In some of the legends regarding vampires back on Earth, Vaeril had read that running water was a weakness of vampires. Supposedly, running water was considered holy due to its purity, being the polar opposite of abominations and having the ability to both ward off evil and cure diseases.

As Vaeril stood near the bow on the top deck of the ship, a triple-masted galleon, he was relieved to find that such a weakness did not apply to him. His keen sense of balance in this body allowed him to adjust to the movements of the rocking ship. Glancing up at the night sky, the smell of the salt in the air carried by the winds of the Westaria Ocean tickled his nose.

The night sky was a blanket of unfamiliarity and loneliness. Stars which could be found shining back on Earth could not be found in this new sky Vaeril had found himself under. Aerum, the world he had transmigrated into, truly was not Earth. And if the stars were gentle reminders of his situation, then the two full moons were slaps to the face.

It was in this strange, new world he would be living his new life. His new, supposedly immortal life. That was, if he did not die fulfilling his [Soul Fixation].

The animated voice of the old scholar interrupted Vaeril’s musing. “How strange the world must look to your eyes,” said Scholar Johan. “I cannot imagine waking up after the passage of a few thousand years’ time, especially with the loss of both memories and levels.”

For a split second, the words of the scholar confused Vaeril until he realized he had been pretending to be Azul. But perhaps that was a mistaken notion. Was he indeed not Azul, for his soul had combined with a part of Azul’s soul?

“The night sky certainly does look unfamiliar. Or perhaps everything looks unfamiliar after a few thousand years.”

“If you don’t mind me asking. How much exactly do you remember of the Fabled Warring Ages.” The old scholar frowned in concentration. “Oh, I am getting ahead of myself. Of course, you would not know it by that name, for you have lived through it.”

Vaeril, of course, did not hold such knowledge, for he did not have any of Azul’s memories. And what little background Loliya had told him of Azul was questionable. Azul had been a reticent Sanguis, keeping to himself the majority of his secrets and background. The Zenitence weapon and Azul had only been together for a brief five years, after which Azul’s soul had been shattered by the dragon.

Despite the longsword’s claims, Loliya had not been a well font of knowledge. Rather, it was Vaeril who had done the majority of the talking, the weapon holding a singular and stubborn curiosity toward his home world.

Hmm, Loliya feels frustration from you, wielder. Perhaps you are in need of some relaxing sword training. Loliya knows of many sword forms. Loliya will teach you the archaic Valkseyrie Dance.

I will practice it later. Vaeril replied in his mind.

At the same time, he asked the old scholar, “How far until we arrive at Fenlan Port?” It had taken them three days and nights to directly cut through the island forest before they arrived at the island shore and boarded the moored ship. And during those three days and nights, Vaeril had explored his shadeblood and other magic, as well as gaining a level from killing many of the Green Green Horns.

The question was not lost upon Johan. The old scholar could see that the ancient Sanguis before him was trying to change the subject. Johan would need to perhaps increase their familiarity with one another before the Sanguis would share his story. “It took us two weeks to arrive at the island, but that was simply because we were navigating blindly, only knowing the general location,” he explained. “With no such delay, I reckon we will arrive at Fenlan Port in about a week. This ship, Lady Asylum, is one of the fastest warships of Havenrise Kingdom, built with enchanted aerosil, a great conductor of wind and water magic.”

“I see. Thank you for that information.”

An uncomfortable silence hung in the air, of which the old scholar was the first to break it.

“Well, it is getting late. I will leave you alone with your thoughts.” Saying that, Scholar Johan made a hasty retreat.

For a few minutes, Vaeril watched the distant horizon in silence with only the sound of the waves as his company.

Inevitably, Loliya interrupted him, calling for him to do the sword training. Vaeril had no choice but to do, as in all things related to the sword, Loliya was persistent, if not downright persuasive. Not that anyone could not be persuasive given free reign of an unstoppable communication channel via his mind.

Still, it would not behoove Vaeril to learn from Loliya. Despite having such an impressive repertoire of magic, it would do Vaeril some good especially given the benefits of the titles Azul had. He brought up the two relevant title screens.

Title: [*Sword Saint]

Description: As a master of at least seven sword forms and having become one with the sword, you have the right to be called a Sword Saint. With sword in hand, you gain an additional 100% damage boost, tenacity, and a stat boost using the sword for both offense and defense.

Title: [Zenitence Wielder]

Description: As a Zenitence wielder of a longsword, you have the benefit of being able to master various bladed weapons with increased proficiency, especially with regards to swords. With bladed weapons in hand, you gain an additional 50% damage boost and a stat boost using blades for both offense and defense. When using the Zenitence weapon itself, you gain a further 10% damage boost with sword attacks for every ten levels.

While Vaeril still couldn’t use the title as he hadn’t met its requirements, he could see how absurdly overpowered the title was. And seeing that he had an ancient dragon to slay as his first task, he would undoubtedly need all the advantages he could get.

Taking a deep breath, Vaeril straightened to his full height, a little over six feet tall. Quite different from his human body as he was a good three inches shorter. And well—five hundred pounds of blood lighter.

