Shirou took a few test swings with the sword, feeling the weight and balance in his hands. The weapon sliced through the air with a satisfying whistle, smooth and precise. A small nod escaped him, pleased with the craftsmanship. Turning towards the shopkeeper, he said, "I would like a scabbard for this as well."
"Of course, sir." The shopkeeper smiled, already rummaging through a nearby display.
Technically, Shirou could summon Emberstorm from his inventory at any time. However, the summoning process took about one and a half seconds—an eternity in a true life-or-death battle. Even a single second's delay could mean the difference between survival and death. Having the sword at his side would be far safer.
The shopkeeper soon presented him with a striking scabbard: deep crimson red, adorned with intricate golden patterns that shimmered under the shop lights. It was almost regal in its design, yet it somehow felt like it belonged with Emberstorm.
"I'll take it," Shirou said without hesitation.
"Would you like anything else, sir? Armour, perhaps?" the shopkeeper offered.
Shirou shook his head lightly. "No, this is fine."
Armour had its uses, certainly—but it was a crutch for those who lacked either raw strength or the speed to avoid fatal blows. Truly strong individuals relied on reinforcing their bodies with mana, an art that granted both durability and agility. Heavy armour only served to slow you down, to make you a bigger, easier target.
With his lightning affinity, Shirou's greatest asset was speed. He needed nothing weighing him down.
Satisfied with his purchase, Shirou followed the shopkeeper to the counter. He counted out the aether coins from his pouch, feeling their faint hum of magical energy, and handed them over. The transaction went smoothly, and with a final polite nod from the shopkeeper, Shirou stepped out into the lively, sun-drenched streets of Velgrath.
On the way back to the inn, Shirou bought a parcel of food from a street vendor—a hearty meal wrapped neatly in leaves—and made his way through the winding alleys to his temporary home.
Upon entering his room, he closed the door behind him with a soft click, the familiar creak of the old wood echoing in the quiet. He moved to the centre of the room and opened his inventory with a thought. The system's shimmering interface appeared before him, and with a small motion, he placed the Emberstorm inside.
The system responded immediately.
> [You have obtained EMBERSTORM (Sword)]
[System updating…]
[System update completed]
[You have learned Intermediate-Level Sword Mastery]
The moment the update was completed, Shirou felt it—a rush of knowledge crashing into his mind like a wave. Techniques, footwork, stances, blade control—all the fundamentals and advanced maneuvers that an intermediate-level swordsman should know flowed into him. It was similar to what he experienced when he gained dagger mastery, but this time, the scale was larger, the depth greater.
A slow, satisfied smirk tugged at Shirou's lips. He summoned Emberstorm again, the sword materializing in his hand with a soft crackle of white sparks. He swung it in a wide arc, feeling how naturally the movements came now. The blade hummed as it cut the air, its weight and balance feeling like an extension of his own body.
Of course, he kept the swings controlled. The last thing he wanted was to damage the inn's fragile walls.
"Now we're talking," he murmured under his breath.
With a final flicker of white light, the sword vanished back into the inventory.
A slight sense of disappointment settled over him. There was no real way to test the blade's true power yet. Not here. Not in the confines of a rented room.
"Dungeon, just you wait," he said with a small laugh.
After eating the food he had brought earlier and taking a quick shower, Shirou lay down on the bed, staring at the wooden ceiling. As he drifted into thought, memories from his past life began to surface—unwelcome but persistent.
Life back on Earth... it hadn't been a glorious one. Born into a middle-class family, Shirou had lived a simple, relatively unremarkable life until tragedy struck. Four years ago, he had lost both his parents in a brutal accident, leaving him adrift in a world that showed no mercy. He had fought hard to survive after that, but the weight of it all had eventually crushed him.
His final moments on Earth—the decision he made—flashed through his mind like a cruel film reel.
With a sigh, Shirou rolled over onto his side, burying his face in the pillow.
"The past is just the past," he whispered to the empty room. "Thinking about it won't change anything."
