The Ossuary King: Infinite Power

Chapter 3

Lucien saw a man standing in the rain, holding a wooden stick. He saw the same man years later, standing on a battlefield, holding a broken blade against a thousand enemies. He felt the man’s grip, the way he breathed, the way he calculated the wind, the way he understood that a sword was not just a tool, but an extension of the soul.

Lucien’s hands twitched. He felt like he had practiced the sword for a hundred years. He knew how to cut through silk without tearing it. He knew how to cut through stone like it was water. The "Intent" was a spiritual weight that settled into his mind, making him feel sharp, like a blade hidden in a sheath.

"Sword Intent..." Lucien muttered. "I don't even have a sword."

He looked around the shrine. Near the base of the stone tablet, buried halfway in the dirt and ash, was a piece of metal. He reached down and pulled it out.

It was a sword, or what was left of one. It was a straight-edged longsword, but it was covered in thick, orange rust. The crossguard was chipped, and the leather wrap on the hilt had long since rotted away. It looked like a piece of junk that wouldn't be worth a single copper coin in the Imperial Capital.

But as Lucien’s hand closed around the bare metal of the hilt, something happened.

The Grandmaster-Level Sword Intent in his mind resonated with the weapon.

Hummm.

The rusted sword vibrated. A faint, silver light began to glow beneath the layers of rust. To anyone else, it was a broken toy. To Lucien, it felt like a part of his own arm.

He stepped back from the shrine, looking for something to test his new power on. About twenty paces away, there was a massive boulder. It was a dark, volcanic rock, the size of a carriage, likely thrown here during some ancient celestial battle.

Lucien took a deep breath. He didn't use any fancy stance. He simply stood with his feet shoulder-width apart. He raised the rusted sword over his head.

He didn't focus on his muscles. He focused on the Intent. He imagined the line he wanted to draw through the world. He imagined the boulder not as a solid object, but as a collection of atoms that were waiting to be separated.

"Cut," he whispered.

He swung the sword downward.

It was a simple, vertical strike. There was no loud explosion at first. Instead, a thin, crescent-shaped arc of shimmering silver energy flew from the edge of the rusted blade.

The arc grew as it traveled. By the time it hit the boulder, it was ten meters long.

SHIIIIING!

The sound was like a high-pitched whistle. The silver light passed through the massive rock as if it weren't there. The arc continued for another fifty meters, slicing through the thick grey fog and carving a deep trench into the ground before finally vanishing.

For a second, nothing happened. Then, a thin line appeared on the surface of the boulder.

CRACK.

The massive rock split perfectly in half. The two sides fell away from each other, crashing into the ash. The inner surfaces of the rock were as smooth as a mirror, polished by the sheer sharpness of the strike.

Lucien stared at the rusted sword in his hand. A single swing. No mana—just raw Chaos energy and Sword Intent.

"With this," Lucien said, his voice trembling with excitement, "I could have killed Julian in one hit. I could have killed the guards. I could have..."

He stopped. He realized he was still weak. This was just the first level of the Body Tempering realm. The world was full of experts in the Spirit Awakening realm, the Earth-Shattering realm, and beyond. If he wanted to go back and take his revenge, he needed to sign in at more powerful locations. He needed to grow until the entire Saint-Aurelius Clan was nothing but dust beneath his feet.

He looked at the shrine of the Nameless Knight. "Thank you for the gift," he said, bowing slightly.

As he turned to leave the clearing, the temperature suddenly dropped.

The grey mist didn't just swirl; it began to freeze. White frost spread across the bones on the ground. A heavy, oppressive aura descended on the clearing, making the air feel thick and hard to breathe.

Lucien gripped the rusted hilt tighter. His God-Devouring Veins began to pulse, sensing a massive source of energy—but this energy was cold, ancient, and angry.

Clang. Clang. Clang.

The sound of metal hitting stone echoed from behind the tomb.

A figure stepped out of the shadows of the giant titan ribs. It was nearly eight feet tall. It wore armor that might have been silver once, but was now blackened by centuries of rot. A tattered, purple cape hung from its shoulders, and in its right hand, it dragged a massive, two-handed executioner's sword.

Where its face should have been, there was only a hollow darkness lit by two burning, icy-blue flames.

The creature stopped. It raised its head, the blue flames in its eye sockets locking onto Lucien.

"Who dares... disturb the silence of the fallen?"

The voice didn't come from a throat. It was a hollow, scraping sound that seemed to vibrate through the very ground.

"A living soul?" the creature growled, its grip tightening on the massive sword. "There is no life allowed in the Ossuary. Only the harvest."

The creature lunged forward with impossible speed for its size, the ground cracking under its weight.

[Ding! Warning! Warning!]

[Host has encountered a 'Grave-Warden' (Spirit Awakening Realm - Level 5).]

[Escape is recommended!]

Lucien felt the pressure of the monster's aura slamming into him like a physical wall. This wasn't a Grave-Rat. This was a guardian of the dead.

But as the Grave-Warden raised its massive blade for a killing blow, Lucien didn't run. He adjusted his grip on the rusted sword, a cold, sharp light reflecting in his eyes.

"Escape?" Lucien whispered to the System. "I just got here."

The executioner's blade swung down, whistling through the air with the power to level a house.