Vaeril wondered just how much he truly weighed, as he could not tell given how light-footed he was in this body. And neither could he tell from the depths of the footprints he left in the forest. The prints were of relatively normal depth, not something someone who had absorbed the amount of blood he had would leave. At least, Vaeril didn’t think so. Not that he was, by any means, a hunting expert.

Very good wielder, now close your eyes and attempt to be one with Loliya. Try to let go of conscious control. As a Zenitence, Loliya has the power to guide you through the bond.

Her words gave him a momentary pause, but Vaeril continued without faltering. He closed his eyes, imagining himself as a pair of disembodied eyes simply watching his body from above. He fell into a rhythmic breathing pattern. Inhale. Exhale. One. Two.

In the next breath, the exhale, Vaeril could feel his body moving. But the movement was disconcerting, him not having any control over it. He was simply an autumn leaf in the wind, carried along by the guidance of the Zenitence weapon. His arms were no longer his own. His legs were no longer his own. He was simply with one with the sword, carried along by the dance of life and death.

A graceful and elegant dance. The mesmerizing dance of the Valkseyrie.

The black blade, almost invisible to the eyes, was lighted only by the dim light of the magic lantern hanging from a nearby post and by the soft moonbeams of the two celestial bodies.

To simplicity to complexity. A series of sword forms, the black sword whirling and twisting in tune with his body. He followed the sword. And the sword followed back. Undeterred by the steady rocking of the ship, he was consumed in the rhythmic harmony of the swordplay, its precise timing and the steady heartbeat of both the sword and him.

Vaeril had become one with the sword.

Unbeknownst to Vaeril, Princess Thalia and the first of her deathguard, Primus, were on the helms of the uppermost level of the top deck, watching the ancient Sanguis practice his swordplay.

“What do you think of him, Primus?” the princess softly whispered, not wanting her words to be heard.

“He is an unknown factor,” Primus answered. “A dangerous factor too. Undoubtedly, he has many secrets about him, and I am suspicious of him professing that he has lost his memories.”

The princess pursed her lips in thoughtfulness. “Do you think he is trustworthy? Was I too hasty or mistaken in making that contract?”

“No, I do not think you were mistaken. Despite him admitting that he has lost his levels and he is but a mere level 14, my sixth sense still considers him dangerous. And that he will undoubtedly be of importance, even throwing aside the fact that he has three vials of Yggdrasil’s Dew.” Primus narrowed his icy blue eyes seeing the unrecognizable, complex sword forms of the ancient Sanguis. “A fight would have certainly resulted in casualties.”

“Truly? Even your quirk ability Sixth Sense considers him dangerous given how low his level is? Not that it is too far of a stretch given how the Sanguis has performed with only tier one spells.”

A slight nod of his head. “The quirk has saved my life many times.”

Princess Thalia sighed softly. “Humans are but weak mortals. Our only advantage lies solely in the fact that we are many, giving more chances in one of us being blessed by the Esotherial.” She turned to look at her deathguard, easily one of the top three swordsmen in the entire kingdom. “You are far more versed than I am in swordplay. What do you think of his swordsmanship?”

Primus gathered himself for a brief moment. “I am uncertain. I do not recognize the sword style, but some of the forms look similar to the ancient sword forms practiced by the Vykas of Nocu, the priestesses of the goddess of war and death.” He furrowed his brows, watching the complex swordplay. “There is also something disconcerting about the swordplay. In tune, yet out of tune.”

“The Vykas? Wasn’t the order abolished some two thousand years ago?” Thalia frowned, thinking back to her history lessons, some of which spanned two thousand years ago. Granted, much of the history of humankind extending back further than two thousand years ago had been lost with the burning of the Great Library. It had taken a few centuries for the librarians of the Akashic Order to recover from the ordeal, repairing their once glorious library.

Primus nodded empathically. “Yes. I would assume this sword style therefore predates the Vykas, perhaps one of its progenies, for the Vykas were known to collect and weave different sword styles from all over.”

“And the Sanguis predate the Vykas by about two thousand years. In the ancient tomes the supposed Sanguis descendants tried to sell in our kingdom, Azul was known as the Blood Ruler, and the Guardian of Sanguis. Notably, his feat included even slaying a mythical dragon,” Thalia muttered somewhat doubtfully. “He was considered a hero by most in the writings.”

“The heroes of past have always been catalysts for changes, whether good or bad. The first emperor of the Beldini Empire was considered a hero for uniting the northeastern kingdoms, but the amount of bloodshed it took was never considered.”

“Indeed, history has always been written by the winners.” The princess looked at her first deathguard, a usually reticent man and her tutor in swordplay. His dark brown hair was shaved close to the skull and despite the long-sleeved tunic he wore under his leather armor, she could imagine the scars crisscrossing his arms. “But do you think he could be a hero, nay, perhaps an asset to the kingdom?”

“That is not my place to decide, princess.” Primus reminded gently.

“I suppose only time will tell. At the very least, I can only hope he does our kingdom no harm.”

Deep into the night, the deathguard and the princess watched the ancient Sanguis perform various sword styles with a speed that could only be compared to the higher-level warriors.