Vortex Origins
Chapter 106: Dark sword

Chapter 106: Dark sword

"[Your soulcore status]"

Wind howled through the abyss—cold, hollow, endless. Ash stood in the dark, surrounded by nothing but black waves churning beneath his feet.

The ocean wasn’t calm.

It roared and twisted like it wanted to tear itself apart.

Ash’s eyes moved upward.

One of the Soulcores hanging in the void—the fire one—was cracked. Its glow had faded to a dying ember, barely holding together. Fractures spread across it like a web of veins, and as he watched, a shard broke free and fell.

It hit the ocean with a hiss. The water screamed.

Ash clenched his fists.

’This isn’t right. I killed that thing. I thought it would fix the damage...’

His thoughts raced.

’Do I have to fix it myself?’

Then came the voice, distant and cold:

[Status]

Name: Ashley burn

Soulcore: Titan [Hybrid]

Soul pool: 57% (3810/4000)

Core stage: Initiated

Vessel tier: Fifth

Skills: [9]

Ash barely glanced at it.

His focus stayed on the fire Soulcore above. Another fragment crumbled, sinking down into the storm-tossed sea.

Ash narrowed his eyes.

’Soul damage... this is the first time I’ve seen it this close. How did Kevin deal with this?’

But there was no answer in the dark.

Only the crash of the ocean below.

Ash raised his hand toward the broken core.

It pulsed, faint at first.

Then the voice stirred again, distant and cold:

"[The break has been touched. The Soulcore begins to hum, calling the lost pieces home.]"

His fingers stopped midair. That message—it was new. He exhaled, shoulders loosening as the pressure in his chest eased. Something had clicked.

Below, the black water stirred. Thin streams began to rise, slow and steady, winding upward like serpents drawn to heat.

Where they touched the scattered fragments, sparks lit the dark. The fire Soulcore began to glow.

Shards drifted back from the sea, one by one, catching the light like diamonds suspended in ink.

The water reached the Soulcore.

At the moment of contact, fire bloomed. The shattered pieces locked together like puzzlework—each fitting into place as if guided by unseen hands.

Ash felt it in his chest.

The weight. The heat.

The Soulcore pulsed. Whole again.

Its glow surged, outshining even the Titan core beside it. The reflection reached across the stormy sea, turning chaos into calm. The wind hushed.

For a second, the fire burned with purity—untouched, unbroken.

Then the glow dimmed, shrinking back into its steady, burning form.

As if nothing had happened.

The voice spoke again:

"[The fracture heals. Your Soulcore pulses with renewed light.]"

Ash let out a breath.

’It’s back. That’s good for now... Next time, I need to be ready. I should be careful around soul attacks from now on’

He glanced down. The sea below him had returned to silence. Still. Cold.

The void no longer screamed.

Another sound rang out:

"[soul pool: 50%]"

Ash blinked.

"...Huh?"

The voice returned—calm, steady, merciless:

[Status]

Name: Ashley burn

Soulcore: Titan [Hybrid]

Soul pool: 47% (3810/4000)

Core stage: Initiated

Vessel tier: Fifth

Skills: [9]

He let out a slow breath, hand dropping to his side.

’So that’s the cost. Healing a soul isn’t cheap.’

His boots stirred the black water with each step, sending ripples across the still surface. They splashed gently against his ankles as he walked forward, quiet and slow, the weight of exhaustion pressing behind his ribs.

He stopped.

His eyes lifted to the sky above, where the dark Soulcore pulsed faintly—coiled like something alive, waiting.

Ash’s fingers curled.

’Right. That’s why I came here in the first place.’

For the first time in weeks, something burned in his chest. Anticipation.

The Dark Soulcore had always resisted him, like a beast that refused to be tamed. He’d been stuck at the first stage for longer than he wanted to admit.

But now... now it was different.

A small black orb flickered into view—weightless, spinning in front of him.

Then another formed, hanging just below the first.

His eyes narrowed. Not side by side, like usual.

Stacked. Vertical.

He knew what that meant.

The memory returned—old lessons drilled into his bones. Soulcores didn’t grow just by killing monsters. They grew through structure. Through balance and training.

Every stage needed its slots filled. Creature-given skills, no matter how strong, they didn’t count.

Ash clenched his jaw.

Of course. He was still two short. Nothing had changed.

Then the voice returned:

[Skills]

Dark soulcore:

[Nightstalker’s Sight]

[Dark sword]

Ash smiled.

