Path of the Unmentioned: The Missing Piece-Chapter 68: Zalrielle [2]

Kyle stared at the glowing status screen floating before him. The blue holographic letters pulsing faintly in the dim training room light.

The flickering illumination cast strange shadows across the walls, making the words seem to breathe before his eyes.

His fingers twitched at his sides, nails digging into his palms hard enough to leave crescent marks as he read the line again:

——

[Soul-bound Spirit]: Zalrielle (Dormant)

——

"Huh."

The sound escaped his lips before he could stop it, rough and disbelieving.

His mouth had gone dry, tongue sticking to the roof as he swallowed hard.

Soul-bound Spirit?

Zalrielle?

"When did I—"

He cut himself off, the words dying in his throat.

His hand flew to the storage ring on his finger.

His fingers fumbling in their haste.

The ring slipped, nearly clattering to the floor before he caught it with a curse.

’Calm down.’ freēwēbnovel.com

He took a steadying breath, then focused.

The sleek black-sheathed tachi materialized in his grip with a soft glow, the leather-wrapped hilt warm against his palm.

Too warm.

Kyle’s pulse kicked up a notch.

He hadn’t noticed it before. Not in the chaos of the Viper hideout.

Not when he had been running for his life.

But now, in the quiet of the training room, the difference felt undeniable.

The weight was perfect, balanced as if made for his hand alone.

The leather grip molded to his fingers like it remembered him.

And the faint, rhythmic pulse beneath his fingertips—

’Like a heartbeat.’

The spirit.

"Is that you?" he whispered, turning the blade over in his hands.

The response was subtle. A vibration so soft he might have imagined it.

But he hadn’t.

The sword had answered him.

Kyle exhaled sharply through his nose.

The weapon he had stolen was supposed to be a growth-type artifact, rare and powerful, sure, but still just an object.

A tool.

Not... whatever this was.

With careful fingers, he unsheathed the tachi for the first time since taking it.

The blade slid free with a whisper of steel, revealing metal so dark it seemed to drink the light.

No, not just dark.

’Alive.’

The surface shifted as he tilted it.

Patterns flickering across the steel like shadows dancing beneath still water.

When he angled the blade just right.

His reflection stared back at him, distorted, warped, but unmistakably his.

"Soul-bound," he murmured.

"So we are like connected?"

Another hum.

Stronger this time.

Kyle ran a hand through his already messy hair, fingers catching in the tangled strands.

His mind raced, trying to piece together what this meant.

’Spirits.’

The concept wasn’t foreign.

Not with all the Isekai novels he had devoured in his past life.

But in this world of Aevorath.

’The path of Transendance’ the novel he had read?

Spirits had never been mentioned.

Not once.

So where did this one come from?

’I thought that spirits are like elementals fire, water, wind etc’

Like the spirits that elves used in isekai to control elements. But in Aevorath Elves don’t use spirits.

And this spirit is a weapon.

His eyes dropped back to the status screen, the words burning into his vision:

——

[Soul-bound Spirit]: Zalrielle (Dormant)

——

"Dormant," he said aloud.

"So you are still not awake."

A thought struck him.

’Do I need to feed her mana?’

Wait.

Why did I say "her"?

"Is it a female?"

The black tachi in his hand vibrated, as if answering yes.

Intrigued.

He reached for his core, drawing a thin stream of raw energy and pushing it into the blade.

The mana flowed over the metal, then faded away without effect.

No response.

The mana is only wraping around it like any other weapon. It is not devouring his mana.

"Guess it’s not that simple." he muttered.

He lowered the sword, thinking.

If they were truly bound, then their growth was probably linked.

His progress would strengthen the spirit within, and vice versa.

At least, that’s how it worked in the novels.

Kyle raised the blade again, studying his faint reflection.

"You are not the one who pulled me back from the darkness in the trail, right?"

Silence.

The sword didn’t respond this time.

He already knew that presence hadn’t been Zalrielle, yet he had asked anyway.

"What exactly does this spirit weapon do?"

It had to be special—after all. It was a spirit, wasn’t it?

His mind flashed back to the moment he had turned Zalrielle into the ring.

If it could do that, what other powers lay hidden within it?

’Perhaps I will unlock more once I awaken her from the dormant state.’

The thought sent a thrill through him—

—followed immediately by a cold wave of doubt.

’Wait.’

His grip on the hilt tightened.

’If this weapon is spirit’

’Then, where is the growth-type sword Drake was supposed to steal?’

In the novel, the demonic cultist Drake had slaughtered the Vipers for that weapon.

It had been his signature blade, the thing that made him so dangerous.

But now.

Kyle had taken it first.

’Is this the same sword?’

Or—

Was it a different one entirely?

Had Drake never discovered its true nature?

The sword hummed faintly, as if in response to his spiraling thoughts.

’Did I change the storyline that much just by being here?’

The thought was unsettling.

The novel had never mentioned anything about spirit-bound weapons.

Was this Zalrielle always supposed to exist?

Or had his presence altered things beyond recognition?

"Crazy," he muttered, dragging a hand down his face.

The sword pulsed in response, its warmth seeping into his palm like a quiet reassurance.

Shaking his head, Kyle exhaled slowly and turned his attention to the training dummy standing motionless before him.

The human-shaped target was reinforced with magic.

Its surface protected by a blue energy shield capable of withstanding peak Silver-rank attacks.

He adjusted his grip on the tachi, rolling his shoulders to loosen the tension.

No mana this time - just pure swordsmanship.

Steel met energy shield with a sharp crack. The impact reverberating up Kyle’s arm.

The shield held, shimmering faintly where the blade had connected.

The weight distribution was perfect.

The balance impeccable.

It was as if the sword was an extension of his own arm, moving with a fluidity he had never experienced before.

Another strike.

Then another.

Hours passed in focused repetition.

Sweat dripped down Kyle’s temple as he finally paused. His chest rising and falling with steady breaths.

That’s when he noticed it.

The subtle but undeniable improvement in his technique.

Each movement flowed into the next with unnatural precision.

His footwork are sharper than before, his attacks more controlled.

The usual micro-adjustments he used to make mid-swing were gone.

His attacks weren’t just stronger.

They were cleaner.

More efficient.

Every slash, every thrust carried a precision he hadn’t possessed yesterday.

The difference would be invisible to most observers.

But to Kyle who had spent countless hours drilling these same forms. The improved understanding was obvious.

He stared at the black blade, watching the dim light play across its unnatural surface.

’Is this one of your abilities as well?’ he thought, directing the question at the dormant spirit within.

’Better understanding of weapon?’

The sword remained silent, but in that moment, Kyle didn’t need confirmation.

The evidence was in his hands.

In his movements.

Kyle smiled a little.

All the suffering, all the terror of the trial, his brush with death at the hands of that stitched-mask monster.

It had all led him here.

To this weapon.

To this bond.

And in this moment.

He knew—every second of agony had been worth it.

***