The moment my hand touched the hilt of the sword, agony erupted through my entire body.
"Aaaaaagh!!"
It felt like fire had coursed through my veins, twisting and scorching every nerve. My knees buckled, but my hand refused to let go of the hilt. It was as if the sword itself had latched onto me.
'What the hell is happening?! This didn't happen to Raven!'
Raven—the original protagonist of Elarion's Crown.
In the game, this sword was called the Sword of Broken Faith. An ancient relic, shrouded in mystery. According to the lore, it once belonged to a nameless warrior from a forgotten age. It resonated with its wielder, adapting to their soul.
When Raven picked it up, it simply hummed with a faint purple glow and granted him a powerful stat boost. No pain. No resistance.
But this… this was something entirely different.
"Let… go… dammit!" I roared, trying to wrench my hand away.
But it was stuck. Fused, like my flesh and the hilt had become one. My vision blurred, darkness creeping at the edges. My heart thundered, and sweat poured down my face.
"Why is this happening to me?!"
I screamed, my voice echoing through the cave. But there was no one to hear it.
Then, through the haze of pain, a window flickered into existence before my eyes. The system's cold, familiar text floated in front of me.
> ['Sword of Broken Faith' is attempting to resonate with the Host]
> [Warning: Soul resonance may cause permanent damage]
> [Analyzing host's unique constitution...]
> [Danger to Host detected.]
> [Emergency protocol initiated.]
> [Awakening Skill: 'A Player's Privilege']
My eyes widened.
'Wait, what?!'
Before I could form another thought, the world blanked out. My grip on the sword finally loosened as my consciousness slipped away, falling like a stone into the abyss.
---
When I opened my eyes, the pain was gone.
My breathing slowed. My body felt… weightless. Almost like I wasn't really there.
The cave was still the same—those glowing veins of blue mana still ran along the stone walls, pulsing with a quiet rhythm. But something was different.
I looked down at myself—and froze.
My hands were translucent. Faint, like mist under moonlight. My legs hovered above the ground. I wasn't truly here… or rather, I wasn't truly me.
Before I could make sense of it, I noticed something ahead.
Two figures sat across from one another at a small campfire deep within the cave. The soft crackle of flame filled the silence between them.
A man and a woman.
The man had golden blond hair, slightly tousled. His eyes were calm, but heavy—like he bore the weight of lifetimes. Despite his youth—perhaps mid-twenties—there was something ancient in the way he carried himself.
The woman beside him had flowing red hair and wore robes dyed in crimson and gold. Her presence was warm, like sunlight filtering through stained glass. But there was sorrow etched in her expression.
And then, the man looked directly at me.
No—through me.
He couldn't actually see me… could he?
I didn't move.
My heart pounded with disbelief as recognition sank in.
'That man… that face…'
He wasn't some nameless warrior.
He was the one the world revered. The one who sealed the Demon King in the final battle a thousand years ago.
The one shrouded in myth and legend, known only through ancient texts and the fragmented lore of the game.
The strongest human to have ever lived.
Even stronger than Raven, according to the forums and fan speculation.
He had no official story route, no known lineage—but his name echoed through every corner of Elarion's Crown's world as a symbol of sacrifice and valor.
Elden Hemlock.
The Hero.