’If it works like it did for that knight back at Ironhold... I might be able to summon my very own creat...’

He paused.

’No—minion. Yeah. That sounds better. Calling it Creature makes it feel like something twisted.’

He touched the lower orb.

A soft chime echoed through the void.

The voice spoke once again.

Skill: Dark Sword

Type: Creature

Affinity: Dark soulcore

Origin Creature: Dark Sword — A sentient sword that uses darkness as its host. The sword itself is the creature — it holds no form of its own beyond being wielded.

Description:

Stage 1 – Summons the Dark Sword, a physical weapon formed from condensed shadow. This sword functions as a normal blade, cold and unyielding.

Ash blinked.

He raised his hand.

The void shifted.

Darkness coiled around his palm, forming edges. A long, lean sword emerged—black from tip to hilt, with faint veins of moving shadow pulsing beneath its surface. If you looked too long, you could almost mistake it for the knight’s greatsword. Almost.

But this wasn’t heavy like the knight’s weapon. It was something else.

Ash tilted his head, eyes locked on the blade. He gave it a slow swing. Nothing.

No change. No surge. No presence.

He turned the blade downward and drove it into the water.

A soft splash.

Then silence.

Ash waited.

The sword stood for a moment.

Then, without warning, it crumbled—dissolving into smoke that sank beneath the surface and vanished.

Ash grit his teeth.

’No knight. No form. Just a damn sword.’

Ash clenched his jaw, then shut his eyes.

The void faded.

When he opened them, he was on the couch—cold fabric against his back, dim light from the ceiling above.

He sat there in silence for a moment.

"So... it really is just a sword."

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

’Still. A weapon’s a weapon. If I’m ever caught empty-handed...’

A soft beep broke the quiet.

His wristband lit up, a faint blue glow pulsing at the center. He raised his arm, tapped the surface.

A holographic screen flickered to life. A small envelope icon hovered in the air, shaped like an old poster. At the top, one name glowed:

Evy

Ash tapped it.

The message expanded.

[Ashley, when are you coming back.]

His lips curled into a tired smile.

He pressed the screen again. A faint chime rang as a soft-blue keyboard shimmered into view. He didn’t wait—his fingers moved as he spoke aloud.

"I’ll be there before the tournament starts."

The message sent with a quiet pulse.

The screen shifted.

A new image filled the air—a video feed. Sharp lines. Bright letters.

[THE VARAGOS YEARLY TOURNAMENT]

Ash leaned forward, eyes narrowing as the footage began.

A man stood in front of an iron gate wrapped in ivy, mic in hand, grin stretched wide across his face. Behind him, a massive building loomed—stone towers, arched windows, and flags fluttering in the wind.

Ash tapped the video.

The man’s voice burst to life, sharp and full of energy.

"Varagos! I’m standing outside the gates of one of the most prestigious academies in the region—home to legends, future champions, and this year’s most anticipated event: The Annual Soulcore Users Tournament!"

The camera shifted, giving a sweeping shot of the campus—marble statues, training fields, soul forges lit like molten suns.

"Now for those of you just waking up or hiding under a rock—let me break it down."

The man winked.

"There are two divisions this year: the Junior Tournament for newcomers and rising talents... and the Senior Tournament for those who’ve already tasted blood on the battlefield. The pressure’s high, the stakes are higher."

He leaned closer to the camera, voice dropping.

"And the prize? Oh, it’s worth fighting over."

A brief cut showed an image of a glowing crystal embedded in a blade, wrapped in what looked like sinew and black metal.

"First off, the winners get to choose their team—no scouting, no assignments. Straight pick. Elite squads only."

"Second? A mountain of merit points. Enough to push you into the next rank or secure a place in the Outer Defense Lines."

"Third..."

The screen cut to a diagram of a beast’s silhouette—long horns, jagged limbs, a pulsing core in its chest.

"...a custom-made weapon, armor, or artifact forged from the remains of a Tier 6 creature. That’s right. You win, you claim the bones of a monster that once wiped out an entire platoon."

Ash leaned back on the couch, eyes locked on the screen.

The reporter kept going, voice rising with excitement.

"And let me tell you—this year’s competition is shaping up to be the most brutal yet. We’ve got promising names, old legacies, and a few dark horses no one saw coming. If you’re not watching, you’re missing history."

The video paused on a slow zoom of the academy gates.

Ash exhaled through his nose.

Then he muttered.

"I guess... I really am going back."