We have a stockpile here in the gladiators' arena, the weapons there are quite old. But you'll probably find something that'll suit your taste."

Fell resumed his walk, a fast-paced strut showing his impatience. He was already dreaming and thinking about the thousand different weapons he could use.

Soon they arrived in front of an old hut. The walls were full of rust, giving off the impression to whoever saw it that it survived through the ravage of time.

Sifiso quickly approached the door, taking out a set of keys from his pocket. He unlocked it and entered after nodding to Fell.

Fell neared the small hut, a powerful metallic smell hitting his nose. He entered the old building and disappeared inside it.

A small yelp escaped from his mouth as soon as he entered, shocked by the multitude of items plastered on the walls.

Hundreds of old weapons, showing the diverse history of human civilization. Swords, Hammers, Lances. They came in myriads of forms but all weapons had a common function: they were designed to kill.

Fell's face flushed from his excitement. His blood coursed through his veins, awakened by the intent coming from the cold weapons.

He started hopping through the large room, touching every single killing item. Having no precise knowledge on how to choose a weapon, he was touching them all. Feeling their curves, the chips on their blade, their history. Fell was using the most primitive way of choice, intuition.

Sifiso calmly watched Fell dabble in the middle of humanity's history, patiently waiting for his junior to come to ask him for advice.

Fell swiftly made a tour of all the weapons. A frown appeared in his face, deep in thought. He noticed a problem, all of the weapons were way too light for him.

Ever since he started cultivating his body, his muscles attained an inhuman level. For Fell, Bench pressing a ton or two wasn't really a problem.

With this fact into account, most of the weapons here felt weightless in Fell's hand. He grabbed a titanic Warhammer, swung it around then sighed before putting it back.

Noticing this, Sifiso asked.

"Tell me now, are the weapon here not suiting your tastes?"

"They are. The only problem is that they're too light…" said Fell while looking up with hands raised in the sky as if saddened by his faith

"I should have remembered how much of a monster you are" laughed Sifiso not knowing if he wanted to laugh at Fell's action or cry because of his inhuman strength.

"Follow me, there are some special weapons in the back." He added before going to the deepest part of the weaponry room.

Sifiso opened an old wooden compartment, clouds of dust and mold escaping from it. He gently lifted a long wooden case while trembling, gritting his teeth due to exerting his utmost strength.

He gently put on top of a solid table made of metal. Blew on it, making the dust that accumulated on the case fly around the room.

Opening the box, he took two steps back and proudly looked at Fell.

Fell approached the old case and looked inside. A large plate was releasing a vague black shining hue. That plate wasn't befitting of being called a one-handed sword, but was nonetheless one.

The Sword overall length was one meter and twenty centimeters. The sword handle was close to twenty centimeters, it was made from a black metal that Fell never saw.

Taking the Sword in his hand, he slowly took the blade out of its wooden scabbard. The Sword's blade was a two-edged weapon, its edges shining in the somber room. The blade length was close to one hundred centimeters and it had a ridiculous thickness of 10 mm in the middle of the blade. Its thickness drastically reducing as it neared the tip where it was only 3 mm making it a sharp killing weapon.

Feeling the weight of the weapon, a satisfied grin appeared on his face.

"That's the weapon! Does it have a name?"

"Soldier's Fortune!"

"Good name!" said Fell while sheathing his new weapon in its scabbard.

Soldier's Fortune weighed close to one hundred kilograms, making it hardly usable by Mortals. Most of the Master Rank practitioner preferred using custom-made weapons. It ended up here accumulating dust over time.

Satisfied and happy to have acquired a weapon that suited his taste, Fell went to clean himself from his early training session and went to his room in the gladiator's barracks.

Remembering that he still didn't check the content of the other Crystal in his Spatial Pocket, he hastily took it out.

Sitting cross-legged in his bed, in front him two Crystals. One of them was white while the other was a deep blue, their color softly illuminating Fell's dim-lighted room.

"Time to suffer again," he thought with a sarcastic grin. The memory of him using the Black crystal still fresh in his mind.

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