Chapter 20
Dax walked through the grand banquet hallways, admiring the abundance of fine food and rich wine. On his own, he sat beside his so-called master, Micah.
The two of them drank quietly, observing the crowd with calm, unreadable expressions.
Dax activated his Origin Eyes, watching the youths around him.
He looked through their constitutions and sensed which of them possessed true talent. What he saw genuinely surprised him.
This clan is filled with powerful individuals…
But three things stood out.
First—there was something resembling a demonic hand, hidden with great care. The children did not bear it… but the adults did.
Second—a strange gray energy surrounded them.
What kind of power is this? An attribute? A unique energy? I'll find out.
Third—their constitutions were strong. Most members of the Godfall clan possessed natural talent.
After his short analysis of his clan he searched for the old man, but he was nowhere to be seen.
Instead, ten elders sat upon the raised platform.
The First Elder looked at Dax with a knowing smile.
The Seventh Elder stared with confusion, as though struggling to remember him.
The remaining elders sat silently, waiting only for the arrival of the Ancestor.
Moments later, the air shifted.
White petals began to fall.
Grandfather appeared.
His entrance was magnificent.
He smiled, holding a bottle of wine.
This man, Dax mused.
Grandfather held a spoon and tapped the wine bottle gently.
"Hello, my dear clan," he said.
"I am here to celebrate the return of my grandchild… and to celebrate my awakening from isolation."
He laughed lightly.
"Two great things have happened to this house. If only my foolish son were here to hear this."
Then his tone changed.
He poured the wine onto the floor.
"This is for those who died over the years," he said solemnly.
"So they may know their deaths will not go unanswered."
His aura surged—ancient… primordial.
"Now the path is awakened. The Blood River shall pay.
This is a call to war."
The hall trembled.
The world would once again know the name of the Godfall clan.
Every member of the house fell to their knees.
"All hail the Ancestor."
"All hail the Ancestor."
"Long live the Ancestor."
They chanted his name in unison… until only silence remained.
Gently he turned his gaze to Dax with a look of utter confusion.
Moments before the banquet…
Ancestor godfall rushed to his manor after seeing dax weapon. With gentle hands he held the cube , admiring the strange patterns carved into its surface. He turned it over, studying every angle, trying to understand the mystery behind it.
A faint prick.
A drop of his blood seeped onto the cube's surface.
Instantly the cube dissolved liquefying before sinking directly into his body.
"What is this thing…?" The old man grew wary. Something had invaded him. "This child will be the end of me," he muttered.
He was about to interfere, to force the object out but then a soft mechanical voice whispered:
"Welcome back."
Ancestor Godfall stiffened.
He released his aura at full range, scanning the entire room, the entire manor, even the space around him.
Nothing.
No intruder. No spirit. No formation.
"Where did that voice come from…?"
Then:
Booting 1%… 20%… 40%… 90%… 100%.
A force pulled him inward.
Suddenly he stood in a strange white void, a vast mental space. At its center floated a single white sword inscribed with elegant glowing runes.
"Master…" the blade spoke, its voice filled with longing.
The old man was stunned, but he forced himself to remain calm.
"It is good to see you again," the sword continued, shining brighter.
Ancestor Godfall frowned. "Who are you?"
Silence.
He corrected himself. "No… what are you? And why do you speak to me like you know me?"
The sword's glow wavered gently.
"I see you have forgotten me, Godfall… or should I say—Benjamin."
Ancestor Godfall's eyes widened. No one alive knew that name.
The sword continued before he could react:
"You do not possess your memories. Let me share some of mine."
Light swallowed him and suddenly he stood in a futuristic world.
The air was metallic. Machines hummed faintly. He watched a man—himself, but younger—polishing a broken blade at a workbench.
Then a small boy ran toward him, eyes gleaming with curiosity.
His appearance was unmistakable.
Dax.
"Grandfather, why do you polish a broken blade?" little Dax asked, peering at the cracked metal.
The old man watching the memory felt a strange tug in his chest.
The sword spoke beside him:
"At that time, I resented the boy for for that question… but that resentment faded quickly."
The past Benjamin began to speak—but the projection paused, frozen.
"Where is this place?" the ancestor asked, staring at the sword spirit.
"This is your memory," the sword replied. "I have only ever had one master."
—
Now the scene shifted again.
Benjamin stood before the young Dax.
"My boy," he said gently,
"let me teach you something. When an item is treated with care treated as if it were alive a spirit may awaken. Slowly, the weapon gains a will. It becomes an extension of yourself. Like those coins in movies that protect their owners."
Young Dax's eyes sparkled with amazement.
In an instant he ran to a plasma gun and began speaking to it like it was alive.
"Little brat… he's taken it too far again." Benjamin smacked the child's head lightly.
—-
The vision shifted once more.
This time, the ancestor saw a lab—cold, metallic, filled with floating screens. Beside him stood the current Dax, shirtless, wearing his black robe, watching a blade hover inside a cylindrical tube.
The ancestor frowned.
"What is going on…? Why can't I hear anything?"
"This," the sword said, "was the moment I was reborn."
"What does that have to do with Dax?" the old man asked.
"…Everything."
The sword glowed intensely.
"You will understand when we enter the state of Perfect Synchrony."
In a flash he appeared to his room with tge blade heaven piercer and a ring in his hand