Nido yelped and dropped the sword like it had just called him by name. Which, to be fair, it kind of did.
The bladeless sword clattered onto the golden floor with a metallic thunk and an offended groan.
“Rude.”
Nido stared. “Did… did that sword just complain?”
“You try getting slammed butt-first into cold metal after sleeping for a few centuries. My hilt’s not exactly shock-absorbent, you know.”
Nido slowly reached down and picked it up, his hands trembling. Runes along the grip pulsed with faint blue light. The moment his fingers wrapped around the hilt again, the voice returned—clearer now, crisp, like someone had unmuted a sarcastic podcast.
“Name’s Heiminbrand,” it said. “Legendary weapon of storms and sass. And you, apparently, are my wielder. Fantastic.”
Nido blinked. “Wait. Only I can hear you?”
King Gold nodded, still clutching his gold brick like a nervous toddler. “Indeed. You possess the First Rune—The Voice of Rune. It is a sign that you are one of the Chosen. Only the worthy can hear the soul of a rune-forged weapon.”
“Great,” Nido muttered. “So I’m crazy and chosen.”
“You’re not crazy,” Heiminbrand said. “Well… maybe a little. You did drop me, after all.”
“Sorry! You scared me!”
“I’m a legendary sword, not a haunted toaster.”
General Au cleared his throat, trying to stay serious despite the growing absurdity. “This is no joke, boy. The sword chose you.”
“Unfortunately,” Heiminbrand added.
“So… are there other people like me? Chosen ones before?”
“Yes,” King Gold uttered with disappointment. “There are 4 of you. But Loki already has two of them. The other one still missing. You must find the other one before Loki does.”
“I don’t even know how to hold a sword!” Nido panicked.
“Then it’s time to train,” General Au said, cracking his knuckles. “We begin at dawn.”
“Dawn? Can we start at, like… lunch?”
“No.”
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King Gold stood and held out a gold goblet. “To destiny!”
“Can destiny include a dessert platter?” Nido asked.
“If you survive training,” General Au said. “Then yes.”
“If you save the world, then you can have all sweets you want!”, King Gold proclaimed.
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Nido’s eyes sparkled. It would have morphed into donuts and ice cream if it can. He looked at the sass-mouthed sword. At the golden throne. At the moustached king cuddling a gold brick. Then he looked at himself, almost drooling.
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Green hair. Chocolate in his pocket. A strong desire to have all the dessert he wanted.
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But somewhere deep down—under the panic, under the sarcasm, under the sugar addiction—something flickered. A spark. A hint of purpose.
“Okay,” he said, taking a deep breath. “Let’s save the world.”
“About time,” said Heiminbrand.
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And with that, destiny began. With no blade, no clue, and definitely no chill.
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End of Chapter 4.
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