He clenched his hand into a tight fist.
"But this time… this time, I won't give up. In this world, I'll fight for my life. I'll protect what's precious to me, no matter what."
As he made that silent vow, a face floated into his mind—Nana. Warm, kind, stubborn Nana. He smiled, a genuine, small smile that softened his otherwise tired features.
"I hope you're doing alright…" he muttered.
Pushing those thoughts aside, Shirou allowed exhaustion to finally take him. Sleep crept in, and soon, darkness embraced him fully.
---
The next morning, Shirou woke early, feeling refreshed and determined. After quickly freshening up, he left the room and made his way downstairs to the inn's modest lobby.
The cheerful innkeeper, Miss Flora, was already there, wiping down the wooden counter.
"Good morning, Shirou!" she called out brightly.
"Good morning to you too, Miss Flora," Shirou replied with a polite smile.
Approaching the counter, he asked, "Do you happen to know any place around here where I can train?"
Miss Flora paused thoughtfully. "There's a training gym down the road, on Street 23. What kind of training are you looking for?"
"Sword," Shirou answered simply.
"In that case, that place should be sufficient for now," she said. But then, after a brief pause, she added with a more serious tone, "However, if you're truly serious about becoming stronger, I would recommend heading to Ravaryn—the northern kingdom of Lucariaus."
Shirou tilted his head slightly. "Why Ravaryn?"
"Ravaryn is renowned for its military strength. It's the kingdom's main centre for both defence and offence. You'll find skilled trainers there, and even an academy dedicated to producing the best warriors. From what I can see, you have the potential to be one of them. It would be a waste to let your skills rot here in Velgrath," she said warmly.
She leaned in slightly, lowering her voice with a hint of excitement. "If you're truly talented, you might even be selected for the Sovereign Order—or, if you're incredibly lucky, the Sovereign Sentinels."
Shirou blinked. "You kind of lost me there. What are those 'sovereign' things?"
Miss Flora's eyes lit up. She loved sharing stories, especially about things she was passionate about.
"The Sovereign Sentinels are the king's personal warriors. There are only three of them, and they're considered as the king's personal guards. Below them are the Sovereign Orders—elite teams made up of the best students from the academy. Each team has a powerful leader, and their job is to raise the next generation of protectors for Lucariaus."
Shirou listened intently as she continued.
"After the last Great War, many strong warriors were lost. That's why the Sovereign Order was created—to train a new generation that could stand against any future threat."
"You said they select students from the academy?" Shirou asked, piecing things together.
"Yes, the best of the best. But… if you're talented enough, you don't necessarily have to be from the academy. Still, attending it gives you the best chance."
Shirou thought to himself.
The academy, huh…
Thanks to the system, he could learn things far faster than normal people. Skills that would take years to master came naturally to him. Did he really need formal training?
But deep down, something whispered to him—Ravaryn was where he needed to go.
As if confirming a suspicion, he asked, "The king's palace… it's situated at the centre of the three kingdoms, right?"
Miss Flora nodded. "Yes, in Celestria. It's the heart of Lucariaus."
"Celestria?" Shirou frowned. "But I thought there were only three kingdoms: Velgrath, Ravaryn, and... what was the third one?"
She smiled knowingly. "Zyphora. You're right. There are only three kingdoms. Celestria isn't a kingdom. It's more like a massive city—about a fourth the size of a full kingdom—built at the very centre where the three meet. It's where the king resides and where the palace stands."
"Celestria, huh…" Shirou murmured, filing the name away in his mind.
He turned to Miss Flora and gave a grateful nod. "Thanks for telling me all this."
"There's nothing to thank," she said with a chuckle. "It's common knowledge around here. Maybe you didn't know because you were raised in the outskirts?"
Shirou scratched the back of his head, sheepishly. "Yeah… something like that."
"Well then, you take care!" she said, waving him off.
"You too," Shirou replied.
With that, Shirou stepped out of the inn, the morning sun greeting him warmly as he set off toward the gym.